Stars Rain Down (13 page)

He closed his eyes and imagined the wall opening, just as he'd done with countless others during the past days. Nothing. He kept at it, concentrating on all the small details, envisioning them turning to liquid and sliding away.

There was a noise like bubbling tar. Success.

Marcus opened his eyes, and before him waited Zebra-One's strange heart. "Come on," he said.

He stepped forward onto a platform suspended over a great dark abyss, and his two companions followed a couple steps behind. A moment later, the pale blue light grew and revealed the depths of the huge structure, a cylindrical room extending three-hundred meters into the distance, criss-crossed and covered with slender catwalks whose surfaces all faced the center.

Marcus couldn't discern which way was supposed to be down, and he started to suspect there was more than one
down
in sight. The view was dizzying.

The catwalks radiated out from a massive, centrally located apparatus, held in place by a great spindle that spanned from one end of the chamber to the other. Marcus had no doubt that the apparatus was the generator, the source of all power on the vessel.

Connected to it were glowing blue cable-veins in every diameter imaginable, which branched throughout the room like overgrown cobwebs. The room's light and that of the cable-veins gently throbbed in the same one-two one-two pattern that could be heard everywhere inside Zebra-One.

The theoretical generator was encased in a bone-like framework of iridescent struts that obscured the shapes within. All Marcus could tell from his vantage point was that something inside was glowing brightly and spinning, causing the cage to cast shifting shadows across the rest of the room.

"Should we take a closer look?" Faulkland asked. He sounded cautious. Marcus assumed that if
Alex the cowboy
sounded cautious, any sane person's pants would be wet with terror.

The shafts of light were bright but not blinding. Would it be hot? Could it be radioactive? Marcus honestly didn't know whether they should continue. "Rao?"

"I'm not detecting anything dangerous. It's your call, Boss."

He looked left and right, tracing the path of the symmetrical walkways that led in towards the machine. "Seems to me that being reckless has gotten us this far. Be a shame to stop now."

"That's the spirit," Faulkland said, punctuating it with a firm slap on the back. Marcus glanced to his other side and found a nervous smile inside of Rao's helmet.

Since both routes to the generator looked identical, Marcus mentally flipped a coin, motioned to the left, and the three started marching. The first stretch of catwalk was perfectly flat and they crossed it quickly, but after thirty meters it twisted until it was entirely on its side. The team's first steps onto the twisting section were apprehensive, but they soon realized the walkway's surface was always down no matter how it contorted.

Marcus found the process disorienting, like being trapped inside of an Escher painting, and the vertigo forced him to watch the floor under his feet while he walked. At some of the more extreme changes, he had to fight the impulse to jump between them. Rooms like this would certainly take some getting used to.

It took twenty minutes to reach the innermost cage of walkways, which were oriented so that the generator apparatus was a few meters
above
them. Marcus didn't look up from his feet at all until they were directly beneath it... or above it, or beside it maybe. Prepositions failed him.

When he did finally look, he was instantly overcome with awe. Within the bone framework were five devices arrayed in a series, one intact and four others that had been shattered like light bulbs. The complete device was perplexing, interweaving flesh and machinery like nothing else Marcus had ever seen.

It had two distinct components: a transparent casing and the strange collection of organs within. The casing was a rounded-off pentagon ten meters in diameter and six meters deep, made of a glass-like material. Each corner held a dense bundle of ducts and unfamiliar components, and was connected to the others by a thin metal band that traced the device's perimeter. That band was covered in geometric shapes which glowed in every hue, and looked as if they might be controls or readouts.

The interior was dominated by a circular organ that was roughly textured, and bore a striking resemblance to the iris of an eye. A hazel eye, rust colored toward the center and shifting to luminous green at the edges. It was suspended in the middle of the device by five bundles of twisting, woven vines that seemed organic near the iris, but grew progressively mechanical as they approached their mount points.

The most fantastic part was the small, whirling will-o'-the-wisp that floated in the iris' hollow. It was the source of the bright blue light, surrounded by glittering particles that turned from white to gold as they raced out, dancing and fading away like champagne bubbles.

Marcus had no idea what it was, but even after a lifetime of staring through telescopes at the wonders of the universe, the sparkling wisp was easily the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

The device, or perhaps the wisp, made a sound like voices singing in chorus, arranged in perfect fifths, wandering slowly up and down an octave. It was as beautiful as the sight, and together they created an overwhelming feeling of tranquility.

The three men were completely spellbound. They stood there staring in slack-jawed wonder for untold minutes, silent for fear of accidentally disturbing the peace.

Marcus broke from his trance and finally spoke. "I'm going to touch it," he said. He heard his own words, but they sounded like someone else. It sounded like something Faulkland would say.

He reached up toward the framework and the ship's artificial gravity simultaneously released him into the air. He wasn't sure if that was his own doing or not. He crossed the space ever so slowly, then came to the framework and grabbed on. It quivered under his touch as he climbed from one bone to another, until he found an opening large enough to squeeze through and climbed inside.

The glittering wisp at the center of the device was even more beautiful as he approached. The luminous particles that rushed away from it flocked together like birds, weaving in and between scarcely visible tides of fluid light.

Marcus reached out and gently put his hand against the clear casing. As he did so, the wisp dimmed and the particles swirled in toward the center. It retracted like a flower at night.

"What's going on, Doctor?" Faulkland asked.

"I don't know," he said. As the last word left his mouth, the light returned, blinding, bright and fierce, accompanied by a deep roar and throbbing waves of pressure. Marcus felt like he was suddenly standing in front of an industrial spot-light, or maybe an oncoming train.

Then all hell broke lose.

The generator's outburst washed over Marcus and slammed him into the framework. He tried to shield his eyes from the light to no avail, and blinded, he somehow managed to climb through an opening in the cage and emerge on the other side.

He didn't know what was happening, but he knew it was his fault. He'd just woken a sleeping bear, and an old fashioned mauling was on its way.

It took him several seconds to regain his sight, and he found himself back on the catwalk with Faulkland and Rao. The generator's outburst only lasted a moment, after which it settled down to a level still brighter and more active than when they found it, accompanied by a new, dreadful and furious song. The lights throughout the room were dimming and changing color. They turned blood red.

Reports started to stream in from all over the vessel.

"Anyone else hear that? Like an animal screaming."

"...everything is convulsing..."

"It's going batshit!"

Marcus couldn't separate all the voices in his ear. There were too many people yammering at once.

The walls of the room began to writhe.

"...irises appear to be seizing..."

"What the fuck is this?"

All the lights in the chamber went out completely, and then began to strobe. From reports, they were doing the same all over the ship.

"Base to Donovan, we're seeing a lot of activity out here. The vessel is changing color, and all the sediment has broken free."

With his eyes wide, Rao violently shook his head. "Time to get out, Marc."

Marcus never had a chance to make the decision; it was made for him. All three men were simultaneously lifted from the catwalk and flung toward the corridor they had come from. They all screamed, and more screams crackled over the comm channel.

The ship began to scream as well.

Surrounded by the ship's screeching, plaintive cry, Marcus accelerated down the blood red tunnel. He hurtled faster and faster through twisting tubes, and the walls became a blur. He was moving so fast that the tunnel lost its shape, all the detail gone except for the strobing lights and the swiftly approaching darkness.

"Base to Donovan, come in! It's moving! Donovan?!"

Marcus was about to die. His remains would be liquified beyond any hope of identification. He'd always hoped to face his demise with class, but instead he was frothing at the mouth and screaming like a child.

Then he saw the light at the end of the tunnel. Before he could decide what to say to his maker, the light engulfed him and it was over.

His arms were crossed in front of his face as if they could possibly stop whatever was coming, and he was twitching like a broken servo. As he lowered his arms, it took him a second to realize he was, in fact, still alive.

He was floating a couple meters above a landing platform in a stark white room. There were four other corridors with their own platforms, and in front of each were clusters of his staff in shiny white pressure suits, hanging in place like fruit chunks in gelatin.

"Base to Expedition? Anyone?"

Gravity kicked in and everyone dropped to the floor.

"We're okay, Mason," Marcus said as he dusted himself off. His breathing was ragged and the words came out stilted. He slowly climbed to his feet, and saw the rest doing the same. "We're all okay."

The room, stark white and glistening like ivory, was one they hadn't explored yet. It was broken into three tiers, each lower than the last and connected by ramps with molded hand-rails. The domed ceiling above was circled by a string of pill-shaped lights which blazed a bluish white.

Marcus and his people were on the highest level, where the five tunnels and their landing platforms were located. Other than the platforms and the dazed crewmen standing on them, all three tiers were empty as a sound stage.

Zebra-One's screaming could still be heard, but it was muffled as if this room were somehow insulated from the rest of the ship. Marcus had a strong sense of safety, although it might have just been in contrast with the terrifying journey that brought him there. "I think she took us here to protect us," he said.

Mason Shen's voice came back. "Good to hear ya, sir. With all the screaming... well, I thought the duty roster was going to be a lot shorter. Zebra-One's still going crazy, so we've pulled the Shackleton back to a safe distance."

"Define crazy," Rao demanded.

"The irises are opening and shutting. Tentacle-like appendages are thrashing about at the mouth of the secondary hull, and all kinds of colors are playing across the skin. It's pande-fucking-monium, sir."

"What the hell did you do, Marcus?"

Marcus was absolutely sure St. Martin had asked him that exact question before, in that precise tone of voice. Many times before, in fact. "I woke her up," he answered.

Something below his line of sight caught Marcus' attention, and when he looked down, he made a strange discovery. The floor directly beneath him was glowing. It was a bright amber disc which pulsed in and out. He glanced around at the rest of the crew, but none of them had a similar disc under their feet.

Faulkland looked him up and down. "I could be wrong, but it seems she's trying to get your attention."

Another moment later, a path along the floor lit up, leading from his disc to a spot in the middle of the second tier. The message was pretty obvious.

"Don't do anything stupid," St. Martin said.

He slowly walked the path and the disc followed. "Stupid has gotten us this far. If this turns bad, keep everyone together and get out." He was filled head-to-toe with foreboding, but he knew he was meant to be here. He was willing to see where faith would take him.

As he walked, familiar shapes bubbled out of the floor and ceiling, formed from the same glistening white material. They were reminiscent of consoles and duty stations, just above waist height and perfectly positioned for a standing person. With every step, more of these things appeared like flowers in a garden instantaneously touched by spring.

When he reached the spot marked out for him, a circular hand-rail formed around him like a child's playpen, while a chair came up and gently cradled his body. A cylinder emerged from the ceiling, then a smaller one telescoped from inside it, and a third after that. The last cylinder's surface peeled open, and a flattened arm reached down out of the hole. It was curved like a scorpion's tail and tipped with a yellow device the size of a fist, whose flat surface bristled with metallic quills. The whole setup was eerily similar to a dentist's chair.

"Marcus?" Faulkland asked. The cowboy was cautious. Marcus should have been terrified, but he wasn't.

"Faith," was all he said, and he tried to relax.

The mechanical tail curled around and examined him from one side and then the other. It fluidly swooped in and examined a spot on his right temple. Then it pulled back and struck.

There was a sharp pain like a spike of hot metal had been driven through his head. For a moment, he thought he was screaming and then all was silent. Everything was blanketed in perfect silence.

Stars. The stars were everywhere, like a hundred billion onlooking eyes, pin pricks in an infinite sheet of blackness. There was nothing but emptiness there, and Marcus had never felt such freedom before. Such peace. He was at home.