Eventually a misshapen carpet of twisted and contorted limbs covered the chamber’s floor and amongst the bodies, Gigolo still clung to Erik, their final embrace undisturbed even by their deaths.
The ventilation system now set itself into reverse and the deadly atmosphere was sucked out. The poisonous gas tendrils billowed back through the vents, escaping like a murderer from the scene of the crime. Once the gas had dispersed, indicated by a toxicity meter outside which changed from a dangerous looking red to a safe green, more hidden machinery stirred. Thin panels rose from the chamber’s floor and divided the bed of corpses into three distinct piles. Once complete, the floor dropped away and the bodies fell into the disposal compartment below. Slides deposited the prisoner’s bodies onto a funnelled carousel which had at its centre a sealed iris-style hatch. A klaxon blared as the hatch dilated, its dark plates screeching as it exposed the room to the vacuum of space. At that instant, the prisoner’s corpses were yanked out by the terrible suction generated, their arms flaying madly as if the bodies were protesting at their fate.
Eventually one last corpse was left to be spat out the underbelly of the colony – Gigolo’s. His body shot through the hatch which contracted silently behind him as if it were glad to be rid of the human refuge. However, Gigolo’s final journey did-not offer his body any lasting peace as it instantly became prey to the terrible, unforgiving laws of differential pressure. The corpse swelled and bloated to grotesque proportions until the outrageously taut skin exploded into a gory red mist.
The globules of blood and flesh of all the murdered inmates mixed with the glittering debris that had been spilt from the Odin as it uncoupled itself from the countless gantries and piping that had for so long supported and nourished it. Like a newborn animal, its first steps were cautious and unsteady as the mighty ship drifted and wheeled away from the colony, but on its surface, like a safe guiding hand from a mother, numerous manoeuvring jets flared, positioning the ship for its long journey. Once in position, its launch window open and ready, the vessel’s massive engines exhaled into life. The ocean-sized combustion chambers throbbed as the C-stoff and T-stoff fuel crashed, gushed and mixed, their violent marriage powering the craft into the dark, forbidding void.
CHAPTER NINE
June 2133
Shadows hung along the endless corridors of the Odin. The darkness appeared to seep from the countless metal panels, the grilled floors, the assorted pipes, cables and conduits that veined and burrowed around the vast metal machine. Silence also held sway over the ship; the lack of sound was complete and deafening. From the command module to the engine room, computers and monitors, motors and pumps, like the Odin’s crew, were deep in hibernation, an occasional flickering light or button being the only indication that the ship was still operational and not some lumbering derelict. At the same time, the ship’s exterior mirrored its monotone interior. The running lights that had heralded its launch all those years before had long been extinguished and most of the giant fuel-tanks that had encircled and fed the ravenous engines had been jettisoned during the voyage leaving only countless empty pylons that combed the emaciated super-structure.
However, the void was-not as empty as it first appeared because barely perceptible against the great curtain of glittering stars lay the planet, Vanaheim. Like the approaching ship, its surface was shrouded in darkness except for a hazy halo which surrounded the mysterious ebony pearl. A small moon, like its larger companion, hung in the void, its rocky surface glinting in the light of the system’s single star and against the dark backdrop a vast nebula of luminous gas and dust as dispassionate and magnificent as a god watched the approach of the vessel.
The stillness that dominated the void and the interior of the ship also held sway in its hibernation chamber. The chamber was similar to the one inside the shuttle, but here not only one sphere stood in the cool darkness, but several. One housed the colonists found by Konrad and protected by Stahl, while another contained the Nazi crew. Finally, at the rear of chamber, standing far away from the others like an unwanted relative, was the globe that the prisoners lay within. A carpet of ice encrusted each of the different globes like polar continents, their cracks and fractures exposing the floating human bodies who were stuck in the impasse of sleep and death.
Within the prisoner’s hibernation tank, a single body stirred amongst the mass of flesh and bone. It pushed itself forward towards the cold glass, pulling at the surrounding flesh, its fingers tearing skin and pulling hair. Eyes that blazed like fire shone from the prisoner’s face as what little light within the chamber exposed its features. It was Konrad. He pressed his face against the globe’s frozen shell. His fists pounded the curved surface impotently and his eyes closed as the futility of his situation, trapped inside the sphere with no apparent means of escape, overwhelmed him. But when he opened them once again, Konrad saw, much to his relief, that he was no longer inside the hibernation tank and its chamber, instead, he stood inside a dingy concrete stairwell. Looking at the walls he instantly recognised the graffiti that decorated the dull grey cement and the obligatory Nazi propaganda posters.
Konrad was home.
Intuitively, he climbed up the stairs until he reached the balcony he must have walked up and down countless times to reach his own apartment. Something, however, wasn’t right. Beyond the balcony should have been the welcoming sight of his neighbourhood with its gardens, the war memorial and the children’s brightly coloured playground, however, darkness, complete and utter darkness, dominated the background where Konrad expected to see these familiar landmarks. He headed towards his apartment which lay at the end of the open balcony, and as he approached he could see that the front door was already wide open. Only now did Konrad hear any kind of sound. Eerie voices, indistinct and muffled, floated from the rooms within.
Along the apartment’s narrow central passageway were several rooms, inside which were locales and layouts that were contrary to his memories and contrary to logic. In one room was the rocky gallery at Neu Magdeburg that housed the bubbling furnaces. The machinery was unmanned and the furnace glowed menacingly, not a ruddy red and orange, but a sickly green and yellow as if the machinery was rotting away to become putrid and rancid.
Konrad turned away and surprisingly saw in the room directly opposite a friendly face. Inside what should have been his kitchen a grand salon plucked seemingly from Versailles stretched into infinity. Ornate gold and marble decorations lined the mirrored walls, while grand pieces of furniture were dotted here and there in no particular pattern. On an oversized chaise-lounge was the familiar face of Gigolo. He, like Konrad, was dressed in his prison uniform, but this version of his old comrade wasn’t the hunger-ravaged prisoner he knew, instead, his handsome film-star looks had been restored to him. The scene also, much to his delight, had surrounded him with a gaggle of ornately dressed and bewigged courtesans. But this fantasy, like so much else Konrad had seen so far, was tinged with a dark, malevolent edge. Each of the courtesans’ skin possessed a deathly, gangrene-like pallor, while their eyes were an oily black, devoid of all life. Nausea started to overcome Konrad as he watched as Gigolo busily untied the women’s mouldy corsets to expose the putrid breasts that lay beneath. He cupped and kissed these rancid lumps of flesh, his lips hungrily lingering upon the discoloured nipples. The ghoulish courtesans moaned and whimpered as they appeared to enjoy the attentions of the prisoner, but their faces showed no joy, no sexual excitement, instead, their horrific faces remained fixed like a set of chilling mannequins. Konrad reached out to try and attract Gigolo’s attention, but the prisoner failed to respond as he continued to strip the sinister creatures of their countless skirts, his hands exploring their rotten bodies.