Lost in Space--Infinity's Edge

by Kevin Emerson

  The siren in the hall cut off.

  “Man,” said Dad, “that’s the loudest concert I’ve ever been to.”

  “They’re coming back,” I said to the speaker.

  “Okay,” said Clare. “Just like we planned. Trust me!”

  “Wait, you didn’t say what will happen to you if we reboot.”

  But Clare didn’t answer because just then, Judy and Dad stepped back into the compartment. As they did, another wave of rumbling shook the ship. Bright lights flashed behind me, and I turned to see the engine core coming to life and beginning to spin in a figure eight pattern, glowing a shimmering white.

  “Excellent work,” said Dad.

  “Alina will be pleased,” said Judy.

  “Good,” I lied. “Just, uh, one more thing, here…” I tapped my communicator, brought up the photo of the code, then started tapping the symbols into the comms panel. As I touched each one, it appeared on-screen.

  “Come on, Will, get up,” Judy said, stepping toward me. “Hey, what are you doing?”

  “Nothing.” Just a couple more—

  Judy grabbed my arm. “Hey!” she shouted. “Dad! He’s doing something!”

  Both of them lunged toward me. One more symbol to tap in—but they both grabbed me by the arms and dragged me away just before my finger could hit the key.

  “No!” I shouted, writhing against their grip, but it was no use.

  “Come on, Will!” Dad shouted in my ear, and he sounded as furious, as unlike my dad as he ever had. “Enough! The work is done. We’re going back.”

  They hauled me out of the compartment, my feet scrambling on the floor. “Stop!” I shouted, fresh tears coming to my eyes. “She’s going to kill us! You don’t understand—”

  “We understand that you need to shut up,” Judy hissed, her grip tightening.

  “No, please!” My feet bumped the doorway and then we were back out in the hall. I lost sight of the control panel, those symbols still flashing, one left to go. Clare waiting for me—we were doomed. All of us.

  “This is how it has to go,” Dad was saying as we emerged in the corridor. “Everything will be fine soon—”

  Suddenly, there was a dull thud. Dad made a gasping sound, and his grip released from my arm. Judy and I toppled sideways, off balance. I wrenched myself free of her and spun, slamming into the wall. I looked up to see Dad lying in a heap on the floor, and standing above him—

  It was Dr. Smith. Breathing hard and holding one of the lengths of pipe that we’d thought were driftwood. “I hope I didn’t break anything,” she said, looking down at Dad. Then to me. “Hi, Will. Oh, hey, look out!” She nodded behind me.

  “You!” Judy was lunging past me, at Dr. Smith. I thought to stick out my foot, and sent her crashing to the floor.

  Smith leaped down on top of her, pinning her to the ground with her knees and then shoving the pipe down against her neck.

  “Don’t hurt her!” I shouted instinctively.

  “Relax, William. I’ve had more experience than you might think with hurting people. I also know how to keep them right where I want them.” She pressed the pipe down, holding Judy in place. “Now, I hope this little lifesaving effort by me can help us move past our differences and establish a working relationship based on trust and—”

  “What are you doing here?” I said, pushing away from the wall and getting my balance. “Why aren’t you like them?”

  “So many reasons,” said Dr. Smith, glancing at me with a smile. “You should ask my therapist. Oh, except I guess that’s me. But really, it’s so simple. I was in the airlock the whole time. And after I saw you walking around all green-snotted and raving about some imaginary girl, with Judy talking about allergic reactions, I wasn’t about to complain. If there’s one thing I’ve always had, it’s a good survival instinct.”

  “Why didn’t you tell them if you were suspicious?” I shouted.

  “Well,” said Dr. Smith, “I may have excellent instincts, but sharing has never been my strong suit. Besides, look how it turned out. After your genius of a sister here managed to unlock my door, I watched your whole family march off like good little zombies, then followed them out here to that hatch in the middle of the ocean. I wasn’t sure what to do, but when the ship started to rumble like it was turning on, I figured I’d better get down here, because I am not missing my ride off this place.”

  “It’s not a ride!” I said. “The ship is trying to steal our bodies to rescue its crew.”

  Dr. Smith’s face fell. “Oh, that’s unfortunate. Do you have a plan to stop that?”

  “Actually”—I darted for the compartment door—“I do.”

  I lunged back to the comm panel on the floor, sliding on my knees, and tapped the last symbol, holding it down for five seconds.

  All the lights in the room flashed back to red. For a moment, the rumbling of machinery and the whir of fans paused in total silence—then the quiet was pierced by a shrieking sound like when a microphone feeds back.

  “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” Alina roared, her voice flooding the room. “YOU CAN’T—” And then she was cut off by her own voice, speaking a calm, generic command: “System reboot initiated. Please back up all perishable files.”

  I jumped to my feet and ran back into the corridor. “Okay, that’s it!”

  Judy flinched beneath Dr. Smith’s grip. “What’s happening?” Her eyes darted around. “Where are we?”

  “They’re okay now,” I said to Smith. “Let her go.”

  Smith looked from Judy to me and back. I could see her working through whatever devious thoughts she had—but she got to her feet, releasing Judy.

  “Quick,” I said, kneeling beside Judy and slipping off my pack. “We have to start their treatment.” I pulled out two of the space needles and handed one to Smith. “Give that one to my dad.”

  As Smith turned, I stuck the green pod into the port on Judy’s sleeve. She flinched. “What are you—” But when she saw the needle, her eyes widened with recognition. I pressed the INITIATE command.

  Judy shook her head with a confused, exhausted look. “Will…” She blinked. “What’s going on?”

  “Yeah.” Dad groaned. He rolled over onto his side, and I felt a surge of relief to see that Smith had actually done what I’d asked and given him the medicine. “What is this place?”

  “We’re in a different spaceship,” I said, jumping to my feet and pulling Judy up. “You guys have been… well, you haven’t been yourselves. I can explain more later.”

  “I feel like there was someone talking in my head and now they’re gone.” Judy rubbed her fingers over the space needle on her arm. “I made these, didn’t I? I found the…”

  “The titanium silicate compound,” I said. “You figured out my allergic reaction. It’s what this ship’s nanotechnology is made of.”

  “I did—oh, ow.” She rubbed at her helmet. “Something was infecting all of us. It had been controlling you; that’s what I’d figured out, but then…”

  “Then it took control of you, too,” I said. “But you made this medicine first. Once I started using it, it broke the ship’s hold on me.”

  Judy nodded. “Chelation treatment. It’s used to filter metals from the blood.”

  “What’s she doing here?” Dad said, noticing Smith standing nearby.

  “Nice to see you, too, John,” said Smith. “I just stopped by to save you all from yourselves, again.”

  “You—” Dad started, his face darkening.

  “She’s telling the truth,” I said. “This time.”

  Dad looked around. “Where are Mom and Penny?”

  “Mom’s in the med lab,” I said.

  “Penny is lying unconscious in the Jupiter,” Smith reported. When all our gazes snapped to her, she quickly added, “Not my fault! When the rest of you lined up and left like little lemmings, she and Don just slumped to the floor.”

  “Alina only needs four of us to match Clare’s family,” I said.

>   “Go, Will!” Clare’s voice erupted from a comm panel on the wall near us. “You have to hurry! I’m starting the launch sequence!”

  “Launch?” Judy’s eyes snapped to the speaker. “Who—”

  “That was Clare, and we need to get back to the lab right now.”

  “System reboot complete” said the calm version of Alina’s voice. “Automated launch sequence initiated.”

  The entire floor began to shake.

  The Derelict’s engine core shrieked and began to spin faster, throwing off sparks and a molten orange glow that was brightening by the second.

  “Come on!” I said. “We have to move.”

  “Yeah,” said Judy, “that’s probably a good idea.”

  CHAPTER

  We stumbled down the corridor. Dad staggered, losing his balance.

  “Why does my head hurt?”

  “I hit you with a pipe,” said Smith.

  Dad glanced at her. “Oh.”

  “Here,” I said as we reached the hatch to the med lab. I gathered the safety line from the floor, hooked in, and started down into the lab, Judy right behind me.

  “What’s happening?” Mom called weakly from below. I got my feet to the floor and turned to see her lying across the top of two of the pods.

  “Don’t look underneath you,” I warned, but I should have known better, because that made Mom do exactly that. She rolled over to see the decaying face of one of Clare’s parents. “Oh!” She recoiled and tumbled to the floor.

  “On the bright side,” I said, rushing over and holding my hand out to her, “you didn’t shave your head.”

  “I was going to what?” said Mom.

  “Just take this,” I said, slinging my backpack around and handing her a space needle.

  “Will, to your right!” said Clare, her voice coming through another comm panel on the floor of the lab. A yellow light had lit above a small hatch, and the door slid open.

  I pointed Judy toward it. “We have to get everyone in there.”

  Judy just nodded. She’d been staring at the pods, her face tight and her eyes wide, and she had to tear her gaze away.

  Dad’s boots hit the floor, and he looked at the pods in the same way.

  “John!” Mom rushed over to him. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m good,” he said. “Mostly. You?”

  “I don’t know.” Mom looked at me. “Will… I think we owe you an apology.”

  “Let’s just get out of here first.” I motioned to the hatch, but then my eyes darted around the room. “Wait. Where’s Smith?”

  Dad looked up to the doorway we’d lowered through. “Smith?”

  No answer.

  “Maybe she’s hurt,” Dad said.

  “No.” I thought of what she’d said when she saved me. I am not missing my ride off this place. “She’s going to try to leave with the ship.”

  “Will, one of your people is heading for the cockpit,” said Clare. “We don’t have the energy to turn on all the life support systems for launch. She’s going to die if she comes with us.”

  I saw Mom and Dad share a look.

  Dad sighed and grabbed the safety line. “Where’s the cockpit?”

  “Clare, can you light the way?” I asked.

  “Yes, but you have to hurry!”

  “What else is new?” said Dad, and he retracted the safety line and zipped up out of sight.

  “John!” Mom shouted. “Be careful!”

  “Let’s get to the pod,” I said, tugging Mom’s arm.

  She nodded but stumbled as she started that way. “I’m still so woozy,” she said, and slumped against me.

  Judy rushed over, and we guided Mom through the hatch.

  We found ourselves in a tiny escape pod with three rows of seats, aimed toward the ocean surface. Above the front row of seats was a cockpit window that seemed to be looking out into solid sand. The lights on the console were blinking to life.

  Judy and I guided Mom to a seat and buckled her in, her head lolling back.

  “Thanks,” she whispered faintly, and then her eyes fluttered shut.

  Judy climbed up to one of the top two seats, in front of the controls.

  I went back to the hatch. “Dad?” I called.

  No answer. The rumbling of the ship, the blowing of the vents, the blinking of the lights: They were all getting more intense.

  “Will, you need to get safely aboard,” said Clare.

  “I know.” I stood there gripping the hatchway, shaking. “DAD!”

  “Will, anything?” said Judy.

  “No…”

  Something flashed in the med lab. A glint of movement. The safety line! Now a shadow and a figure tumbled down through the door and snapped tight at the end of the safety line, hanging there limply. Smith! She lowered in a heap to the floor, and a moment later, Dad was sliding down and landing beside her.

  “Dad!” I raced over to him.

  “Now we’re even,” he said, grabbing the unconscious Smith by the arm. “Help me get her.”

  We hoisted her up by the shoulders and dragged her into the pod, dumping her in a seat beside Mom.

  “Time to go, people!” Judy shouted.

  Everything around us was rattling and vibrating. Dad buckled himself in. “Whoa,” he said, “I do not feel so good.”

  I started to climb up to the seat beside Judy—but instead darted over to the hatch and looked back out into the med lab.

  “Come on, Will!” said Judy.

  “One sec!” I gazed at the row of pods, at the silhouette of a face inside the nearest one: Clare, the girl I’d known but never known—

  “Will, are you out of there yet?” the virtual Clare called from the comms.

  “Almost,” I said. “Just, um, I guess this is goodbye, huh?”

  “Not yet,” she said. “Now, buckle up, already!”

  I shut the hatch and climbed to the seat beside Judy, who was gazing at the controls. Looking behind me, I saw that Dad had passed out now, too.

  “Are we supposed to have any clue how to fly this thing?” Judy said.

  The rumbling increased, becoming almost deafening. There was a hiss, and I saw streams of bubbles flowing over the cockpit window above us. Columns of sand cracked apart and water gushed in, making swirling clouds of sand and bubbles, and now distant light filtered down from somewhere far above.

  I scanned the controls. “I’m no pilot,” I said, pointing to a large yellow-lit button, “but I bet we press that.”

  “Good guess,” said Judy, and she slammed her palm against it. Red lights flashed inside the pod, and there was a giant clunk! The pod jolted and the rumbling from the ship ceased. We’d separated from it, and it felt like we were floating, everything getting weirdly quiet.

  “Okay, now what?” Judy asked.

  A hum started to grow in the quiet, then became a roar, and then we were shoved back against our seats as the pod shot upward. Sand and bubbles blurred across the cockpit window.

  “I guess there’s autopilot,” I said.

  “Aah, my ears.” Judy pressed her hands against her helmet. I felt it, too, a heavy sensation in my head as my suit fought to compensate.

  The light got brighter above us and suddenly the pod burst out of the water, was airborne for a moment, then crashed back down and floated on the waves.

  I sat there for a second, catching my breath. Judy was doing the same. I never thought I could be so glad to see the clouds of this world over our heads.

  As the water sheeted off the cockpit, I spotted the Jupiter and our little island not far in the distance.

  Right beside us, though, the sea was starting to boil.

  “We should get to shore,” I said.

  “Agreed,” said Judy. She surveyed the controls and settled on a little lever. When she pushed it forward, the pod churned through the water, but almost immediately beached on the sand, just off the edge of our island. Waves started to lash against us from behind, knocking us sideways. Judy tosse
d off her restraints. “Everybody out. Quick!”

  “This way,” I said, noticing there was another hatch on the starboard side of the pod, which was now facing the island as the waves crashed into the port side. Judy and I strained to carry Dad out and laid him on the sand up out of the reach of the waves. Then we went back for Mom and did the same, and finally Dr. Smith. All of them muttered incoherently, their eyes fluttering.

  I turned back to the pod, but just then a huge wave broke over the top of it, rolled it forward, and then sucked it back into deeper water. The open hatch became a waterfall, and the pod started to submerge. Behind it, the ocean bubbled and frothed.

  The ground began to shake, and a deep rumbling grew. Jets of water shot up into the air, hundreds of meters tall.

  Judy and I stumbled to keep our balance as the massive nose of the Derelict rose from the surface, streams of water and sand cascading off it. Those three triangle pylons that I’d mistaken for rocks looked insignificant compared to the true size of the ship. Its once sleek surface was streaked with corrosion.

  Water sprayed against our visors, wind buffeted us, waves sloshed over our island. The enormous ship thrust out of the water, its sides towering over us and its brilliant, blazing engine burning free of the ocean in tumbling clouds of smoke and mist.

  “I can’t believe that thing was right there,” said Judy.

  I shielded my eyes and watched as the Derelict climbed and climbed, trailing exhaust behind it, water still streaming from its sides. It breached the clouds overhead, and then, almost immediately, it was completely lost from sight. The roar from its engine still vibrated our chests, and the waves from its departure rampaged about.

  In another moment, the sound had faded, too. The waves were already calming.

  I kept watching the clouds. The smoke trail from the engine had nearly dissipated. And I felt a lump forming in my throat.

  Another friend, lost.

  “Will.” Judy elbowed me gently and pointed toward the bluff beside Mom’s office.

  Standing just beyond, on the Whaleback, was Clare, waving to us.

  “You see that?” I said to Judy.

  “I do.” She glanced at the sky. “Hurry. I bet she doesn’t have long.”