Traveler in the Dark

46

Rebecca was halfway through the weld when she heard the alarm go off. She wasn't certain what it meant, but it couldn't be anything good. The lights had not returned, so she assumed Issk'ath had not had luck restoring the power. She looked over her shoulder. Issk'ath's head was swiveling, seeking out the source of the sound. It hadn't caused the alarm then. She returned to the weld. She was down to her last sheet of patch metal. The gash was long. She hoped it would cover it. Anything less would leave a hole and the door wouldn't cycle open if the room couldn't reach the right pressure. If they could even get the door panel to power up and work. If not— she checked her suit. Another five hours perhaps. Too little. The Keseburg was almost twenty-five hours away. Unless the feed came back on, no one would even know she was here until it was far too late.

One crisis at a time, she reminded herself. She smoothed the rippling sheet until it lay straight and shining over the crack. Just enough, if she didn't make a mistake. All right, Dad, know you can't hear me, but I could sure use a little of your good luck right now. The sheet hardened beneath the welder, sealing out the emptiness. Flaming core, wish I could get out of this suit. Her damp hair was sticking to her forehead and the fabric over her chest and legs was cloying. Her hand cramped around the welder. She bit her tongue and refocused on the weld. The last of the metal sank against the hull plate and stuck. Was it enough? Were there significant leaks? She didn't know. You don't have any way to fix it, she told herself. She backed out a little, pulling the outer insulation in place and pressing it back onto the frame. The inner insulation was shredded and she had no way to repair the interior wall. She shrugged and turned to Issk'ath.

It was ignoring the alarm and had pulled the face of the console off. It seemed to be analyzing the wires, but even Rebecca could see they were melted and blackened from the fire. The dread she had felt as she pounded on the exterior door of the Wolfinger crept back. Snaked over her in cold, aching tendrils. She was going to die. In this room. Without being able to speak to anyone, not even an alien machine.

Issk'ath looked over at her, its gold eyes expressionless, just two points of light, soft moons in the dark. Its extension plugged into her suit. "I'm sorry, Emery. Your equipment will not function."

She nodded but tears began forming. She decided she hated crying without gravity. She'd done it enough in the past several hours to know.

"Your system is rapid again. Your plan depended on the equipment in this room."

She shrugged.

"It would have been better if I had other capabilities. If I were more than a Guardian."

Rebecca shook her head with a weak smile and patted its chassis. The alarm cut off. They both looked around, but nothing could be seen, not in the dark. But Issk'ath was still staring off into a corner. "Are you able to hear that, Emery?"

Rebecca strained to listen, but all she could hear was the sound of her own breath.

"It is a long hiss." It retracted its antenna and moved away. She drifted after it. Issk'ath looked up as they passed beneath a vent. She couldn't feel anything through the suit, but she could hear the sound now, a distant, erratic hiss above them. It cut out as they passed the vent. Movement caught her eye and she shone her lamp on a cloud of ash that hung beside them. It swirled and bounced, the dark flakes breaking apart and sweeping away.

"It's air!" She shouted. "Someone cycled the door. It's air!"

Issk'ath turned. It was clear it could hear something, but she wasn't certain her voice carried far enough for it to understand. It was a relief, anyhow. In a few minutes, she'd be able to speak with it. Even if the door didn't open, she'd have that comfort at least. And more. She'd be able to breathe. It wasn't good air, choked with soot and ash, but it would help her survive if she ran out. They were going to make it to the Keseburg. Her plan and her welding had been enough.

If Alice didn't kill the others first. Had she followed through with her plan? Had someone cycled the door in a desperate attempt to escape? Were they all dead and the Wolfinger drifting blindly through the endless miles of space? In a few moments, the door was going to open. And Rebecca began to wonder if she truly wanted it to. Maybe it would have been better to die in the quiet, here with Issk'ath. She stared at the gold insect-machine. What had she dragged it into? What had it risked because it trusted them?