“It’s alright, it’s detected me and stopped.” The voice was shaky. “A little bit too close for comfort though.”
Kemp said, “if Osborne ran into one of those things without his safety vest … oh God. I don’t even want to think about what it would have done to him.”
© A Sunderland 2011
Rodgers said, “it’s backing away. I’m going to make it go to the right and then I’ll turn left and investigate the access hatch behind this engine.”
“Be quick,” Kemp said, “because these two engines are nearing critical pressure. If we can’t do a controlled release the next blow-off could destroy the whole dock and probably boil us alive as well.”
“It was like coming face to face with a fire breathing dragon.” Rodgers was still gasping and panting. “I thought I was a gonna.”
“Well you’ve faced it and lived to tell the tale.” Walsh turned right, along the front of number three engine. “As soon as I find Osborne we’re going to get the hell out of Dodge.” A movement on the far side of the engine housing, and ten meters up, caught his attention. Two dark shapes were moving swiftly along the wall.
A machine that Walsh immediately recognized as a ‘Bolter,’ was taking two lengths of one hundred and eighty millimeter diameter by four meter long pipe from a larger machine below it. The Bolter then fixed the pipes to the wall, perfectly parallel, and four hundred millimeters apart, at the same time as welding the joint to the pipes behind. The pair of them could complete the run from wall to wall in less than four minutes.
Warily, he looked up as they moved directly above him. He stepped forward, focusing on the machines. “Jesus!” he exclaimed as he tripped and tumbled headfirst to the floor. One of his flashlights bounced on the deck, fell over the side, and clattered off stanchions and beams on its way down.
“Walsh, what’s wrong?” Kemp yelled.
“Fallen over some damned debris,” he moaned.
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah.” He picked himself up and dusted down his trousers. “Whichever dumb machine left its trash down here is going to get smashed to…”
“Walsh. What’s wrong now?”
He stood frozen, horrified.
“Walsh, reply please.”
Walsh dashed to the railing, leaned over and vomited.
Chapter 8
The Discovery
Li was wheezing heavily as she climbed the last two stairs and stepped onto the main deck.
Beyer held out a helping hand to her and said, “do you want to rest before we go into the main cockpit?”
Li nodded her head weakly and turned towards the cabin door.
Jacob Mazula, a chubby Ethiopian, was waiting to meet them. He said, “I don’t know what you’re here for. Our Lady boss has got this one well covered.”
Li walked slowly past him, coughing and wheezing.
“Man, we ain’t got time for no sick people.”
Beyer fixed Mazula with an icy stare, and hissed, “this woman has risked her life to get onboard this ship.”
“Well if she ain’t an engineer I don’t know why she bothered.” He followed them onto the flight deck.
Li shuffled, wheezing and spluttering, over to the captain’s seat.
Mazula stared in revulsion at the trail of blood and mucus. Face screwed up in disgust, he turned to Beyer. “Man, is she going to die on us?”
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