The Long Forever. Eugene Lambert

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      Our drop starts smooth, but the atmosphere thickens fast and we start to be buffeted. Soon I’m glad for my wrap-around seat and my straps. I’ve been on wild flights in jammers back on Wrath, but they were nothing compared to this. After one particularly savage buffet rattles my teeth, I shout out to Sky, asking if something’s gone wrong.

      She checks her displays. ‘No-o, we’re go-o-o-d.’

      And then, quite suddenly, everything calms down again. I can make out features below us, mountains and rivers. But they seem to be leaping up at us hellish fast.

      ‘Hey, pull up!’ Sky yells.

      I reckon the dropship does it for him, but only at the last possible second. I’m shoved down into my seat so hard it’s as if ten heavy men have piled onto me. My seeing greys out. By the time I can focus again we’re in level flight with clouds whipping past unbelievably fast. And we’re definitely not on Wrath. Shanglo’s sky is a different blue, and shot through higher up with weird, ghostly tendrils of green.

      Murdo gives himself a shake. ‘Switching to manual.’

      ‘Is that a good idea?’ Sky says, only just beating me to it.

      ‘You want me to wait until I’m landing it?’

      A fair point that shuts us up.

      He does a few shallow practice dives and mildly banked turns without any problem. Then throws it around more confidently like he’s back aboard his windjammer.

      A big grin splits his face. ‘See, nothing to it, huh?’

      ‘Where’s this old contact of yours?’ I ask.

      ‘Cobb’s a thousand klicks that way.’ Murdo points in the direction we’re flying. ‘A compound at the edge of a great big plateau. Should be hard to miss.’

      That I can believe as the surface of Shanglo flashes past beneath us. Apart from a dark smudge in the distance, all I see are flat, tree-smothered plains in every direction. Murdo noses us lower, until we’re skimming the tops. These trees are way bigger than anything on Wrath.

      ‘Fine bit of lumber here,’ I say.

      Murdo glances at me, as if I’ve said something funny.

      Not long after, we arrive at that brown smudge I’d seen. The trees disappear like somebody flicked a switch. Under us now is a scarred and shattered landscape, criss-crossed with tracks, dotted with stumps where trees once jostled.

      The brown stretches ahead to the far horizon.

      ‘What the hell happened?’ Sky says.

      ‘Auto-loggers happened,’ Murdo says. ‘Lumber’s big business. No trees left on the Core worlds, so they log it here and ship it back. Rich folk like a bit of wood.’

      He cranks us round and we get a look at how the forest ends behind us in a straight line that can’t be natural, before we fly on again over the devastation.

      ‘No trees left?’ I say. ‘What happened?’

      ‘Used them all up. Poisoned them. Who cares now? I reckon that’ll be our rock ahead in the distance.’

      A cluster of strange plateaus sticks up from the ravaged landscape. Flat-topped, sheer-sided, they look like they’ve been squeezed up out of the ground. Murdo’s flying us towards the biggest one, which must be a good few klicks across. I can see the outline of buildings on top of it.

      ‘Weird,’ Murdo says.

      ‘What’s the matter?’ Sky asks.

      ‘Cobb’s guys must see us coming, so why aren’t they on the comm, demanding that we identify ourselves?’

      ‘Why don’t you give them a shout?’

      Murdo sucks his teeth, not looking too keen, but then he presses a button on the joystick. ‘Cobb compound, incoming free-trader is the . . . Never Again Two. D’you copy?’

      Nothing. He calls again. More nothing.

      When we make a low pass over the compound we find out why. All that’s left of Cobb’s compound are tumbled-down walls and burnt-out skeletons of buildings. Murdo curses, and cranks us back round in a steep turn.

      It looks no better on the second pass.

      Still cursing, he sets us down on an open area outside the ruins. It’s not his best landing, but I’m saying nothing.

      ‘This is dumb,’ Sky says. ‘Nothing’s left here.’

      But Murdo’s already unstrapping himself. He growls that he wants to take a look around. Minutes later, all of us except for Sky are crammed on to the loading platform as it lowers.

      We step off it on to the surface of another world.

      ANOTHER. WORLD.

      Never did I think this day would come. My head bangs with trying to take it all in. The ground feels springy underfoot, but it’s just some reddish dirt. And that’s when I realise gravity here must be weaker than I’m used to. I take a cautious breath and taste the air. Tingly. Rich. Painfully fresh after the scrubbed and processed stuff we’ve been sucking in. A host of weird smells shove their way up my nose, none of which I could put a name to. But the most amazing thing has to be Shanglo’s sky, creepy tendrils of green reaching across a blue so deep it’s on its way to purple.

      Cam crumbles some of the red soil between his fingers.

      ‘See this? Even the dirt looks different.’

      Murdo claps his hands to get our attention. He tells me and Cam and Ravi to come with him to check out the remains of the compound. The rest are to stick close to the ship and keep a lookout. Sky’s up in the freighter’s nose turret, covering us. As we head off, I wave at her.

      Do I get a wave back? Nah. Just a shake of her head.

      Murdo asks if I have my blaster.

      I pull it out and check it. ‘Expecting trouble?’

      ‘It has a habit of following me around.’

      The scorched wall of the compound tells its own tale of trouble. It’s obvious that no ordinary fire tumbled these massive stones. They’ve been smashed down.

      ‘Somebody fired heavy-duty weapons at this,’ I say.

      Murdo says nothing, but the grim look on his face tells me I’m not wrong. All three of us scramble inside through one of the torn gaps. The compound must’ve been a sight to see once, with dozens of warehouses and storage silos. Now it’s a tangle of twisted metal and charred wood.

      Moving cautiously, we pick our way deeper inside.

      The scars of a vicious fight are everywhere. Ragged blaster splashes. Neater holes punched by pulse-rifle shots. But rust has taken big bites too, and when I accidentally step on some wood it gives way, rotten all СКАЧАТЬ