Kraken Orbital (20 page)

And with that
one last surge of energy he fell to the floor. And the fire
consumed him again. Leaving nothing left of him for me to mourn
over. And all I c
an do, is all that I had
done the first time I had seen him die. Watch.
Helplessly.

My eyes were
pinned open until the fire had gone. Until the Kraken slammed into
the
mountain side. Where upon it still
rests. And until the ship, dead, as I knew it, returned from the
vision in which I had seen it.

I shook my
head from side to side to try to get rid of the sudden onset of a
headache. Or should
that be another
headache? Even though I know what I saw. Even though I could feel,
in some sense or another, I could feel the death of the Kraken, I
had to ask.
Was that a
dream?
Was it made up, like
another imagination?
I didn’t have the
answers right there and then.

I couldn’t figure out what had happened and
that meant one thing. My mind was still not satisfied and I needed
to know more.

That was what
spurred me on. That’s what made me follow the creaking stairs
further down into the bowels of the ship. The desire to know more.
To find out what really happened to Kolt. Or should that be, to
find out whether or not that vision was what
really happened to him.

In that vision he was burned to a crisp.
Consumed in the fire until there was nothing left of him. I don’t
know if the answers will still be there for me to discover but I’ll
try anyway. I owe him that. Whatever he was, he kept me alive
through some really hard times.

I eventually
make my way to the bottom of the staircase. My fingers, I hadn’t
even noticed, were white from the exertion of my grip against the
stair rail. This place had me spooked. It had me on edge. The very
edge of whatever edge it had me on.

I know I
promised
myself that I would let this
change me. That I would let Lucy change me and that I would be a
new man because of her. That I would forget the ass that I used to
be and that I would start again. But there was no point in lying to
myself and telling myself that meant that I wouldn’t feel things
like fear and regret.

I need to be
honest with myself and use that emotion to drive me. It
d
oesn’t mater that I’m scared. I needed
to keep moving and keep trying nonetheless. And that’s why I keep
going. That’s why I stride proudly and bravely over the flame
soaked and charcoaled floor to the first station that I can see.
The first terminal that looked like it might still have some life
left in it.

What
am I
thinking?
I scream inside of my own head.
This thing is never going to work. It’s dead. Dead like me. Dead
like this ship. There must be no power left to turn on the screen
so that I can search for some kind of video record of my friend. A
diary entry, a record of my friend in whatever form, I didn’t care.
But I try anyway.

I kneel down
to look at the housings, cased in hidden conduits that ran along
the burnt floor
, and make sure that all
the cables are properly connected before trying the power button
again and again. I know that the hyper drive, a constantly churning
power house of energy, is what powered and charged the ancient
lithium batteries this old crate used. Again another reference of
the old meeting the new. And that meant that I knew they would be
discharged after all this time. But I tried anyway.

And by
something, something that I
hesitate to
dub a miracle but must call it so anyway, it actually turns on. I
shake my head twice. Check the cables again and bat the screen with
my open palm just to check, just to assure myself that it isn’t
just my own imagination. But it isn’t. I’m sure. I check again. But
it’s right.

There is
still life left in it and I can see the information slowly load and
the ancient computer screen. It, like the Kraken and like
Kolt
himself, was frozen as it was when
it crashed. In alert mode.

A mirror, a
ghost, of it’
s last moment. My thoughts
turn for just a moment to Lucy. I can’t help but wonder about her.
I wonder if she has found anything of use. Anything that might help
her and might help us. If she is even real. But I try so hard to
shunt those thoughts out of my head and they reluctantly go when I
focus hard on the warning message upon the screen before
me.

It’s in
Russian but the bold
colors and strong,
bright orange and red fonts give the purpose away. It must be touch
screen. There isn’t a keyboard. I struggle to remember, even though
I’m trying as hard as I can to, whether or not those things had
stopped being the norm by the time this thing was built.

I wipe the
screen with my palm, since I don’t have a clean cloth or anything I
can use instead, to clear it from dirt and flame scarred soot. When
I rub my ha
nd over the static charged
screen for the fifth time the warning message disappears
completely.

The screen
feels hard. Not how it should. The normal screen would have felt
subtle, almost
spongy and fresh. That’s
how the ones on the rig felt, even though I didn’t get much chance
to touch them before I crashed the damn thing. It must just be a
sign of it’s age or something. But despite that small drawback, it
still works.

I can’t make
out much of the Russian text.
Like I had a clue about languages
. I recognize a few Russian words but mostly only when they
are spoken. The Russian language uses a different alphabet all
together. So it’s hard to relate the phonetic sounds to the symbols
that may as well be alien. They are to me anyway.

I wish I had a way to contact Lucy. It’s
really strange how much I miss her even though she was only with me
for a brief few hours. I hope she’s ok. She might even know some
language skill.

But there it
is, staring me in the face. A word not too dissimilar from
it’s
English equivalent. Gespenst. The
word I figured before, the one that means Ghost in it’s native
tongue. That must have been some kind of record of Kolt. With the
vision I just saw, more experienced, still rattling around my head
this just adds more questions to the mire that will go largely
unsorted.

But I run my
hand, as lightly as I can, a few times over the screen until it
accepts the input. The
dirt on my fingers
and age of the screen must be hampering the interface. I can feel
some sort of frustration rising inside me as I try and try again
and again to open the link and nothing happens. I was never any
good with technology either. I was better with a hammer and an axe.
Hence my line of work. Even though it should have been called
slavery.

Finally the
link follows through and images start dancing on the screen. There
are dead pixels all over the old LED (Light Emitting Diode) screen,
another sign of it’s age, but I can still make out the video that
has
began to play.

I don’t know
how to feel as I watch the same scene as I had just
witnessed
unfold again. Not as a vision
this time but as a recording. My hairs all over my body stand on
end, my heart pounds and I am filled with an obscure mix of elation
and heartache.

I see Kolt,
stood centre frame in the recording, giving out his orders with
pride and authority. I thought he was only a Private. He doesn’t
act like one.
I add that question to the
mire too. Maybe his commander got himself killed and he had to take
over. That part would have to remain a mystery, simply because I
don’t care to pry further.

I answered what I wanted to know. Kolt was
real. At some time, in some form, he was real. I hadn’t imagined
him. Hence the confusing mix of emotions surging through my
blood.

I’m glad he
was real. I really am. I would have felt weak and powerless if I
had found he had been a figment of my desperate imagination. So my
ego, that battered and bruised ego of mine, was soothed after all.
But it just meant something more
harrowing was unfolding on this world. One that didn’t sit
right with everything that I thought I had known right up until
today.

The dead
live. Or they relive. However which way I could put it, it still
made no sense.
But it was clear that the
dead were restless on this world and they remained here as ghosts.
That didn’t mean I could accept it yet.

My mind,
without my permission and barely without my knowledge, switched
back to thoughts of Lucy.
How
can I trust her now?
I thought Kolt was
just a man. A survivor. One totally off his rocker but a man
nonetheless. And he was not. Not anymore. I need to shake it off.
But I can’t.

Through the
burning questions and raging confusion all that I can think is that
I hope she is ok. I don’t want what happened to Kolt to happen to
her. I want her to be real. Flesh and blood like me. I didn’t know
I had any feelings left. But what I had left, what remained, they
were all for her.

I tried to revive the screen when it died but
it wouldn’t turn back on. Even though I know what I saw, both in my
obscure vision and in the CCTV recording, I would have liked to see
it again just to make sure.

Not that I
wanted to watch him die over and over again.
But just another time might finally squash any doubt left
over in my mind. I guess it will have to do.

Chapter
15

Reunited

‘
Sam!’ Lucy’s
distressed voice came bellowing from some unknown place. It
startled me. I had taken to staring at the black and failed screen
in some sort of state of denial. In some sort of recharge mode that
might give my tired mind some time to process all of the difficult
information that I had presented it with. But her shout socked me
out of it in a snap. It must have been some sort of internal
announcement system. Her voice, the voice of that angel, rasped and
spluttered through some speakers that must not have been used in
centuries. Or close enough at least.

‘I messed something up!’ She screamed again.
‘Get somewhere safe!’ I have no idea what she has done or what she
means, and I have to fight the internal reaction to freeze to the
spot and panic. I dart my head from left and to right and see
nothing but the dark corners of the deserted and flame torched
control room.

‘
Come on!’ I
scream at her even though I know she can’t her me. ‘I need more
info than that!’ I would have never talked to her like that had she
been stood in front of me. I guess I just need to vent some pent up
emotion and frustration.
It was as if she
heard me.

‘
I was trying
to find a way through to the opposite side of the ship, I opened a
closed and quarantined sector and have released
VX Poison gas!’

‘What!’ I
shout without thinking about it and grip the back of the seat in
front of the console that I had been using. I just hope she’s ok.
‘Where do I know that name from?’ I scream at myself and start
searching my own struggling memory. I figure it out as fast as it
takes for my heart to sink into my stomach.

‘Nerve Gas!’
I have no way to ask her if she made it out! That fills me
immediately with dread, just the knowledge that I was going to have
to just hope, just hope she was ok. I hate hope. Hope is a bitch
and she never puts out!

But at least
I know what I have to do. The
VX Poison
gas is a blister agent. A similar compound to Mustard Gas but far
more deadly. It was outlawed years ago as a weapon of mass
destruction.
Why the hell is
there some on this ship? Just what were the Russians doing
here?
That gas will tear through my lungs
and stop my heart from beating in a few seconds if I don’t act
fast.

I had spotted
them on my way down the stairs. I had seen them in my vision too,
and I had seen them on the video recording. There were lockers in
the corner of this bottom section of the engine room.
VX Poison gas
! It hit me like a spade right now. That was why he had a
gas mask on in the first place. They must have been attacked or
maybe had an onboard spill. Ironic. Yet again.

I need to
find out if there is a spare
mask in one
of the lockers. I dart to them, slipping and sliding on the soot
covered floor, and run into them with a crash. I tear open one of
the doors, the only one I can find in this rush that isn’t locked,
and rummage through. There is one! The same style as the one Kolt
wore the whole time. Or at least the one his Ghost thought he still
needed to wear in death.

There was an
apron there too. The same brown leather and disgustingly textured
one that Kolt wore in the video. I remembered that my
armor was ripped, from the constant falling over
and the tight tunnel I had to crawl through to get in here, so I
took that too. I hurried, my fingers no longer as dexterous as they
should be in a calm frame of mind, to pull the mask on over my face
before the deadly gasses spread.

As soon as I had it on and fastened I pulled
the leather apron over my shoulders and clipped that at the back
fastener. I suddenly felt claustrophobic and restricted. My lungs
burned with the added effort of drawing in breath. I had to fight
with the panic response yet again. It felt like that river, like I
couldn’t breathe and that I was going to die again.