Red’s head and shouldersappeared, blocking the daylight. “The elevator’s about ten metres down thatway. If you can keep to it, it goes most of the way down. Then there’s a sidetunnel and a few ladders down to the deepest levels.”
John turned to his left in thedirection indicated. Through the haze of unsettled dust, he could make out themetal cage of the elevator behind a pile of fallen rocks and splintered beams.
He looked back up at Red. “Thanks.”
He took a breath and picked hisway to the elevator shaft. The ground beneath his feet was solid, most of therubble easily stepped around or over. The elevator shaft was fully blocked,the cage crushed. There was no way he was getting down there.
“Mister Kowalski. The elevatoris useless. Use the shaft as your guide.”
“I’m just about finished. I’lldrop you down as far as I can.”
John materialised at the bottomof the shaft with such a thud he felt as though he had been dropped. “Kowalski!”
“Sorry, sir, the readings said itwas clear. It felt like you ran into a brick wall.” His voice faded. “Bridge, can I get some clearance here.
“Co-ordinates, please,” Giacomorequested.
“Sending,” Kowalski replied.
John mumbled something aboutbrick walls and engineers, and slowly rose to his feet as the planet rumbledagain. The shaft rocked visibly from side to side.
Kowalski had him moving againbefore he was fully upright. This time, he found himself clinging to a ledge,the rest of what used to be the floor having given way. He pulled himself up,scrambling with his toes for footholds. The canisters in his jacket rolledagainst his ribs, and the attachments on the belt got in the way and scrapedover the rock. A canister tore lose from the belt and dropped down the shaft.
John heaved himself up onto theledge and sat there for a moment, catching his breath and checking to see thatnothing else was loose. Looking down, he could barely see past his feet. Dustsat stagnant in the air. He leaned over slightly further, a hand lifted to hishelmet to point the light in a direct beam down.
The next shift found him upsidedown, the tools and canisters jiggling against his chest as his arms buckledand he collapsed on the ground.
“Someone get that kid away fromthe controls before he kills me!” John roared at whoever was listening.
“Cool it, sir, I’m getting thehang of it.”
Kowalski’s words did nothing tocalm John, but he was moving again before he could answer. Two more shiftswere uneventful; the third put him on crumbly ground. Dust hung like a thickfog. A smoky, bittersweet smell permeated. It dried his throat and stuck to hislungs. He began to cough, as much to clear his throat as to relieve theirritation it caused. The glasses were nearly impossible to see out of. Herubbed a gloved hand over them. It didn’t make much difference. For a moment,he considered taking them off, but didn’t need that same irritation in hiseyes.
“You’re down there, sir.”
He didn’t need Kowalski to tellhim where he was. The rubble was evidence enough.
He reached to the light andtwisted the lens, widening the beam as he looked around for signs of life. Thelight struggled to penetrate; reflecting off the dust.
John cupped his hands around hismouth and called: “Hello...! Captain?”
There was no reply.
He moved forward, sinking andsliding in the soft ground as he climbed over piles of rubble. In places, itnearly touched the ceiling. Loose, musty dirt filtered down between cracks inthe rock. The few beams that remained in position groaned under the weight,threatening to bring the planet down on top him at the slightest disturbance.
Now was not the time to thinkabout the rest of it coming down. It was going to hold. That was all therewas to it.
The occasional loud groan seemedto disagree with John’s thoughts and he began to sweat. The glasses itched assweat moistened the dirt and it ran around the rims and down his cheeks. Shattered beams poked out at odd angles from the ceiling, walls and the rubblebeneath him, threatening to impale him. Huge boulders blocked his path and hehad to squeeze between them or climb over them. A few times, he pulled out thespade, unfolding it and snapping the handle into place, and dug a gap bigenough to pull himself through.
Each rock or pile of dirt thatwas moved brought more with it until it seemed that only wishful thinking washolding it all up.
He made his way down, the looseground sending him sliding. More dirt was kicked up, making it impossible tosee more than a foot in front of him.
“Kowalski, how far off am I?”
“Should be right there. You’rein the last reported position.”
John took a breath, coughed andthumped a fist into his chest. A canister pounded his sternum.
He cupped his mouth again andcalled out, “Anyone hear me?”
“Madison? Is that you?”
The faint voice was trapped inthe dust, giving him no sense of direction.
“Captain?” John’s voice wasalmost a whisper. He moved his head around, trying to pick up anything in thelight. He rubbed a hand over the filthy glasses as his eyes searcheddesperately for movement.
As the light fell on his face,Decker put an arm up to his eyes. He was a few metres below John, buried tohis waist in rubble, the rest of him coated in a thick layer of dust. Johnslipped down to his level.
“You got a mask? There’s gasdown here.” Decker was gripped by a coughing fit.
John held his breath while heripped two canisters from his belt. He fitted the face mask of one overDecker’s nose and mouth and slipped the elastic band around his head. Then hefitted the second one over his own helmet, and below his glasses. The firstbreath of fresh oxygen had him coughing uncontrollably.
Decker’s fit passed. He leanedback against the rock, taking deep breaths as he tried to relax. “Yourcollar’s twisted.” The statement came out automatically, partly muffled by themask.
“Never mind my collar. Are youall right?” John was unaware that his hand went to his collar to straightenit.
“If you’re down here,
