slept.
Chapter
Fourteen
in which there are
chains (of some sort) ...
The links in the chair were plastic. Or
rubber. Or something else that wasn't metal. But they still felt
like chains. Chair was probably not even the right word. Harness perhaps was closer. Swing maybe . The
seat was like a bag. A hanging bag of plastic links. Straps in the
shape of an X fastened over the shoulders and held the passenger in
place like a seatbelt.
They felt more like shackles.
Harper shifted yet again in the
uncomfortable seat as it swung ever so slightly, mirroring the
ship's vibrations through space.
He shivered.
Space... space... infinite space...
He could feel the space around the
ship. This one moved differently. He felt every movement as it
tunneled through the empty, empty space. On the giant ship of
Skyland, the gentle humming of the floors and the wall had been
unsettling. But this was terrifying. He could feel every
movement. The ship of the Union troops was as long as the Skyland
ship, but thin as a needle. Every movement went right through
it.
Space...
Harper looked out the window. He couldn't not look. If he closed his eyes, there was nothing to
distract him from the movement. Barreling through empty, empty
space, every shiver, every jolt of the metal thing around him was a
siren in his head, wailing over everything, every tiny vibration of
the nothingness echoing through his body.
It made him sick.
So he looked.
It wasn't much of a window to look at. But
it didn't matter. Space continued forever. Even a pinhole would
look out on infinity. There was no observation deck here, no
sweeping bay window that opened up like a giant mouth to the
blackness around it. This window was barely the size of his head.
And, still, it looked out on forever.
Immediately after arriving on the ship of
the Union troops, Harper had been brought here. To this bag-chair
and this harness and this little window in this bland obsidian
room. The only thing absent in this obsidian room was the
cold.
He breathed, mouth wide open, but no clouds
of mist rose from his breath this time.
So it is the cold.
The angry man who had first interrogated him
was nowhere to be seen. The young soldier, the stringy one who'd
waited outside his and Zara's room, guarded the door. At least,
Harper thought, he was supposed to be guarding the door. He
was sitting at a table near the door, alternately picking at a
stack of little brown crackers and trying to flatten wrinkles in
his dirt brown uniform. Every once in a while he looked up from the
wrinkled sleeves and the crackers and stared around the room, as if
looking for something more interesting to do. There were no other
soldiers in sight.
Harper suspected they'd come to the same
conclusion he had: he was well trapped. He had no weapon, or even
anything resembling a weapon (everything in this ship was
fixed hard in place), and no means of escape. With no place to go
even if he did escape, he might as well be in a cell.
A ship full of soldiers... Nowhere to
go.
There were no other guards, but Harper and
the young soldier were not alone in the obsidian room. Unlike the
cold room on the Skyland ship, this room held a handful of others
dressed in civilian clothes. Some sat in the chain-bag seats beside
him; some leaned around the edges of the room; some wandered in and
out. Like the city folk on the Skyland ship, they did not look
interested in the flight. Most were reading, a few chatted quietly,
and a couple had lolled their heads on their shoulders and seemed
to be sleeping. Harper did not find them particularly interesting
either. Only the space, the empty, empty space sitting outside the
window, like the inside of a monster's belly, captured his
attention.
But after a while, Harper tore his eyes away
from the space outside the window. Bored, he looked around, finally
taking a closer look at his fellow passengers.
On his right, was one that he
recognized.
The red jacket, the bowed head, eyes
Chapter
Fourteen
in which there are
chains (of some sort) ...
The links in the chair were plastic. Or
rubber. Or something else that wasn't metal. But they still felt
like chains. Chair was probably not even the right word. Harness perhaps was closer. Swing maybe . The
seat was like a bag. A hanging bag of plastic links. Straps in the
shape of an X fastened over the shoulders and held the passenger in
place like a seatbelt.
They felt more like shackles.
Harper shifted yet again in the
uncomfortable seat as it swung ever so slightly, mirroring the
ship's vibrations through space.
He shivered.
Space... space... infinite space...
He could feel the space around the
ship. This one moved differently. He felt every movement as it
tunneled through the empty, empty space. On the giant ship of
Skyland, the gentle humming of the floors and the wall had been
unsettling. But this was terrifying. He could feel every
movement. The ship of the Union troops was as long as the Skyland
ship, but thin as a needle. Every movement went right through
it.
Space...
Harper looked out the window. He couldn't not look. If he closed his eyes, there was nothing to
distract him from the movement. Barreling through empty, empty
space, every shiver, every jolt of the metal thing around him was a
siren in his head, wailing over everything, every tiny vibration of
the nothingness echoing through his body.
It made him sick.
So he looked.
It wasn't much of a window to look at. But
it didn't matter. Space continued forever. Even a pinhole would
look out on infinity. There was no observation deck here, no
sweeping bay window that opened up like a giant mouth to the
blackness around it. This window was barely the size of his head.
And, still, it looked out on forever.
Immediately after arriving on the ship of
the Union troops, Harper had been brought here. To this bag-chair
and this harness and this little window in this bland obsidian
room. The only thing absent in this obsidian room was the
cold.
He breathed, mouth wide open, but no clouds
of mist rose from his breath this time.
So it is the cold.
The angry man who had first interrogated him
was nowhere to be seen. The young soldier, the stringy one who'd
waited outside his and Zara's room, guarded the door. At least,
Harper thought, he was supposed to be guarding the door. He
was sitting at a table near the door, alternately picking at a
stack of little brown crackers and trying to flatten wrinkles in
his dirt brown uniform. Every once in a while he looked up from the
wrinkled sleeves and the crackers and stared around the room, as if
looking for something more interesting to do. There were no other
soldiers in sight.
Harper suspected they'd come to the same
conclusion he had: he was well trapped. He had no weapon, or even
anything resembling a weapon (everything in this ship was
fixed hard in place), and no means of escape. With no place to go
even if he did escape, he might as well be in a cell.
A ship full of soldiers... Nowhere to
go.
There were no other guards, but Harper and
the young soldier were not alone in the obsidian room. Unlike the
cold room on the Skyland ship, this room held a handful of others
dressed in civilian clothes. Some sat in the chain-bag seats beside
him; some leaned around the edges of the room; some wandered in and
out. Like the city folk on the Skyland ship, they did not look
interested in the flight. Most were reading, a few chatted quietly,
and a couple had lolled their heads on their shoulders and seemed
to be sleeping. Harper did not find them particularly interesting
either. Only the space, the empty, empty space sitting outside the
window, like the inside of a monster's belly, captured his
attention.
But after a while, Harper tore his eyes away
from the space outside the window. Bored, he looked around, finally
taking a closer look at his fellow passengers.
On his right, was one that he
recognized.
The red jacket, the bowed head, eyes
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