I'm either dead–or I've lost the use of my senses, thought Russell. He drew a deep breath through his nose, and the stale ice-cold air sheared his nostrils like a jagged knife. If nothing else, the pain told him his senses still worked and he was alive.
He wondered where he was, floating in deathly silence and total darkness. Then he remembered, no gravity, inside the Cloud, Trevor's indestructible machine. It hadn't been destroyed, exactly, but it certainly wasn't working very well.
Repressing an attack of panic, he reached out for something solid. His fingers brushed against some other floating object, then it was gone.
He wiggled his toes and fingers, rubbed his sore chest and throat, shivered from top to toe, and resisted the urge to be sick.
'Okay,' he managed to whisper, sounding more optimistic than he felt. 'I'm in pretty good shape.'
A groan came from somewhere behind him.
'Trevor?' he called, with a voice somewhere between a frog's croak and a crow's squawk. 'Are you here? Are you awake?'
'Is that you, Russell? I thought I was dead… Oh, my head.'
'Are you all right? Can you move? Can you feel anything?'
'Only my aching head.'
'Good,' said Russell, 'and in case you wonder how I am, I'm okay.'
'Thank goodness.'
'But I don't know where I am, I can't feel anything, I'm just floating in the dark.'
'I'm hanging on to the leg of my desk,' said Trevor. 'I've got a torch in the drawer, give me a minute… I'm going to be sick…'
'Try and hold it,' said Russell. 'Please… Think of the mess, all those bits of carrots floating about. Relax and take a few deep breaths, it soon passes.'
Trevor clamped an ice-cold hand to his mouth and swallowed. A new wave of nausea made him gag–he swallowed harder. 'It's passing,' he said between gulps. 'What happened? I need light and I need my computer.'
Feeling his way along the desk leg, Trevor found the drawer and pulled it open. Rummaging blindly, his frozen hand found the torch. He pushed the torch's button, knocked the torch with his other hand, then rapped it against the table.
'What's wrong?' asked Russell, longing for the light.
'It doesn't work. The batteries are flat. Nothing works. I don't understand anything. Where are we? What's happened?'
'Okay! Okay! Calm down,' soothed Russell. 'Whatever you do, don't panic. Give yourself time to think–that's what you're good at.'
'A box of matches, hang on, I've a box of matches here somewhere.' Trevor groped in another drawer, found the box, and struck a match. It sputtered and glared, but the flame was weak and died out. 'There's too little oxygen in here,' he said. 'Even the match won't burn properly. I daren't strike another.'
'You don't need to strike another,' croaked Russell. 'One was enough. I'm orientated now.' He had seen, in the dull glare, which way was up and which way was down, and where he floated in relation to the walls and floor, but the chaos and devastation he observed in that short glimpse made him shake his head in denial.
Trevor also caught a glimpse of his surroundings in that brief spell of light, but instead of being upset, his considerable intellect engaged. 'Just before this happened,' he said, 'a tremendous surge of energy drained out from the Cloud. It seems as though the aliens have stolen our energy as easily as they are stealing water from our planet. Everything is dead in here, nothing works.'
'But you said the Cloud drew energy from everything,' said Russell. 'Surely it should be charging itself up again?'
'Yes, it should. I don't understand. If only I could see something…' He gave a little shout of excitement. 'I know. In my apartment somewhere I have one of those gimmicky wind-up torch radios, you know, those things that don't use proper batteries but have a little handle you turn to generate electricity.'
Exactly like swimming underwater, Russell pushed and kicked against the thin air until he bumped into a wall. 'There,' he said, feeling the knot in his stomach loosen. 'If we can find the door, it should be easy to feel our way around. Keep talking so I know where you are.'
Little by little they felt their way to the door. Hand in hand they floated across the hall and entered Trevor's apartment. Russell led the way, pushing aside airborne furniture and other jumbled objects. They found Trevor's cupboard containing his treasure trove of electronic gadgets and curiosities. Before much longer, Trevor had the torch radio in his grasp. He turned the small handle briskly and light flooded the room, blinding them both.
'Nice to see you again,' squinted Russell.
'Likewise,' said Trevor. 'Good grief. Look at the mess in here.'
'Never mind that. We can tidy up later. What do you want to do first?'
Guided by the torch, they scurried down to the basement. Trevor cast a quick glance over the fifty or so bulky batteries. Thankfully, they were dry cell, or they'd have leaked acid all over the place. He hoped the sudden discharge hadn't damaged them. 'We'll need to charge at least one battery to restore order.'
'What about oxygen? You said you had oxygen bottles. Let me hold the torch while you sort it out.'
Trevor opened a valve and the air sweetened. After a few deep breaths, he turned to the task of salvation. Taking the torch from Russell, he pointed the beam around the room. 'I have a couple of spare batteries over there, and a car generator over here, and if I mount the generator to your training bicycle…'
The difficulties of weightlessness slowed them down, but with the help of a few wooden planks, a bicycle inner tube, and half an hour of basic carpentry, they constructed a makeshift generator. Russell tied himself to the bicycle saddle, strapped his feet to the pedals, took a firm grip on the handlebars, and pedalled furiously.
'How long do I have to keep this up?'
'An hour will do just fine–for now. That should be enough for us to return things to normal. You don't need to pedal like a maniac, take it easy, save air.'
Slowing to a moderate pace, Russell pedalled until Trevor nodded and told him to stop. Trevor disconnected the empty batteries from the Cloud and connected the newly charged one.
'Did you feel that?' asked Trevor, head raised and listening.
Russell blinked. 'It felt like the Cloud has been holding its breath and suddenly sighed.'
'Yes, that's what I thought, like it was relieved of a burden–yes, something like that. Whatever it was, it felt good. Let's get back to the control room and see if the computer still works. I have a spare if it doesn't, come on, you lead the way.'
The computer and joysticks floated in a jumble, anchored together by thin control wires. He pressed the computer's start button and smiled as the screen glimmered into life. 'Okay,' he said, as soon as the operating system finished booting. 'First of all, let's get some gravity back in here, I'll try to do it gently, but just in case, get ready for a bump.'
Floating objects started drifting towards the floor. Trevor held the computer with one hand and gathered in the joysticks with the other. He bumped onto the floor on his left hip, more worried about saving his computer than himself.
Russell landed on his feet, caught the desk with his free hand, and placed it back in its old spot. He wound up the torch-radio and left it on the floor. The grandfather clock landed on its side and the two reclining chairs ended on their backs. He stood them all in place and sat himself down to let his own insides untangle.
Trevor wobbled to his feet and set the computer down on his desk, he placed one joystick on either side and dragged his chair closer to the desk. 'There. That feels better,' he said, bent over his keyboard. 'Now the lights… And now the air...'
'What about heating?' asked Russell, rubbing his hands and blowing on his fingers.
'No need for that. We'll soon be warm–too warm. The vacuum of space is a perfect insulator, and our own body temperature will soon make it stifling hot in here. We'll need cooling, not heating.'
'How long will the battery last with all this stuff running?'
'Not long I'm afraid. One whole day maybe–if we don't consume any more power than right now. Looks like you'll be getting plenty of exercise on your bike. Give me a few minutes to check the status of things on my computer, and I'll be able to tell you more.'
Chewing his bottom lip and grunting at odd intervals, Trevor tapped his keys, read information, and searched the Cloud for damage. There were many shortcomings in his program, it told him practically nothing. He'd left no provision for warnings or alarms, or a log to store them.
'Well, this is the situation,' he said at last, fighting the urge to cry. 'First they tried to destroy us with an energy bomb, and when that didn't work they sucked all the energy out of us. I'm sorry, but that possibility never occurred to me. The Cloud is designed to soak in energy like a sponge, but they squeezed it all out.'
'All of it?'
'Yes, every scrap: kinetic, potential and chemical. From anything producing or storing energy.'
'I don't know what you're talking about,' said Russell, scratching his head, 'but it sounds serious.'
Trevor sunk his head and turned away. 'I'm sorry. I shouldn't have dragged you into this.'
'Hey now, brother. What kind of talk is this? It was my idea to challenge the aliens. Buck your spirits up and think optimistically. Tell me something positive.'
Trevor nodded and grinned. The grandfather clock had been made by one of their distant ancestors in the late eighteen hundreds and was very advanced for its time. The escapement was mounted on gimbals to maintain a level position and the pendulum automatically compensated for changes in temperature. It ticked reassuringly. 'Fortunately,' said Trevor, 'I have a little joker up my sleeve. Inside the grandfather clock is a huge spring connected to a piezoelectric crystal. In case of power failure, I utilise the spring and crystal as a backup energy source.'
'A good old fashion clockwork spring?'
'Yes. The energy in the spring is mechanical and they couldn't steal that. Otherwise, the Cloud's whole membrane structure would have collapsed.'
'You're a genius,' said Russell, and patted his brother on the shoulder. 'Who would have thought? Cogs and a spring saved the day.'
'If I'd been quicker, I could have stopped the energy drain from happening at all, but I just can't type that fast.'
'Well, never mind,' said Russell, resting his hand on his brother's shoulder. 'We're still alive. A bit shaken, but a lot wiser. You can fix the bugs when we get back to Earth, and it won't take us long to straighten out the furniture and get things tidy.'
Trevor dropped his face again, avoiding his brother's eyes. 'Well, I'm sorry, Russell, but I don't think the earth is below us anymore.'
They stared at each other in silence while the magnitude of Trevor's words sank in.
'Do you mean we've also "disappeared"?'
'Yeah, it looks that way. And wherever we are, there is practically no free energy out there, only enough to keep the shield active.'
Russell leaned back into his chair and covered his face with his hands. 'That isn't what I wanted to hear,' he mumbled.
'Shall we take a look outside?' asked Trevor.
Without waiting for an answer, he pressed a computer key and the walls vanished. The two brothers stared in disbelief. Earth was gone, the alien spaceship and iceberg were gone, the moon was gone, and only a few unconvincing stars smouldered feebly in the remote distance.
'Where are we?' whispered Russell.
Trevor shrugged. 'Lost in space.'
Russell stared at the distant stars and the pit of his stomach twisted into a knot, and like a lost child, all he wanted at that moment was to go home. 'This is worse than the ocean bed,' he said, squinting in every direction. 'But we're not the only ones. Take a look around.'
Scattered about them, barely visible in the almost complete darkness, were hundreds of dead spaceships–ruined vessels of every imaginable shape and size.
'It looks like a junkyard,' said Russell.
'Yes,' agreed Trevor. 'I'm afraid it looks like we've been dumped at the edge of the universe–in an outer-space junkyard.'