My heart fluttered. It was working.
The ship completed three more rotations, each faster than the last. When the next circle swung me around hard enough to press my ribs into the armrest, I took that as my cue to make an exit. After double-checking the autopilot commands, I braced myself against the wall and half walked, half stumbled into the hallway and down the stairs.
In the loading bay, Fig was struggling to keep the pile of equipment she had gathered from sliding across the floor—a space suit and helmet for me, a couple of rucksacks filled with who knows what, and her giant laser. Cabe stood nearby, but he wasn’t helping Fig. Instead, he was examining his chest, which didn’t seem right.
“What’s the matter?” I asked him.
The reel inside his chest whirred. “My cable supply is critically low, Goosey.”
“Critically low? That can happen?”
“Affirmative.”
It had never occurred to me that Cabe might run out of metal rope. I had assumed he could make as much as he needed. It was a good thing he’d had enough cable to connect the ship to the star’s force-field tether.
Fig pointed at Cabe while tossing me a thermal suit. “We’ll have to be careful when we eject, only use as much cable as we need to get us to Quasar’s yacht.”
“Do you have that much?” I asked Cabe. “We’re about a hundred yards away.”
Cabe’s innards whirred again. He chirped, “Affirmative. I have one hundred yards remaining.”
That was good.
I managed to pull on my thermal suit while rolling across the floor, a feat for which I deserved a trophy, or at least a ribbon. After slinging a clunky rucksack across my chest, I fastened my oxygen helmet to my suit and switched on the mask comm.
“Testing,” I called to Fig and Cabe.
“I read you loud and clear,” Fig said from within her own helmet.
“Okay, so here’s the basic plan.” I handed Fig her laser cannon. “We’ll eject from the airlock at the height of the next swing. Cabe will rope us together with one arm. Once the star is far enough away, you’ll blast it. The force-field netting should capture all the radiation. When we’re done saving the world, Cabe will use his other arm to reach out and attach to Quasar’s yacht. After that, it’ll be as easy as reeling us in and blasting our way inside one of the yacht’s airlocks with the laser.”
“And the Whirlwind?” Fig asked. She swept a sad gaze across the room. “Is there really no way to save her? Can’t we track her down in a few weeks and cut the tether, then tow her back for repairs?”
I shook my head, feeling the same tug at my heart that Fig obviously did. I was going to miss the Whirlwind. I had programmed the ship to make the right number of swings and then tow the star away. After that, we would never see her again. Even if the hull survived, the engine would be shot.
I faced the heart of the ship and saluted. “I like to think of it as going out in a blaze of glory. The old girl will live on in our memories.”
Fig released a long breath, right before the ship lurched and she had to bend her knees to keep from falling over. “We should go while we still can. I don’t want to go out in a blaze of glory, too. At least not today.”
I agreed. If we waited any longer, we could end up plastered against the wall like two kids in an old-fashioned carnival ride.
We grabbed as much as we could hold, and we made our way into the airlock. From there, I took a moment to calculate the right time to open the outside door so we ejected toward Quasar Niatrix’s yacht instead of away from it.
“Prepare for evacuation,” I told Cabe. In response, he threaded one of his cables around Fig and me, pulling us tightly against him. The chamber hissed as the air pressure changed. I grabbed onto the barrel of Fig’s laser cannon, just in case her grip slipped. “In three…two…one…now!”
I levered open the door precisely as the Whirlwind made an arc toward the yacht. We flew out of the airlock in unison. The momentum sent us sailing in the right direction at a perfect speed and trajectory. I couldn’t have asked for a more flawless evacuation.
Except for one thing.
We had barely traveled twenty yards when I heard a loud crack coming from the Whirlwind. The noise turned into a steely groan that sounded like metal twisting, but I was too far away to see the problem.
“Cabe,” I said, hoping he was still synched with the ship’s computer. “Can you check the damage report and tell me what’s wrong?”
“Please stand by.” He went silent for a moment. “Towing capacity for the rear hitch is compromised, Goosey.”
“The towing hitch is breaking?” asked Fig.
“Affirmative, Weirdo.”
My breath locked. The sun was too much for our ship to handle. And now that we had ejected, there was nothing I could do about it.
“The star isn’t far enough away,” I murmured. “It has to go at least another three klicks, or Earth’s gravity will pull it back in, and the whole planet will die.”
“Die?” Cabe repeated in a squeaky pitch. “My chief programmer, Moon of My Life, and her copilot, Darling, are on Earth. Crew members Doodlebug, Cutie-Patootie, Squirt, and Stinky are on Earth. If the planet is threatened, then the Centaurus family is in MORTAL DANGER. I must defend the planet!”
I glanced at Cabe’s whirring chest. He only had a hundred yards of cable on his reel, which wasn’t enough for him to create a new tether, plus detach and rejoin us to storm Quasar’s yacht. Cabe only had one job left in him. He would have to attach one of his arms to the star and the other one to the ship, basically stretching between them like a prisoner on a torture rack.
My body went cold. Cabe’s line was strong enough to hold the connection, but he would be lost, along with Fig and me, because we would have no way to reach Quasar’s yacht. We would just float there and die as soon as our oxygen ran out.
I looked to Fig. She nodded her approval. Then I glanced over my shoulder at Earth, and the decision made itself.
“Cabe,” I said tightly. “You’re right. This is not a drill. The Centaurus family is in mortal danger.”
“Goosey, my programming—”
“Is to protect us, I know,” I told him. “You can let go of me and Weirdo. Then I want you to attach your left cable to the ship and your right cable to the star’s force-field tether. After that, you have to hold them together, no matter what it takes.” I swallowed a lump the size of a peach pit. “Do you understand, buddy?”
He beeped in a somber tone that pierced my heart. “Affirmative, Goosey.”
“I’m gonna miss you,” I told him.
Fig sniffled from inside her helmet. “Me too.”
Cabe tightened his grip on us and made a sad whirring sound.
I clapped a gloved hand on Cabe’s shoulder. “Go ahead, buddy. Save our family.”
The metal rope around my waist went slack. I gripped Fig’s hand, and together we drifted in place while we watched Cabe unspool one of his lines toward the Whirlwind and attach it to the bent towing hitch. He reeled himself in until his legs touched the ship, then he kicked off at an angle that sent him soaring to the star’s force-field tether. It was a perfectly executed movement, and in less than a blink, he was in between the ship and the star, holding them together.
In that moment, he was my hero.
The ship continued on its path, towing the star farther from Earth. I used my helmet’s distance finder and kept watching until the star was far enough away to destroy it. Then I squeezed Fig’s hand. Strangely, I wasn’t afraid anymore. What we were about to do would change history, and that knowledge filled me with pride.
“Here’s your big moment,” I said. “Ready to blow up a star?”
Fig released a sad sigh. “This isn’t how I pictured it.”
“Well, we’re going out with a bang, not a whimper,” I pointed out.
That made her smile.
“For real.” I nudged her with my elbow. “I’m pretty sure blowing up a star is a onc
e-in-a-lifetime opportunity, so you might as well enjoy it.”
She turned to me with a lifted chin. “You know what? You’re right.”
“Say that again,” I teased. “I didn’t hear you.”
“YOU’RE RIGHT.”
“Ah,” I said, smiling. “Music to my ears.”
We worked together to crank up the laser to level 100 and then position it on top of Fig’s shoulder. She nestled the cannon and took aim through the scope. I let myself float slightly behind her while hooking a finger beneath her belt so we wouldn’t drift apart. All I could do now was be still and let her stabilize for the shot.
“It’s all up to you,” I said.
She snorted. “No pressure or anything.”
“You got this.”
She nodded. Her chest expanded as she drew a deep breath and held it. She went still, not moving a muscle, and peered through the cannon scope for several long seconds. In the distance, the star trailed behind the Whirlwind, so far away that I couldn’t see Cabe or the ship anymore. Fig waited for another beat. Then she exhaled long and slow, and she squeezed the trigger.
What happened next was nearly indescribable.
The cannon fired a red laser beam wider than both my arms spread apart, and in an instant, it struck the star at dead center. The sun’s core changed color from bright yellow to soft orange and then morphed into the pinkish purple of a twilight sky. Like cosmic fireworks, the hues glowed wild and electric, bursting outward and making the edges of the star tremble.
The glow was too bright for my eyes, but I held them open, refusing to blink, refusing to miss a single beat, because each microsecond brought a new change that was more breathtaking than the last. As the star continued to vibrate, something dark and sparkly formed in its center and began to swirl upward like a tornado of diamonds. Pinpricks of light flashed from all around the vortex, as if the universe was winking at us. And maybe it was, because I could swear that with each new flash, I glimpsed the distant starscape of another galaxy.
My insides hummed with so much awe that I almost couldn’t take it anymore. Just when I felt like I might burst, the star swelled and shrank, swelled and shrank, again and again, faster and faster, until it was practically bouncing in place. Then in an instant, it collapsed in on itself and disappeared with a final wink of light.
Just like that, it was gone. As a bonus, it didn’t open a black hole.
“Whoa” was all I could say.
“Oh yeah,” Fig breathed. “That was worth dying for.”
I nodded in agreement. But as the minutes ticked by and the rush wore off, dying started to seem a whole lot more real—and terrifying. I glanced all around us, looking for anything that might propel us to Quasar’s ship, but there was only empty space between us and the yacht. All of a sudden, it occurred to me that Quasar had won. He had promised to bring in a sharpshooter to save Earth, and the people on the ground would think that was what he’d done. They must have noticed the star imploding. It was impossible to miss, even without a telescope, which plenty of people had in their backyards.
Quasar was going to take credit for all of this.
“No one will know the truth,” I said, shaking my head at Quasar’s yacht. “That’s the worst part. He’s going to get away with it.”
“We’ll see about that.” Fig chuckled darkly and knocked on her laser cannon. “If we were really working for Quasar, would we do this to his ship?” She took aim and blasted a hole in the yacht’s fuel tank. “I don’t think so. Let him try to explain his way out of that one.”
“At least he can’t go anywhere.”
I spoke too soon. The hangar door opened, and a glimmer of chrome appeared from inside. It was a shuttle, and a fast one, too, judging by the fact that it took off like a bullet before Fig could aim the laser cannon at it.
I sighed. “So much for him not going anywhere.”
“Well, people will know that he ran away,” Fig pointed out. “And left them trapped on the ground by a force field. That’s enough for them to put together the truth.”
I could see the force field ripples encircling the planet. “Too bad he didn’t turn it off before he left.”
“Yeah,” Fig said. “That would’ve been nice.”
For a long time, neither of us spoke. We just floated there, holding the laser cannon between us, looking down at Earth. I thought about what my family was doing at that moment, hoping they were proud of me. I didn’t ask what was on Fig’s mind, but I assumed she was thinking of her parents, too. Soon the air in my tank began to run out. I knew there wasn’t much time left when I started yawning and feeling confused.
I figured I should say something. So I told Fig, “Look on the bright side. Soon we’ll have no problems.”
“No drama,” she agreed. “No worries or…” She trailed off and glanced over her shoulder. I did the same and noticed a ship approaching us from behind. Even through my brain fog, I recognized it as the cruiser that had fired on us.
“So much for no worries,” she muttered. “The Council is here.”
Here’s a plot twist for you.
Quasar didn’t get credit for saving the world.
“In breaking news,” said a reporter on my living-room telescreen, “Doctor Sally Nesbit, famed inventor of the Fasti stars, called a press conference this morning to confess her role in the star theft that nearly destroyed Earth last night.”
A video appeared of Dr. Nesbit standing behind a podium. Her eyes were fixed on a data tablet as she read a statement that described Quasar’s entire plan and why she had been a part of it. “Years ago, I secretly experimented with dark matter,” she admitted. “It was highly illegal and would have resulted in the loss of my lab if anyone had found out. Quasar Niatrix had proof of those experiments, and he threatened to expose me if I didn’t help him. He blackmailed me, but that’s no excuse for what I’ve done. I’m coming forward because I want to make amends. If that means going to jail, then that’s a consequence I’m willing to face. The truth is more important than my freedom.”
So in the end, Dr. Nesbit had done the right thing. That made me happy, and I’d like to think I was partly responsible for her coming clean. I still respected Dr. Nesbit’s research, and I hoped we could work together someday.
“The unexpected heroes,” the reporter went on, “are a Wanderer-human duo: Figerella Jammeslot and Myler Centaurus—”
I sighed. Of course the news got my name wrong.
“—both thirteen years old, who, with the help of an older-model Cable Aid robot, were able to divert the star away from Earth and destroy it. As for the galaxy’s most wanted fugitive, Quasar Niatrix, no trace has been found of him, or of his hired pirates. Anyone with information on his whereabouts is encouraged to come forward.”
From there, the reporter said Wanderer-human relations were on the mend for the first time in history, thanks to proof that Wanderers didn’t steal the star. It also helped that the Council had rescued Fig and me in their ship, making them look like heroes…Never mind the fact that they’d chased down the Whirlwind earlier and fired on us.
The news didn’t mention that.
The news also didn’t mention that the Council had taken over Quasar’s damaged yacht to use as their headquarters, and without a travel visa, Fig wasn’t allowed on the ground. So she was trapped in space with the Council. Which was beyond bogus, not that our “rescuers” had listened to me. I’d been shoved headfirst by a very tall, very rude Wanderer into an Earthbound shuttle without having a chance to say good-bye to Fig.
I didn’t know what the Council planned on doing with Fig, but I knew this: No one, and I mean no one, was going to punish my best friend, or even put her on trial.
I wouldn’t allow it.
I cracked my knuckles and prepared for battle. It didn’t matter that I had never held a gun, or studied kung fu, or thrown a single punch in my life. It didn’t matter that the enemy had the advantage of mass numbers and laser cannons. Because what
I possessed was a weapon that would make even the grittiest warrior hide under his bed covers:
I had four brothers, and they were the actual worst…and the actual best.
So prepare for defeat, Council!
It was game time.
A boot shook the edge of my bunk. I opened my mouth to yell at Kyler for waking me up, when a deep voice said, “Time to get out of bed,” and I remembered I was a prisoner in the galaxy’s most weirdly posh jail.
Shielding my eyes from the light streaming through the doorway, I blinked sleepily at the seven-foot-tall mutant who’d shown me to my room last night. I didn’t know his name, but the guy walked around like he had a burr in his butt. He hadn’t even let me say good-bye to my only friend before he’d shoved Kyler into a shuttle and sent him home.
Rude.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“Two in the afternoon,” he said in the judgy tone of a morning person. “I wanted to wake you up at dawn, but I was outvoted. Anyway, come on. The Council has better things to do than wait around for one girl.”
My mouth went dry. I wasn’t ready for my trial to begin. To stall, I touched my tangled hair and asked, “Shouldn’t I freshen up first?”
He answered by jerking a thumb toward the hallway.
“Seriously?” I said. “Can’t I have a comb?”
“No.”
Instead, he gave me an escort to the conference room.
I put up a brave front while I followed the guy through a maze of yacht corridors and up two flights of steps. But my sass wore off, and I caught my footsteps slowing as I approached the conference center.
Through the open doorway, I could see Earth’s flag mounted on the wall, the same place where Quasar Niatrix had filmed his final message to the planet yesterday. As I walked closer, I noticed the rest of the walls were lined with glittering mirrors that reflected a long teakwood table. Around the table stood more than a dozen cushioned leather chairs so deep I could sleep in them, all of them bathed in the rainbow glow of a crystal chandelier. Only two of the seats were filled, one by a young woman with blue hair piled atop her head in a bun, and the other by a man who, as my father used to say, was old enough to fart dust.
Blastaway Page 21
