Read The End of All Things #2: This Hollow Union for Free Online Page B

a pulley.
    “That’s one,” Aul said. “Nine more to go.”
    The Chandler collected seven before the Odhiambo blew itself up.
    There was almost no warning. I glanced over as the seventh diplomat disappeared into the Chandler ’s airlock and saw the feeds on the co-pilot’s monitor spike into critical territory. I yelled to Aul to warn the Chandler just as the external monitor showed a wrenching jerk, severing the cable between the two ships. Aul zoomed out the picture in time to catch the eruption on the Odhiambo, mid-ships.
    Aul yelled in zis headset and suddenly the image in the monitor began spinning wildly—or appeared so, as the monitor had stopped tracking with the two ships’ movements and had reoriented itself to our perspective. The Odhiambo had begun tearing itself apart. The Chandler had begun moving away from its doomed compatriot.
    “Come on, come on, come on,” Aul was yelling at the monitor. “Move it, you stupid shit-for-brains, you’re too close.” I had no doubt ze was yelling at the Chandler ’s pilot.
    And ze was right; the Chandler was too close. The Odhiambo had now split in two and the pieces were moving independently of each other, with the fore portion now careening dangerously close to the Chandler.
    “They’re going to hit!” Aul yelled.
    And yet they didn’t; the Chandler ’s pilot yawed and skewed its ship, moving it across three axes in a mad ballet to avoid collision. The separation between the ships widened, too slow for my taste: fifty plint, eighty, a hundred fifty, three hundred, one chu, three chu, five chu, and then the Chandler stabilized its movement relative to Conclave headquarters and began to pull away at speed from the Odhiambo.
    “You should be dead!” Aul yelled at the monitor. “You should be dead, your ship should be dead, you should all be dead! You magnificent shit-eater!”
    I looked over to Aul. “Are you all right?”
    “No,” ze said. “I’m pretty sure I’ve soiled myself.” Ze looked over and on zis head was an expression that I assumed was of sheer amazement. “That should not have happened. Everyone on the Chandler should be dead. The Chandler should be an expanding cloud of debris. That was the single most amazing thing I’ve ever seen in my life, Councilor. I’d be surprised if it weren’t the single most amazing thing you’ve ever seen, too.”
    “It might be in the top few,” I allowed.
    “I don’t know who that pilot is, but I am going to buy that shit-eater all the drinks it wants.”
    I intended to respond but Aul held up a hand, listening into the headset. Then it looked up at the monitor. “You have got to be kidding me,” ze said.
    “What is it?”
    “Those three other diplomats and the Chandler crewman,” ze said. “They’re still alive.” Aul spoke into zis headset and zoomed in on the aft portion of the Odhiambo, where the Chandler had burned its hole through the hull.
    And as we zoomed in, we saw it: a reflecting suit, launching out from the hole, tumbling into space, followed by a second, followed by a pair, holding on to each other – the final diplomat and the crewman from the Chandler. The Odhiambo spun away from them, slowly.
    “How much breathable air do you think they have?” I asked Aul.
    “Not a lot,” ze said.
    I glanced over to the co-pilot’s monitor, which still erroneously showed the Odhiambo as a single unit. The fore of the ship was rapidly cooling; all power had shut down and heat and power were venting into space.
    The aft of the ship, on the other hand, was warm and getting warmer as I watched.
    “I don’t think they have much time,” I said.
    Aul followed my gaze to the co-pilot’s monitor. “I think you’re right,” ze said, then looked up at me. “You didn’t bring a vacuum suit with you, by any chance, Councilor?”
    “I did not,” I said. “And the very fact of your question makes me begin to regret that fact very much.”
    “It’s fine,” Aul said. “It just means