“No time to explain,” Ed dismissed Arthur, all but pushing the considerably larger man aside on his way to their vehicle. “We’ve got to get back to Westward now!”
“What is it?” Lamont asked. At first, he was relieved to see the familiar outline of Westward as it hung just where it had been before in relation to them. Then, he noticed that its angle was not exactly what it had been before; he could see more of its top, and if he strained his eyes, he thought he could see the lights of the colonist deck reflecting off the ship’s dull gray surface. They looked as if they were flickering. But that probably was not what had drawn the curse from Ed’s mouth. What Lamont noticed next was that Westward was silhouetted against an expanding cloud of white vapor that was clearly not part of the nebulous gasses that filled the system. Drifting among the cloud were many tiny, highly reflective particles of something that shimmered like crystals around the ship.
“Oh god—something’s happened to her,” Rosemary wept.
Launching himself from the transparent wall, Ed began a stumbling run back toward the lift column. “I’ve got to get back to the ship,” he shouted. “Now!”
Struggling to gather their wits, the rest of the party joined him in an unsteady sprint toward the lift, some of them hastily redonning their helmets to free their hands. Rosemary was surprisingly fast, following close on Ed’s heels. Abigail, lugging her radio box, took up the rear. By the time she reached the lift, aided by Rico, Ed was already planted with impatient intensity against the inner wall of the lift.
“Covington had better have stayed put,” Spratt hissed darkly.
“What about Clifford?” Abigail asked, breathless.
“If he’s not back with the asteroid pod, he’s on his own,” Ed stated flatly. “Nothing is going to stop me from getting back to Westward as fast as I can.” To emphasize his point, he manipulated the projection of the tower that appeared from the descending sphere with deft precision, jabbing the location of the landing bay with his finger after mere seconds. The lift responded dutifully, initiating a descent that all but pulled their feet from the floor.
Minutes ticked by in tense silence. The explorers watched the red glowing indicator of their progress as it traveled down the center of the ghostly tower. Then, the sphere rose again to its place and the door snapped open to reveal the landing bay.
In the distance, they could see Chief Covington sitting with his muttonchopped chin in his palms on the lowered ramp of the asteroid pod. He caught sight of their arrival and leapt to his feet, running toward them. Ed’s sense of urgency was even greater than the security chief’s, though, and they met closer to the asteroid pod than to the lift.
“What the bloody hell kept you?” Arthur demanded. “And where’s Ashton?”
“No time to explain,” Ed dismissed him, all but pushing the considerably larger man aside on his way to their vehicle. “We’ve got to get back to Westward now!”
“We were hoping he came back to you,” Rico admitted.
Abigail asked: “Did anything unusual happen here a few minutes ago?”
Covington glanced around at the landing bay with its pearlescent floor and weird alien ships before looking at Bishop with a sarcastic expression. “Nay, lass. Nothing but strict normality in these parts.”
Ed’s voice boomed through the asteroid pod’s loudspeaker. “If you’re not inside in fifteen seconds, you’re staying!”
At that, everyone broke into a run, scrambling up the ramp even as Ed raised it from the floor, his face rigid with intensity, eyes inscrutable behind thick glasses.
“Wait!” Exclaimed Abigail as she watched the hatch close from inside the asteroid pod’s storage bay. “Someone should stay here, for Clifford.”
Spratt shook his head. “Too late, babe.” Tossing his helmet into a corner, he engaged the airlock with a savage twist of his wrist and launched himself toward the cockpit.
Rico put a massive arm around the navigator’s shoulder. “We know he can survive here,” he reminded her. “And we will be back after we have checked on Westward, no?”
He was met with silence from Ed and helpless expressions from the rest of the party.
“Let’s just pray there’s a Westward to check on,” Rosemary whispered.
Arthur nodded soberly and then paused. “Wait,” he sputtered. “Just what the hell do you mean by that?”
Next: Two Bad Plans