The moment his flashlight was securely in his grip he twisted the activation switch, causing his cousin burst forward from the gloom. Even though he was sure she had been there moments ago, Vievel found her presence comforting. “If we get found-”

“I’ll say it was all my idea,” Halycen said.

“Well, it was”.

“Honestly bidja,” Halycen taunted. Vievel bristled at the word, reaching for any slur or nasty jab he could return. It was an unkind childhood nickname that still, years later, always burnt at Vievel upon any recall. It was especially vexing to hear the word slip from his cousin’s mouth. His better judgement rallied against a bitter reprisal, but Vievel nonetheless felt his fists curled around both his sidearm and flashlight. Each pressed uncomfortably against his palms, gripping so tightly that he was momentarily possessed of the idea that he might snap either in half by the sheer force of his grip.

“Father and Uncle’s company must be nearby,” Halcyen said, staring up at the ceiling as she twisted her own flashlight back to life. Vievel followed her gaze but saw nothing other than smooth stone. The footsteps of the scout group were drifting off, that much Vievel was able to tell, but he couldn’t make out where they were headed. He turned back toward the corner he had rounded and his flashlight quickly revealed the rest of the corridor, a short stumpy thing that ended much more abruptly than he had imagined.

Not more than a few arm-lengths in front of him stood a wide door, made of a silver and polished metal that bore a crude reflection of the two Aælfir teenagers and the turn behind them. The mirror-like material looked much the same as the layer of metal that ran beneath the stone floor of the ship. Running unwaveringly down the middle of the door was a hair-width fracture, a line which divided the door into two distinct halves. Vievel’s flashlight suddenly caught the right half of the door unfavourably, and the door brandished light back at him. He squeezed his eyes shut and flicked his hand to the left sharply, hoping to shake loose the shapes and colours that cavorted in front of his eyes. After a moment spent blinking, to banish the floaters and flashes from before his gaze, he noticed a strange thin square box on the left side of the door.

The square box was carved of a dark stone, darker than the wall from which it protruded. Upon the bottom half of the box was a series of ten rune-inscribed thick buttons, each recessed into the box. Affixed above the buttons lay a small light-grey panel, standing out from the box by half an inch. Halycen was already moving toward the door as a rapid and grating noise from the panel drew Vievel’s attention to the top of the box. She froze in place, not moving even a muscle as the panel at the top of the box slid quickly back to reveal a watchful lens and a sinister red light.

“Illan-,” Vievel began to curse, the word slipping from his mouth before he had time to stay it. He bit his lip. Halycen didn’t move for a moment. Her hand hovered, fixed above her belt and holster. Vievel imagined she was waiting for something to happen, much the same as he had been for the past few seconds; seconds that were decided and content to behave like minutes in his mind. Vievel glanced at the panel on the box, expecting some sort of response toward them. The lens itself, the camera, seemed satisfied just to be present, neither alert nor perhaps even aware of the two intruders in front of it. The red light, no larger than the head of a screw, sat similarly placid and disinterested. Neither gave any indication they were doing anything more than existing; no alarm blared, no Dwurkn horde came crashing out of secret panels.

A dead ship, Vievel thought to himself.

Halycen’s dropped suddenly, going for the sidearm still in her holster.

“Hey wait-” Vievel lurched forward and grabbed her by the elbow, Halycen’s hand stopping just shy of the strap on her holster. “You fire that thing and the scouting group will definitely hear it,” he said.

“What if something’s watching?” Halycen whispered, glaring at him before she turned to eye the camera again.

“Then they’d have set off the alarm, or they’re already on their way,” Vievel said. “We need to get away from here, not draw more attention. There aren’t cameras elsewhere, we just need to get away from this one”. Halycen frowned. Her fingers restlessly stroked the release button on her holster.

“Can we get through the door?” Halycen asked.

“Not without the code, retina or skeleton pass,” Vievel said, nodding toward the buttons and the lens on the panel’s box. Halycen’s eyes darted back and forth, from the camera, then to Vievel, glancing between both several times until eventually, she sighed.

“Let’s take a different intersection, away from the scouting party,” Halycen said, turning away from the camera. As she made to turn away she drew her sidearm regardless.

The pair slunk silently back around the corridor, Halycen leading their quick march with Vievel following. Several intersections opened and closed, beckoning, whispering of tech and treasure hidden in their darker recesses, as Vievel and Halycen stalked quietly past them. As a precaution, they extinguished their flashlights before turning the corner, in case the scouting party remained at the far end of the ship, but no lights hid anywhere in the pitch-black of the main passage. They were alone. Vievel felt his breath quicken nonetheless, imagining all sorts of spectres and beasts hidden in the gloom, especially each time the walls gave way to a new opening. Twice he saw a shadow or gloomy outline render a false figure in front of him, a trick of the darkness that nevertheless made him halt in fear. The second time he drew to a stop Halycen tapped him on the arm, eager to know what had stalled him.

“It’s nothing,” Vievel said, sure he was imagining all the pretenders sitting quietly in the gloom.

Together they hurried along the wall that had been lined with etchings, the bumpy surface providing companion and guiding them through the familiar place even without their lights. In the darkness the etchings seemed to carry on even with the breaks in the wall, though Vievel couldn’t make out whether the same patterns bridged the gaps, or whether they started anew. Suddenly Vievel saw Halycen’s shadowy outline disappear in front of him, vanish before he could work out where she’d gone, and for a moment his breath stopped entirely.

“Hallie?” he whispered, silently begging the darkness for a reply. A gentle click answered him, the tell-tale spread of a flashlight lighting the intersection in front of him. Vievel grasped his own flashlight tightly, waiting to turn it on until he too rounded the corner. He turned right into another long corridor, one that he imagined ran parallel to the door-blocked passage they’d been in minutes ago. How many intersections had they passed before turning down this one? How far did the passages on the ship run? Vievel imagined that he might spend days exploring the ship and still not cover any considerable portion of it.

This place is a maze, he thought.

Halycen was standing in front of the etchings with her flashlight pressed up them, inspecting one of the layers. It had changed from a series of pictures depicting coffins to a series of runes not unlike the top-most layer. A long recessed line ran the length of the strip, tiny marks in the line making arrow shapes at even intervals.

“The wall here is a different shade, a different stone,” Halycen said. Her palm was flat against a bare part of the rock-face, her hand gently rubbing the surface of it. Vievel lent closer, facing towards where Halycen was indicating. Sure enough, the stone was a different colour, a rusted and withering red that was both unsightly and unshaped. It fell and rose at random, taking on a cavernous and natural appearance, seemingly weathered and struck by the elements until it took its present form. The red and wild wall stood in remarkable comparison to the uniform charcoal walls that occupied the rest of the ship; to his eye, the dull red reminded Vievel of blood.

Vievel saw the red rock-face continued onward, the carved etchings appearing warped and aged where it moved suddenly. The floor of the corridor was similar in shade, though it maintained a much more even and smoother surface. It looked as if the red rock-face continued down the rest of the way, though he couldn’t make out much beyond Halycen’s blinding flashlight.

“What does it mean?” Vievel said, turning to his cousin. He pressed his own hand up against the cold stone, feeling the jaggedness of the uneven rock. It was uncomfortable compared to the smoother walls elsewhere. In his mind he was sure he’d stammered, a nervousness replaying his words in his head no sooner than they’d left his mouth.

“It’s a different ward of the ship,” Halycen said. Whether imagined or not, his cousin didn’t comment on his stammer. “Dwurkn use different types of rock and stone to indicate different places within the ship, instead of signs or lights like on our ships,” she said.

“What does the red mean?”

“Uh-” Halycen hesitated. “Barracks, armoury or med-bay, I’m not sure”.

“Those,” Vievel swallowed an urge to laugh in his cousin’s face. “-those are very different things,” he said, forcing his smile to dissipate before Halycen turned her flashlight on him.

“At least I know what it means,” Halycen scoffed.

“You should, you’re older,” Vievel said, not taking the bait. “You’ve had more study than I ha-” His voice trailed off as his finger found the long recessed line that ran the length of the wall, drawn over one layer of the etchings. “We should follow this,” he said, thinking aloud. The strange rock pricked the side of his finger as he traced the guiding line. Something about the rock felt peculiar, raw. The image of a dusty asteroid, wild and untamed, jumped to the fore of his mind.

“Why?”

“Because it’s been over forty-five minutes and we haven’t found anything interesting yet,” he said. The lack of spoils from their unauthorised expedition was beginning to weigh on him. Perhaps the line would lead them to treasure, useful salvage, perhaps even a human. Yet again Vievel considered that were he to come face-to-face with a human it might be the last thing he did, and yet again he found himself intoxicated by the possibility despite the danger. It would be a story even his father would have to respect.

“We’ve only got so long anyway,” Vievel said. Regardless of what they found, it would too soon be time for them to return, lest they risk their hypoxin tablets failing, or their respective fathers finding out about their absence before they’d had an opportunity to justify it. Despite the very real chance of death in the former, Vievel couldn’t help but concentrate on the possibility of the latter. “There has to be a point to this”, Vievel said, flourishing with his free hand. “The line looks like it’s guiding to something,” he said. “I want to find out what”. Halycen shifted for a moment, rocking on the thick polymer heel of her metal boot.

“Alright,” she said, with a keen grin. “Let’s follow it”.