The forward berthing compartment was a long, narrow space lined with bunks. It smelled like sweat and sleep and the faint chemical tang of cleaning solution. Empty now—all the crew had been evacuated—but still lived-in, still human. A sock hung from one bunk. A photograph was tacked to the wall above another. A paperback book lay open on a pillow, abandoned mid-sentence.
Sal stood in the center of the space, eyes closed, listening.
The hum was stronger here. The voices too. He felt them pressing against his awareness, thirty distinct presences, each with its own texture, its own fear, its own hope.
They were gathering. Slowly, painfully, like drops of water rolling across glass, they were coming together.
...hard... Miller's voice came through. ...like pulling ourselves apart...
You're doing good, Sal thought. Keep going. We're here. We're waiting.
He opened his eyes. Franklin and Hollister stood near the door, watching him with expressions of barely contained awe.
"They're coming," Sal said. "It's slow, but they're coming."
"How do we get them out?" Hollister asked. "Even if they gather in one place, we don't have a way to—"
"We reverse the field." Franklin's voice was firm. "It's the only possibility. Generate an identical pulse with opposite polarity. It should—theoretically—undo what was done."
"Theoretically."
"All we have is theory, Hollister. Theory and a plumber who talks to ghosts."
Sal ignored them. He was focused on the voices, on the gathering presence in the steel around him. They were closer now, more coherent. He could almost see them—faint shapes, human forms, pressing against the boundaries of their metal prison.
...Lombardi... Miller's voice. Stronger now. ...we're here... all of us... together...
Hold that position. Don't scatter. We're going to try something.
...what?
A reverse pulse. Like unclogging a pipe. It might hurt. It might feel strange. But it should bring you back.
A pause. Then, from thirty voices at once:
...do it...
Sal turned to Franklin. "They're ready. Can you do it?"
Franklin and Hollister exchanged glances. "The generators are gone," Hollister said. "The Navy removed them this morning. We don't have the equipment."
Sal's heart sank. "Then what do we do?"
Franklin was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "The ship itself. The field left residual energy in the structure. If we can tap into it, focus it, release it in a controlled way—"
"That's insane," Hollister said. "That's like trying to start a fire with the ashes."
"Do you have a better idea?"
Hollister didn't answer.
Franklin looked at Sal. "Can you ask them to help? They're part of the ship now. They might be able to channel the energy, focus it where we need it."
Sal closed his eyes. Pressed his hands against the nearest bulkhead.
Did you hear that?
...yes...
Can you do it? Can you help us help you?
A long pause. Then, slowly, a sense of assent. Of thirty minds reaching the same conclusion.
...we'll try...
Sal opened his eyes. "They're in. What do we do?"
Franklin was already moving, pulling equipment from bags, connecting wires, building something that looked like a cross between a radio and a bomb. "We need to create a focal point. A place where the energy can concentrate and release. The berthing compartment is good—it's contained, isolated from the rest of the ship. But we need something to anchor the pulse. Something conductive. Something—"
He stopped. Looked at Sal.
"Your tools."
Sal blinked. "My tools?"
"Your snake. The one you use for pipes. It's metal, flexible, conductive. If we attach it to the ship at one end and to this"—he held up a device Sal didn't recognize—"at the other, it could act as a conduit. A pipe for energy."
Sal looked at Giacomo, coiled in his toolbag. His faithful companion through a thousand clogs, a thousand blocked drains, a thousand moments of plumbing crisis.
"You want to use my snake to save thirty men."
"I want to use your snake to channel a reverse electromagnetic pulse that should theoretically reunite thirty scattered consciousnesses with their physical bodies. Yes."
Sal considered this. Then he laughed—a genuine laugh, the first he'd managed since this whole nightmare began.
"My uncle Giacomo would be so proud," he said, and pulled out the snake.
ns216.73.216.253da2
and then Add to home screen.