deep and soft as it comes to me through the helmet, and I know it ain’t even close to being human.
“This vessel needs
all
the flinders with their sleepers or it cannot be repaired. Without the forty-nine, this vessel and all those aboard are doomed. If this vessel perishes, its death will devastate the Earth.”
“Hey, what do you mean, devastate the Earth?” I go.
Erin flashes me a warning look.
“The sleepers and their flinders nurture the Earth, they protect it from harm. Without them, a plague of wars such as this world has never seen will sweep across all lands. You must find the missing flinder. You must find Halina.”
“But how can Halina even be alive now?” says Erin. “The missing flinder has been lost on the planet for a hundred years or more. Why didn’t you speak of this? Why didn’t you resuscitate us earlier?”
“Only now is it time for you to wake. The flinder is with her. Find Halina and you will find the flinder.”
“We’re still searching. We came to the tower you spoke of, and there was a boy there. But he doesn’t know anything.”
“He knows.” The answer comes slowly, from a faraway place.
“What makes you think that?” I go. Erin gives me daggers, but I ignore her. “I mean, why would he know?”
“He is the key. His heart is true. Through the sleepers, I see the shape of
living
minds,
his
mind. His dreams of this flinder are strong. He can sense where it lies.”
I tap the side of my helmet at Erin. “Wilbur? I think you’ve got your wires crossed or something. He don’t know squat.” But my voice sounds shaky. And I’m thinking about my little brother’s artifact clues … Erin does a furious hand chop at her neck to get me to zip it and she’s right – it don’t make sense to get the
Aeolus
riled. ’Specially when it’s clearly as mad as a bag of spanners.
“The flinders must not be earthbound. They are of the sky, of dreaming. Forty-nine flinders for forty-nine sleepers. Together we will watch over the Earth.” It sounds like it’s been listening in on old Jacob Armitage’s Sunday sermons.
There’s a silent question in the frown Erin throws at me, then she says, “But the sleepers must wake now, mustn’t they? This planet is terraformed.”
No answer.
“You have to tell us what happened to Halina,” she demands. “Why did she leave?”
But the ship ain’t speaking. Which, to me, is a tad suspect. We wait, but clearly the conversation is over. I take a breath to say something, but Erin shakes her head at me.
At last we reach the far end of the shaft, where there’s another blast hole, bigger than the first. And it don’t take a rocket boffin to figure out there’s been a struggle here. The bridge itself is a proper maze with loads of tubeways worming past each other, linking up at junctions and bulging with veins.
Bits of debris hang in drifts that get thicker as we delve onward – lumps of glittery black stuff like coal. They knock against my helmet and shatter into soot.
“What’s all this?”
“Frozen flesh – from where the ship was damaged. Some of the navigation equipment has been destroyed. We can’t maintain a safe orbit without it. That’s why it needs the missing flinder, so it can repair properly. Otherwise it’ll burn up in the atmosphere and crash into the Earth.”
There’s a hairpin bend ahead, and before I know it I’m hanging over this whacking great hole into nowhere, all the stars under my feet, which is like
the
worst rush of vertigo I’ve ever had.
“Whoa!”
“Sorry, I should’ve warned you. That’s the dock for theother shuttle – the one Halina used to get to Earth. There would have been no reason for the
Aeolus
to seal it up, because all the air in the bridge and the central shaft was already lost to the breach.”
We squeeze at last into a poky space crusted over with bubble screens all rattling out lines and lines of writing. I can’t read, but even I can see it ain’t alien
“This vessel needs
all
the flinders with their sleepers or it cannot be repaired. Without the forty-nine, this vessel and all those aboard are doomed. If this vessel perishes, its death will devastate the Earth.”
“Hey, what do you mean, devastate the Earth?” I go.
Erin flashes me a warning look.
“The sleepers and their flinders nurture the Earth, they protect it from harm. Without them, a plague of wars such as this world has never seen will sweep across all lands. You must find the missing flinder. You must find Halina.”
“But how can Halina even be alive now?” says Erin. “The missing flinder has been lost on the planet for a hundred years or more. Why didn’t you speak of this? Why didn’t you resuscitate us earlier?”
“Only now is it time for you to wake. The flinder is with her. Find Halina and you will find the flinder.”
“We’re still searching. We came to the tower you spoke of, and there was a boy there. But he doesn’t know anything.”
“He knows.” The answer comes slowly, from a faraway place.
“What makes you think that?” I go. Erin gives me daggers, but I ignore her. “I mean, why would he know?”
“He is the key. His heart is true. Through the sleepers, I see the shape of
living
minds,
his
mind. His dreams of this flinder are strong. He can sense where it lies.”
I tap the side of my helmet at Erin. “Wilbur? I think you’ve got your wires crossed or something. He don’t know squat.” But my voice sounds shaky. And I’m thinking about my little brother’s artifact clues … Erin does a furious hand chop at her neck to get me to zip it and she’s right – it don’t make sense to get the
Aeolus
riled. ’Specially when it’s clearly as mad as a bag of spanners.
“The flinders must not be earthbound. They are of the sky, of dreaming. Forty-nine flinders for forty-nine sleepers. Together we will watch over the Earth.” It sounds like it’s been listening in on old Jacob Armitage’s Sunday sermons.
There’s a silent question in the frown Erin throws at me, then she says, “But the sleepers must wake now, mustn’t they? This planet is terraformed.”
No answer.
“You have to tell us what happened to Halina,” she demands. “Why did she leave?”
But the ship ain’t speaking. Which, to me, is a tad suspect. We wait, but clearly the conversation is over. I take a breath to say something, but Erin shakes her head at me.
At last we reach the far end of the shaft, where there’s another blast hole, bigger than the first. And it don’t take a rocket boffin to figure out there’s been a struggle here. The bridge itself is a proper maze with loads of tubeways worming past each other, linking up at junctions and bulging with veins.
Bits of debris hang in drifts that get thicker as we delve onward – lumps of glittery black stuff like coal. They knock against my helmet and shatter into soot.
“What’s all this?”
“Frozen flesh – from where the ship was damaged. Some of the navigation equipment has been destroyed. We can’t maintain a safe orbit without it. That’s why it needs the missing flinder, so it can repair properly. Otherwise it’ll burn up in the atmosphere and crash into the Earth.”
There’s a hairpin bend ahead, and before I know it I’m hanging over this whacking great hole into nowhere, all the stars under my feet, which is like
the
worst rush of vertigo I’ve ever had.
“Whoa!”
“Sorry, I should’ve warned you. That’s the dock for theother shuttle – the one Halina used to get to Earth. There would have been no reason for the
Aeolus
to seal it up, because all the air in the bridge and the central shaft was already lost to the breach.”
We squeeze at last into a poky space crusted over with bubble screens all rattling out lines and lines of writing. I can’t read, but even I can see it ain’t alien
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