mother insisted. “It means that we’re heading in the right direction.”
She pointed ahead. “This corridor leads through to Sector Ten, which is on the outer aspect of the station’s rings. That’s where the escape shuttles are. If the generator is non-functional, the outer rings will be the first to lose gravity. That’s the good news.”
Somewhere during the tunnel collapse, my mother had lost her helmet. Her hair was not as long as mine, but had the same dishevelled look, now drifting around her face in the half-G. She looked even younger than when I had seen her back in the District.
“Then what’s the bad news?” I asked. “I know that there has to be some.”
“The fastest way to the shuttles is through the sewage tanks.”
I swallowed hard. “No way.”
“Like you said, the gravity well is failing,” my mother stated flatly. “The rest of life support will be next. I
need
to get you off this base.”
“Come on,” Daryl said, putting an arm around me. “We’ll all look after each other.”
A service hatch marked PRIMARY WASTE TANK: CAUTION – CONTAMINATED LIQUIDS sat ahead. My mother set about removing the outer grille by tearing at the metal with her gloved hands. It took her hardly any time to get the covering free. That was the powered gloves in action, I figured.
The chamber inside was circular and very tall, barely lit by flashing amber service lights. It smelled of dirty water. In the floor of the structure sat a hatch, with an old-style manual wheel lock. The hatch was covered in warning stickers: AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY, BIO-HAZARD RISK and so on.
I almost drifted into the room on the other side. Gravity seemed to be failing faster now, exponentially evaporating.
“Is there any breather gear?” Lucina asked.
“Someone has already taken it,” Daryl said.
I clocked the empty emergency boxes on the walls, but also noticed that the waste hatch was still closed. Someone had plundered the contents. The masks and ox-bottles would probably make for a vacuum run in a pinch. No one had been crazy enough to try to escape through the sewage tank.
No one except for us, that was.
“It’s not far,” my mother said. “A hundred metres, tops.”
“Without air?” Lucina blasted back. Her face scrunched up as though she was going to cry again. “It’s suicide!”
“It’s our only chance.”
“And what’s on the other side?” I enquired.
“The escape shuttles.”
“Are they definitely still there?” Lucina said. “I mean, if we go inside that tank, do we know that this will be worth it?”
There was another explosion, somewhere else on the station. Lucina’s eyes dropped to the floor: she didn’t need a response. I strongly suspected that my mother had no answer – that she really didn’t know whether this was a way out or not. She cranked the locking wheel and the heavy metal hatch came up with an arthritic groan.
She continued, “I’ll be right behind you, and I’ll open the exit hatch. The tank will be half full. We’re heading straight through it – all the way down. Try not to get disorientated by the zero-G.”
“Will there be lights inside?” I asked.
“Some, but not enough.” She disconnected one of the lamps from the shoulder of her armour and tossed it to Daryl. “The captain goes first, with Lucina. I’ll follow with you.”
“Have you seen his leg?” Lucina pleaded. “Daryl will never make it!”
Fat droplets of liquid started to drift from the open hatch, reflecting light like airborne crystals.
My mother ignored Lucina’s objection. “Daryl, Lucina – get inside.”
Daryl nodded. He clutched the edge of the hatch and pulled himself toward the water. In zero-G, the surface bobbed irregularly. I watched Daryl go under; noted the way that his clothes stuck to his body, his shiver as the cold water hit him. Lucina followed him inside, feet first.
“You next,” my mother said.
I looked down into the lapping sea. It was dark,
She pointed ahead. “This corridor leads through to Sector Ten, which is on the outer aspect of the station’s rings. That’s where the escape shuttles are. If the generator is non-functional, the outer rings will be the first to lose gravity. That’s the good news.”
Somewhere during the tunnel collapse, my mother had lost her helmet. Her hair was not as long as mine, but had the same dishevelled look, now drifting around her face in the half-G. She looked even younger than when I had seen her back in the District.
“Then what’s the bad news?” I asked. “I know that there has to be some.”
“The fastest way to the shuttles is through the sewage tanks.”
I swallowed hard. “No way.”
“Like you said, the gravity well is failing,” my mother stated flatly. “The rest of life support will be next. I
need
to get you off this base.”
“Come on,” Daryl said, putting an arm around me. “We’ll all look after each other.”
A service hatch marked PRIMARY WASTE TANK: CAUTION – CONTAMINATED LIQUIDS sat ahead. My mother set about removing the outer grille by tearing at the metal with her gloved hands. It took her hardly any time to get the covering free. That was the powered gloves in action, I figured.
The chamber inside was circular and very tall, barely lit by flashing amber service lights. It smelled of dirty water. In the floor of the structure sat a hatch, with an old-style manual wheel lock. The hatch was covered in warning stickers: AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY, BIO-HAZARD RISK and so on.
I almost drifted into the room on the other side. Gravity seemed to be failing faster now, exponentially evaporating.
“Is there any breather gear?” Lucina asked.
“Someone has already taken it,” Daryl said.
I clocked the empty emergency boxes on the walls, but also noticed that the waste hatch was still closed. Someone had plundered the contents. The masks and ox-bottles would probably make for a vacuum run in a pinch. No one had been crazy enough to try to escape through the sewage tank.
No one except for us, that was.
“It’s not far,” my mother said. “A hundred metres, tops.”
“Without air?” Lucina blasted back. Her face scrunched up as though she was going to cry again. “It’s suicide!”
“It’s our only chance.”
“And what’s on the other side?” I enquired.
“The escape shuttles.”
“Are they definitely still there?” Lucina said. “I mean, if we go inside that tank, do we know that this will be worth it?”
There was another explosion, somewhere else on the station. Lucina’s eyes dropped to the floor: she didn’t need a response. I strongly suspected that my mother had no answer – that she really didn’t know whether this was a way out or not. She cranked the locking wheel and the heavy metal hatch came up with an arthritic groan.
She continued, “I’ll be right behind you, and I’ll open the exit hatch. The tank will be half full. We’re heading straight through it – all the way down. Try not to get disorientated by the zero-G.”
“Will there be lights inside?” I asked.
“Some, but not enough.” She disconnected one of the lamps from the shoulder of her armour and tossed it to Daryl. “The captain goes first, with Lucina. I’ll follow with you.”
“Have you seen his leg?” Lucina pleaded. “Daryl will never make it!”
Fat droplets of liquid started to drift from the open hatch, reflecting light like airborne crystals.
My mother ignored Lucina’s objection. “Daryl, Lucina – get inside.”
Daryl nodded. He clutched the edge of the hatch and pulled himself toward the water. In zero-G, the surface bobbed irregularly. I watched Daryl go under; noted the way that his clothes stuck to his body, his shiver as the cold water hit him. Lucina followed him inside, feet first.
“You next,” my mother said.
I looked down into the lapping sea. It was dark,
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