Since both routes to the generator looked identical, Marcus mentally flipped a coin, motioned to the left, and the three of them began their march. The first stretch of catwalk was perfectly flat and they crossed it quickly, but after about thirty meters it twisted so that its surface was at a perfect right-angle. Their first steps onto the twisted section were apprehensive, but they soon realized the walkway’s surface was always down, no matter how it contorted.
Marcus found the process disorienting, like being trapped inside of an Escher painting, and the vertigo forced him to watch the floor under his feet while he walked. At some of the more extreme changes in orientation, he had to fight the impulse to jump from one surface to the next. Rooms like this one would certainly take some getting used to.
It took them twenty minutes to reach the innermost cage of walkways, which were oriented so that the generator apparatus was three meters “above” them. Marcus didn’t look up from his feet until they were on top of the generator… or below it, or beside it maybe. Prepositions were failing him. When he did finally take a look, he was instantly overcome with awe.
Within the bone framework were five devices arrayed in a series, one intact, and four others that had been shattered like light bulbs. The complete device was like nothing Marcus had ever seen before, with a design that interwove flesh and technology into a single hybrid whole.
It had two distinct components: a clear outer casing and a strange collection of organs contained within. The casing was a rounded-off pentagon ten meters in diameter and six meters deep, made of a glass-like transparent material. Each corner held a dense bundle of ducts and unfamiliar machinery, and was connected to the others by a thin metallic band that traced the device’s perimeter. That band was covered in geometric shapes which glowed in every hue, and looked as if they might be controls or readouts.
The interior was dominated by a muscle-like circular organ that was roughly textured, and bore a striking resemblance to the iris of an eye. A hazel eye, rust colored toward the center and shifting to luminous green at the edges. It was suspended in the middle of the casing by five bundles of twisting, woven vines that seemed organic near the iris-ring, but grew progressively mechanical as they approached their mount points.
The most fantastic part was the small, whirling willow-wisp that floated in the hollow of the iris. It was the source of the bright blue light, and was surrounded by glittering particles that turned from white to gold as they raced out, danced and faded like champagne bubbles. Marcus had no idea what it was, but even after a lifetime of staring through telescopes at the wonders of the universe, the willow-wisp was easily the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
The device, or perhaps the willow-wisp, made a sound like voices singing in chorus, arranged in perfect fifths, wandering slowly up and down an octave. It was as beautiful as the sight, and together they created an overwhelming feeling of tranquility.
The three men were completely spellbound. They stood there staring in slack-jawed wonder for untold minutes, silent for fear of accidentally disturbing the peace.
Marcus broke from his trance and finally spoke. “I’m going to touch it,” he said. He heard his own words, but they sounded like someone else. It sounded like something Faulkland would say.
He reached up toward the framework and the ship’s artificial gravity simultaneously released him into the air. He wasn’t sure if that was his own doing or not. He crossed the space ever so slowly, then came to the framework and grabbed on. It quivered under his touch. He climbed from one bone-like strut to another until he found an opening large enough to squeeze through, and then he climbed inside.
The willow-wisp at the center of the device was even more beautiful as he approached. The glittering particles that rushed away from it flocked together like birds, weaving in and between scarcely visible tides of fluid light.
Marcus reached out and gently put his hand against the clear casing. As he did so, the willow-wisp dimmed and the particles swirled back toward the center of it. It retracted like a flower at night.
“What’s going on, Doctor?” Faulkland asked.
“I don’t know,” he said. As the last word left his mouth, the light returned, blinding, bright and fierce, accompanied by a deep roar and throbbing waves of pressure. Marcus felt like he was suddenly standing in front of an industrial spot-light, or maybe an oncoming train.
Then all hell broke lose.
Chapter 15:
Evermore
The generator’s outburst washed over Marcus and slammed him into the framework. He tried to shield his eyes from the light to no avail, and blinded, he somehow managed to climb through an opening in the cage and emerge on the other side.
Marcus didn’t know what was happening, but he knew it was his fault. He’d just woken a sleeping bear, and an old fashioned mauling was on its way.
It took him several seconds to regain his sight, and he found himself back on the catwalk with Rao and Faulkland. The generator’s outburst only lasted a moment, after which it settled back down to a level still brighter and more active than when they found it, accompanied by a new, dreadful and furious song. The lights throughout the room were dimming and changing color. They turned blood red.
Reports started to stream in from all over the vessel.
“Anyone else hear that? Like an animal screaming.”
”…everything is convulsing…”
“It’s all going batshit.”
Marcus couldn’t separate all the voices in his communicator. There were too many people yammering at once.
The walls of the room began to writhe.
”…irises appear to be seizing…”
“What the hell is this?”
All the lights in the chamber went out completely, and then began to strobe. From the reports, they were doing the same all over the ship.
“Base to Donovan, we’re seeing a lot of activity out here. The vessel is changing color, and all the sediment has broken free.”
Rao shook his head, his eyes wide. “We oughta get out, Marc.”
Marcus never had a chance to make the decision; it was made for him. All three men were simultaneously lifted from the catwalk and flung towards the corridor they had come from. They all screamed, and more screams crackled over the comm channel.
The ship began to scream as well.
Surrounded by the ship’s screeching, plaintive cry, Marcus accelerated down the blood red tunnel,. He hurtled faster and faster through twisting tubes, and the walls became a blur. He was moving so fast that the tunnel lost its shape, all the detail gone except for the strobing lights and the swiftly approaching darkness.
“Base to Donovan, come in! It’s moving! Donovan?!”
Marcus was about to die. His remains would be liquified, totally beyond identification. He’d always hoped to face his demise with class, but instead he was frothing at the mouth and screaming like a child.
Then he saw the light at the end of the tunnel. Before he could decide what to say to his maker, the light engulfed him and it was over.
His arms were crossed in front of his face as if they could possibly stop whatever was coming, and he was twitching like a broken servo. As he lowered his arms, it took him a second to realize he was, in fact, still alive.
He was floating a couple meters above a landing platform in a stark white room. There were four other corridors with their own platforms, and in front of each were clusters of his staff in shiny white pressure suits, hanging in place like fruit in gelatin.
“Base to Expedition? Anyone?”