He landed soft as a kiss, the magnets in his hands and feet anchoring him to the surface. Now that he was close, he could clearly see closed apertures all over the surface of the ship. They appeared to be made of the same material as the hull, which kept them invisible from a distance. Each was the size of a dinner plate, and there were tens of thousands of them, all lined in neat rows that stretched from one end of the ship to the other.
His destination was the place in the hull where the gun emerged, and he took a moment to orient himself and locate it. He would have to crawl across the hull a short distance to reach it, he realized. Stepping lightly, he set out. As he moved he wondered if Father had landed near here. He looked around him, searching for any signs of a struggle or a breached or repaired hull but saw nothing.
He found the place where the gun emerged. He could see the seams in the hull where it opened or parted. It was time. He anchored the duffel bag and removed the remote control. He and Imala had deposited the decoy ten klicks away. He flipped on the control and punched the throttle. At first he saw nothing. But soon he saw a dot in the distance among the debris that was moving toward him. He increased the speed. The decoy slammed into a smaller piece of debris in its path, and the two ricocheted off each other. For a moment Victor lost control of the decoy, but he quickly regained it and righted the craft’s course.
There was movement beneath him. Gears turning, pieces shifting, a machine coming to life. He could feel it in his feet.
The hull opened silently. The gun extended and unfolded itself from the hole like a giant mechanical flower opening its petals and stretching outward. It was fifty times bigger than he had thought it would be, bigger than a shuttle. It had looked so small at a distance in the vids.
The remote control was long forgotten. He was at the lip of the hole now, shining his light down into the blackness. The space was immense. There appeared to be corners and nooks and passageways down there. Perhaps one of them led into the ship. He couldn’t tell from here.
The ground shook. The giant flower was firing. Victor looked behind him. The decoy ship was now a puff of shattered pieces. Victor turned back, working frantically. His window of opportunity was closing. He needed to keep this hole open. But how? He had envisioned a space much smaller than this. He had brought a bar to force into the hole and wedge it open to allow him to climb inside, but the bar was clearly too short. How could he have been so wrong about that?
The giant flower began to fold in on itself, retracting, preparing to disappear back into its hiding place. Victor thought quickly, reaching out and shoving the bar between two braces that had begun to fold inward. The bar stuck, wedged tight, and the flower’s collapsing motion stopped. Victor waited. If the bar snapped free after he climbed into the hole, the flower might collapse inward and crush him.
The flower didn’t move. The bar held firm. Victor closed the bag, threw it over his shoulder, and grabbed the lip of hole, ready to launch himself inside. He wished Father were with him all of a sudden. Father could lead out and Victor could follow, just as they had done for years on board El Cavador, moving about the ship and making repairs. Father always knew what needed to be done. Doubt was not in his DNA. His solutions weren’t always the most efficient, but they always worked, they always got the job done. Yes, Victor was the better mechanic, but Father worked better under pressure. Father never flinched. Father’s hands were always steady.
Victor lifted his right hand and saw that it was trembling.
Be with me, Father. Stay with me, fly with me. Somos familia. Somos uno.
Then he lowered his hand back to the lip of the hole and pulled himself forward, shooting down deep, disappearing in the darkness.