Sacrifice
#1 of 36 Minutes
With a snort of surprise, he sat up, shaking his eyes free of sleep. The echoes of some thunderous crash resounded about his cabin, the soft lights flickered, and the floor vibrated gently. He glanced down at the mess of writings and novels atop the desk and stood up, stretching sorely, looking about him in confusion.
He had fallen asleep at his desk again, still fully clothed. He slipped on his shoes and walked to the corridor, pulling the door back. One other creature was already there, a tall black panther. He was walking briskly to the stairwell, and looked back at the fellow panther in confusion and panic. He gestured to the stairway, indicating his path.
More creatures were entering now, a pair of rabbits at the far end opening their door, and following the black panther up the stairwell rapidly, close on his heels. A dog and a tiger also emerged, looking at the pale fur of the clothed panther, most of the others in various states of undress. He shrugged, and began to hurry off, following the fellow black feline, his own lighter fur reflecting the soft glow of the amber lighting in the panelled simplicity of the corridor.
He turned onto the stairwell, the trio up front already at the top, and gaped for a moment. The left wall of the flight was bent inward, like some grotesque bulging stomach, splinters scattered on the stair's rough carpet. As he jogged past the protrusion, he stared at it, frowning. He reached the top of the dim flight and pushed the metal door open, stepping out onto the deck.
He saw the three from below, the white fur of the lapines contrasting with the midnight frame of the feline, hurrying off into the dark alleyways of the huge metal containers that covered the deck forward of the bridge. For a moment he was going to call out to them, but looking left, he stopped, and stared.
The bridge, its tall shape normally proud and forward-facing, had been utterly crushed. The fine metalwork, the only real beauty on the entirety of the Hauler's Engine was bent inward, beneath the monstrous form of the rear tether mast. Foggy cloud partially obscured the scene, but somehow, the mast had fallen, backward, landing on the bridge.
He heard a gasp as another soul joined him, watching the ruin in mute panic. From its normal four-storey height, the command deck was now a mere metre or so rose from the deck, its entire structure having collapsed downward like a house of cards. The scene was dark; the hanging lamps on the mast which usually lit the deck were broken, occasional sparks causing the wreck to leer out of the mist.
"What the fuck happened..." The low voice of a Doberman rolled out, awed. More creatures were gathering now, a throng of those woken from their beds. Suddenly, a figure staggered from the rear end of the broken bridge, walking toward them, limping, out of the thin mist.
The panther jogged forward to him, met with a wave and a shake of the head. "I'm fine." He wore a tattered crewman's uniform, small bloodstains and rips covering it. "Stay calm folks." His voice was forced, wheezing. The crowd huddled forward, voices beginning to rise. He waved his hands for quiet.
"We need to evacuate the ship. The rear lifeboats are gone, I'm sorry; the mast took them with it. We need to get forward soon, everyone stay calm, and gather together. There're other crewmen just behind me." The huddle of creature's voices took on a panicked edge. Someone began to cry.
Seemingly on cue, six others emerged from the door to the rear balcony of the ship. Two crewmen supported a passenger on their shoulders followed by two engineers, and one officer, golden belt torn strolled at the front, face calm. He walked briskly towards the crowd, hands spread; he spoke reassuringly.
"Folks, we're going to be fine, my name's Terry Peterson, we are going to evacuate the ship, there's been some kind of accident. I want everyone lined out, can we get a headcount? Is there anyone left downstairs?" A human at the rear of the huddle spoke out.
"No, I just checked, all the rooms are empty!" The officer nodded.
"Alright then, everyone lining up please! In lines of six!" He motioned to the three crewmen, who began to walk forward, offering words of calm, handing blankets gleaned from the fire-stores to those few who were shivering. Despite the night, the air was warm, though dark, and the wind whistled under the spectral balloon above them.
Calm begin to cover the passengers, the fright of before leaving them as they were counted. An avian crewman shouted out to the officer, standing stern at the front of the group; a tall husky with a set face.
"Thirty-one sir! Six missing!" Came the avian's call. The pale panther looked forward with a frown and spoke up, the husky turning to look at him with a serious face.
"I saw three heading forward before you arrived! A panther and two rabbits." The officer nodded.
"That leaves three missing, we'll search as we go, come on let-" His words were silenced by a crash and a ‘thump', harsh orange light bursting like a dirty star across the huddle. Flames leapt up, and creatures jumped to the deck. The confusion washed over the pale panther as he covered his head, stumbling forward, seeking respite from the heat.
He was knocked to the ground, sent spinning as a figure ran past him. He threw his vision upward and saw a group running, led by crewmen, pointing upward, to a broken walkway high above. He jumped up, and saw a horse, engulfed in dirty smoky flames, hurl himself from the far railing, into the night sky, screaming. Running forward, grabbing a discarded blanket, he thrust it onto a pool of flaming liquid that was coiling over the boards. Smoke gushed up and the officer was suddenly at his side, throwing another blanket, stamping at the fire. For an age, in the stinking smoke they battled, throwing buckets of sand and metal debris from the bridge onto the flames.
At last, gasping, those who had tackled the blaze stood. The fire flickered out. Before any words could be exchanged, the world split in two.
All were thrown down again, cries rolling up. A noise like the handclap of a giant cut the air, and more harsh light rained down. The panther rolled onto his back and looked up. Fire spat from the port side of the balloon, and the airship bucked fiercely. The walkway above swayed alarmingly, ropes swinging free. As the fire died, and the sound faded in his ears, he struggled to his feet.
Tattered fabric, flaming, swayed through the breeze around them, the balloon's skin evidently pierced. All looked up, confused and fearful.
"We need to get forward! Get everyone up!" The officer's voice was authoritative, the husky barking at the single crewman, an engineer, still with them. The group that had run off were nowhere to be seen. He pulled a gun of some kind from a box, and aimed it away to starboard, out into the starry night. With a whistling shriek a flare flew out into the dark, highlighting the husky's determined face in the rocket's red glare.
As the crowd gathered, the officer firing three more signals; their red glows picking harsh ragged shadows across the deck, turning the frightened, defiant crowd into macabre art. He beckoned, and began to walk forward. With a crunch, the ship bucked. The engineer gazed back, horrified at the rear of the ship.
"What's happening?!" The husky barked out at him.
"The engines are going over... there's too much heat, too much pressure. I need to go back. But... Sir, the boys down there should be doing this, if they're not..."
The husky glowered, gnashing his teeth in frustration. "Can't it be left?!" The engineer, a short pony, shook his head. The husky cursed and spoke again. "How many do you need?" The desolate equine spoke softly.
"Three. If we can't cool it down, it's going to explode. There'll be no time to get off. At least someone who knows engines." He looked; face ashen, at the huddle.
The panther stepped forward, immediately. A bitch, a collie, came forward at the same time. The officer gritted his jaw.
"I'll come too. All of you need-" The panther cut him short, voice calm and soft.
"No. You need to lead them; they're going to fall apart if you don't." He looked levelly at the frightened crowd. Another, a sheep this time, stepped out.
"I don't know engines." He spoke quietly. The engineer nodded, and beckoned the three, who walked with him, lost, moving like ghosts; yet determined. The officer looked pained.
"You don't have to go if you don't want to." The three looked at the husky's burning eyes. Their faces showed all he needed to know, and he nodded. "God bless your souls. All of you, come on, follow me!" The crowd hurried after him, moving confusedly toward hoped-for salvation, and the engineer quickly opened a small metal hatch in the deck, gesturing down.
"Here we go. Follow on." They descended the thick-set ladder, into a glowing chamber, full of steam. The hatch clicked shut, and the cool night air was cut off. The feeling of entrapment settles like a spectre upon their shoulders.
"My name's Peter. I'm the reserve engineer. I'll lay down what we're trying to do." They walked briskly along a cramped companionway, full of orange light, pipes leaking steam about them, arcane dials and wheels lining the walls. The panther, with a good knowledge of mechanics, understood some of the pieces, but by no means all.
"That groan meant the engines are too hot. Heat means pressure, pressure means groaning. Leave them that way for too long, and they'll go up in flames. Take the ship with them. We need to let off that heat, and I have a few hunches as to what we need to do. The other engineers should be taking care of it... But for all I know they're not here." They came to a cramped stairwell and walked down, the walls shaking gently around them. The panther's fur was already slick with sweat.
"I won't pretend to you lot. Someone's trying to bring the ship down, this isn't some accident. The mast was blown through, and we all saw the balloon go up. She'll hold onto air for a long time, but the Hauler's already sinking." The trio followed close, faces determined. "It's not far; the engines are just below us." The softly shaking floor confirmed the engineer's words.
He pointed to another, small ladder, and began to descend. The volunteers kept on his heels, and they entered the fiery confusion of the engine chamber.
On either side, huge shafts turned with greased thunders, steam rushed from thick vents and the glow of the ignition chamber far in front was enough to illuminate the entire space. They fanned out, looking across in awe, as Peter jogged down a step, beckoning them.
"OK, those vents on the port side are closed; they need to be open, one of you get up to that panel on the walkway!" He pointed, and the female collie immediately began to jog up, clambering over the rusted steps, the harsh light picking out her frame. "Ok, you two head starboard, you can work an engine?" He looked at the panther.
The pale feline nodded. The engineer spoke once more. "Ok, go and check the readouts, make sure all the pressures are ok, I'm sure they should be. Stay sharp." He ran to the port side, waving them off. The panther led the sheep, rapidly towards the side, his grip reassuring. The thunder of the groaning engines filling their ears.
"Just go and look at the dials, in that corner. Tell me what's in the red zones." He gently pushed the sheep onward, and walked to the other console, checking rapidly. All of the needles rested comfortably, bar a few pressure gauges that ticked just over the danger lines.
"There's one labelled ‘Second Chamber Pressure'! It's just into the red area!" The sheep called out over the roar of the mighty engines. The panther waved back, shaking his head.
"That's fine, it's not too bad, I'm seeing it here too!" He looked at the panel and cranked the cooling vents to fully open on the shaft itself. Suddenly, he stumbled for the third time that night, and the roar of the engines increased tenfold. He wrenched his head around, to see fire gushing from the port shaft.
The collie was gone. The walkway on which she had stood was all aflame, melting in the incredible heat that flooded the room. He struggled forward, seeing the engineer pushing desperately through the fire toward a lever. All was screaming and burning. Metal fell from the ceiling. The noise was incredible.
Pushing forward, step by step, the engineer finally pulled the thick switch, and a great rush of coolant fell from tanks high above the shaft, with a furious hiss, spitting foam into the air. The fiery light dimmed, and the engine groaned to a halt, shaft bucking, the floor shaking enormously. The panther, fur singed, stinking, staggered over to the prone equine.
Both coughed as the acrid smoke filled their lungs. The sheep was following, slowly, covered in soot and metallic splinters. The panther gripped the engineers shoulder.
"Hey... Hey, you OK?" His voice was desperate. The engineer shook his head, eyes closed. His thick overalls were largely burnt through, and weeping wounds showed, livid, bleeding.
He spluttered, blood hitting the metal floor. "Get the up-thrusters on. Get off the ship. It'll keep her up longer." His faced was screwed in pain, and he curled up. With a wracking cough, the panther shaking him softly, the horse died.
The sheep approached, face expressionless. A desperate tear falling from his eyes, the panther looked up at him.
"My name's David. He's dead." The sheep's voice was cold, shocked. The feline nodded back, burnt tail curling around his thigh.
"I'm Kar. We have to get some more engines on, before we leave." He stood, coughing still. The smoke was thinning, the cooling port engine moaning gently, ticking and cracking.
"Show me what to do." Kar nodded, and beckoned, jogging across the still hot floor towards the ignition chamber. He pointed to a lever on the right, and took the left lever for himself. The sheep gripped.
"On my count. One. Two. Three." They yanked upward, and with a shudder, the sound of propellers became louder, as the landing thrusters, used to support the engine in an emergency, shifted into life. The entire chamber felt somehow unstable, bucking occasionally, and wisps of smoke still rose from floor panels, ominous creaks issuing from piping all around.
"Come on David." He looked around, and spotted an EXIT marking. They jogged forward, unsteadily as the floor's movements became more violent.
‘Oh shit oh shit oh shit' Kar prayed, knowing something was wrong. As the jumped through the door, his fears were realised as with an explosive roar, fire gushed afresh, from the ignition chamber this time, flooding the room like liquid, burning their hair as the scrambled away.
"WE CAN'T STOP IT! WE HAVE TO GO!" He yelled over the unending, invading noise, like a physical, constant blow. He half-pulled the trembling sheep up a flight of steps, nearly falling. Flickering lights swayed overhead, and steam and smoke filled the narrow space. The walls popped like burning corn, as the metal of the chamber expanded. They struggled on.
Moving, clawing to life in the cramped, burning corridors, they pushed up, and finally they emerged, burnt, smoking, into a small foyer, smoke leaving it via a roof vent allowing them respite. Their progress was blocked. A heavy fire door closed the exit, and the metal foyer was a dead end.
David sunk to the floor, shaking in exhaustion, as Kar pressed forward, examining the controls by the door. He hit a button and the door slid open, revealing a long corridor to the outside air, blocked by another door at its end. He hit another button, and the far door opened, but the door on their side closed. A dull, dreading realization washed over him as he carelessly tapped the buttons in turn, flapping doors taunting him.
He stood David up, opened their door, and pushed him through. "Get off the ship." was all he said. The sheep watched him in wordlessness, knees trembling, shaking his head. Kar attempted to enter the corridor and jab at the button from within, but it was out of his reach, around a more than ninety degree bend. There were no controls in the corridor. He stepped back out, weeping gently, and pressed the switch, sealing himself inside; allowing David escape.
The sheep, eyes glistening, rested his head against the thick, tiny glass window of the closed door. David looked up at him in wordless admiration, turned, and fled, into the night air. Kar slumped against the bulkhead, tears breaking the soot on his face. The heat rose steadily. He struggled to his feet and looked at the control boards lining the room. They offered no escape, only fuel and engine load controls.
He looked at the fire door, and considering the flames beginning to encroach towards his space, made a sickening realization. The engines were going to explode, after the fire doors had failed. The bulkheads were nicknamed "Folders", he had been told, totally useless, serving only to waste effort, unable to resist the heat of a true engine fire.
The explosion would tear the deck apart. The doors were designed to resist such an explosion and channel it backward, harmlessly away from the ship, but they would melt, far too early. Sweat coated his brow, but calmly, he walked to a panel and began to turn the fuel dials.
He pumped the fuel lines, currently closed to prevent the fire's spreading, with a high air mix, and selected the fuel doors with their switched, glowing green indicators; like beautiful emeralds to his smoke-stung eyes. He put a bleeding hand to the ‘Open' switch, fingers flexing, and breathed slowly. He wished love to all he knew, and turned the warm brass key. His sacrificial flesh turned to ash, and his souls' light was obscured in the golden flames.