0402: Into the Black

Ziggurat #317

“Pull yourself together, chap,” he told himself, taking a deep breath. “You're supposed to be in charge here.” He would have given a day of his life for a cigarette in that moment, assuming he had that sum on credit.

Lamont grimaced, too distracted to formulate a witty response. He secured his helmet while watching Constance do the same with the ease of muscle memory. It was a heartening reminder that as a colonist, she had undergone far more rigorous space survival training than he had. She reached out her gloved hand, and Lamont realized that she was waiting for him to hand her one end of the radio tether. He did so, fastening the opposite end to the auxiliary port of his own cowl and keeping most of the tether coiled.

"Can you hear me?" She asked. Her voice came clearly through the small speakers in Lamont's helmet.

The cargo bay lurched with what Lamont determined must have been the inertia of the asteroid pod being braked into a hovering position.

"Yes, but could you speak a little louder?" Lamont requested. "You're competing with a whole timpani section in here."

He felt the touch of her hand on his arm as she nudged him in the direction of the rear hatch. "Try to take deep, slow breaths," she instructed. "You're liable to get disoriented if you're in a tizzy."

"Somehow, I don't think it will be all that difficult telling which way is up," Lamont returned. Pull yourself together, chap, he told himself, taking a deep breath. You're supposed to be in charge here. He would have given a year of his life for a cigarette in that moment, assuming he had that sum on credit.

"Is everybody in place?" Ed's voice came simultaneously through the speaker in Lamont's helmet and the intercom in the cargo bay.

"All secure, chief," reported one of the passengers, gripping her harness.

"We're in position," Lamont said. "Kindly evacuate us from the premises."

"You kids have fun out there," Ed replied. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

With a mechanical groan, the large pistons on either side of the hatch began to push the thick metal ramp open. There was a loud hissing sound outside Lamont's helmet as air began to rush past them. As the opening widened, it became a roar, buffeting him toward the hatch. With their feet flat on the metal floor, though, the magnetic crampons kept them in their places.

When the ramp had lowered about halfway, Constance tramped toward it, her body tensed for a leap. Outside, the metallic side of the tower looked like a wall of lightly pitted copper on a floor of infinite black. It bobbed up and down as Ed wrestled against the gravity of the moon. From where they were, it was impossible to tell whether the structure was twenty feet away or two hundred.

Lamont was half-crouched beside Constance now, both of them standing on the lowering ramp. He raised his grapple, gripping the bulky pistol with both hands. "We're going to aim for the broadside," he said. "Don't release the trigger until you're sure you've hit something."

"You got it," Constance agreed, pointing her grapple with a straight, steady aim. "Count to three."

Lamont swallowed. Every nerve in his body seemed to be vibrating at the same time. "One…Two…"

"What the hell is that?" Ed's voice exclaimed through the pounding in Lamont's ears.

"Three!" Constance shouted, firing her grapple.