Philip Palmer - Hell Ship

That or death are your only options. You should be advised that in fifty-three seconds, the un-probability wave at the furthest stretches of this universe will reach us and we will cease to exist. We are, very nearly, the last particle of reality left.

Explorer, how do we clear the blood? And the bodies? I can’t endure this.

The crew are dead. There are no cleaning robots in this part of the ship. The Hub is the only functional area left. You must wait until these bodies decay; and then I will cleanse them with jets of water from the ceiling and sluice the residue down runnels in the floor. But this is not relevant. We are the last particle of reality left; what do you want me to do?

What are you asking me?

Can you bear to live, or would you rather die?

Live.

I felt my body becoming wrapped in a healing cocoon; I knew that Explorer could keep me alive indefinitely like this, feeding me and disposing of my wastes without any need for me to leave my pilot’s seat.

The cocoon covered my face; so that I could no longer see with my own eyes, only with Explorer’s eyes; I could no longer feel my body’s pain, I could only feel the icy touch of space on Explorer’s hull. I entered a trance-like state; and I ceased to become me, and I became a part of Explorer.

Are you ready?

I am ready.

A moment later, Explorer and I embraced improbability, and left the universe of the Olara

For ever.

After my encounter with Zala of the Kindred, the slayer of my entire species, I walked away from Sai-ias with hate in my heart. And I wondered at what I had become.

What indeed had happened to Sharrock the great warrior?

I had fought battles in this “Hell Ship” and lost, and eventually won-but they were all the wrong battles. For what merit was there in being King of the Kindred? Who was I helping or saving through such an act of braggartry?

And yet what other options were there? I could not fight an enemy I could not see. And escape from this ship was, I knew, impossible. Everyone told me that, and I had of course verified it carefully for myself, by interrogating everyone I met, and through personal investigations.

Thus, I knew we had no access to the engine room-for though there was one place in the interior world where the throb of motors could be heard, there was no way to break through the walls. I had tried to cut through the metal, but it was impregnable to my blade. There were no ventilation shafts; and no hidden corridors or secret passageways of the kind I had been so used to finding when raiding the palaces of rich aliens or the Southern Tribesfolk. There were no space pods or lifeships we could steal, and hence no way to survive departure from the ship. I had spent many days in the glass belly of the vessel looking out at space, and I knew that through the hull-hatch I could get access to the world outside; but how long would even Sharrock survive in empty space?

So instead of trying to escape I had endeavoured to make a life for myself here. I had smelled the flowers, enjoyed the breeze, savoured the sun on my cheeks. I had made friends: Sai-ias, Cuzco, even Mangan. Mangan was an angry creature but a smart one; his blind rage was his way of coping with a terrible situation. Mangan’s kind, I had been told, were life-loving forest dwellers who on their native world had lived in peace and harmony with others. That was then; now Mangan was truly a vicious devil.

But that is what this ship did to people; it marred their souls.

As it had done to Sai-ias.

I had, in all truth, become fond indeed of Sai-ias. She was a gentle beast, and a thoughtful one. It touched me to see how she became involved in the lives of others; she knew each sentient on the ship by name and knew the names of their planets too, and could remember all the names of their lost loved ones. She remembered I had lost a wife called Malisha and a daughter called Sharil; I had only told her once but she never forgot.

But her soul was still tainted; for Sai-ias’s way of surviving was a form of complicity. She made the ship run smoothly; and hence the Ka’un had an easier time. She taught the ways of acceptance; and thus the Ka’un’s slaves were docile, and easier to handle. She was the prisoner who helps her own gaolers; I had always despised that type.

And so, after learning the scale of Sai-ias’s treachery in collaborating with the despotic Kindred, I refused to talk to her, or deal with her in any way. Instead I spent my time alone, climbing the mountain paths, swimming the lake, and exploring the ship. I refused to participate in their godsforsaken Rhythm of Days; I wanted to keep my mind pure, and my body honed.

And then one day, I swam to the Tower as I always did, at least once a day. And once I was in sight of the island’s shore the winds whipped up, as they always did. One time I had swum onwards and touched the force shield walls for myself. But the walls of force could not be penetrated of course; and my presence in such proximity had caused a great storm that had vexed the others hugely; so it seemed futile to keep attempting it.

So today, I merely trod water, and I stared at the Tower where dwelled my enemies; then I heard the sound of wings above me and I looked up.

And Cuzco swept downwards and caught me in his claws. I did not struggle, I let him carry me. He loosened his grip and I scrambled free and clambered up on to his back.

“Turd-for-brains,” said Cuzco amiably.

“Vile and ugly orange freak,” I informed him.

I enjoyed these flights; Cuzco soared up to the sky, almost touching it, then soared down, and made me dizzy with his speed.

Then he hovered as low as he could above the Tower. I saw the shape of the gardens around it; the shrubs on the craggy rock. The Tower was huge; larger than many cities. It was so near, and yet so untouchable.

“Watch,” said Cuzco, and he released the boulders in his rear claws and they dropped down out of the sky and they

Bounced.

Rattling like pebbles on a roof-yet there was no roof, just air-before sliding off in a downwards arc and splashing into the sea.

“Force shield goes all around,” I said.

“No way in,” agreed Cuzco.

“No way to escape,” I agreed.

“I believe, nevertheless,” said Cuzco sombrely, “that I may have found a way to leave this place.”

And my heart raced. “Tell me,” I said.

Sai-ias

It was Day the Third of my nine hundred and eighty-four thousand four hundred and twenty second cycle of the Rhythm of Days, and Sharrock approached me by the lake side.

And for the first time in many cycles, he spoke to me.

“Are you well?” he asked.

“I am.”

“It seems then you thrive,” said Sharrock, “upon the misfortunes of others.”

I made no comment; yet I could not comprehend how he could say such a thing to me.

“I have been planning,” said Sharrock, “how we might escape this wretched vessel.” And he smiled; but it was not a pleasant smile.

“There is no way,” I said.

“So I have concluded,” Sharrock said, grimly.

“Best-”

“-to accept the way things are. Acceptance is all. Yes, I know your lies, Sai-ias. I have also been considering ways to attack the Ka’un.”

“Many have tried and failed.”

“How? Tell me all.”

I sighed. “There is little point. Trust me on this: I have been here for many years. The problem is that we do not know who the Ka’un are, nor how to get at them in the Tower where they dwell.”

“Have you yourself tried?” Sharrock’s tone was taunting; I wondered at his game.

“Yes,” I admitted. “I swam across many years ago. The way was blocked. Cuzco attempted to storm it with a flock of aerials, that did not succeed. It cannot be done.”