45 inside

[[So lucky with your group,]] Dio murmured in my ear.

I managed not to start, and then said to tem: "Are you allowed to talk to me?"

[[Snark is always permitted. I could get you disqualified if I drop hints, however.]]

"That would be annoying. And, yes, very lucky."

[[With the additional risks of this challenge are you comfortable with this team?]]

"Comfortable? You were just telling me I was lucky to have them."

[[A talented group, yes, but you only know one of them well.]]

As well as I knew anyone in my guild. "There’s no gain for them in stabbing me in the back. Is there?"

[[No, it’s a group reward. But while there’s no advantage to them in killing you, you’ve no reason to think they’d put your survival above their own. Not when the stakes include any future in the game.]]

I made a face, invisible inside my helmet to anyone except, very likely, the entity controlling the simulation.

"Sowing doubts to see how I’ll react Dio?"

[[I’m always curious about Bios,]] te said, not quite answering the question. [[In The Synergis it would be rare for a Bio to take on a System Challenge in chance-met company.]]

"But this is a simulation, and my life isn’t at stake."

As I spoke, a queer cold tingle ran down my spine, but I refused to let myself be spooked into thinking it portentous. "Silent I think would at least try to get us all out. I’m less sure about the other three but my general impression of them is good. I was more worried that they’d try to replace me with someone stronger before heading in, but they didn’t even mention it. So stop trying to stir the pot, Dio."

[[Spoil my fun.]]

Nina, pressing buttons, said over the party link: "Here’s hoping this cycles the airlock, and doesn’t just open the outer doors again."

"And we skip the dramatic banging," Silent said. "While this airlock doesn’t look so decrepit as the outside, we should be wary of catastrophic equipment failures."

"Good catch on getting the Renba in, Leveret," Nina said. "We’re going to need to pay attention to them."

Keeping them close but distant and never locking them out was sure to be a constant gamble. I reluctantly ordered mine to sit on top of my helmet for now, listening anxiously for noises from the airlock. If it exploded, our Renba would be destroyed along with us, and that would end Dream Speed for me forever.

By this stage, that would feel be like being shut out of everything. Banishment.

"It’s cycling, I think," Silent said. "Here’s hoping they didn’t breathe something that’ll melt our suits right off."

"Is there nothing in our equipment that will tell us?" Arlen asked.

"Can’t find anything," I said, and Silent lifted his hands in a sketch of a shrug.

"I have something," Nina said. "It’s an oxygen-nitrogen mix, with a little more oxygen than we’re used to."

"Tier Three Tool rewards," Silent said, with a suggestion of an amused snort. "Well, that’s good to know, but let’s not play stupid and go taking our helmets off—except as a last resort, of course."

The inner hatch glided open, revealing a dimly lit chamber that confused me considerably until I realised we were emerging through its ceiling.

"Looks like their gravity didn’t come from spinning," Silent commented. "The floor’s in the wrong direction."

"Did new arrivals just fall out of the sky?" I asked, pulling myself after Nina as she shifted to float outside the airlock. The floor was at least thirty metres below us.

"Could be zero-G all the time," Silent said. "Anyone see anything we can use to wedge the door? We don’t want to leave this entry point active."

I twisted slowly in place, searching out features. A short ladder projected from beside the airlock hatch, and there were a variety of protuberances mounted next to it. Holding on to the ladder, I fumbled with possible latches on the largest of these, and managed to open it to reveal what looked like a selection of tyre irons, and a neat bundle of ancient cord, moulting fragments of itself.

Tugging free the largest bit of metal, I tried to position myself before the centre of the airlock’s hatch. Stopping in the right spot was not easy, but I was fortunately within reach when the doors started to close. The "tyre iron" was caught neatly, preventing the hatch from sealing. A light began to flicker fretfully beside an external control panel, but nothing else happened, and we let out a collective sigh.

"Here’s hoping that will block use of the outer hatch," Nina said. "Your plan worked perfectly, Silent."

"Thanks to Imoenne," Silent said, cheerfully. "Now there’s just the rest of this behemoth to get through. Let’s give ourselves a couple of minutes of recovery time, then decide where to head next."

A daunting prospect, but my mood was shifting toward Silent’s practical optimism. We’d lifted the lid of the puzzle box, we’d locked out bunches of people with strong reasons to stab us in our backs, and we’d not forgotten to bring along our soul ambulances. Maybe, just maybe, we could pull this off.

The room we’d entered looked like a warehouse or shipping dock: square and rectangular objects were securely fastened in stacks carefully arranged around a throughway with a central rail. The rail, with several offshoots, ran to our left and right, fading into the gloom. The walls immediately below held a host of potential exits, internal windows, tubing, hatches, and objects of uncertain purpose.

"Observations?" Nina asked, after we’d had a chance to look around.

"They were tall, these long-ago people," Arlen pronounced. "The doors, they are all very large."

"Difficult to decide whether the residents were used to a lower light level than us, or the thing’s just on low-level emergency lighting," Silent said. "There at least isn’t visible damage here. In fact, this is the tidiest derelict space station I’ve ever broken into."

"If the big transport tubes are, say, freight elevators, then maybe the floor railing here will lead us to an entrance," I said.

"And even if the elevator has broken, there is the shaft," Arlen added.

"No sign of movement," Nina observed. "There’s a thudding sound somewhere, though."

"That’s one of the other teams," Silent told her. "They’ve reached the airlock and are banging on it."

We all looked at our blocked door, and I’m probably not the only one who pictured what would happen if the team outside decided it would be clever to force their way in.

"Following the rail is a logical start," Nina said, briskly. "Shields up while we cross, in case there’s movement-activated defences. Try to keep quiet. If we’re attacked, try wedging yourself in a corner until we can decide what to do."

Descending to a few metres above the rail, we glided at a slow pace down the length of the room. The first side-branch led only to piles of crates, but the second brought us directly to an industrial-sized door.

"Maybe elevator, maybe just a storeroom." Silent examined a small control panel on the door’s right. "May as well see what happens."

The control button produced a low vibration, but no open door.

"Mechanism might be jammed," Silent said. "We could try prying, but let’s move on and return to this if nothing better offers."

"Something comes!" Arlen warned urgently.

I’d also heard the noise, suggesting a large, distant hatch had opened. And then an approaching rumble.

"Defence mechanism?" I suggested, then obeyed Nina’s urgent gesture toward the stacks of crates.

The null gravity and sleds made hiding more a matter of getting out of the way and hoping for the best than really effective concealment. I zipped behind a tall stack, switched off my sled and suit lights, and tried awkwardly to flatten myself. Laborious rumbling grew louder, closer, became a vehicle making a stop-start progress along the rail we’d followed. It was almost as wide as it was long, a rhomboid block with a lit interior that we could see through horizontal viewing slots in the sides. It ignored us completely, rumbled up to the door we’d been trying to open—which obligingly slid up—and fit itself into the opening. The rear end, all that was visible of it now, then opened expectantly.

"Pan-directional elevator?" Silent suggested. "Didn’t sound too healthy—want to risk it?"

"Poke our noses in the door?" I said, after a general, unenthusiastic pause. "It sounded more unoiled than on the verge of explosion. And at least we don’t have to worry about plummeting to our dooms. So long as the gravity has been left off the whole way down."

"It seems destined to jam," Nina said. "But we should at least look closer."

I’m sure our audience of probably-millions were highly entertained by the way we edged closer to the empty and unmoving transport as if expecting it to develop teeth and lop off our hands. The elevator just sat there, one interior light flickering.

"Hatches in floor and ceiling," Silent said, after a long survey. "We might be able to get directly into the shafts that way, rather than try to use this thing. The sleds are likely to be quicker, for one thing."

"Risks?" Nina asked.

"Being hit by someone else using one?" Silent said. "Or not being able to get out of the shafts once we’re in them."

Imoenne made an incautious movement, and started rotating sideways. As Arlen reached out to steady her, she said: "A thing, it moved. Where we entered."

Zero-G made controlling reactions a constant challenge. I jerked, and then had to spend some time preventing ping-pong. Our suit helmets also blocked quick over-the-shoulder glances, so I had to turn myself to even look out of the transport. By the time I had managed to orient myself in the correct direction, Nina and Arlen had looked out, but then drawn back.

"Something up there all right," Nina said. "Worse, I think it’s taken the wedge out of the airlock door."

"Hells," Silent said. "With more than half the teams heading back to the hull, we’re looking at ten minutes to clusterfuck."

"Shall we take the elevator, then?" Arlen asked. "They would then be necessarily waiting for another. If there are others."

"I think we should risk it," I said. "And escape into the shafts if it jams."

We moved as briskly as we could manage, getting all the sleds inside while Nina examined a central control panel.

"Let’s hope this is down and not 'crawl tediously back the way you came'," she said, deciding on a button.

At first, it looked to be a humm loudly button, but then the transport’s door closed, we jerked a few times, then, achingly slowly, began to descend.

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