and spinning like a huge playing card, smashing into the level they stood on with another deck-quivering
thump. “Lamm!" Kraiklyn burst out.
“
Stop
that!"
The black suit with the raised rifle pretended not to hear, and Kraiklyn lifted his own heavy laser and flicked the trigger.
A section of deck
five meters in front of Lamm ruptured in flame and glowing metal, heaving up, then collapsing back down,
a blister of gases blowing out from it
rocking Lamm off his feet so that he staggered and almost fell. He steadied and stood,
visibly shaking with rage, even from that distance.
Kraiklyn still had the gun pointing toward him. Lamm straightened and
shouldered his own gun, coming back almost at a saunter, as though
nothing had happened. The others relaxed slightly.
Kraiklyn got them all together; then they set off, following Dorolow, Yalson and Wubslin to the inside of the tower and a
broad sweeping
spiral of carpeted staircase which led down, into the Megaship the
Olmedreca.
“Dead as a fossil," Yalson’s voice said bitterly in their helmet speakers, when they were about halfway down. “Dead as a goddamned
fossil."
When they passed them on their way to the bows, Yalson and Wubslin were waiting by the body for the winch line Mipp was lowering
from
above. Dorolow was praying.
They crossed over the deck level Lenipobra had died on, down into the mist and along a narrow gangway with nothing but empty
space on
either side. “Just five meters," Kraiklyn said, using the light needle radar in his Rairch suit to plumb the depths
of vapor below them. The mist
was getting slowly thinner as they went on, up again onto another deck, now clear, then down
again, by outside stairs and long ramps. The sun
was hazily visible a few times, a red disc which sometimes brightened and
sometimes dimmed. They crossed decks, skirted swimming pools,
traversed promenades and landing pads, went past tables and
chairs, through groves and under awnings, arcades and arches. They saw
towers above them through the mist, and a couple of
times looked down into huge pits carved out of the ship and lined with yet more decks and
opened areas, from the bottom of
which they thought they could hear the sea. The swirling mist lay in the bottom of such great bowls like a broth
of dreams.
They stopped at a line of small, open, wheeled vehicles with seats and gaily striped awnings for roofs. Kraiklyn looked around,
getting his
bearings. Wubslin tried starting the vehicles, but none of the small cars were working.
“There are two ways to go here," Kraiklyn said, frowning as he looked forward. The sun was briefly bright above, turning the
vapor over them
and to each side golden with its rays. The lines of some unknown sport or game lay drawn out on the deck under
their feet. A tower forced out
of the mist to one side, the curls and whorls of mist moving like huge arms, dimming the sun
again. Its shadow cut across the path in front of
them. “We’ll split up." Kraiklyn looked around. “I’ll go that way with Aviger
and Jandraligeli. Horza and Lamm, you go that way." He pointed to
one side. “That’s leading down to one of the side prows.
There ought to be something there; just keep looking." He touched a wrist button.
“Yalson."
“Hello," Yalson said over the intercom. She, Wubslin and Dorolow had watched Lenipobra’s body being winched up to the shuttle
and then
left, following the rest.
“Right," Kraiklyn said, looking at one of the helmet screens, “you’re only about three hundred meters away." He turned and
looked back the
way they had come. A collection of towers, some kilometers away, were strung out behind them now, mostly starting
at higher levels. They could
see more and more of the
Olmedreca.
Mist streamed quietly past them in the silence. “Oh yeah," Kraiklyn said, “I see you." He waved.
Some small figures on a distant deck at the side of one of the great mist-filled bowls waved back. “I see you, too," Yalson
said.
“When you get to where we are now, head over to the left for the other side prow; there are subsidiary lasers there. Horza
and Lamm will—"
“Yeah, we heard," Yalson said.
“Right. We’ll be able to bring the shuttle closer, maybe right down to wherever we find anything soon. Let’s go. Keep your
eyes open." He
nodded at Aviger and Jandraligeli, and they went forward. Lamm and Horza looked at each other, then set off
in the direction Kraiklyn had
indicated. Lamm motioned to Horza to switch off his communicator transmit and open his visor.
“If we’d waited we could have put the shuttle down where we wanted to in the first place," he said with his own visor open.
Horza agreed.
“Stupid little bastard," Lamm said.
“Who." asked Horza.
“That kid. Jumping off the goddamned platform."
“Hmm."
“Know what I’m going to do." Lamm looked at the Changer. “What."
“I’m going to cut that stupid little bastard’s tongue out, that’s what I’m going to do. A tattooed tongue should be worth
something, shouldn’t
it. Little bastard owed me money anyway. What do you think. How much do you think it’d be worth."
“No idea."
“Little bastard…" Lamm muttered.
The two men tramped along the deck, angling away from the dead-ahead line they had taken previously. It was difficult to tell
where exactly
they were heading, but according to Kraiklyn it was toward one of the side prows, which stuck out like enormous
outriggers attached to the
Olmedreca
and formed harbors for the liners which had shuttled to and from the Megaship in its heyday, on excursions, or working as
tenders.
They passed where there had evidently been a recent firefight; laser burns, smashed glass and torn metal littered an accommodation
section of the ship, and torn curtains and wall hangings flapped in the steady breeze of the great ship’s progress. Two of
the small wheeled
vehicles lay smashed on their sides nearby. They crunched over the debris and kept walking. The other two
groups were heading forward, too,
making reasonable progress according to their reports and chatter. Ahead of them there still
lay the enormous bank of cloud they had seen
earlier; it wasn’t growing any thinner or lower, and they could only be a couple
of kilometers from it now, though distances were hard to
estimate.
“We’re here," Kraiklyn said eventually, his voice crackling in Horza’s ear. Lamm turned his transmit channel on.
“What." He looked, mystified, at Horza, who shrugged.
“What’s keeping you two." Kraiklyn said. “We had further to walk. We’re at the main bows. They stick further out than the
bit you’re on."
“The hell you are, Kraiklyn," Yalson broke in from the other team, which was supposed to be heading for the opposite set of
side prows.
“What." Kraiklyn said. Lamm and Horza stopped to listen to the exchange over their communicators. Yalson spoke again:
“We’ve just come to the edge of the ship. In fact I think we’re a bit out from the main side… on some sort of wing or buttress….
Anyway,
there’s no side prow around here. You’ve sent us in the wrong direction."
“But you…" Kraiklyn began. His voice died away.
“Kraiklyn, dammit, you’ve sent us toward the bow and
you’re
on a side prow!" Lamm yelled into his helmet mike. Horza had been coming to
the same conclusion. That was why they were still
walking and Kraiklyn’s team had reached the bows. There was silence from the
Clear Air
Turbulence
’s captain for a few seconds, then he said:
“Shit, you must be right." They could hear him sigh. “I guess you and Horza had better keep going. I’ll send somebody down
in your direction
once we’ve had a quick look round here. I think I can see some sort of gallery with a lot of transparent
blisters where there might be some