Palimpsest by Thunderfield (free ereaders TXT) 📖

the room and split either side of the girder. Someone behind Rocky had a torch which illuminated funnels of dust particles as the beam reared around and picked out a signboard with the words New Albion Transportation Investment Seminar. The torch-beam moved towards the end of the girder. It was embedded into the floor near the entrance, angled at 45 degrees up into the ceiling mid way into the room, where it had fallen pivoted from the secured end above. Most of the ceiling panels, ducting, lighting and cabling had come down with it.
The murky torchlight moved from the collapsed girder across the floor, it swept in widened and lengthened arcs and penetrated deeper into the room. On a leftward swing they saw a pair of dust covered business shoes and the torch holder swung back ‘You OK?’ he asked.
From above the shoes a soft crisp voice replied ‘I’m OK, there are others trapped I think.’ The right shoe stepped forward one pace and revealed grey specked charcoal trousers, and then as the torch-beam lifted a grey silhouette came into the light.
‘You hurt pal?’ asked Rocky.
‘My hand was cut, that’s all’ he answered, hair and face were ashen, coated in dust. The only thing about him that was not grey was the fresh red blood on the back of his hand.
‘I was leaning against the wall watching, everyone else was seated in the middle when the whole place was thrown about and that steel beam crashed through.’ He spoke in a precise measured way.
‘Let’s get you out, follow me’ and the torch-beam left his face and rotated up and towards the exit. Rocky grabbed the man’s sleeve which made him flinch, and led him out and over the debris. He and O’Boyle got the grey man, Naismith to the passage, whilst other victims were extracted from the mess, several were immobile. A junior officer had arrived at the scene and supervised crew to clear the entrance and take over the rescue.
Scores of people crowded the corridor, they moved in all directions and many used their comtubes. Rocky looked around him, listened to bits of conversation as they got clear from the Americas,
‘What the hell are you clowns doing,’ some guy demanded of a bewildered crewman, a caterer.
‘I don’t know any more than you,’ was the reply.
Next to him a young man called out a girls’ name, and an older woman was crying onto a sympathetic shoulder of a younger version of herself. The officer’s badge spelt Herbert, and when he spotted O’Boyle he tersely said ‘You, crewman, help the others take the injured to the VT and down to the medical centre,’ he looked at Naismith’s hand, ‘and take this passenger with you.’
‘What’s a VT?’ asked Rocky
‘It’s crew speak, means Vertical Transition, or stairs and elevators to you and me,’ said O’Boyle.
‘Oh, well good luck O’Boyle, I’m going to stick around here, help a bit more,’ Rocky slapped the crewman across his back, turned around and pushed his way through the crowd back to the Americas.
A medic and a passenger checked the injured, and some casualties were put on improvised stretchers, one made from a banner that advertised the resident skinrock band due to perform the next day. Crewmen and women pushed a pathway through the crowd and carried the stretchered victims towards the elevators, others were escorted. Naismith joined several passengers that tagged along behind.
The medical centre was located on ServiceDeck a deck below BizDeck, the injured streamed towards it from all directions. The crowd parted to let the seriously hurt through, and in time the trivial injuries wondered off and left the less traumatized but needy to queue patiently outside the centre. New arrivals conformed, and amongst them were Max and Turner who lined up a few places behind Naismith.
‘I can wait here myself Max, you can go now,’ said Turner.
‘I need to find out what happened to Ronan, but will stick around here a while just so I know you’ll get seen to.’ Max answered. Just then the Captain accompanied by a Doctor and an Indian office clerk rounded the corner, and almost bumped into Max. Startled by the queuing the Doctor motioned to continue past the line.
‘No Doctor Morgan, I’ll wait my turn.’
A few paces away Naismith looked at the Captain.
Max did too and saw Peirce’s bloodied white uniform and face, a third of his moustache was stained a dull red, his nose was large, swollen, purple and in profile had a distinct angle half way down its length. His eyes were also swollen and bruised.
‘That looks painful Captain,’ he said.
‘The pain is easing now, a lot of others have worse, I will be okay thanks.’
Turner raised his hand to show his broken fingers. ‘Snap, Captain.’ he said as he looked at the Captains bandaged hand.
‘Snapped, young man,.’ he replied.
‘Is the ship OK now?’ said Max.
‘We’re working on it, it is stable and I expect we will announce an all clear status soon.’
A wiry man moved forward to the Captain, ‘my name is Miron Ferko, of the Ariston Laboratory and need assistance with my animals please.’
Pierce asked the clerk, ‘Tarek make a note for Mister Ferko.’
A second man interrupted them ‘Excuse me Sir,’ said Naismith, the back of his cut hand clearly visible, ‘Do you know what the cause was?’
‘Space-quake’ interrupted Turner,
Naismith, Pierce and the Doctor looked puzzled. ‘I’ve never heard that term’ said Pierce.
Max shook his head, ‘take no notice, he made it up, he is one of my students, supposedly.’
‘What are you studying?’ asked the Doctor, ‘any medicals amongst you?’
‘All geologists I am afraid, they have a six month survey project on NA. We’re from Commonwealth University. I’m the supervisor,’ Max smiled ‘I hadn’t expected to round up all my students until we were in field ready to go home.’
Pierce frowned, looked away and surveyed the queue, and Max regretted his joke. Naismith came closer, ‘this space-quake thing, have you much experience of these sorts of events Captain?’ A number of other passengers and a few crew members were now turned towards the conversation.
Peirce saw abundant abrasions and cuts, he saw bandaging and blood stains. He also saw alertness on a dozen faces turned his way, they listened and watched, and a woman chewed her lower lip. There was more than curiosity here, so he replied carefully. ‘Events of this nature are extremely rare, we are stable and expect to announce the all clear soon. Now excuse me everyone, I should return to the bridge. Doctor Morgan please join your team, Tarek come with me, your cut will have to wait.’
The Captain turned to leave, and then Naismith stepped forward again, and offered a handshake ‘Of course Captain I understand you have many concerns, I am William Naismith, just a middling corporate man but I do have a lot experience in business recoveries, if I can be of help, re-organising rosters, teams of passenger volunteers, that sort of thing.’ Peirce looked at the dust covered man, and the cut on the back of his proffered hand.
‘Thank you for your offer Mr Naismith, but for the time being please concentrate on your own immediate needs, get your hand seen to, and I expect you are looking forward to a shower too, the plumbing is in working order.’
Then to the gathered crowd, ‘the crew is in control and assessing the situation, I am well aware of expertise amongst the passengers, and should we require assistance it will be announced, but at this time I am confident we have all the resources we need.’ He then left for the elevators, Tarek followed, and the Doctor walked in the opposite direction to the medical centre.
A young man further up the queue said, ‘That’s right, go and sort this crate out, it’s a right shambles.’ Somehow during the panic he had found time to grab his voyage ticket, and waved a plastic card in the Captain’s direction, the words Jacquard Assisted Passage were clearly visible. ‘I didn’t come here for this mess,’ he added.
Naismith looked over at him. ‘The Captain will sort it out, but too many with your attitude will slow it down.’
‘Couldn’t give a monkeys,’ said the man, ‘I’m just a middling corporate guy’ he mimicked.
‘You’re a freeloader and should be at the back of the queue, red tag’ sneered Naismith.
‘We pay a price, get stuffed, creep.’
‘Pumpkinface,’ retorted Naismith.
‘Hey guys, cool it, let’s just get patched up and get on with our own business, the Captain looks a capable man, the ships in professional hands,’ said Max.
The man then asked Turner ‘What’s a Space-quake?’
Without hesitation the student pre-empted anything Max could say and said, ‘It’s a cosmo-geological term used when two galactic entities such as Andromeda and the Megallanic cloud pass each other in the void, then hyper-gravimetric forces are unleashed which cause the fabric of the Universe to be temporarily inverted.’ He grinned, and seemed to have completely forgotten his broken fingers.
‘Blimey,’ said the man, and Max rolled his eyes.

* * *

Two hours later and Max and Turner were about four places away from the triage station set up just inside the medical centre entrance.
‘Why he call the other guy a red tag?’ asked Turner.
‘Red tags are the indentured immigrants to New Albion,’ said Max.
‘What’s red tag mean?’
‘Just the colour of their baggage labels when they boarded,’ explained Max.
‘What do you mean by indentured?’
‘Minor criminals sentenced to work the frontier on NA rather than prison.’ explained Max, as he stepped aside to let someone pass. All around them people were being patched up, behind them others were sat or laid down awaiting more treatment. Doctor Morgan organised medics, porter-utes and crewmen and beyond her through a double doorway into the rest of the centre Max caught sight of a prone figure lying in a horizontal trolley covered head to toe in a grey blanket.
He left Turner in the line and walked along the passage to the shafts. Quite a few passengers remained unsteady on their feet and he noted that none had regained the confidence to ride a gyroscoot. The crowds thinned near the stairwell, and three people emerged from the adjacent elevator, two carried the blue track suited woman he’d seen on his way up, in what seemed hours earlier. She was bandaged and unsteady, but conscious, her eyes even briefly met Max’s. He felt guilty he had not stopped to help, but decided that was irrelevant as she clearly had assistance, my responsibility is to my students, and right now I have one missing he thought.
The ServiceDeck was one below the BizDeck, six above deck 12, and his cabin. He pounded down the stairs two or three steps at a time and got a bit of a rush with the physicality and arrived barely panting on deck 12. He went along passage 4 and re-entered his cabin. He voice activated the cleaner-utes for the flooring and kitchenette, briefly rummaged for his comtube, gave up and made a series of unsuccessful calls on the cabin phone. Ronan didn’t answer his comtube or from his cabin, and Jess in the lab had no word about him from his searching classmates.
Max knew one thing about Ronan that the other students didn’t. He picked up his cabin phone and called Jess again, ‘I am going to look for Ronan on the lower decks, don’t have my comtube yet but will call back in an hour.’
He reached up into a high cupboard pulled out a small rucksack, which he slung over his shoulder and