"Something comes!" Arlen warned urgently.
I’d also heard the noise, suggesting a large, distant hatch had opened. And then an approaching rumble.
"Defence mechanism?" I suggested, then obeyed Nina’s urgent gesture toward the stacks of crates.
The null gravity and sleds made hiding more a matter of getting out of the way and hoping for the best than really effective concealment. I zipped behind a tall stack, switched off my sled and suit lights, and tried awkwardly to flatten myself. Laborious rumbling grew louder, closer, became a vehicle making a stop-start progress along the rail we’d followed. It was almost as wide as it was long, a rhomboid block with a lit interior that we could see through horizontal viewing slots in the sides. It ignored us completely, rumbled up to the door we’d been trying to open—which obligingly slid up—and fit itself into the opening. The rear end, all that was visible of it now, then opened expectantly.
"Pan-directional elevator?" Silent suggested. "Didn’t sound too healthy—want to risk it?"
"Poke our noses in the door?" I said, after a general, unenthusiastic pause. "It sounded more unoiled than on the verge of explosion. And at least we don’t have to worry about plummeting to our dooms. So long as the gravity has been left off the whole way down."
"It seems destined to jam," Nina said. "But we should at least look closer."
I’m sure our audience of probably-millions were highly entertained by the way we edged closer to the empty and unmoving transport as if expecting it to develop teeth and lop off our hands. The elevator just sat there, one interior light flickering.
"Hatches in floor and ceiling," Silent said, after a long survey. "We might be able to get directly into the shafts that way, rather than try to use this thing. The sleds are likely to be quicker, for one thing."
"Risks?" Nina asked.
"Being hit by someone else using one?" Silent said. "Or not being able to get out of the shafts once we’re in them."
Imoenne made an incautious movement, and started rotating sideways. As Arlen reached out to steady her, she said: "A thing, it moved. Where we entered."
Zero-G made controlling reactions a constant challenge. I jerked, and then had to spend some time preventing ping-pong. Our suit helmets also blocked quick over-the-shoulder glances, so I had to turn myself to even look out of the transport. By the time I had managed to orient myself in the correct direction, Nina and Arlen had looked out, but then drawn back.
"Something up there all right," Nina said. "Worse, I think it’s taken the wedge out of the airlock door."
"Hells," Silent said. "With more than half the teams heading back to the hull, we’re looking at ten minutes to clusterfuck."
"Shall we take the elevator, then?" Arlen asked. "They would then be necessarily waiting for another. If there are others."
"I think we should risk it," I said. "And escape into the shafts if it jams."
We moved as briskly as we could manage, getting all the sleds inside while Nina examined a central control panel.
"Let’s hope this is down and not 'crawl tediously back the way you came'," she said, deciding on a button.
At first, it looked to be a humm loudly button, but then the transport’s door closed, we jerked a few times, then, achingly slowly, began to descend.
46
depths
Zooming along at around a kilometre an hour would have made the transport a bad choice, but after an initial crawl we noticed a perceptible increase in speed that became an ear-splitting rush pressing us to the ceiling, a high-pitched shriek drowning out even Link-conducted conversation. Unable to cover our ears, all we could do was grimace and switch to text speech.
[p]<Silent> No-one has tried our airlock since it was unjammed, so it looks like our feed didn’t show whatever you saw. Did you make out any details?
[p]<Nina Stella> I could only see a shape that briefly blocked the line of light from inside the airlock, and then that line disappeared, so I knew the door had closed.
[p]<Arlen> I also saw the movement, but no detail.
[p]<Imoenne> Rounded at the top. Legs that dangled. Silvery.
[p]<Silent> An insectoid species? Or—could be a maintenance droid. That would make sense. Though clearly no-one has maintained this transport in far too long.
[p]<Leveret> If it does jam, and stops abruptly, are we going to go splat?
[p]<Silent> I don’t think the acceleration is as strong as it feels. But perhaps we might all erect personal shields? We’ll bounce off each other madly if it does stop sharp, but there’s precious little padding in this thing.
We cautiously shielded, opting to leave our sleds on the outside, and—after some indecision—telling our Renba to sit on our shoulders.
[p]<Leveret> I used to think I wanted to trail blaze, but it seems to come with a permanent knot in my stomach.
[p]<Silent> But a nice jolt in the veins too, hey?
[p]<Leveret> I guess.
[[The dread makes success all the better.]]
"Are you enjoying yourself, Dio? Um, Ydionessel? Is it different when you set this stuff up, rather than have a personal Bio?"
[[It’s a very different satisfaction to design a Challenge well rather than winning someone else’s. Still fun, less boasting rights.]]
"Did you design this one specifically, or is it just a copy of one that had already been done, back in The Synergis?"
[[This one is specific to this simulation. Other have been copies.]]
"So is there really a big wreck like this, or—"
The transport stopped, not all at once, but in a series of violent jerks that sent us, and our sleds, bouncing uncontrollably around the interior. I closed my eyes and focused on my shield until the world stopped ricocheting.
"Popcorn," Arlen said aloud, and giggled.
"Any damage?" Silent asked, then switched to our team Link: "Check your air supply."
We retrieved our sleds, keeping a wary eye on the transport entrance, which had not opened. My row of air packs—which were designed to slot into place at connections above my hips—all looked to be intact. They were relatively small compared to what I’ve seen of astronaut space suits, and were only good for three hours or so each. We had enough for a full twenty-four hours, but I was hoping we’d be done long before.
"Looks like we’ve travelled three quarters of the way to the centre," Nina said, bringing up the map that showed the location of the target core.
"It updates with areas we’ve travelled?" Silent said. "Handy if we need to backtrack."
"Going forward’s the problem," I said. "I think the door’s stuck."
There was a crack of perhaps half an inch between the two horizontal segments that had previously opened, and we made fools of ourselves trying to pry the thing open manually.