“I’ve heard of faith-based institutions going toe to toe with Sychi before for artifacts,” Ishtan said. “Truthfully, they’re the only ones with the capital to.”
Even in the pursuit of knowledge, in the uncovering of truth, it always boiled down to money. The concept always had eluded Iris. He understood that it was necessary for the exchange of goods and services, but having never handled any money, he lacked any desire for its accumulation. He took little interest in the mechanics of its aggregation and quickly grew bored of people who did. Still, the way it often reduced people’s time and attention to mere commodities irked him. Now, money would reduce the ship to the collection of its parts, to the heightened importance of some parts over others. There would be, as Riyu put it, “a fight,” and Iris had no stomach for fights.
Sipping at his tea, Iris retreated into the study of the pings along the map as Riyu and Ishtan continued their discussion of artifact ownership. Every few sentences, Iris nodded along to convince the two that he was listening, meanwhile thinking,why can’t it just be left alone?
Around the corner, and far enough that the exposed flame of the torch didn’t burn their eyes, Jesi and Tev chattered among themselves, hoods lifted over their heads to reveal their youthful faces. Between jokes, they threw disapproving glances at station security, crouched some way down the corridor, still playing cards. Being the youngest (and the mouthiest) of the group, Iris deemed Jesi and Tev poorly suited for what he had in mind. It was also unwise to frighten them before there was a pressing need for it.
At the far end of the corridor, face obstructed by a black safety hood, Yan worked away at a door. Sparks flew where thetorch bit at the metal door, spraying on the soft moss, dying too quickly to pose any real danger.
According to Iris’s map, Yan was in for a long session. The reinforced door led to a small, maintenance space where most of the electronics responsible for the third deck were situated. The door was built to withstand the full depressurization of the ship. For all his efforts, Yan couldn’t compete. The engineers had already taken three shifts of an hour each.
As he leaned against the corridor wall, the echoes of a weakened pulse radiated through Iris’s shoulder. This far from the centre of theNicaea, the individual beats were faded, barely detectable amid the chatter and the crackling of the welding torch.Here it is again, Iris thought to VIFAI.Note it on our map.AnotherXto add to his already concerning collection.
Without any warning, all noise dropped away. The torch let out a soft thud against the lush floor. With an ancient groan, the door slid upwards and open.
“Finally,” Yan huffed and wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt, leaving a charcoal swipe across his tan skin. He took one step over the threshold and paused. Dampness seeped from the small space. Without turning around, Yan called out for a flashlight.
Through his shoulder, pressed against the corridor wall, Iris felt the ship’s pulse quicken.
What’s going on? Why is it pinging me again?
Iris had no answer, but a deadly premonition stirred in the pit of his stomach. Before he could summon an answer for VIFAI, he turned the corner and took off running towards the door. Calling out would cost Yan another second, when he would invertedly turn towards Iris, and Yan didn’t have another second. Not that Yan would heed a warning from him anyway. With a barely audible sizzle, the light panel above the door gavea faint flicker. Iris hopped over station security guards, still aimlessly playing cards, spun around Tev, and sidestepped Jesi. He was barreling down the corridor, too fast to pull Yan backwards. The engineer was already three-quarters through the door, only the knee and ankle of his left leg left standing in the corridor. Forwards, the only way was forwards. Iris only hoped he had enough mass to clear Yan of the doorway.
The light panel above the door flickered one last time and died. Iris leapt. The door released and flew towards the floor. Iris tackled Yan from behind, both their bodies toppling forwards into the darkness. At the last moment, Iris pulled his knees in as the door slammed shut. In the remaining darkness, both men lay on the smooth floor, gasping for air, winded from the impact.
Yan was the first to regain his ability to speak. “What the hell was that?” His boots scraped the metal floor as he clambered to his feet. In the pitch black, only sound indicated the state of Yan’s mood, but sound was plenty. “What thehell?”
“Something malfunctioned in the door mechanism,” Iris said softly. He pushed himself upright into a sitting position against the wall and crossed his legs. “My options were quite limited, engineer Yan. If I called out to you, it would take too long for you to act. I couldn’t explain in the limited time that I needed you to stepoutof the room. I couldn’t have pulled you backwards, I was already going too fast. The remaining option was to tackle you out of the way.”
Iris held his breath in anticipation of Yan’s certain curse, perhaps even a strike. “Yes. I figured allthat,” the engineer said instead. “I want to know what went wrong with the door and how to get out of here. Can’t see shit.”
The darkness was something Iris could remedy. He reached into one of the many pockets of his robes and found his glowsphere. His fingers drummed out the intricate patterns needed to ignite it, and moments later, a soft white light filled the small space.
An apparition of Yan’s face stared solemnly at Iris, worn gaunt by the long shadows thrown across the walls. Forgoing an explanation, Yan pressed his ear to the door and shushed Iris. After a few seconds, he pulled away and slammed an open palm against the metal. Once. Twice. Again, he pressed his face against the metal and listened. “Either everyone on the other end is dead, or this room is completely soundproof. Either way, it doesn’t bode well for us.” Yan’s eyes raced wildly along the walls of the room, taking in every detail that could be of use to them. The engineer was frightened, bordering on panicked, but too proud to show any of it. Maybe for the best.
This song and dance was all too familiar. Men, fighting for a sliver of control when no control was to be had. Men, on the brink of death, baring their teeth in feral smiles. Anything, anything at all to stifle the fear that bubbled just beneath the surface. All this, the denial of fear and death, all for the welfare of others. In some odd way, Iris came to observe this futile performance of courage with affection. He was about to reassure Yan that they would be all right, an attempt to settle his own nerves as well, when Yan stuck his finger in his mouth and promptly popped it back out, slick with saliva. He raised his hand above his head, index finger pointed towards the ceiling. Iris held his breath without being told to.
“We have no air movement,” Yan said at last, lowering his hand. There was no fear left in his voice, only frigid determination propelling him forwards. “Don’t panic, Vessel. We have whatever the ship pumped inside before it shut the door. It’s just that we’re not getting anything new.”
Iris nodded and closed his eyes. He had no panic in him, in part because he suspected Yan would be the first to break, in part because he had yet to accept the gravity of their situation.
“What are you doing?” Yan asked.
“Slowing down my breathing and heart rate to ration the air better, engineer.”
Yan’s disapproving glare landed like an iron weight on Iris, and in a voice low and dripping with venom, the engineer said, “Thank youfor doing your part. Looking at the size of this room and basing my calculations off us two, adult males, me of respectable stature and you, well”—he gestured to all of Iris—“I would say we have …”
Four hours, VIFAI said.
“Three hours and forty-seven minutes, give or take.” Yan mouthed something silently to himself. His eyes, wide open and tracing the perimeter of the space, landed on the sitting monk. “No. I’m wrong,” Yan muttered. “Carbon dioxide will do us in much faster. Three hours, at most. Maybe you had the right idea after all, Vessel, with the not breathing part.”
Breathing slower.
“The room is airtight?” Iris asked.
Yan nodded grimly. “Yeah, in the worst-case scenario.” He gestured at the vents. “Let’s get to work. I’m going to see if I can shimmy any of these open. We need air first, then we can think up how to get the door open.”
“What would you like me to do?” Iris asked, expecting Yan to respond with a loadedstop breathing, ormeditate yourself into a coma.
