“Not particularly. If you are from Earth, why are you not called earthlings?”
Michael adjusted his jacket; his ill-fitting garment having slipped from the stretches. “We are, sometimes. Only in bad sci-fi usually.”
“Fascinating.” Gravult turned, starting his staggered walk towards the next ladder. Despite his fragility, the alien had still put them all to shame on the climb, catapulting up the mountain with effortless grace. “You know Meryida means dirt, in our own language. We are not so different, I think.”
The others followed them up, appearing one by one over the ladder, aside from Mellok, who was clinging onto Kestok’s shoulders, hanging on tightly. His legs had proved poor at using the ladders, and he had resigned himself embarrassedly to being carried.
“So, this… Sword. It’s a ship, right?” Michael said, his shoulders slumping as he followed across the grey stone to the next ladder.
Gravult nodded, then hooked his staff to the ladder. “I think so. The records from the coming of the Vystok are not that extensive. They mention the Sword. I believe it was an alternative to the tower. A second way of saving some of the population.”
“We went to look at the murals, in the temple,” Aileena said. She looked completely fresh as if the climb had been a leisurely afternoon stroll. “If your people had ships why didn’t they just evacuate? Why did they need to send the message into space?”
Gravult pulled on his staff, sending himself rocketing upwards. His free hand grabbed a rung on the ladder effortlessly. “Truly we do not know. It is a mystery.”
“Convenient,” Brekt said, clouds erupting from his mouth as he spoke. “Something about this doesn’t sit right. They had this massive spaceship, and they didn’t use it against this Vystok? Something smells rotten here.”
“Brekt!” Aileena punched her fellow mercenary in the arm. “This is their culture. Have some respect, man. Plus, tech doesn’t seem to work here.”
“Tower works fine.”
“Running off that crystal yeah. I reckon the crystals arrived with the Vystok. I’m guessing the power drain started then.”
“Very astute, miss,” Gravult said, his voice faint as he flipped forward onto the rock edge the ladder was bolted against. “The crystal powering the tower is an adaptation. The city is full of dead machines supposed to generate its power normally.”
Michael placed his foot on the bottom rung of the next ladder. “Jesus, save me from this history lesson. How far until we get there?”
“Oh,” Gravult said. “Maybe the rest of the afternoon?”
As one, Michael and his party groaned, Michael’s spirits rising with the shared displeasure.
The door lay on the floor, long ago pried off by curious hands. It was thick metal, a thin dusting of snow coating it, only visible from its size. In the open doorway, a gas lamp hung from a broken hinge. Hydraulic cables hung loose, the arm that would have closed the door half broken. Up this close Michael could see that the outside of the ship was covered in an odd pearlescent coating, a shimmering milky white.
“Oh, baby,” Kestok said, running his hand across the damaged door frame. “What have they done to you?” He stepped inside, scanning the metal as he twirled around. “This is something else. Really excellent work. Rhythm help me I can’t wait to check out the rest.”
“Your husband seems happy,” Aileena said to Meggok, placing one arm around his shoulder.
“Can’t say I blame him. He spent years of his life learning engineering. It’s his passion. Honestly, it makes me happy to see him like this.” Meggok shivered. The Merydians had given him a thick fur coat. They hadn’t asked where they had gotten the fur, the sheen of it looked oddly familiar. In his hand, he held the metal cylinder, fingers wrapped around the handle.
“I will say, this is truly a sign, knower,” Mellok said. Michael winced as he used the title. “The Sword of Truth! It is said that the knower shall carry with him a weapon of righteousness.
“Of course, I fucking do,” Michael muttered under his breath. “So… what next?” he asked, raising his voice to a normal level. “What exactly am I supposed to do next?”
“We find my daughter, Skorra. The Sword is her pet project, in a way. She’s been obsessed with getting it working since she was small. No doubt she is somewhere within its halls, tinkering with something she shouldn’t.” Gravult stepped across the threshold, following after Kestok who was inspecting everything within reach.
Michael followed him, crouching slightly as he entered through the doorway. The chamber they entered was large, but the identical door at the other end told him they were in an airlock. It matched the one on the Seeker, just, bigger. The walls inside the ship were smooth curving panels, organic shapes in the same colour as the exterior, the shimmer thankfully less in the dull light from the gas lamp.
“God it’s like a kitchen showroom,” Michael said. His eye caught Gravult’s puzzled expression, the alien’s ears flattening to his head. “That’s, uh, a good thing. It’s very nice. Best ship I’ve seen so far.”
“Oh, it is!” Kestok said. He was running his hands along the next airlock door. He tugged, and it glided gently open. “This is a top-quality ship. It could give anything in the Council fleet a run for its money in craftmanship. Would probably win too.”
“I am glad. You will need it, I fear against the Vystok. It is mighty,” Gravult hobbled through the open doorway.
“It’s a rock,” Aileena said. “Not sure it’s going to make much difference.”
The ship was huge, dwarfing them as they walked through its guts. The corridors were long, winding, tunnels carved into some impossible beast. Here and there they passed wheeled carts, long dead, obvious equipment to deal with the size of the vessel. Throughout the corridors, hanging from loose metal or hooked onto the occasional girder that sneaked out from otherwise elegant walls, were more gas lamps. They followed them, the lamps guiding them like fireflies into the dark.
They finally found Skorra waist-deep into the wall, a panel peeled away revealing the complex mechanical organs within. Wires and rubber hoses trailed out from the opening, her large bushy tale blocking the rest of her from view.
“Skorra!” Gravult said, slamming his staff in time to his cry.
Skorra stood up quickly. Too quickly, slamming her head onto the metal above her. She yelped, and turned around, hand rubbing her fur where she had struck it. Like the rest of her people, her face was feline, her fur a mottled mixture of oranges. Her cat-like eyes were enormous, magnified by the large goggles strapped across them. Streaks of black oil were clumped in her fur. Her ears flicked angrily, annoyed at the interruption.
“Father! You made me jump. You must be more careful, it could… be… dangerous.” Her words trailed off as she saw her fathers’ companions. Strange creatures, denizens of another world. “Who are you?” She asked. She dashed between them, examining them in turn. “What are you?”
“This is the star child and his friends,” Gravult said, gesturing to Michael.
“No, no, no!” Skorra stamped her feet like a petulant child. “I’ve spent my life trying to fix this damn ship, to deal with the Vystok myself. I’m not having some stupid messiah swoop in and do all the easy work! If we hadn’t sat in that damn tower waiting for all this time and actually tried for ourselves, we would be free of it by now!”
“No offence, but this ship doesn’t seem like it’s going anywhere,” Michael said. “Although honestly, I’m not so happy about this messiah thing myself either.”
“Bah!” Skorra lifted her goggles from her eyes, before letting the strap snap them to the top of her head. “I’m nearly there, I know it. Seeing as father won’t let me try using a crystal, I’ve been trying to get the power restarted. I’m so close.”