The Shadow and Night (96 page)

“Ah. It seemed a good idea at the time. I have antinauseants. Oh no, they're in my bag.”

“Where's that?”

“In the hold. Oh, the moment you get a new Gate here I'm back to Earth. The weather on the Made Worlds isn't for me. Not—”

“Alert! Imminent turbulence!” proclaimed a mechanical voice from above their heads.

The ship suddenly dropped as if the air had been removed from underneath it.

For a second it seemed to Merral as if his stomach had been punched skyward, then he was crushed down in his seat.

All around a great rattling and slithering erupted as unsecured objects flew around the cabin and crashed against the floor and walls. Someone's diary flew past Merral and struck the side with a crash. There were exclamations and groans around him. The
Emilia Kay
banked and then nosed slightly upward. There was more shuddering and creaking.

Above the noise, coming vaguely from somewhere below and behind the cabin, Merral was aware of a strangely ominous rumble. Perena's voice, now insistent and tense, sounded through the speaker. “Captain, Anya, can you come forward, please?”

Merral released his belt and made his way forward carefully as the ship jolted again. The worrying rumbling below them continued. As Anya joined him, he caught a glimpse of Vero reaching for a sick bag.

The strained and tense atmosphere in the cockpit and the flashing red light on Perena's screen confirmed Merral's unease. She didn't look up but gestured to an ancillary monitor.

The image on it was a wide-angle view of the hull interior and, as Merral watched, he saw a large yellow drum roll along the floor and strike a crate. He now knew the source of the rumbling.

“We have something loose among the cargo,” Perena announced in a coolly precise tone. “It shouldn't have happened, but it has. Anya, is it one of yours?”

There was a cluck of distress from her sister. “Yes. It's the fifty-liter drum of disinfecting agent. Thyrol 56.”

“Full strength?” Merral asked, remembering the care enforced when they used it in the lab for sterilizing equipment. There was a new, violent shuddering, and he clutched the seat back. Out of the window, he could only see a swirling blackness ahead now. Raindrops were splattering on the windscreen.

“Yes,” answered Anya. “The concentrate. We assumed a potential major biohazard risk. But it should have been secured properly.”

“Results if it breaks open, Sister?” The anxiety underlying Perena's level and controlled tone was all too obvious.

“Not good. It's horribly oxidizing; it will dissolve strapping and maybe insulation.”

Perena didn't look up. “And if it meets explosives?”

There was the briefest of pauses. “Guess . . .”

A new jolting began. Ahead, a flash of lightning sliced through the darkness.

Perena flicked an urgent finger at the engineer next to her. “Pierre, start rehearsing the routine for ejecting the cargo module.”

Merral caught the engineer's eyes widen. “Ejecting? Yes, Captain.”

Perena glanced at the hold image, where the yellow barrel was still careering around.

“Merral, if I feel it's leaking I have no option but to shed the whole cargo module. It won't do the aerodynamics or the mission any good, but we may land in one piece. Better get a couple of men to try to secure it. Fast.”

She flicked a switch. “The hold microphone is on for anybody to communicate with me. I'll give you warning once we start the ejection sequence. Sister, get back to your seat; there's more turbulence to come.”

The ship bounced around again as Merral made his way back to the passenger compartment. Ten faces with various degrees of anxiety on them looked up at him; an eleventh was too busy burying itself in a large brown bag. For a brief moment, Merral paused, realizing that, as captain, he could just order them to do it while he stayed up with the others. Somehow, though, he felt that wouldn't be right.

“Lorrin! You!” he yelled at the two men at the end of the row of seats. “Follow me!”

As the men unbuckled themselves, Merral made his way down to the hold. As he went down the spiral staircase, further jolts bounced him off his feet, throwing him against the walls.

The rumbling noise was louder at the bottom of the stairs. As he triggered the hatch switch, he saw for the first time the multiple seals around the door to the cargo module. It came back to him that on the model he had made in his childhood, part of the fun had been sliding the specialist load components in and out.

As the hatch door slid open, a pungent chemical aroma struck Merral.
We have some leakage already.
He paused, peering across the darkened cavern of the hold as he tried to evaluate the scene. The ship was buffeted again. Ahead the yellow drum rolled angrily backward and forward.

Perena's voice spoke from above him. “Okay, Merral, I have you on camera. Is it leaking?”

“Well . . . there's a smell.”

“Okay. It's leaking. We'd better start preparations for ejection.”

There was a jolt. Everything in the hold seemed to lurch and creak. The drum struck a crate with a loud crack.

“Perena, wait. I think it's a minor leak so far.”

“Negative, Merral. Pierre has pointed out that we can only safely eject on the straight and level. We have to do it before we hit the main belt of turbulence.”

Merral looked at the hold. “Give me five minutes. Please.”

“Three.” There was a note in her voice that forbade further negotiation. Through a porthole a flash of lightning flickered.

“Okay. Perena, can you put her into a smooth climb? Say, five degrees. I want the barrel to slowly,
slowly
roll to the rear.”

“Okay.”

Merral turned to the men behind him. “We have to get that barrel upright and secure it. And quickly. Try not to get any fluid on your hands.”

The ship began to tilt gently nose upward. After a moment's hesitation, the barrel began to roll backward. Then it accelerated and for a horrible moment, Merral thought it was going to smash against the far wall, but the tilt eased off and it thudded to a stop.

“Now!” Merral shouted. He ran across the hold, winding his way past the boxes and the edge of the hoverer. The hold seemed full of bouncing and clattering objects. Under the lights, he could see glistening smears of fluid on the barrel. On the floor, though, there were only a few small drops. So far, at least, any leakage had been minor.

Handling the barrel, he realized, was going to be difficult, and he wished he had gloves. Trying to ignore the now persistent shuddering, he steadied himself against a sled, looking around for something to handle the barrel with. There was another flash outside, and he glimpsed the window smeared with rain.

To his right Merral saw a pile of familiar gray fabric cylinders in a box labeled “Tents
.
” He jerked one of them out and threw it to Lorrin, who caught it.

“Open it!” he shouted. The shaking was almost regular now, as if the ship were bouncing over a corrugated surface.

Lorrin tore it open and folds of green fabric spilled out. “Use it to push the drum upright!” Merral yelled, trying to make himself heard over the noises of the lurching ship.

As the two moved to the bouncing drum, Merral moved back, searching for something to lash it against the wall. Spotting the end of some line protruding from a holdall, he pulled out a coil of rope. He ran back with it to where the men had managed to get the barrel upright, smelling the chemical again and noticing that the floor around them was slippery. The hold was humid, and Merral was aware that he was sweating profusely.

Perena's voice echoed about them. “Merral! We have to initiate separation shortly. Is it secured yet?”

Merral looked at the barrel, aware that the rope was still in his hands.

“Almost. Can't you wait?”

“No. I need a decision. Can you guarantee it's safe?”

Lightning flashed, so close that even through the portholes it illuminated the hold. An instant later, a peal of thunder rang through the hull and the lights above them flickered briefly.

Merral glanced at the men by him, aware of their pale, sweat-beaded faces watching him.
Lord,
he prayed,
give me wisdom.
He was aware that his options were few. If he told Perena to stop the ejection sequence and he couldn't tie the Thyrol 56 safely in place, they might well blow up and perish. Yet if he let the cargo be ejected, they might never get another chance against the intruders. Merral wanted to shout,
I've been captain for less than twelve hours and already I have to make an appalling decision!

“Perena, cancel the ejection procedure,” he said. “Repeat, cancel the ejection procedure. On my orders. If we blow up, I'll take responsibility.”

“Cancelled on your orders,” came back the quiet voice. There was a further jolt. “So if we blow up, you'll apologize as we wait to enter heaven, eh?”

For once she sounds like her sister.

With the two men pushing the barrel against the wall through the fabric, Merral looped the rope round a strut. Trying to ride with the bucking of the ship, he thrust the other end round a hole in a girder on the other side. With each jolt, Merral half expected to be thrown free. Somehow he managed to wrap the cord outside the tent fabric and pull it as tight as he could.

The barrel stiffened upright and Lorrin, his face running with sweat, gave a cracked cheer.

“See if you can find the leak,” Merral snapped as he tightened the knot, desperately hoping that the barrel was not irreparably cracked. He tied off the rope awkwardly and started another loop across the barrel.

“Sensors say severe turbulence coming up in less than a minute,” Perena's insistent tone sounded from above them. “We can't turn back.”

“The cap has been loosened, sir,” Lorrin shouted as the second loop was tied.

The ship lurched again and Merral could hear the Thyrol sloshing about in the drum tank. As he caught a fresh waft of its acrid fumes, his eyes watered. Now he grabbed a corner of the tent, found the cap, and twisted tight. For a desperate moment the fabric, greasy with liquid, would not grip the cap. Then it caught and Merral felt the lid tighten under his grip.

“You guys—get back! I'll finish this off.”

They looked at each other, hesitating.

“Let me do it, sir!” Lorrin shouted.

“No! Get back! That's an order!”

The ship seemed to fall again. Merral held on, and when he had stopped being jolted about, he screwed the cap further, until it would go no tighter.

Gasping, he stood back, bracing himself against a strut and another crate. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the others now exiting the hold.

Without warning the ship dropped.

The force was such that, for a moment, Merral realized that every part of him was off the ground. Then he crashed down, his shoulder jarring painfully against a crate. Yet, although the barrel had bounced up and down, it had stayed lashed against the wall.

Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, Merral stepped back and braced himself against a crate as further jolts struck the ship. It would have to do.

He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and carefully, mindful of his throbbing shoulder, he turned and made his way back to the hatch.

Back in the passenger compartment, aware that he smelt of disinfecting agent, Merral lurched back into his seat and strapped himself in. There was the sound of clapping, and he looked up to see everyone applauding him. Embarrassed, Merral shrugged and gestured to the beaming Lorrin and the other man.

“Very nice, Captain. And you two—many thanks,” Perena commented.

“So we may survive, eh, Vero?” Merral said, turning to his friend.

But Vero, his head deep inside the bag, was preoccupied with being violently sick.

An hour or so later, the appalling bouncing and shuddering began to wane and, shortly afterward, Merral felt the ship descending in a slow, low-angle flight path. Despite the limited illumination on the landing strip, Perena brought the
Emilia Kay
in smoothly to land on the wet surface. Or maybe, thought Merral, it just seemed smooth after what he had passed through.

“Welcome to Tanaris,” announced Perena. “Sorry about the flight.”

One by one, Merral and the other passengers filed down the stairs, picked up their bags, walked out of the ship, and stood on the gritty basalt runway. Under the thick purple-black clouds that hung overhead, a premature night was setting in. Here at least, though, the storm seemed to have already passed over, and there was only an occasional flurry of heavy raindrops. Far away, westward over the seething sea, the lightning and thunder still erupted spasmodically.

Merral, rejoicing to have his feet on the ground, said a silent but heartfelt prayer of thanks. He looked around in the humid gloom, aware that, by his side, Vero was feebly propping himself up against the fuselage. Beyond the strip, the lights of the runway showed a somber landscape of bare and jagged black rocks broken only by the occasional low tree. From the other end of the runway, a line of paired lights revealed a column of approaching vehicles.