The Iron Admiral: Conspiracy

The Iron Admiral: Conspiracy - Chapter two

“We’ve made orbit and are making preparations to land.”

The announcement startled Allysha out of a doze. The harness slid silently from its housing in the seat and snapped down over her legs and shoulders. Sean, interrupted in mid-snore, rubbed sleep from his eyes.

The view screen in the passenger cabin showed a cloud-swathed, green and purple planet with bright white polar caps and dark blue oceans. Past the terminator line, the darkness was complete, without the telltale sprinkling of lights that indicated technology.

Tisyphor. A whole new, mysterious world; at once scary and fascinating. What would it be like?

The atmosphere thickened. The harness tightened around her as the ship shuddered and bucked its way through a deep cloud layer and then slowed for its final descent.

Gases hissing, the ship settled onto its landing pads. The whine of the engines faded into silence, the external hatch soughed open and the harness retracted back into the seat. Her stomach churning, Allysha rose to her feet and collected her bag. She glanced at Sean, still dithering with his delongings, and strode the short distance down the central aisle of the passenger compartment to the open hatch.

Good grief, it was like walking into a sauna. She hesitated until Sean’s hand on her back urged her forward. Moisture began to bead on her face, her shirt stuck to her skin and she was certain she could feel her hair begin to curl. The air tasted different, too; a little bit earthy and sweet. Not unpleasant; just not what she was used to and different again to the arid, dusty air of Brjyl, the only other planet she’d been to apart from home.

The ship had landed on a platform above purple and green forest that spread to the horizon on three sides. Blues and greens seemed brighter, somehow, and reds and oranges more subdued. To her left a sheer rock face rose into an overcast sky. That would be the extinct volcano where the mine was situated. Below and to the right, a short distance away, she caught a glimpse of buildings clustered around a cleared area.

A man came out of a lift on the opposite side of the platform and approached, smiling one of those broad, false smiles that didn’t reach the eyes. “Welcome to Tisyphor. I’m Gerrit van Tongeren. You must be Mister O’Reilly and Miss Marten.”

Sean plastered on an equally broad smile, took the proffered hand and shook it. “Pleased to meet you.”

“If you’d like to come this way.” He herded them into the lift and pressed the button for the ground. When the door opened, he gestured at an open-topped skimmer standing in the road. “Hop in.”

She sat in the back, while Sean sat beside van Tongeren. They drove along a road through the jungle toward the cluster of buildings she’d seen from the platform. The place was so different to home; strange trees with speckled trunks and leaves like enormous hands hanging down. The clicks and whirrs of wildlife filled the air and a few winged insects drifted amongst the overhanging branches, bright wisps of color against the foliage.

The vehicle pushed through a transparent barrier. She felt the substance, whatever it was, mold briefly around her body and then spring away. The temperature and humidity dropped as though they’d driven into a refrigerator. Wow, that was better. She hadn’t fancied working in a steam bath.

“What was that?” she asked.

“The settlement’s built in a climate-conditioning bubble. Pity it doesn’t extend as far as the mine,” van Tongeren said.

“Is there a tavern here?” Sean asked.

Van Tongeren’s eyebrows arched. “Of course, but don’t you want to see your house?”