Free of Belinda, the ride is much smoother now, though Stetson is an engineer first and a pilot second. His handling of the pod’s navigation system is fitful at best. Each time he touches the controls, the pod jounces as if kicked, and Stetson curses the design.
Dino has passed out. He may have snuck some painkillers before takeoff. More likely, the loss of his arm has lowered his blood pressure, and microgravity proved too much. At least they got his suit on before he went limp.
Lana takes the copilot seat. The pod has no window or external cameras, so the wireframe model of their surroundings on the holoscreen is the best picture they’ll get. The pod maps its environment by bouncing photons off nearby objects, except this close to the sun it can’t compensate for the background radiation. It looks as if they’re flying through a network of octagons. That’s what you get when you’re inside the sun’s corona, Stetson says. Outside of Bel’s shadow, they can’t get a frequency clear enough to hail the Homunculus either, so they communicate by transmitting lines of text several hundred times a second until the onboard computers receive enough to unscramble. It’s time consuming, but better than a collision.
Homunculus: g0t y%u in 1iNe of sight. Cont1Nue stra1gh+ 5000 feet.
Lana counts seconds in her head, not sure what number she should anticipate. If they’re moving a hundred feet per second that would give them, what, five minutes? A little more, a little less? What does 5,000 feet even look like, say, on a road? She’s too shaken to do the math. Something about not seeing what’s out there is getting to her. And not knowing how Jack is fairing. He could be dead.
She reaches 145 seconds before another message beeps through.
Homunculus: cro$sin# shado\/\/ meridi&n now. rot@te 180 degrees port. Ple@se respond.
Stetson and Lana share a glance. He brushes away a stray bit of cracker that floats from above and types back:
Panic: We read you, Homunculus. What’s the problem?
He says to Lana, “Maybe positioning for the spacewalk.”
Lana doesn’t think so. It’s not smart to read tone into half scrambled text, but there’s urgency there. Please respond. Hunter and Gregorian are worried. Something’s wrong.
Homunculus: Humor mE.
Stetson spins the pod with a series of shudders. “At least the text is clearing up,” he says.
Panic: That better, Homunculus? Requesting reason for spin.
A long stretch with no reply.
“Come on, kids,” Stetson grumbles.
Homunculus: Will need to keep |/essels separated current distance. Will be a lon%er walk but proceed as plan?ed.
Panic: Why separated?
90 seconds pass. No response.
Panic: Hunter? Need reply. What is the problem?
When the reply comes, Lana’s breath hitches in her throat.
Homunculus: Bogey on y0ur hull.
Chapter 44
Jack wastes no time once his feet are on the floor. The hydra forms stalactites, rigid spikes struggling out of the shaft, fighting the upward pull. Dandy looks on, dumbfounded, screwdriver limp in one hand, staring as Jack runs toward him waving and shouting, “Run, you asshole!” Dandy doesn’t run. The stalactites slide out of the grav shaft’s influence and leap toward the floor. Globules vault at Jack as soon as they land. Bel does her best to alter their aim, switching the gravity on and off when they jump. Jack dodges. One zips by his left ear. Another careens for his chest, split in half at the last moment by Bel’s overhead turret. Both halves whip by his shoulders.
Dandy finally gets a handle on the situation. “Holy shit!”
“Airlock!”
He looks around, uncertain.
Jack points behind him. “The ramp!”
Dandy steps, pauses, stoops to take something from the floor. His cape. The corners have been tied into a makeshift sack or bag. It sags with weight. Something shiny inside.
The jewels.
With death literally raining down around them, Dandy prioritizes his wallet. Jack reaches him, grips the shoulder of his shirt and drags him ahead. Dandy tries to wrench free. Jack holds tighter.
Bel opens the door to the inner chamber, a doorway angling out of the floor. It will be the final room they ever see, no doubt. Last stop in a lifetime of bad decisions. Dandy trips on his own feet just short of the doorway, goes down. Jack seizes a fistful of hair. Dandy yowls. Jack looks behind. Enough of the stalactites have fallen for the hydra to take one of its more animal forms. Twin arms burst from its back on either side of its body. They stretch into flat fans, expand horizontally, so thin they’re nearly translucent. Then those enormous protuberances, seven feet long each, flap. Of all the horrors he has witnessed, Jack has never moaned with fear, but he does now. This compulsory noise builds in his throat and just comes out, startling him. The hydra has grown wings.
And with a flash of her laser, Bel slices them off.
Jack laughs, then chokes on it. The hydra grips the grated floor and hauls ass toward him. Bel dices it up to slow it down. More gobs drop around it, diving and burrowing into its mass.
Jack drags Dandy through the passageway. The door claps shut behind them and the hydra clangs against it. Dandy stops to catch his breath, hands on his knees.
“That door won’t hold!” Jack shouts, grabbing again for Dandy’s shirt.
“I thought you could control it!”
“What the fuck does it look like!”
As the upper door gives, they charge into the main airlock with the two shovers. Bel shuts them inside. The hydra hits the door, which trembles, but holds.
Jack slumps against the cold surface. The hydra’s efforts reverberate through him. Five tons of goddamn food. Why did he ever need that much?
Dandy paces in circles. He carries his sack of alien jewels across his shoulder like a gaunt Santa Claus. He’s been talking to himself. Something about how this is all Jack’s fault. If he’d done like he was supposed to and let Dandy leave before they turned on the sphere, none of this would be happening. Jack is too exhausted to respond.
Dandy reaches some climax in his rant, storms into Jack’s face, points a finger. “You better get me out of this,” he says. “Or I’m going to make sure your family—”
Jack head-butts him. Dandy snorts and drops onto his back, unconscious. The gems spill from his cape, shiny blue rocks. Jack steps around him, kicks Dandy in the gut. “I warned you.”
Chapter 45
Stetson helps her with the helmet and gloves. She does the same for him. With the suits fully pressurized, it’s like being inside of a raft underwater, the material stiff with air. She fights for even the slightest movements. There’s hardly enough room to secure their EM-packs, but they manage. Fully suited, Stetson types his final commands into the console. The pod’s remaining air goes sucking into the ventilation, taking much of the garbage with it. Lana’s suit bulges, even stiffer than before.
They strap Dino—still unconscious—to Stetson’s chest, facing forward, and Stetson gives her a thumbs up.