“Oh god. I’m up, I’m up. I feel like I had more than one too many alcoholic beverages.” Clive’s voice was booming out from the ship, projected by speakers set into the side of the hull. It shook the chasm slightly, snow slipping in from above.
“You’ve never had any beverages! Alcoholic or otherwise,” Michael said, snapping back at the artificial brain controlling the ship.
“Hang on, hang on.” The cannons began to glow. They fired, or at least tried to. Rather than the lancing purple beams Michael was used to, a barrage of sparks erupted in a pathetic splutter. “I’m sorry, that’s never happened to me before.”
“Ok, well, that’s me out of ideas,” Aileena said. “Anything else before we’re torn limb from limb by, whatever these are?”
“Ice crabs,” Michael said, somewhat unhelpfully. “Wait, do we have anything hot?”
“Well, plasma bolts are pretty hot, if our goddamn guns were working. What in the Rhythm is up with that?” Aileena was walking backwards towards the ship. Brekt was still being pushed back by the advancing crabs, though he was making a good account of himself.
“Hang on, I’ve got an idea!” Michael began to run, sprinting up the ramp the main door. He pulled, and it didn’t budge. “Clive, open the door.”
“I’m… I’m not feeling too good. A little woozy actually. Let me see what I can do.” The door popped open, a tiny gap between it and the ship. Michael gripped at the edge and pulled. It felt unbelievably heavy, his face turning a vibrant purple as he strained. “Ugh, it wasn’t this heavy before.”
Aileena’s hands touched his as she gripped it from behind him. “It’s power-assisted normally. Whatever is stopping our guns must be effecting the Seeker.” The door swung open suddenly, causing the pair to tumble back down the ramp, landing on the ice at the bottom. Michael scrambled to his feet, suddenly aware he was lying chest down on Aileena.
“What is going on out here?” Kestok was stood at the top of the ramp, a large welding torch in his hands, visor sat upon his head. He had draped a grease-stained apron over his tank top.
“Just the person I was looking for. Is that torch some weird alien technology or is it just your regular-ass welder?”
“Not sure what you mean by weird alien, hard not to take a little offence at that, but it’s a pretty basic acetylene torch if that’s what you mean.” Kestok leant out from the ship as Michael thumbed behind him. A wave of odd glistening creatures were snapping claws angrily. They were beginning to surround Brekt, his flailing getting more desperate by the second. “Right, I get you.”
Kestok strode forward, torch in hand. He adjusted the nozzle as he walked, like he was sharpening a blade. Calmly, with the kind of confidence only a seasoned gladiator could muster, he walked up to the nearest crab. Ducking beneath a claw, he brought the torch down in a sweeping motion, a gash forming in the creature’s body. It stumbled backwards, snapping its claws. The others followed, backing away from the deadly flame.
One brave nightmare swung for the gladiator, claw extended, trying to keep its body as far away as possible. Kestok simply pivoted on his heels, the sharp edge missing him by millimetres. Another swing of the torch claimed a price, the claw severing completely from the crab, water leaking from the wound like blood. It too fell back, joining its fleeing cousins. They vanished through the gap in the wall they had covered, disappearing into the dark beyond.
“Thanks for that,” Brekt said, panting between words. There were dark red lines across his skin, areas where the striking claws had come a little too close. His jacket was torn in multiple places. “Got any more of those?”
“Just the one, why?” Kestok switched off the torch, steam drifting from its nozzle.
“Well, far as I can tell, our only chance of finding a way out is that tunnel.”
“Where the Ice crabs went,” Michael said. He tilted his head back and groaned.
“Are we married to that name? What’s a crab?” Brekt was wiping the blood from his cheek.
Michael made a snapping motion with his hands. “You know, a crab? Sea creature, lots of legs, big claws, kind of walks sideways. Delicious.”
“I’ll take your word for it. Ah, just my luck. Do we have any needle and thread on the ship?” Brekt was tugging at a tear in his jacket.
“In the first aid kit yes. Better get something on those cuts as well.” The voice was Mellok’s. Michael was suddenly aware the translating alien had vanished during the scuffle. Snow was caked to his feather, sticking to what remained of the gel in his plumage. Michael could tell the bird-like alien would be picking it out for weeks.
“Where the hell did you go?” Michael stormed over to Mellok, placing his hands on the bird’s shoulders. “Did you abandon us?”
“No, Keeper, not at all! In fact, I was working on an idea of my own.”
“Oh, fancy telling us what it was maybe, before vanishing? That would have been smart.”
Mellok held up a finger. “Ah, but notice the, ice crabs was it? Paid me no attention. I covered myself in the snow, lowered by body heat and they struggled to see me. We simply need to do that, and we can walk right past them, assuming they’re still in the tunnel.”
“That’s a decent assumption,” Aileena said. “Except,” she pushed Michael out of the way, grabbing Mellok by the collar of his robe, “we can’t do that. That was the whole point of these coats, remember?”
Mellok opened his beak to speak, before shutting it, knowing better than to incur the wrath of the mercenary. He adjusted his robe as Aileena released him, straightening his collar. “Now,” he said, finally getting the courage to speak. “You do have a point. I’m sorry about that.”
“This does give me an idea though,” Michael said, rubbing his chin.
“I hate every part of this,” Aileena said, leading the way into the dark. In her hands was a fragment of wood, salvaged from one of the few crates aboard the Seeker. Around that cloth had been wrapped, torn from one of Mellok’s spare robes. It had been doused in some ceremonial alcohol the feathered alien had kept in his room. She had felt guilty about it, but as the Seeker was his ship, he was the only one with any kind of belongings to draw from. Everything about the object in her hands screamed torch, but, importantly, it was unlit.
“Got any better ideas?” Michael was stood behind her, though he was nearly invisible in the dark. In his left hand was two glow sticks, removed from the ship’s emergency kit. His right rested on Aileena’s shoulder. The two green-skinned aliens were coping a lot better with the darkness, their additional eyes making it easier for them.
“Not really. Hang on.” There was a click and the welding torch sprang to life. Aileena lit the torch in her hand and threw it as far as she could. It arced through the air, disappearing down a chasm. A scrabbling noise followed it, an unseen crab chasing the source of warmth. Michael hadn’t been aware they were so close to a drop and was grateful for his companion’s alien abilities.
“It would seem the knower’s idea has some merit.” Mellok was following behind Brekt, his own hands on the waist of the mercenary. He was struggling worse than Michael with the darkness. There was a rustling before him, as Brekt passed another torch towards Aileena at the front.
“Three left,” Brekt said. “Better hope we don’t run out. It isn’t going to be pretty if we do.”
“Still think we should have brought the others,” Michael said. “We could use the muscle.”
“And the ship needs repairs.” Aileena came to a stop, looked around, and then resumed walking.
“Ship doesn’t work. Until we work out what’s draining its power, we’re dead in the water. Though I guess that saying doesn’t really apply. Dead on the ground? No that doesn’t sound right. Dead in space? No, we aren’t in space. Anyway, what’s the point of fixing something that isn’t going to work?”