Author's Notes:
End's coming up soon. It may be this chapter, followed by the final chapter. When I'm done, I'll rearrange the whole work into about 4~5 chapters, stitching the smaller ones together for ease of reading.
Poll is still up, and now with another option. If you want to change your vote, go ahead.
Edited: some minor grammar changes, and an announcement:
I said earlier that I'd let y'all decide who the next fic would focus on. Right now, the most popular option is James. The next story will be about him, but a few things I should say, first. One, the story that I had in mind that was the most fleshed-out was one that would be about Fox; in James' case, I have a rough framework and an overarching plot, but its not as extensive or detailed. I was betting that people were hoping for a Fox fic. So, the plan is to go ahead with the story about James. Second, since I don't want to leave behind the ideas I've got for Fox, I've decided to write both stories.
I feel really bad about having said I'd do something, and then do something else. I'm sorry if you feel like I've misled y'all-I shouldn't have made a promise that I couldn't keep.
That said, I *will* be writing about James. I promised that. But I'll also be doing a story about Fox at the same time. If y'all think this is a bad idea, please PM me or leave a review to let me know.
"Last call. Everyone good?"
Bigelow was standing before the group, speaking as Zipper shut the door.
"'Cause back there," She pointed one armored hand at the other end of the hallway, "Is the elevator to the chamber."
She turned back to face them. Neil had his tongue pressed against his cheek. Zipper stepped forwards, putting his rifle against the wall, and folding his great metal limbs. Mary, seeing everyone, stood a little straighter.
"Whatever we're gonna face up against, we're gonna see at the other end of the elevator shaft. We got ammo, and our suits should be fit to last another day. Right now's the best time to make sure everyone has their shit in order," the last few words were enunciated, with Bigelow's eyes piercing through the dark from behind her tinctured helmet dome.
"Do you understand?" She was looking at each face. Zipper. Mary...Neil.
Zipper tilted his head forward. Mary swallowed. Neil only watched.
"I'm saying this because, well..." Bigelow's voice trailed off for a moment as she looked down, "because I am grateful."
Every head looked up. Zipper stopped leaning against the wall. Mary saw Bigelow's face, and furrowed her brow. Neil narrowed his eyes.
"I...I just, well..." Bigelow began to stutter, "We...none of us, have known each other for long, have we?"
Bigelow's expression, usually hard and focused, relaxed. The bags under her eyes grew larger, and her voice became very, very soft.
"We've hung around each other, for what? Three days? Four?" She looked up, scanning the crowd, "None of us ever really talked on the ship. I think, maybe, at best, we all saw each other's faces a...handful of times before even getting on the shuttle."
"But now, we're knee-deep, at the end," she swallowed, "and we've, what? Lived? Struggled? Fought. We've fought, for the past sixty, seventy hours, just to find a way home. It's...weird. We used to be strangers,"
She looked at Neil, "But we've each, each and all of us, worked together, even though we had every...good reason to panic, to run, to abandon everyone," She managed a wry smile, so thin you could miss it, "But no one here did,"
She looked up to Mary. Mary's eyes watered, and she began to sniffle a little. Zipper's expression grew a little softer, letting out a rumbling sigh. Neil kept watching, unfolding his arms.
"We're here," Now, Bigelow's voice began stopping at intervals, pausing between words "I am, grateful...that the people here, out of everyone I could've found or gotten stuck with, want to help me. Want to help strangers," Bigelow sniffed once, "I know...that it's hard to go and put your trust in someone you...barely know,"
She looked at Neil, smiling the same wan smile, "It didn't come easy," she tilted her head, laughing a bit. Neil paused, then formed a small smile with a soft gaze.
Bigelow looked at everyone one more time, "The next bit, won't be easy," her gaze hardened, and her jaw clenched, "We've got what's probably gonna be the way out, at the bottom of that shaft. We're working off of nothing but a hunch, here," She looked down, grimacing "All of you have been following me, for no reason but that."
She looked back up again, eyes focused, "but then, that's what we've always had, right? A hunch,"
She looked at the group, but this time her face had changed. She was proud, "My hunch is that we can do good a little longer."
Zipper made an affirming grunt. Mary made a weak, but hiccuping, laugh. Neil walked up, and held up a fist. Bigelow, unsure for a moment about what to do, put up her own fist.
Neil bumped his closed hand into hers, and then, dryly, he spoke, "Odds are, you're wrong: I'm not sure if we even have a hunch to follow. But whatever you're doing, you're doing right. I'll follow you Bigs. Even if you're, y'know, kind of a softie. "
Bigelow, surprised, gave him a deadpan look. Neil, at first, made a small smile, then, it spread: after a few seconds he bore a wide, toothy, happy grin. Seeing this, Bigelow shook her head and spoke again, in a much louder voice,
"Now, then." Smiling, and with determination scrawled into every feature of her face, she spoke, voice raised, "Let's rock."
The group turned towards the elevator, taking long strides. Someone started humming. As everyone assembled in the single elevator shaft, Zipper spoke, grinning big:
"Express delivery of whoop-ass! Going down!"
The doors shut behind them, leaving the hallway silent once more. In the distance, loud tapping footsteps echoed throughout the passage.
At the bottom of the structure, there was a wide room, filled with consoles. Arranged in rows, like the steps of a terrace, every row faced a single, large screen at the front of the room. At each side of the room, balconies were built, with small rows of seats that all faced the same screen. Beneath these balconies were massive machines: gray, tan, and black wires were bundled into coils that interconnected each machine, and each coil was bound by tarnished rings.
On the shelves, there were racks of files, switches, and a single coffee machine, its bowl stained black and with rust eating away at its metal edges. Chalk boards on wheels were scattered throughout the room, each holding their own designs. One was a diagram of a smooth lump, drawn next to a silhouette of a person with a scale beside him. Another was a series of tables with scribbled notes in the margins. A last one held an image of a great circle, built into the ground, with several objects drawn entering and exiting it. At this moment, the machines lit up.
A low rumble at first, in the distance, followed by loud, tonal beeping. The chittering of the neighboring machines followed, joined by chirping of the consoles. Screens lit up, panel LEDs made little pinpricks of greens, yellows, and reds in the dark. In one corner, some sparks flew from a portable generator as it sputtered to life. The low, breezy sigh of air vents flooded the room. The swish-swish-swish of fans from the air ducts could be heard past all the chattering and clicking of the computers.
On the screen, an image flickered. It was of a massive, circular chamber, with an unusual-looking portal carved into the floor. Small figures moved around the edges, covered in heavy, protective suits. As they moved around, the image suddenly grew darker, and the portal in the floor was shown as a faint outline on the ground.
One of the figures stepped to the far end of the circular chamber, and pulled a heavy red switch built into the wall. The moment it was brought down, the portal began to glow orange. Soon after, slowly, an object rose from the portal. It was a metal box, attached to a great rocket engine. The small figures clapped, stepping backwards as a great metal arm reached down and grabbed the satellite, towing it upwards.
The claw pulled the object aside, and then reached over the portal again. Figures scurried around it as it moved, with some waving offscreen and calling out through their suits.
Then the image shook. The center of the feed scrunched up at the middle, and the orange portal began to flash, casting arcs of white lightning that zapped the nearby machines held by the metal arm. Figures scurried around, diving for cover. Some were struck by the arcs of lighting and disintegrated, scattering the others nearby. One figure ran towards the feed, waving at the camera and then hitting it with his hands as his mouth moved, stammering in place.
The feed broke up, with spotty, curling strands of black and white static interrupting the process. In the brief moments that the feed reappeared, a great column was shown, occupying the portal surface. It was crystal white, and latticed with red veins. Inside it, a strange, shifting soup of bulbous shapes swirled inside. Then the feed ended.
The machines died down, and the humming, chirping, and swishing of everything that once moved, fell silent again. The darkness overtook the room one more time, and the only lights that remained were the thin, red, emergency lights on the floor.
From the rear of the room, a faint *ding* echoed through the place. The loud thudding of metal boots followed, and Bigelow, Neil, Mary, and Zipper, moved along in silence.
With their spotlight beams piercing through the dark, Zipper whistled, "Dang. I think we found the command center."
"Not sure about that," Mary interrupted, she pointed at the chair-filled balconies, "Maybe also an auditorium."
Bigelow and Neil had split up, with Neil looking at the computers, and Bigelow looking at the chalkboards. She glanced past the one with the blob, grimaced, and moved on towards the one with the portal, next to another board which held a table of notes, scribbled into each column.
"Hey, guys, look here," She nodded her head towards the image, "I think-"
The group gathered up around her. With Zipper looking past her left shoulder, Neil on her right, and Mary in front.
"-we got our ticket outta here," She pointed at the image, with the objects moving in and out of the portal, "-I am willing to bet that this is our teleporter."
Mary narrowed her eyes, staring at the table of notes on the other chalkboard, as she read aloud:
"...The...Applied Entanglement Fritz-Heurer Tunneling Device works to deliver a fixed mass from one location to another through a spacetime 'tunnel'. The tunnel has been proven effective at moving nonliving and living matter intact and unharmed-" faces lit up at the sound of the last few words, "from one location to another through treated lattices of-"
She moved her head down the table, jumping several paragraphs "...blah, blah, blah, want to demonstrate its effectiveness at moving and disposing matter. Huh, neat."
She looked at the next table, which listed several smaller, one-word notes with some crossed out:
GATE 07: METEOS BELT
GATE 08: TITANIA
GATE 09: MACBETH
GATE 10: CORNERIA
GATE 11: AQUAS
GATE 12: VENOM
GATE 44: CERINIA
GATE 45: SECTOR X
GATE 46: SECTOR Y
GATE 47: SECTOR Z
GATE 92: PRESENT LOCATION
GATE 99: NONPLANAR X
Orange chalk marked Gates seven through ninety-two. Red chalk marked the last gate. One gate, crossed out, was scribbled in green. Gate ninety-nine had an additive note that was a hasty scrawl, which Neil read aloud:
"GATE 99 is a non-viable terminal, due to conditions hostile to any form of matter that passes through. Though it can be interacted with, it cannot be recommended for any use other than harmful material ejection. Material that enters GATE 99 destabilizes on transmission and is broken down into radiation on the other end of the gate, which cannot leave the gate. For safety, a white light on the control switch will indicate successful transmission to the opposite gate, if the gate is viable. Non-viable gates will be indicated by red lights. Huh. Neat."
Mary, seeing some of the names, clicked a button on her helmet, and a flash lit up the room, briefly. The image then appeared on her helmet visor.
Looking at the diagrams, Neil shifted his jaw, then spoke: "It looks like we can set the exit portal from inside the test chamber, but how can we be sure that it works?"
Bigelow answered, "We test it. Everyone here's wearing enough protective gear to survive a lot of radiation, so we should be okay. We can toss a clip or something into the gate, then see what light the terminal gives us."
"Right. I can see the entrance," Zipper pointed at a sliding glass door across the auditorium.
Beyond the glass door, a small room with a concrete floor held blast shields that covered windows in the side. Chairs lined up facing the blast shields, sitting in front of a thin panel of controls. Beyond the chairs, on the other side of the room, was a huge metal door, with interlocking braces and massive screws and bolts that held it in place.
The group walked towards the glass door and stopped in front of it as Mary worked on the nearby keypad. Unlocking it, the glass door slid open, letting the group inside. Above the great metal doors the words AIRLOCK flashed. The moment that the group entered, the doors began to unlock, startling them. With the sound of concrete scraping against metal the doors slowly opened, joined by the noise of hissing hydraulics. The group stood still for a moment, and stared at the door that had opened unbidden.
After a short pause, Zipper turned to Mary and slowly asked,
"...Mary? Was that you?"
Before Mary could answer, a faint cry was heard from the airlock, followed by a low grumble.
Zipper froze, Neil's jaw dropped in shock, and Bigelow's ears perked up.
"Is that..?
"No...?"
"Marbles?"
"Sandy!"
"Sandy? Sandy! Marbles! SANDY! MARBLES!"
Mary rushed forwards, tripping once, landing on her face, got back up and bolted into the room. Neil, Bigelow, and Zipper followed, hot on her heels. They entered the dark airlock in a rush, spotlights and flashlights snapping from one corner of the room to the next as they all called out for Sandy and Marbles. As they stepped around, the metal-grated floor clanged with each footstep. The walls, when illuminated, were lined with wires and CAUTION signs. One held a first aid kit next to a fire extingusher.
Neil looked past all of these things, and kept calling. Then he stumbled a bit, tripping as he stepped on something. As he was on the ground, he reached over and picked up a small black box, connected to a bundle of wires, and with an stray bit of duct tape on its end, attached to a small speaker. The speaker, crushed, made only electric stuttering sounds, occasionally interrupted by a pair of distorted, tinny voices.
Bigelow, seeing Neil, walked over and leaned over him. Her spotlight lit up his helmet, and the box he held up to his eyes.
Bigelow's eyes narrowed, then widened, as she stared at Neil's black box.
Neil turned to look at her, his eyes wide with shock. Bigelow asked, with an edge of bewilderment,
"Neil? Is that...?"
The metal door behind the group slammed shut, with the hiss of hydraulics joining the resounding boom of metal hitting metal. The four were left in darkness, with nothing but their spotlights and a thin beam of light that came from a slit in the middle of the metal door, made of reinforced glass. Neil, followed by Bigelow, Zipper, and Mary, walked up to the slit and peered through.
On the other side, staring into the slit, was a suited cat.
He stared at the slit, brushing off his lapels. Seeing this, Bigelow's mouth opened, first in shock, then into a snarl of bared teeth, "You...!"
Not responding, the suited cat went to adjusting his tie. When he finished, his gaze adjusted, only slightly, to look through the slit, staring at Neil.
"You son of a bitch. You son of a bitch!" Neil began to yell at the window slit. He was joined by Zipper's low, deep growling. Mary only watched in shock.
His expression was vague. Almost apologetic. He tilted his head forward a bit as he pursed the lips on his bald muzzle. Then, a faint smile played across his features, lasting only for a second before he turned around and walked towards the console near the blast doors. After hitting some keys, he stood straight and walked back to the sliding glass door.
The moment he hit the keys, a loud siren echoed through the airlock. Vapor hissed from the corners of the room, and a flashing orange light cast a spinning shadow on the walls.
"Shit! Shit-!" Zipper dropped his rifle, and began hammering the doors with his fists, with loud clanging reverberating through the airlock. Neil was swearing at the cat, even though the cat had just gone from view. Mary was looking at the door opposite the one Neil was at, and was watching it slowly open.
Bigelow, in her great suit of blue armor, turned towards the opening door.
The sight that greeted her stunned her, and for a moment, she could not respond.
Before her, in a great circular chamber, was a massive, crystal-clear pillar, stretching from the ground all they way to the roof of the structure. Covered in a spiderwebbed lattice of thin, trickling red veins, the column stood in the middle of the portal, which emitted no light.
Swirling inside the column, were shapes.
Bones, muscles, cartilege, fur, flesh.
Arms, legs, organs, hands, faces.
Scizleck. Harry. Johnson. Howard.
Gary. Crick. Welsh.
Marbles.
Sandy.