Shatterheart - Chapter 2

Chapter two of the Shatterheart story! I was mostly done with it when I posted Ch. 1 but didn't want to do a bunch of chapters at once. I think I'm going to try to post chapters on Mondays, we'll call it Megaparsec Monday or something equally catchy and spacey!

If you haven't read Ch. 1, you can find it here!

- Chapter 2 -

The Drop

“Survivalist Barnes, report to drop bay nine for mission briefing. Repeat, Survivalist Barnes, report to drop bay nine for mission briefing,” crackled a bored sounding voice over the intercom speaker mounted in the wall over Arya’s bunk.

The young woman’s head jerked up from where she lay, slumped over the thin metal desk suspended on the wall opposite her bunk. Her black hair was a mess wrapped halfway over her face, one tired hazel eye peeking out of the tangle. Clearing her throat, she wiped her hair back and glanced over at the small digital clock resting on a messy pile of files and paper beside her. A glaring red 9:00am stared back at her, blinking to 9:01.

Taking a deep breath, she rose to her feet, her chair rolling back and bumping against the bed. Her room was small, longer than it was wide, with a built in closet, bed, and desk. The only thing not fused to a white tile wall was the chair. A band of white lights around the top of the room gave off a retro futuristic feeling. The window on the opposite end of the micro apartment was covered with black metal slats on the outside but the purplish hue of the Shatter could be seen at each joint.

Arya wore a simple black one piece uniform that looked vaguely like a dive suit from decades past. Under the arms and on the sides it was a deep crimson, matching several markings on the right shoulder. A stylized S with a single arrow over it overlaid on a shield. The insignia for the Survivalist division of the Warden Federation, the arrow indicating the first rank in the division. A survival hatchet was strapped to her thigh and a micro LED flashlight rested on her belt. Halfheartedly, she tied her hair back in a ponytail, revealing a pale, tired face and red lined eyes.

With slumped shoulders and trudging steps, she made her way out of the room, the door sliding out of the way at the touch of her fingers on the wall mounted pad next to it. The corridor was equally white with the same lighting strips across the top edges. The entire hall was lined by doors leading to rooms identical to Arya’s, all occupied by Survivalists, Drop Wardens, scientists, pilots, and the staff of Warden Station 18. She turned left and sidled up the hall, in no real hurry, following signs for the hangar.

After ten minutes of walking, the hall changed from a clean, white, sterilized panel to grungy gray metal and exposed steel beams. The rough surface was scuffed and beaten, nicks and gouges in the surface telling stories of accidents and the wear and tear of thirty years. The hangar was all but empty of human life. On the left were lined ten drop bays where pods sat nestled in their brackets, ready to be deployed at their mission’s heed. On the right side of the cavernous room were stacked shuttles and more drop pods.

The drop pods were egg shaped, about fifteen feet tall, with smooth, white surfaces. On their fronts were duvets making up ladders leading up to a small hatch near the top. On the bottom of the pods were clusters of inset thrusters. The shuttles, though, were much, much larger and a bit rougher looking with their scratched gray and black exterior. They were nearly fifty feet long and twenty wide with massive glass observation decks on each side with a small round pilot pod protruding from the front. On the sides, above the windows, were retractable wings that rotated back when outside of atmosphere. On the rear end of the craft were mounted a set of four massive thrusters.

One of the pods, on the other end of the hanger, mounted in drop bay nine, looked considerably different from its neighbors. Several of the white exterior panels had been replaced with orange plating. Around the bottom of the pod heavy plates had also been welded to its surface. Three people stood around it and one had her head poking out of the hatch talking to the others. As Arya approached, they fell silent and all eyes turned to her. One of them turned fully toward her and took a step forward. He was dressed sharply in a pitch black suit that matched his slicked back hair.

“Survivalist Barnes,” he said as she approached, extending a hand to her. She took it in a firm handshake and gave him a stern, businesslike nod, “Austin Burkley,” he introduced himself, “Boardmember for Local Board 18 and head of Engineering.”

“Nice to meet you,” Arya replied, almost robotically.

“Likewise. I do wish it could have been under more pleasant circumstances, though,” he gave her a sympathetic smile.

“You said in your memo that you were making changes to the pod?” Arya asked, changing the topic and physically turning to look at the pod.

“Yes, we’ve made some modifications as well as attached some additional sensors. Since we don’t know anything about the interior atmosphere of the Shatter we’ve installed more user friendly manual controls for descent as we can’t trust any coordinates or guidance systems to continue operating once you fall out of contact,” Burkley switched instantly to business mode, gesturing at the pod, “We’ve also tried our best to reinforce the pod so that if you lose all power upon entry, you should be able to manually activate the descent chute and survive the impact easily.”

“We have some extra atmosphere sensors, a six month expanded oxygen supply, doubled return fuel supply, bigger descent chute that can be activated manually, and a year’s worth of condensed rations,” piped up the engineer climbing out of the pod, almost slipping on the ladder on her way down. With the squeak of rubber, she leaped off the last few steps to the hanger deck. She, as well as the other three engineers wore survival suits identical to Arya’s in design, but with dark blue under the arms instead of red with a stylized E on their arm rather than an S.

“The pod is ready to launch whenever you are. Take your time and mount up when you’re prepared,” Burkley said, nodding to his engineers, placing a hand on Arya’s shoulder, “Good luck, godspeed, and get David back.”

“I plan on it,” Arya said flatly, immediately stepping forward, climbing the ladder with well practiced ease, and slipping into the pod.

The pilot capsule was small and snug, with a simple set of controls mounted to the seat. On the ceiling directly above the chair, easily within arm’s reach, was an orange lever with “Descent Chute” sketched in black marker next to it. In front of the seat were thin, bar windows that showed, with the aid of a complex set of mirrors, the bottom of the pod so that the pilot might more easily navigate the atmosphere of wherever they were dropping. Directly behind the seat was a small hatch that led down into the shelter part of the pod where a small bed, oven, and toilet were nestled around the engine compartment.

“Radio check, this is Engineer Brown,” came a voice over the pod comms, “Do you read, Survivalist Barnes?”

“I read you Engineer Brown,” Arya said, strapping herself into her seat, a deadpan expression painted across her face. A fog surrounding her mind.

“Diagnostics are clean and you are good for drop, just indicate when you’re secure,” Brown said, “Good luck, Arya.”

“Thanks Izzy,” Arya said softly, smiling halfheartedly, the first time she wasn’t glaring or crying in the last week.

With that, she pushed the red button on the right arm of the pilot chair’s console. The pod sealed with a loud hiss and the lights went out, plunging Arya into near total darkness, the only illumination coming from the window in front of her. It was deathly silent as the pod was slowly lowered into the equalization chamber below. Gravity shifted slowly as the chamber was equalized, Arya’s loose hairs floating gently around her face in the zero G. There was a soft clunk and the pod was rotated, the ‘vault door’, as it had been coined, coming into view. The circular, reinforced wall of metal slowly lifted out of the way, the light of the Shatter streaming into the drop chamber, causing Arya to squint against the sudden brightness. The glass of the window fogged almost immediately, dimming the blinding light.

“Launching… now,” came Engineer Brown’s voice, and the pod lurched violently, streaking out of the pod bay and into open space, accelerating rapidly toward the Shatter.

The launch rockets detached after a moment, the retractable cables they were attached to sucking them back toward the station. With a joystick on the arm of her chair, Arya shifted the mirrors to look back up at the station as she sped away from it. It was massive, miles long and distinctly rectangular. A small smile touched her lips. Despite the grief and fear in her heart, the sight and the feeling of descending from the station was still an incredible experience. She thought momentarily back to when she saw the station for the first time. After seeing photos of magnificent space stations with various extrusions and branches her expectations had been considerably dimmed when she got a look at the big, blocky, angular stations the Warden Fereracy used. It was, of course, designed pragmatically with safety and utility in mind rather than cosmetic appeal, but it was still underwhelming for a space station.

After enjoying the view for a moment, a computer voice spoke up over the intercom, “Nearing Shatter 2B, avert course,” it warned.

“Not this time,” Arya shook her head, angling the mirrors back down to look into the swirling purple abyss below.

“Contact will cut in ten seconds,” came Brown’s voice, cutting off another warning from the onboard AI.

“You couldn’t have told the computer what we’re doing?” Arya asked sarcastically in response.

“Sorry, it was kind of short noti-” the pod shuddered violently and the radio went dead.

“Pod, you still with me?” Arya asked aloud, gazing out at the shifting nether. There was no reply from the computer and the pod shook again, this time more violently and persistent.

While the violent shaking was normal for an entry, the computer shutting down and the sound of tearing metal wasn’t. Panic began to rise in Arya’s chest as she watched a piece of the pod’s exterior tear off just below the mirrors, whipping up and out of sight with blinding speed, scraping up the side of the pod. The swirling mess of energy and light made it impossible to tell where in the atmosphere or what the orientation of the pod was.

There was another crash and the mirror system shattered, the window going dark, plunging Arya into pitch darkness. Panic setting in, she reached up and wrapped her fingers around the descent chute handle and gritted her teeth. If she pulled it too soon, she was dead, if she pulled it too late, she was dead. Squeezing her eyes closed, she yanked the handle down. The chute deployed and the pod lurched in response, which meant there must have been gravity. Almost immediately after, impact.

There was a thunderous crash as the pod hit. It struck the surface at an angle, sending the pod into a wild spin, tumbling across the surface of the Shatter. Arya felt bile rising in her throat an instant before she passed out.

She awoke with said bile dried over the front of her survival suit, her body held limply in the pilot seat by her harness. Every joint ached and dried blood coated her mouth and chin from her nose. Groaning, she reached up and wiped the crust away from her nostrils and spit out a glob of blood and vomit. After regaining some level of lucidity, she yanked the release on her harness and fell, with considerable greater force than she anticipated, onto the hatch. Praying that the pod wasn’t laying on the door, she pulled the latch. With surprising ease, the door swung open to reveal a hundred foot drop.

Gasping, Arya grabbed onto the doorframe, her heart jumping into her throat. From the narrow opening, she could see that she was either embedded in or on the edge of a massive cliff overlooking some sort of circular pool of water. From that height she couldn’t tell just how deep the pool was, but it was a deep, dark azure, indicating that it couldn’t be that shallow. Staring down into the hopeless fall, she ran through her options. The other end of the pod had an exit as well, which probably led onto the top of the cliff assuming the pod hadn’t run directly into and become lodged in the rock face. If it had, though, the back hatch was facing a wall and a dive would be her only option.

She was just turning to make her way to the bulkhead to check when the pod made her decision for her. Her movement must have loosened whatever was holding it in place and it shifted violently. With a hoarse cry, Arya slid back, toward the opening. She felt her feet slip over the lip just as the pod broke totally free, tumbling over the edge of the cliff with the screech of metal on rock and the crackling of wood. Gravity reversed and she slammed into the seat, grasping desperately at anything she could wrap her fingers around. She found the harness, looping it over her shoulder just as the pod hit the water.

Somehow, she wasn’t killed from the impact as she was thrown forward. The harness caught her, nearly pulling her arm out of its socket, but stopping her from slamming into the wall. Water gushed in from the opening, filling the compartment with terrifying speed. Taking a deep breath, Arya ducked under the surface and reached blindly for the doorway, her hand finding only flat paneling. She tried opening her eyes, but the water, or whatever it was, burned like citric acid, forcing her to close them again. Desperately, she ran her hands over the surface, searching for the lip of the hatch. She was nearly out of breath when her fingers found the opening. Grasping at the edge, she pulled herself free of the pod, forcing her eyes open to try to discern which way was up.

She found herself staring into the abyss, an inky darkness that swallowed all light. Deep, deep below her, something moved, slithering through the shadow like a snake. A single, massive glowing yellow eye shifted upward, fixating on her from the depths, the black slit pupil dilating as it analyzed her, the size and shape of the rest of the creature’s head and body indiscernible against the underwater haze. Arya was frozen in fear, her thoughts of air vanishing despite her lungs screaming for oxygen, she lost all feeling in her arms and legs and a cold settled over her entire body.

She might have drowned had the pod not rammed into her side, shoving her out of the way as it descended into the murk, snapping her back to reality. The burning returned to her eyes and she could feel her fingers again. The fight for survival was back on and she thrashed wildly, swimming as fast as her weakened limbs could carry her up to the surface. The moment she broke from the pool, she made for the rocky edge, not daring to look down to see if the creature was after her. If she were going to be eaten by a massive water monster she didn’t want to see it coming.

While well founded, her fears were for naught as she reached the edge and clambered out of the water and onto dry land. Gasping and panting, she rolled over onto her back, her burning eyes turned skyward. A light blue sky stretched on above her, soft clouds drifting lazily overhead on a warm breeze. She furrowed her brow, were her eyes playing tricks on her? Was whatever was in the water burning her eyes also affecting her color perception? Instead of staring into a writhing mass of purple and pink radiation, she was looking up at the comforting blue sky of her youth spent on earth.