“Tried and failed. Not sure why.” Mason shifted his weight and winced. “Eight minutes of oxygen left.”
Where’s a roll of duct tape when you need it?
I pursed my lips while I came up with a radical idea. I wasn’t sure how scientifically sound it was, but we didn’t have much to lose. I untangled the wires, careful not to damage Mason’s vambrace, and took hold of the beam across his shoulder. “Ready?”
He gritted his teeth.
I hooked my feet behind another metal girder, hoping it was a steady anchor point—the zero-g really did throw off my instincts—took another deep breath, and pulled the beam aside, careful its inertia didn’t carry me into the wall.
Once clear, I slammed my palm into Mason’s shoulder.
He cried out, but I kept my hand in place, feeling the fabric of his suit move beneath my glove. The seal wasn’t perfect, but it worked well enough. Around thirty seconds later his suit stopped shifting, and I lifted my hand away, relieved to see it had sealed.
“Thanks,” Mason said. “Good thinking.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” I shifted to the side and checked out the third beam.
This girder had smashed into his backpack, crumpling a corner.
“Can you take off the jetpack thing?” I asked.
Predictably, he shook his head. Because nothing could be that easy.
“The MMU is only a part of it,” Mason said. “The pack also supplies air. Well, all seven minutes of what’s left.”
I sighed.
We needed to hurry. I got it. All of this had taken far too long. I tried lifting the beam off, but it wouldn’t budge.
Grumbling under my breath, I spotted a solid-looking iron bar floating near the ceiling, tangled in wires and hoses. Seeing nothing else suitable, I pushed off, tugged the bar loose, and returned to Mason.
I shoved the iron bar under the beam, using it as an anchor point, then hooked my feet through an exposed part of the wall. As soon as I was steady and secure with the right amount of leverage, I looked at Mason. “When I give the word, pull yourself free, okay?”
I checked the other end of the girder. It was tangled in cables, so less likely to break loose and slam into us. However, I’d be careful with this end.
Mason grasped a nearby metal hose and took up the slack, wrapping it around his wrist and arm.
“On three,” I said. “One, two—”
A powerful bang reverberated through my hands and feet, and everything lurched sideways, slamming me into the wall. My feet slipped free, and the inertia sent me flying into the ceiling. I grabbed a hose just as a huge piece of debris slid past the end of the hallway, taking large chunks of the corridor with it.
Swearing, I pulled myself down to Mason, hooked my feet into the wall again, and shoved the bar under the beam—all the while resigned to the fact we were both going to die—and said, “Three.”
My jaw set, I heaved on the bar with all my strength. The beam only moved a fraction, but it was enough. Mason pulled himself free.
I let go of the bar and took hold of him. “Are you okay?”
He nodded. “Thank you.”
“Again—” I gestured outside. “No point thanking me yet.”
The remains of Horizon Eighteen’s bow section were now well over two hundred feet away, and more debris glided between us and it, blocking any direct return.
To brighten my day further, my health meter only showed fourteen percent, and I guessed it hadn’t gone up any more because of my physical exertion.
Mason and I glided to the end of the hallway, and as if understanding what I was about to attempt, the jetpack armrests swung up. I gripped the joysticks.
Mason held my shoulder.
I focused on the debris field, looking for a gap, then spotted one. “Hold on tight.” I pressed forward on the right control, but nothing happened.
I pressed again.
Still nothing.
“Wait.” Mason leaned behind me. “Oh.”
“Oh?” I tried to see for myself. “Oh, what?”
“Oh” in any situation was never good, but at a time like this, it could only mean complete and total disaster.
“There’s damage to your MMU,” Mason said with a despondent look. “Must’ve happened on your way over here.”
I remembered with a heavy heart the impact from behind that had driven me into the red corridor. “Will it heal itself?”
“No.”
“Right.”
Again, that would be too easy.
I faced forward and, as if on cue, the armrests retracted into the jetpack.
Thanks for your help, little guys.
I assumed they’d popped up just to annoy me.
The never-ending stream of space junk glided between us and our goal—all shapes and sizes, some spinning, some not, others ricocheting, veering off at unpredictable angles and trajectories. Utter chaos, and an impossible task without a jetpack.
“How much oxygen left?” I watched the debris and tried to figure out any discernible pattern.
“Three minutes,” he said. “It’s no use. We’re going to die here.”
I had to agree with him.
Nineteen
I scanned from the red corridor for another way across the river of destruction, but the gaps between the debris were ever-changing and impossible to predict. The Horizon ship receded further and further with every passing second.
“Come on,” I muttered under my breath. “Think. Find a way.” There had to be a path through the junk without a jetpack.
Mason’s body went limp, and he drifted.
I gripped his arm, pulling him close, and shook him. “Stay with me.” I stared ahead, and an idea formed. The only idea. “Okay.” There was nothing else for it. “Jump when I do, understood?”
“What?” Mason said in a weak voice. “Leave me here. We can’t get through that.”
“We’re not going through,” I said with a lot more determination than I felt. “Come on.” I bent my knees and concentrated on the nearest, largest lump of debris as it glided past like a mega-junk iceberg. “Go.”
We both pushed off at the same time. At first, we headed toward the intended target, but the closer we got, the more we veered to the right.
“No, no, no.” I thrashed my legs about—as if running in a vacuum would help matters—and we glided straight past the target, slamming into another piece of space junk.
As soon as I’d latched onto it, I understood what had happened. No matter how close together Mason and I jumped, it was impossible to keep a straight line. Mason, through no fault of his own, had pulled us off target.
I let go of him. “It won’t work that way. You’ll have to follow me, right? Can you stay conscious long enough?”
He gave me a feeble nod.
“You’ve got enough strength?” I asked.
“Yes.” He didn’t seem convinced.
Neither was I.
Eyeing the next piece of space junk fifty feet away, I pointed. “Let’s get to that one.”
As soon as there was a clear path, I pushed off, flying through the vacuum, smaller debris hitting me from every angle and knocking my health down to eleven percent until the world turned almost completely grey. I reached the main chunk, spun around, and seized Mason with my free hand.
As the section started rotating with us clinging to it, I searched for another target and spotted a rectangular slab of debris floating ahead.
It was like being in a crazy, turbulent river, hopping from one fallen branch to the next.
I pointed again, making sure Mason understood. Straight afterward, we floated over to it, this time both landing together.
Breathing hard, I looked over at the remains of Horizon Eighteen and gauged it to be sixty feet from us. With a well-timed leap, we could make it.
Mason understood my intention. “Ninety seconds of oxygen left.”
“We can do it.” I balled my fists, hunched down, and faced the ship
, waiting for an opening . . . and then it came. “Go.”
We jumped, flying through space like a pair of superheroes. If it hadn’t been so dangerous—and we’d had capes—I would have smiled.
Mason cried out as a chunk of debris the size of a refrigerator slammed into him.
I smashed into the side of Horizon Eighteen, rolling up and over the top, clawing at the hull, desperately trying to grab hold, tumbling over, slipping, sliding . . .
My fingers found the edge of a protruding vent.
Ten percent health.
My whole body shook.
Aces.
I searched the debris field but couldn’t spot Mason anywhere.
I glanced to my right.
The intended airlock was only ten more feet away.
We were so close.
Damn it.
Junk thudded into me, threatening to tear me from the ship, knocking my health down to eight percent, but I maintained my grasp and held on as tightly as I could, pain shooting through my fingertips and up my arms like lightning bolts, every molecule of my body wanting me to let go.
Then I realised what had hit me—Mason. His limp body tumbled across the hull.
I threw out a hand at the last second, grasping his ankle and pulling him to me. It took a few seconds of effort to swing him around and peer through his visor.
Mason’s eyes were closed, his skin ashen.
“No.”
I shook him, but he didn’t respond.
I turned back to the airlock. Keeping one hand on Mason, I pushed off the hull, staying as low as possible. I snatched the hull’s handrails on the way, letting them guide us, flying over the metal and woodwork surface and dragging Mason’s dead weight behind me.
Reaching the open airlock door, I gripped the outside frame and hooked my feet under a nearby handrail. With every ounce of energy I had left, I shoved Mason inside and followed, the door closing behind me.
At once, the lights flickered on, and we fell to the floor with a heavy double thump.
Yay for gravity.
I shed my MMU backpack, scrambled over to Mason, and pressed a hand to his right shoulder, using my free hand to do the same to mine, and our helmets retracted into our collars.
Mason remained motionless, blood dripping from the cuts to his face. After several anxious seconds, his eyes flew open and he gasped, then rolled over and let out a wet, hacking cough.
I punched the air, smiling like an idiot, happy he was alive and we’d made it in one piece.
Once some colour had returned to Mason’s cheeks, I helped him to his feet. “Thanks,” he panted, bending over to pull in a big lungful of life-sustaining oxygen.
“No brain damage?” I watched my health creep up to twelve and then sixteen percent, colour returning to the world around me.
Mason considered my question as though he were doing mental arithmetic. He opened his mouth to respond, but the inner airlock door opened, and Eve and Skylar burst into the room.
Skylar froze at the sight of her brother.
“Oh, thank the Monolith,” Eve said. “How did you find him?”
I held up a hand, dropped to my knees, and, for what felt like an hour, chucked up every ounce of crap in my stomach.
Finally getting control of myself, I straightened and wiped my mouth on my high-tech, probably expensive, spacesuit sleeve.
“Hey.” I waved at the girls in a jolly manner. Then I stared at the mess I’d made on the floor. “Good job the gravity is back on, huh?”
Neither of them responded.
They stood like statues, clearly finding it hard to comprehend what they were looking at—two battered and bruised boys they’d likely written off as very much dead.
Mason met my gaze for a beat, then we both burst out laughing. He slapped me on the back. “That was brilliant.”
As though springing back to life, Skylar ran to her brother, tears streaming down her cheeks. She punched him square in the chest. “Don’t ever do that again. You scared me.”
Twenty
After recovering from our near-death experiences, the four of us—Mason rubbing his sore ribs and Skylar threatening a second punch—hurried down another cabinet-packed hallway and into a room with glass walls. Behind the glass sat a bewildering array of wires, cables, and glowing electronic components.
A stone examination table hovered two feet above an oval platform. Literally hovered. I peered underneath.
It must work with magnets.
All magic uses magnets.
Along with fishing twine and duct tape.
Eve waved Mason over to the table. “We need to sort out your injuries.” She consulted a display on a swinging arm mounted to the ceiling.
“Is there enough power for this?” Mason removed his backpack and oversuit, and perched on the edge of the examination table. He touched the cuts on his nose and forehead. “We shouldn’t waste energy.”
“You shouldn’t be so reckless,” Skylar shot back.
“Can’t be that reckless,” Mason said. “I’m alive.”
“Only thanks to him.” Skylar tilted her head in my direction. I took that to be as close to “Thank you for saving my brother” as I would get from her.
“What about our parents?” Skylar asked Mason. “Our families?”
“All safe,” he said. “The stasis bays of every ship ejected and flew away. I saw them.”
Skylar let out a relieved breath.
The crystals in Eve’s vambrace glowed, and with her right hand, she sent ripples of energy through the air, interacting with the display.
“The primary power core is gone.” She sighed. “We’re running on emergency supply only.” She continued in techno-babble.
I wasn’t listening to what she was saying because I couldn’t help but stare at her.
Not at Eve casting magic, but at a pimple on her right cheek, masked by a thin layer of foundation. Her nose had a slight curve, and there was a gap between her front teeth. All these minuscule imperfections not only added to her beauty, but to the world’s realism.
I looked at Mason and Skylar. They had similar flaws. They weren’t like mindless game characters at all; they seemed so lifelike.
My attention locked onto Eve’s magical vambrace, and there it stayed. “Can I get one of those?” I interrupted.
She blinked. “What?”
I pointed at the device on her arm, then the identical vambraces Mason and Skylar wore, and gave Eve a hopeful look.
“It’s called a phase-band,” she said.
I nodded. “Can I get a phase-band?”
“No.” Skylar glared at me. “Not a chance.”
Eve hesitated as though she was about to argue but clearly thought better of it. She continued with her work, twisting her fingers, controlling the magical smoke and bringing up several menus on the screen. “Like I was saying, there’s not enough power for the ship to heal itself entirely, but it’s maintaining life-support and has restored gravity in most sections.”
“How does it work?” I raised an eyebrow. “How can wood and metal heal?” I was sure once you chopped a tree down, it was pretty much dead and stood zero chance of growing again. I pictured a chest of drawers sprouting legs and going for a Sunday stroll in the local park. The thought was terrifying.
“Suits and small items use nanotech. Repair drones and ants take care of the ship,” Mason said as if this clarified the matter for me.
It did not.
Skylar’s eyes narrowed. “How do you not know that?”
I tapped my forehead and shrugged, reminding her of what I’d said earlier about losing my memory.
Eve turned from the display as Mason lay down on the examination table.
Skylar stayed by the door, wearing her ever-present scowl, while a metal ring—around a foot thick and five in diameter—dropped from the ceiling and moved to the head of the examination table.
The ring passed along Mason’s body like a magician running a hoop over a le
vitating assistant—Earth illusionists use magnets too, huge ones—and the display beside Eve showed a detailed, three-dimensional scan of Mason, inside and out.
I cringed. There was so much biological crap in there, and it was all moving. I covered my mouth as my stomach churned, threatening an encore of my previous airlock performance of Ode to Lunch.
The only things I could bear to look at were Mason’s legs and arms, which were made from plastic and metal, each with complicated actuators and their own powerpacks. I wanted to ask if he had to plug himself in at night to charge.
As the scanner did its job, debris continued to slam into the ship, making me flinch.
Every.
Single.
Time.
I hated jump scares, especially when any of them could bring a painful death.
“CodeX, exit,” I muttered when the others weren’t paying attention. The bloody thing remained silent, my health now at eighteen percent. “CodeX, on?”
Nope.
No guide or map.
Pointless piece of sh—
“Hold still,” Eve said to Mason, twisting her fingers and making a swiping motion as though she were some kind of mystical conductor.
Robotic arms sprung from the metal ring and swooped over Mason’s face, each holding what looked like a thick white pencil. The tips glowed green, and they set to work, flying around Mason’s nose and forehead in a blur of movement.
The blood vanished, along with the cuts, redness, and swelling.
Once done, the magical pencils lifted out of the way, and Eve peered at Mason from behind her dark glasses. She pointed at his shoulder. “You’re hurt there too.”
Mason unfastened his spacesuit and pulled it down, revealing a deep purple mark near his shoulder blade.
I stepped forward, fascinated not by his space-induced wound, but how Mason’s glass-covered cyborg arms fused into his real skin.
Skylar tutted.
“Could’ve been a lot worse if it weren’t for—” Mason looked at me. “What’s your name?”
“Oh, er . . .” I tore my gaze from his robotic limbs. “Leo. Leonardo Cooper.”
Mason smiled. “Thanks again, Leo. I owe you one.”
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