The Expanse - J.M. Dillard [48]
The towers were massive old structures, of dull, worn metal, pitted by the corrosive gases and particulate matter hurled about by the gale-force winds. Dozens of vents on the towers’ roofs and flanks constantly belched plumes of dark blue smoke, which was immediately seized and drawn upward by the violent air currents.
It was a less than welcoming sight, but Archer did not permit himself an instant’s hesitation before opening the pod hatch and stepping out into the maelstrom. Reed, his demeanor only slightly more tentative, followed.
Immediately, Archer threw up his hands to shield his eyes, and fought to steady his stance. The wind was blowing nearly sideways, pelting him with a fine grit that stung eyes and skin. The smell surprised him: he came from a world and time unused to the stench of toxic chemicals. His eyes and nose both began to run.
Despite the surprise, he got his bearings quickly enough; he had important work to do here, critical work, and every second’s hesitation was another second given the Xindi to develop the weapon that would destroy Earth. Cupping a hand over his eyes to shield them, Archer oriented himself to the towers—imminently close, yet ghostly even in this distance, due to the thick, murky haze—and began making his way toward his destination.
It was slow going; the surface was a layer of soft, fine grit, like powdery beach sand, and they were walking into the wind. Over its howl, Archer could hear the roar of machinery. As he trudged toward the nearest tower, head ducked to protect his eyes and face, Reed screamed next to him, “We should’ve worn EV suits!”
Archer faced Reed so he could be heard and shouted back, “The Doctor said it was safe for short periods!” Phlox had explained that trellium (an element Archer’d never heard of) was the main component, fatal when breathed in directly over months or years. But brief, limited exposure required only a simple detox procedure, with no harm done.
Eyes reduced to slits, face contorted in a grimace, Reed challenged, “Safe? You call this safe? I’ve been in—”
He broke off, gagging—caught a mouthful of grit, Archer imagined—and started coughing.
The Captain gave him a quick slap on the back, then ordered, “Try not to talk!”
Reed nodded, speechless.
After a long, miserable moment, they reached the first tower. Archer had memorized the foreman’s directions, and found the ladder he’d described—although it was far rustier and more unsteady-looking than the Captain had imagined. He caught hold of it gingerly and began climbing up. Once again, Reed followed, until the two of them made their way to a platform.
Archer unbolted a metal door, per the foreman’s instructions; it opened onto a dark, spiraling stairwell that led downwards.
The Captain went first. Getting out of the wind and stinging sand was a relief—but descending the rickety metal staircase was hardly an aesthetic experience. The walls and stairs wore a thick coat of dark blue mineral residue, and the air still bore a noxious chemical stink, mixed now with the odor of the sweat and filth of living bodies. Even here, a deep blue haze hung suspended; Archer was beginning to agree with Reed about those EV suits. A respirator would do nicely, helping to ease the burning that was starting to spread from the Captain’s nose and throat into his lungs.
Now that the howling wind was no longer in their ears, the relentless churning of machinery was more noticeable; it caused the metal beneath Archer’s soles to vibrate. Hard to tell, given the haze, but it seemed to him even the walls trembled.
They kept going down ... down, down until Archer’s calves began to cramp, until he began to wonder whether he had somehow misunderstood part of what the foreman had told him.
Finally, he heard Reed’s footsteps behind him stop; Archer turned to regard the Lieutenant, then followed his gaze down the stairwell.
It descended, apparently, into infinity.
Archer began moving again, and Reed