Read The Black Seas of Infinity for Free Online Page B

clamor and cut them off in mid curse. I tried to keep
my voice down, while wincing in pain, rocking, and gritting my
teeth as I bit my lip. Crawling to my feet, I limped over to the
sideways cylinder. The fall had ripped the rubber hose from the
top, and fluid was gurgling out, covering the floor with a
yellowish-green slime. A chemical stench not unlike that of gear
oil mixed with alcohol filled the air. I examined the cap. Dual
slits on either side of the hose opening looked large enough for my
hands. Stepping into the mire, I crouched down in front of the torn
hose portal and delved my hands into the grips. Fluid gurgling out
of the hole smacked me in the chest, drenching me, my head swimming
in the strong vapors. My fingers hit something. There was a slight
hissing sound, and the circular top popped forward. The fluid
wasn’t far behind, and what remained of it surged out in a torrent,
bludgeoning me in the chest.
    I fought back a wave of nausea, tossing the
black metal top aside like a discus. It glided a short distance
before clumsily crashing into the floor. Now for the tricky
part—extracting the suit from the cylinder. The fall had propelled
it forward, the head barely touching the entry hole. I reached my
hands inside, trying to dig into the armpits. Heavy as lead.
Shuffling closer, I flanked the rim and dove my arms into the
cylinder. Spreading the arms a little, the confines of the tube
preventing me from further motion, I tugged with all the strength I
could muster. The top of the cylinder cut into my throat, beads of
sweat broke out on my face. The thing lurched forward with a
scraping noise, throwing me backwards into the pool. Sitting back
up, my drenched shirt clinging to my back in a cold, rumpled mess,
I hooked the armpits again, braced my boots against the top of the
cylinder, and pulled. This time the rest of the suit tore out
further, again launching me backwards into the oily mire. The form
was as heavy as I remembered, probably a good three-hundred pounds.
I took a couple of deep breaths and hauled out the rest.
    Now for the nightmare of hauling it to the
ship. Slowly I rose to my feet and stumbled backwards, dragging it
down the hall, my feet slipping in the greasy muck. Panting and
sweating like a racehorse, I inched it along, leaving a trail of
ooze all the way to the elevator. Reaching the door, I let go of
the suit, its mass colliding loudly with the floor. I pressed the
button and nervously waited. Through my heavy exhalations, I kept
imagining I could hear sounds, but whenever I held my breath I was
met only with dead silence. The doors opened after what seemed an
eternity, and I dragged the suit inside, hitting the button for two
floors up. Fortunately, the elevator car opened on the far side of
the hangar, under the shade of an overhead walkway, so I would stay
relatively hidden. As the doors slowly closed, I looked back at the
mess I was leaving behind. The limp cadaver of a soldier, his
sloppy demise splayed in crusty blood across the bare concrete
wall. A broken tank choking off the hall, the intestinal slime
trailing up to the elevator doors. A compression hiss, a lurch, and
I was moving upwards.
    The elevator doors opened into a side view of
the ship. It was only a few dozen feet away. I always forgot how
staggeringly big it was. The purpose of its design was way beyond
our science. There was a ramp off to the left, not far from the
elevator, and it led through a hole in the side of the vessel and
into the depths. The stretch between the elevator and the ship was
mostly shaded, the aperture gouged out of the lower echelons of the
craft, presumably by the crash. It was buried beneath the left
wing, mostly hidden in its shade. No one occupied the ramp, but
there were several men not too far away. At least three were
working by the entrance portal above the wing, not the torn orifice
I had meant to enter through. This was going to be tricky. I had to
get the suit inside without alerting