CHAPTER FOUR

  Chaos spiraled unrestrained through the cramped passageways of the market. Vendors grabbed as much as they could hold, scrambling with a wild ferocity to save what took a lifetime to build. A fire had broken out in the eastern quadrant, consuming the stalls in a rapid sea of relentless flame. Lanic held Soran, his grip uncompromising. The frantic escape of panicked market-goers jostled around the pair.

  "We have to get out of here. See if you can find a clearing," Soran clambered onto Lanic's lumbering shoulders and peered out over the crowd. He scoured for an exit unclogged by the bodies of desperate souls fleeing the inferno. To the south were the maintenance ducts. It was a safe bet, considering only staff used them to traverse the ship. Not common knowledge to residents or passers-by. Though the rapidity of the spreading fire was alarming, the area was, for now, clear of danger,

  "The ducts!" Soran insisted, pointing his arm through a break in the crowd. Lanic raced through the ruined market, jumping over the debris and abandoned wares. They reached the duct hatches with not a second to spare. Lanic pulled a steel ring from his belt and plunged a series of keys into the three locks. He rotated them with simultaneous motion and received a pleasant access tone — the chime of salvation. The Navy had invented the system to ensure two personnel had to enter together. The ducts were notorious for sweeping inattentive workers out into the vacuum of space, necessitating the twin entry protocol, watching your back becoming someone else's burden. Unfortunately for the Hyacinth, their system was devised before there had any Ven aboard that could easily open three locks and still have a hand spare to light a cigar. Jumping into the hatch, they ascended a series of ladders connecting the station's various floors. Their destination was on level sixteen, buried deep in tunnels once purposed for a tram system when the station opened. Long abandoned, they were perfect for off-the-radar activities.

  Entering the ducts, they passed a viewing portal, and a familiar but magnificent sight greeted them. Titanic claws sprawled outward from the central cylindrical structure, anchoring the station to aa mammoth sphere of wandering rock. Although an ever-present background for the two engineers, the sheer scale of the construction and its technical brilliance often had them marveling at what the galactic government had managed to birth. The Hyacinth was one of six such stations dotted around the quadrant, the multiplicity adding more weight to an already impressive feat.

  The ladders were a challenging climb on a regular day, coated in the sweat and oil of countless greased-up runners ferrying cargo to its destination. Add to that the near-constant trembling of the station, and Lanic had to hyper-focus even to maintain his grip on the rusted iron frame.

  After an agonizing climb, they had made it to their exit. Lanic placed Soran down, falling to his knees and gasping to catch his breath. Soaring temperatures made it obvious the fire was yet to be restrained, continuing its assault as it climbed from level to level. The market was only the first causality of what could become the entire station if it remained unchallenged.

  Lanic struggled to right himself, and Soran swung under his right arms, helping the weary Ven to his feet. Lanic took a moment to catch his breath, and Soran was reluctant to admit what he had been feeling for a while now. He had noticed it while observing Lanic climb around the ships at work. It was present in every strained motion as he rose from his tattered armchair. Everyday tasks were becoming difficult, the fact impossible to ignore. He didn't want to admit it, but he knew that one day soon, his mentor would be hanging up his belt for the last time.

  "Listen, what I said before, it still applies now. If we get into danger, you run. Right?" Lanic was serious. He knew the peril of hesitating, even for a second. He couldn't afford to make another mistake. Even though Soran couldn't bear the thought of leaving his mentor behind, he gave a reassuring nod. "Good lad."

  After powering their way through a series of small hatches, they entered the vast expense of the tunnel systems. Lanic hobbled over to the wall, pulling back a large cloth curtain and revealing a small doorway.

  "Quick, inside". Soran complied, entering a cramped room filled with tools. An extended workbench hugged the right wall, littered with various engine parts. The pungent odor of paint almost overpowered him. He cupped his fingers over his face to protect the last of what was healthy about his lungs. Lanic brushed past him, marching his way to a gloomy rear corner. He gently pulled off a tarp covering a large object, like a magician performing his final reveal. Engulfed in powdery debris, Soran burst into a coughing fit, his eyes forced into a fluttering battle with the dust. As his vision returned, his eyes rested upon an ocean-blue vessel, a white stripe running along its center. The decal of a soaring bird emblazoned on its front gleamed in defiance of the workshop's dim lighting.

  "You like her?"

  "She's beautiful, Lanic. You did this yourself?" Soran asked, running his hand over the ship's sleek finish.

  "It was supposed to be a surprise. When you finally left this rotten place, I wanted to send you off in style. But we'll have to take Miss Bluebird for an early test drive." Lanic slid open the side door and jumped into the pilot's seat; his ship returned a creaking complaint in response. The Bluebird was a two-person vessel with enough room in the back for modest cargo or, if the situation required, a stowaway. Lanic pulled up the navigation panel, scanning the tunnel network for a way out of the station.

  "Just our luck." Lanic slammed his fist on the dash, plunging back into the seat. The twin gates leading into space were locked, and a control room on the upper floor was the only way to open them.

  "We're stuck." Lanic sighed and deflated further into his chair. Soran jumped out of the ship without hesitation, making a beeline for the door. Lanic shouted after him in protest, but it was too late, his stained overalls vanishing behind the cloth curtain. Despite his warnings, the boy had thrown himself into danger, and in Lanic's current state, there was no use trying to catch him. All he could do was wait and hope he would return unharmed. Their fate was in his hands now.

  Soran had previous experience in the control room. On several occasions, operating the Iris gate had been his daily assignment. He had ferried countless vessels on their journey to and from the station. All he had to do was get there; the rest was easy.

  He returned to the maintenance hatch, breathless but without time to spare. As he slid open the iron grate, scorching winds blasted him with the pungent stench of Shimmersene. He began to drift, the fumes making him light-headed.

  A leak? He thought, shaking his head vigorously to focus on the task. Reaching the top of the ladder, he pulled himself onto the cold metal floor above, laying down to catch his breath. Something dripped onto his forehead and rolled over his cheek. Rubbing his hand through the liquid revealed a viscous crimson substance and confirmed his suspicions. Diesel was leaking through the walls and ceilings of the station, and he suspected a ruptured tank on the upper floors. If the Shimmersene came into contact with the fires below, the station and the asteroid it clung to would cease to exist. There would be nothing; not even a speck of dust would remain.

  Soran jumped to his feet and ran as fast as he could. Each room he passed dripped with Diesel, the fumes impairing his ability to function. He felt himself tripping over his feet, his shoulders bouncing off the walls as he swayed too far to either side. He had to keep moving; the fires were rising fast, and if he wanted to survive, those gates needed to open.