In the time while the rest of the party began to reach ground level, there was another space of dead air, which lasted for what might seem slightly longer than a comfortable length of time, before a voice spoke.

"I'm — ba — "


"— art. Is this better?"

The voice was Astrid's. Sounding much chirpier than she did earlier, she went on without waiting for a response.

"I'm so sorry — there's too much metal in this station. Not that you can build a station without metal, but in these conditions…!"

The voice trailed off with mild indignance, before resuming, "anyway, I was looking at the station computer, and I found something. The nuclear reactor that powers this station is still operational, but it's under — ssure from the — can't understand what — of the planet! The turbines can't get enough pressure, because of the low gravity! The reactor's located on the circumference of the… face of the ARK. Haha," there was a nervous chuckle from the other side of the radio, "it really does look like a face, doesn't it? Anyway, the ARK was originally set in a high geostationary orbit, and was given a spin to simulate the earth's gravity, but with this new planet's gravity, and the differing — epth — the turbines can't produce enough power to correct the ARK's attitude or spin, and the batteries that were supposed to power the control jets are — well… They're as old as the ARK, and that just about says it all!"

She paused.

"Anyway, each set of binary — fed through a — can't quite r — hooked up to a capacitor substation, which transfers between the battery piles and the main power. If…" she stopped speaking for a moment, before resuming cautiously, "you. You… do have an electric power source on you, though? It's chaos-based, right? Maybe it will have enou — to — you keep breaki — to keep it going until the ARK can restore orbit."

There was a long silence from the other end of the radio, broken only by the occasional sounds of static.

"The ARK's jets are very high-efficiency…" she sounded doubtful, "they were very innovative when they were built, maybe if she tried…"

The squirrel's voice was silent for a moment.

"I don't know," she said, "but if you can't make it into the core, it's… it's another shot! At least."

"—orry! It — to hear you. Th — onstruction of this station means a — of the signal gets lost."

"If — can get to the capacitor substation that manages the power — the ion jets, you could charge it and the ARK could restore — bringing the whole station back! Once you get into the core infra — ucture, there should be a hatch nearby that will connect w — the core maintenance ring. Once you get there — just have to head down until you see — capacitor section. They'll probably — like big pieces of metal stacked on top of each other, and there'll — warning signs everywhere."

"…ouldn't — um. Oh."

Astrid sounded somewhat dejected.

"Well!" she resumed after a few moments, with comparative brightness, "I suppose it's not a — percent chance, but — less something has happened that this co — uter isn't telling me, I'm 99% certain that it'll work!"

"Well," she added again, "how much of a charge does your… —r electricity thing put out? Th — ystem is already connected to a series of transformers, and each — ores is insulated, so you shouldn't have to worry about proper current — o long as you ca — ntain the capacitor charge long enough."

As the hatch was (and assuming the hatch was) opened, there was an audible hiss. The service tunnel on the other side was, apparently, at a much lower pressure, and there was a rush of air out of the relatively open public hallway the group was standing in, and into the newer, much less inviting tunnel.

The hallways and rooms beyond breathed in, and an ominous booming rolled through distant parts of the station as steel girders shifted uncomfortably, and rooms stretched by micro-meters.



As the group moved down into the densely coiled maintenance tunnels that discreetly skirted the cannon's core, the sensation of a gentle wind got stronger. Something was drawing air away, down the hall, away from them.

Eventually they would, by the inevitable limiting of other options, reach the capacitor substation for the ARK's jets.

There was a battery of security bulkheads — still running on auxiliary power — which required a collection of codes to open, but — robot member of the party aside — the existence of the place was its own safety device.

Capacitors — enormous slabs of treated and delicately separated metal — were built up off the floor on tremendous re-inforced ceramic pylons. Huge battery-like structures capable of storing enough electricity to kill instantly, they were covered in thick ceramic shells, to offer at least cursory protection from the immense charge they carried, and were linked in parallel with huge, fat, worm-like cables, to provide minutes of high-intensity charge to the ship's control jets.

The cables dangled from the ceiling, looped up across racks, where they stretched down to connect to the bellies of the capacitors huddled across the floor. The capacitors were squat and glossy and vaguely insectile. The cables swayed gently in the breeze. The whole scene would look completely hideous to anyone with the imagination required.

The opening of the door would reveal two other things. One, a plausible point to recharge the system, in the form of a very large covered terminal which spread power from the ARK's ancient batteries to the rest of the capacitor array.

Two, a damaged door at the far end of the capacitor field. The door was very nearly knocked out of its recess, and seemed only to be held in place by the tremendous vacuum pulling on its opposing side. Fragmented rays of natural light could be seen through gaps between the door and the frame — the opening to a recently smashed room, or perhaps an observatory area, deprived of windows by a micro-meteor.

Whatever the case, it would soon become apparent that the door was not actually planning on going anywhere for quite a while.