Beyond the edge of the observation deck, something enormous was rising ponderously into view. It was huge and bulbous and aglow with mysterious lights, arranged in curves and coils and cryptic symbols that suggested the luminous markings of some titanic, tentacled sea monster, rising from the deeps to tower over some hapless little ship. Cassandra stood silhouetted against this moving mountain of light, her arms slightly outspread as if in welcome—or prayer.
“Caliskan,” Auger said, “I think help’s just arrived.”
Caliskan looked back over his shoulder, while his hands continued to work the controls. “What did you say?”
“There’s a significant chunk of Slasher hardware hovering off the side of the tower.”
Caliskan left the control panel and took Floyd’s place at the porthole.
“Damn thing must have followed us in,” Floyd said.
“Cassandra’s walking towards it,” Auger said.
Caliskan returned to his controls, letting Floyd resume his position next to Auger. “What’s she doing?” he wondered.
“I don’t know,” Auger replied. “I suppose it’s possible that she might be trying to communicate with—”
Multiple lines of light speared from a gunport in the swollen belly of the monstrous ship. They ripped through Cassandra like rays of sun through cloud, pinning her in place even as her tiny body danced like a flag. Then the beams of light were gone, and Cassandra was still there, but with ragged holes etched through her. She collapsed to the ground, and then the whipping force of the gale slid her crumpled form towards the edge of the deck. Her limp body tumbled limb over limb like a rag doll, then splayed itself across the remains of the railings, like washing hung out to dry.
Hard white flashes pocked the horizon.
The huge ship began to swivel, turning to bring some other part of its structure into line with the observation deck. It was as large as the Hindenberg, Floyd estimated, or an aircraft carrier. Larger, perhaps. A thing like that had no business just hanging in the sky.
Caliskan’s face was grave. “It looks as if they’ve come for one—or both—of you.”
“Did you bring them here?” Auger asked.
“No. I was trying to keep you from them. They must have the fury countermeasures. Or else they want something so badly that they’ll risk anything to get it.”
The Slasher ship now presented its long side to the tower. Floyd was reminded of a museum piece he had once seen: a deep-sea squid preserved in formaldehyde, with its tentacles coiled into a single corkscrewing blade. The ship had something of the same daggerlike functionality. The lights and symbols on its sides seemed to lie beneath a layer of translucent jelly. The ship was creeping closer, like a bank of luminous fog.
“This doesn’t make sense,” Auger said. “I don’t know anything about their plans that they don’t already know for themselves. And yet if killing us was what they wanted, they could have done that already.”
“Then perhaps I was wrong,” Caliskan said with sudden urgency. “Perhaps it isn’t you they’re interested in after all. Or Floyd, for that matter.”
“Then that only leaves one thing,” Floyd said. “If it isn’t us, and it isn’t you, then it must be something we brought with us.”
“The cargo,” Auger said.
Caliskan played the controls one last time, then abandoned them with a dismissive sweep. “Put your helmets back on and find somewhere to hide outside on the observation deck.”
“They’ll find us,” Auger said.
“They’ll certainly find you aboard this ship. Outside, with the storm and the electrical interference, you have a fighting chance of staying alive until reinforcements arrive.”
Auger weighed the options. “I think he’s right, Floyd,” she concluded, reluctantly.
“You don’t have time to cycle through the airlock,” Caliskan said. “I’ll have to blow the outer door as soon as you’re inside it.” He reached beneath his seat and produced a melted thing that looked like Salvador Dali’s idea of an automatic pistol. “Take this,” he said, handing it to Auger. “I’m sure you can work out how to use it.”
“What about you?” she asked.
“I have a spare. I’ll do my best to cover you until you can reach shelter.”
“Thanks.” Auger slipped the gun into the equipment belt of her spacesuit, then helped Floyd latch his helmet into place. Her voice came through to him again, rendered thin and buzzing by the helmet’s internal microphone. “There must be stairs down to the next level,” she said. “We’ll try to find them.”
“Go,” Caliskan said. “Now.”
Floyd was first through the blown door. He hit the metal decking hard, nearly landing on his face. He looked back in time to see Auger emerging, lightning freezing the expression behind her helmet glass.
“We’d better keep radio silence from now on,” she said. “Stick by me and we can shout if we need to make ourselves heard.”
The luminous wall of the Slasher ship nudged the observation deck, making it sway. It would have cost that behemoth nothing to plough through the tower, smashing it like a wooden jetty.
“Auger, have you any idea—”
“Floyd,” she hissed. “Not now. They’re almost certainly listening in for EM traffic.”
They walked in a crouched, crablike fashion, using the debris for cover as they scurried from shadow to shadow. When they had reached what appeared to be the upper entry point to a stairwell, Auger touched him on the shoulder and pointed through a mangled heap of girders and sheet metal to the enormous spectacle of the ship. She pressed a finger to the chin of her helmet, signalling him to silence.
A doorway had opened in the side, forming a drawbridge across the gap between the hovering ship and the edge of the observation deck. Figures were emerging from the bright aperture of the doorway, six of them in total. They walked slowly across the makeshift bridge. They wore suits of their own—seamless blobs of highly reflective armour that shifted constantly as if made of mercury. The squad reached the observation deck and stepped gingerly on to the tilted platform. They walked upright, the only sign of hesitation being the deliberate way in which they planted each footstep before proceeding with the next.
Auger pushed Floyd lower. He shifted his footing until he found one of the embossed metal steps that led below. He didn’t want to think how far down those stairs went—or not, for that matter.
She touched her helmet against his. Her voice came through the glass: she had turned the radio off. “We have to go lower.”
“I want to see what those guys want with Caliskan.”
“Leave it, Floyd. Can’t you see that he didn’t set us up?”
“Kid: someone set us up, and I’ve had doubts about Caliskan since the moment I saw him.”
“Well, maybe someone set Caliskan up,” Auger said. “Is that such a leap?”
The silver-suited men fanned out, picking their way through the labyrinth of traps and pitfalls on the surface of the platform. They were linked together, bound by a network of very thin silver strands extruded from their armour. It formed a shifting cat’s cradle, floating above the deck at head height, connected to each man by the crown of his helmet.
Caliskan appeared at the entrance to his ship, gun in hand. Using the rim of the door for cover, he took aim at the nearest trio of advancing men and zapped them with the gun. A line of bright light stabbed from the muzzle, connecting with the middle man. His silver armour evaporated in a flash, revealing a stooping human core. Caliskan ducked back, adjusted something on his gun and then fired off another shot, aiming at the unprotected man. The man’s right arm puffed away at the elbow and he bent double in pain. But before Caliskan could fire again, the silver armour of the two uninjured men on either side of him became diffuse, expanding in size until it formed a protective cloak around their comrade.