The salvager arrived at the spot he’d indicated, next to some of the machinery they’d set up. He eased into a folding chair that groaned underneath the weight of the suit, and opened a small cooler.

“Been in space long?” he asked as he helped himself to a drink can.

Gaylen sat down directly opposite their host. Jaquan sat down a bit further away, but Kiris moved her chosen chair subtly closer to Gaylen. And Ayna remained standing.

“No no,” Gaylen told him. “Just five days.”

“Eh, that’s still long enough for real people to get antsy,” the man said companionably, and pushed the cooler towards them with a foot. “Go on. Help yourselves.”

“Real people?” Gaylen asked, and took up a can.

“People who ride in real ships,” the salvager clarified. “Not pleasure barges or cruise liners. I mean working people.”

“I can toast to that,” Gaylen said with a smile, and cracked the can open.

It was a beer brand he was vaguely familiar with, and he did raise it in a toast. He generally made it a rule not to drink on flights, but he was playing a role here.

Jaquan and Kiris got their own cans and Kiris dropped her head coverings down about her shoulders. Assuming Pol Jon was into women at all it had to have an effect.

“How long have you been out?” Gaylen asked and made a show out of visibly relaxing in his seat.

“Four months,” their host said and had himself a big gulp. “Just imagine how antsy I am.”

The slightly manic quality to his chuckle emphasised his words.

“Four months out in the dark?” Kiris asked, her voice having gone from the usual dull, low tone to sweet cream.

“Long-run engine,” he explained. “And we use battery packs. Expensive and slow, but we can get a lot done without having to pop back to civilisation. Just us and... and whatever the void has waiting for us.”

“That’s quite a life.”

“It is. It’s... a calling. Some people will insist it’s about the money, but I don’t believe that. It takes passion to stay in this job. Passion for seeing what is out there, in the depths, on lost worlds and disused lanes. And sometimes... sometimes you find out.”

Kiris chuckled sweetly.

“You are a lucky bunch.”

Kiris was doing her thing, and if called upon to explain it Gaylen would have found himself pretty much stumped. There was no one trick she did with her face or body or posture or voice, but it was still as if the bitter, pained person he knew had been replaced by her mirror opposite; the most approachable darling one could imagine. And once again it worked like she’d cast a spell. His attention was on her.

It was a Chanei thing.

“Sometimes we are,” Pol jon said with a smile. “When we actually find something. I certainly felt lucky this time.”

“It must take quite a crew to work together under such circumstances,” Kiris went on.

“Oh, they’re good folks,” Pol Jon said cheerfully. “Very good. You’ll see.”

He put a finger against the commpiece in his ear.

“Captain? Are you guys near done?”

Gaylen, of course, couldn’t hear what was said on the other end, but did use the man’s distraction to glance to his left.

Ayna had vanished.

“No? Alright, a little longer.”

Kiris subtly nudged her foot against Gaylen’s. The meaning was as plain and simple as it had been during their little adventure on Kahana.

Lie.

“Sorry,” he said to her as the call apparently ended. “It’s all taking a bit longer than I would have thought.”

“That’s all right,” Kiris said through a dazzling smile. “I realise we’re imposing.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, it’s nothing. In fact, I’m glad you folks are here. I’m glad to have more people, after all this time.”

Gaylen noted the absence of another nudge against his foot.

“So you’re an antiquities crew?” he asked.

“Among other things. Of course, if we find something more recent that can be sold we’re not just going to pass it up. But...”

Pol Jon looked up, at the pillars and the arches and the gloom.

“But yes. We primarily look for old things.”

He looked back down, but still seemed far away.

“The markers.”

“Markers?” Kiris repeated with interest she sold as being genuine.

“Of history. Of how things got to be where they are. Of the greatness of the past.”

He looked up again and his voice shifted to a bit of a mutter.

“The greatness of the past. Things that have been forgotten...”

He looked at them again.

“You know, there’s an arrogance in... ah... proper society. The interconnected, tightly packed, coreward civilisations. They... we... think we have it all figured out. With our... accepted history and ideas and plans and life goals and values. The thought never occurs that people far removed in time or space might have gotten a few things right.”

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The conversation veered off into general directions after that; little tidbits about the man’s homeworld, details and anecdotes about salvage work, and his history with the current crew.

There were questions Gaylen wanted to ask, directions he wanted to steer the conversation into. But Kiris was the one with an uncanny eye for people. And as much as he knew she hated this game she picked up on what the man wanted to talk about, and subtly directed things along those routes.

So Gaylen mostly kept quiet, and let the man ramble on and finish his drink in peace.

“Ah, I wonder what’s keeping those folks,” Pol Jon eventually said good-naturedly and packed his empty can back into the cooler.

“Captain?” he said into his comm. “How are things?”

Gaylen had kept his own barely-touched drink in his left hand and slid his right into that particular coat pocket.

“I see, I see,” the man added, and looked up with an apologetic smile.

Kiris nudged Gaylen’s foot.

“Yes, I think we will,” the salvager added.

He stood up and supposedly ended the call.

“They’ll be a while yet. Why don’t I just walk you folks down into the belly?”

“The captain won’t let you sell us coils in her stead?” Gaylen asked, and remained seated.

“I’m afraid not. She’s very-”

The man fell silent and took note of something behind Gaylen. Gaylen turned his head and saw that Ayna had just emerged from that hatch. The girl’s demeanour was one of great alarm, and her eyes were fastened right back on Pol Jon.

Gaylen turned back on the man.

“They’re dead!” Ayna said. “He’s murdered them!”

The salvager made a quick movement and Jaquan shot him in the shoulder. Gaylen fired as well, and the faceplate slid shut.

“NO!” Pol Jon shouted.

He charged, slow but unstoppable in that powered suit, and swung at Gaylen. He flung himself sideways from the seat and to the floor just before the chair was blasted aside by the swing. Jaquan shot the man again, but the suit held.

“NO!”

The lights went out. Gaylen rolled off into the blackness, changing his position. There was a loud, metallic stomping noise, followed by a sudden flaring light as Pol Jon activated a cutting torch on his suit.

The deadly white lance swung through the air, seeking a target. Gaylen couldn’t hear the others moving, not over the loud stomping and terrible hissing. He shot the man again, and again, but now the salvager came straight at him. Gaylen rolled to the side and sparks flew as the cutter hit the floor plates instead of him.

Shots flew from nearby, hinting at Kiris’s and Jaquan’s positions, but it was the one from further away that actually hit. Ayna could of course see the bastard perfectly.

The suit sparked, showing some actual damage at last.

“NO!”

Gaylen couldn’t quite tell what happened. It was either a small explosion or some strange business with that cutter. But either way there was a flash of light, a shower of sparks, and a bang of metal.

He lay still, aiming his gun at the bright spots that still danced before his eyes.

“He’s gone!” Ayna shouted.

Gaylen snapped up his little flashlight with his left hand and aimed it at the spots. His beam brushed over a big hole in the floor.

“We’re leaving!” he said and scrambled to his feet.

His light found Kiris and Jaquan, both seemingly unhurt, and Ayna appeared at his side, startling him a bit with her soundlessness.

“This way!” she said and he let her run ahead.

The faint hum of the air generators became a loud drone as they were remotely cranked up to capacity, competing with Gaylen’s own loud footsteps on metal.

“Masks up!” he ordered and unclipped his air tank.

He still had the gun in his right hand and wasn’t about to slow down, so activating the mechanism was a bit fiddly. But he fit it against the back of his neck and hit the right button. The plastic helmet extended, covering his head and sealing up against his jawline.

Everyone else had gotten theirs on too by the time they reached the transitional area and came upon the closed door.

“No one leaves!” Pol Jon said through the speakers. “This is the land of the dead, and you are my subjects!”

“Gaylen, light,” Kiris said as she whipped out her breaker.

“Ayna, watch our backs,” he said and let the girl pass him. Jaquan moved out of the way and Gaylen gave Kiris illumination as the Chanei began her battle with the door’s lock.

“You will not leave!” the mad salvager shouted again.

“Look, I think we can take this guy!” Ayna said.

“I think I know what’s happening,” Gaylen said through his clenched teeth. “He’s messed with the oxygen generators: Pure oxygen and hydrogen. He’s going to burn us.”

“Shit.”

Gaylen restrained himself from rushing Kiris. His instincts were counterproductive to survival.

Keep calm and survive.

The ancient door gave in to Kiris’s efforts with an electronic warble, and screeched open. They ran. The lights on all of the machinery they passed remained dead, and each generator pumped at full blast.

“Herdis!” Gaylen shouted into his comm. “Bers!”

There was no response.

“I told you there was truth in the darkness!” Pol Jon carried on. “The truth of our lives and this universe! Here in this metal tomb I am lord! They showed me! They enlightened me! You will not call me mad once I have shown you!”

“Shut up!” Jaquan hissed.

They reached the portable seal and Kiris applied her breaker again.

“Herdis! Bers!”

It wasn’t hard to rig up a basic scrambler that could affect basic comms, and unfortunately Gaylen’s comm was entirely basic. Ayna guarded their backs again, watching out with those weird eyes. Gaylen glanced back, worried about her trigger finger.

“Don’t blow us up, Ayna,” he said, and after a moment she comprehended and lowered her gun.

Any moment now the mixture of gases could become ripe for a flame. Any moment now they could die. The seal resisted Kiris longer than the door had, but gave in to her talents all the same and they ran again. The plain helmet warped sound and filled Gaylen’s ears with his own breathing and thumping heart, throwing a strangely unreal blanked over the whole situation.

Finally they reached the hangar door.

“You can’t run!” Pol Jon shouted as Kiris worked to open it. “You will not run! There is no running from the truth!”

“Beg. To. Dis. Agree,” Kiris bit out as her delicate fingers flew over the controls of her breaker.

The door opened, and the salvager shouted in rage as they ran across to the Addax. Gaylen waved his arms frantically as they went, and Bers opened the outer airlock, then coughed.

There was a nasty whoosh from everywhere and nowhere, bouncing off the walls, ceiling and floor. For a moment Gaylen felt searing heat on every part of his body. Then his feet passed the threshold and Bers slapped the airlock emergency button. The door sealed shut in an instant, and the burning gas had nothing to lick save the armoured hull.

“What happened?!” Herdis asked, standing at the ready with her rifle.

“A whole lot of crazy,” Gaylen told her. “With me.”

He hurried up the stairs and she followed on his heels. He reached the cockpit and lifted off the floor. The outer door refused his opening signal, as he’d expected.

“Blow it open,” he told Herdis as she sat down by the cannon controls.

The kind of weapon the Addax could carry would ordinarily have been fairly useless against a ship of this size. But this ship was ancient, and a few shots blew the door apart. He steered them back out into space and then blasted away at maximum cruising speed.

He let out a breath, and then laughed with exasperation.

“What did I say? You meet all kinds out here.”