Embers in the Sea

by Jennifer M. Eaton

  No. We couldn’t risk it. We needed to keep the ship solid.

  “Are you sure the temperatures will rise that fast? Can’t you adjust the pitch or something?”

  “You can’t change physics. We either risk losing the water, or boiling them alive.”

  Not to mention cooking the crew within five seconds, if I’d calculated correctly. But the planet was right there. There had to be a way.

  Three Erescopian ships moved into view, blocking the blue and red planet from our sight. The space between us blurred, and our ship rumbled.

  “Are they shooting at us?”

  David sunk his wrists into the console. “Of course they are. Why wouldn’t they be?”

  The sarcasm in his voice bit through the air. His eyes narrowed. Grim, but determined.

  I turned back to the window just as white, sparkling streams drifted from below us, glinting in the light from our ship.

  “What is that?” I asked.

  Edgar jumped onto the console. Several more lines of shiny crystals floated past us. The walls began to flash.

  “I see it.” David turned to me. “They’ve punched a hole in our hull. It’s the water. It freezes almost instantly in space.”

  “We’re leaking?” Did Ruby and Silver know? Were they panicking?

  A tint of blue shimmered beneath David’s human skin. “We have no protection against their weapons in our solid state.”

  Another blast, and the ship jolted. I grabbed the console to keep my head from slamming into the dashboard. We obviously had more to worry about than just losing the water.

  Alien symbols scrolled across the screen as we banked right, moving away from the planet.

  I held the sides of my chair. “Where are we going?”

  “Away from the guys who are shooting at us.”

  “Just tell them that we can make it rain!”

  He tapped the controls. “I’m working on it.”

  We spiraled between two small, dark opals. My seat swelled around me a second before another jolt rattled the ship. A stream of bubbles fizzled out from beneath us, quickly dissipating into sparkling crystals. More water wasted in space. How much was down there?

  The walls quaked again. More alien symbols crawled across the screen. Was that us pleading “don’t shoot,” or them telling us to surrender? I supposed at this point, it really didn’t matter.

  Ruby sprang up between our chairs, smaller than before and slightly transparent. “The water is nearly gone. Some of us are getting crushed.”

  David faced her, the pain in his eyes ricocheted through our bond.

  Failure. Death.

  I guess we both knew the chances of this working were slim.

  “We can’t give up.” I grimaced. Even if we don’t make it home.

  Ruby gaped as four ships barreled toward us, artillery blazing. She shimmered before her form faded to a puff of gas.

  The lights dimmed when the armaments hit us. I held on as we spun to the right. Why did they keep firing? We were on the same side!

  When the light returned, we arched to the left, almost clipping two of the advancing opals before Mars came back into view. More liquescent vessels came from our sides as we rocketed toward the planet. My God, how many ships were they going to send after us?

  Edgar shrieked as a dark opal cut in front of our bow, blocking our path. David didn’t slow. I screamed, bracing myself as the shimmering black surface filled our windows.

  An instant before we collided, the attacking ship pinched, flattened, and seemed to melt across our windows as if covering us like a blanket. A whooshing sound coasted over our hull before the blanket retracted and the ship rolled right over our heads.

  I released my breath and wheezed in the next. David gaped.

  “We’re still here.” I reached over and touched his shoulder. “Let’s do this.”

  The planet filled our windows.

  David tensed under my grip. “You do realize I have no idea what we’re going to do once we get into the atmosphere.”

  “There’s no water in our hold anyway, right?”

  He looked at me.

  “Then let the ship flex. Our passengers already can’t move. What have we got to lose?”

  “They have some liquid. They can still breathe.”

  “Like you said: they won’t be able to breathe if they’re boiling.” I held my breath as the ship took another hit. “If we flex, the water will leak, but the temperature won’t rise. They will be no worse off than they are now.” And maybe, just maybe, we could all get out of this alive.

  A warbling, elongated opal shot into our flight path.

  David banked left. “How are we supposed to get them into the ocean while I’m dodging all these idiots?”

  The glowing munitions shot past us, lighting up my window. “Did you tell them what we’re trying to do?”

  “I don’t think they’re listening.”

  “Then shoot back!”

  “I told you, I won’t hurt my own people.”

  Too bad all Erescopians didn’t have his moral code.

  I closed my eyes as more weapons fire pummeled our hull. Those ships were going to follow us into the atmosphere, and they weren’t damaged. How do we save a hull full of aquatic beings when we might not even be able to save ourselves?

  The walls flashed.

  “The water is gone,” David said. “All of it.” A shiver started at his temple and ran through his entire body. He turned to me. “They’re dying.”

  A span of red land crept into view, standing out against the deep blue Martian sea. Beautiful, just as David had described. Maybe we did have a chance. But only one. We might be able to save the passengers—if we sacrificed the crew.

  A vision of my father laughing filled my mind.

  Maggie hanging upside down from the top of her swing set when we were ten.

  Matt smiling at me from the next desk my first day back at school.

  Mrs. Baker holding a cake loaded with birthday candles.

  Even Bobby, with that crooked smile that’d nearly won my heart.

  They were counting on me. Them and tons like them. People I didn’t even know. Billions. And they all deserved the chance to live. A chance that only David and I could give them.

  I held back a sob and faced David. “Crash the ship.”

  He gaped, turning to avoid another attacking orb. “What?”

  “Crash into the ocean.”

  “We’re in bad enough shape as it is. That would be just as bad as hitting a landmass. We’ll come apart. Every square inch of this ship will lose cohesion at the same moment.”

  I gulped. “That will free Ruby and the others into the sea.”

  It worked for Captain Kirk. There had to be some kind of science behind those movies, right? Our passengers would drop into the ocean, and they’d release the kinetic energy. It would rain, and they’d call off the attack on Earth.

  I slid my hand down David’s arm, over his wrist, and grabbed his hand. I wished I wasn’t shaking, because I really wanted to give him strength, but I needed all of my fortitude to keep myself from falling apart.

  David’s grip on me tightened. “If we lose cohesion just as we hit the water … ”

  We’d fall from the ship, and hit the ocean at about a million miles an hour. It would probably be over in less than a second. At least it wouldn’t hurt, but we’d be dead, and the rift dwellers would be dead. Everything we’d gone through would be for nothing.

  Edgar jumped up on the console. He raked one of his legs over his face, exposing his center fang.

  His center fang. Two years ago he’d saved David’s life by biting him, injecting a venom that put David in a coma, and then coating him in a cocoon. Within the safety of that natural escape pod, David had survived a crash landing that had obliterated his ship. Could Edgar do the same for both of us now?

  “No,” David whispered.

&nb
sp; I blinked, not even startled that he’d read my mind. “Why not?”

  “Because when we hit the ocean, I need to be here to incite a compression field.”

  I raised my brow in the best huh? I could muster.

  “I need to simulate the pressure of Earth’s ocean until Ruby and the others sink deep enough that the environment will suit them.” He sank his arms into the controls. We veered up and over an attacking ship. “The field will only last a few minutes. I’ll have to trigger it just before we crash. There won’t be enough time for Edgar to … ”

  Do his thing.

  I got it. We were skunked.

  My brain fogged. David continued to maneuver the controls and dodge ships as his thoughts sifted through mine. In a brief flash of his will, I suddenly understood pressurized moleculization. I knew how to create the field that would save the lives of the beings we’d transported from Earth.

  He glanced at me. Just in case.

  And then I understood why I wasn’t already in one of Edgar’s cocoons. David needed a backup. If something happened to him, I’d be the one to press the button before we crashed.

  I closed my eyes. Why did it have to be this way? Why did it have to be so hard? I didn’t want to die. There was so much I had to do still.

  Hike through the Grand Canyon.

  Race kayaks with Dad on the Delaware River.

  Dammit, I never got one of my pictures on the cover of National Geographic!

  A sob burst from my lips. My tears ran into my mouth, but I didn’t wipe them away. Their salty tang covered my tongue. Bitter, but right. This was the way it had to be.

  I opened my eyes and watched the planet come closer. Would anyone even know what happened? Would anyone know what we’d done?

  Wiping away my tears, David’s deep blue irises came into focus. Not the odd, human blue I’d become used to in the past few days, but the deep, true turquoise of the boy I’d met in the woods.

  “Is this what you want?” he asked.

  I nodded. “It’s the only way it can be.”

  He ran his hand down the side of my cheek. Gentle, despite the rattling of the ship around us. I’d never tire of the warmth radiating from his skin.

  His gaze centered on mine. I tensed, expecting a momentary invasion of my mind; for him to slip inside me for one last intimate breach of my very existence. But he simply lingered, staring, as if committing my face to memory.

  “What?”

  His face hardened before turning back to the window. “Let’s do this.”

  31

  I felt the smirk coat my face hearing my little catch phrase. Too bad I didn’t have time to tease him about it.

  A huge, translucent ship materialized, filling our windows in an instant. I pushed back, screaming in my chair as two blasts shot from their bow. The swirling, clear energy skimmed the top of our ship before the craft throttled past us.

  “They missed,” I said. “Holy Toledo that was lucky!”

  David looked to the panel above him. “More like they were aiming at the guys chasing us.” He smiled. A warm tingle of familiarity scurried across our bond. “Nematali Carash is on that ship.”

  Blondie! Yes!

  “She bought us just enough time.” David sunk his arms deep into the panel “Here we go.”

  Edgar chittered, and the walls flashed.

  “He says Nematali Carash is holding them back.”

  I tightened my grip on my armrests. “Maybe we don’t need to crash. Can she help us?”

  David clutched the sides of the panel. “The rift dwellers’ life signs are faint. There’s no time.” He leaned toward the console and frowned. “And she’s outnumbered.”

  We hurled toward the deep blue ocean. Turquoise, like David’s eyes. The cloudless sky glistened in a mauve shimmer. Pinkish-orange, not blue. The color etched a sharp contrast against the approaching sea and the ruddy land in the distance.

  I wished I could take a picture. But I’d never have a chance to show it to anyone. No one would know how beautiful David’s world had become. I closed my lashes, ashamed of the stupid thoughts going through my mind. I should be thinking of Dad, back on Earth, counting on me to make everything right.

  More than anything, I wanted to make him proud. But even if this worked, would it be enough? Would the Caretakers call off the attack, or was Earth already gone?

  I shivered. No. I needed to believe. I needed to know in my heart that this was worth it.

  We leveled off slightly. I sensed David judging the distance before he released the pressure bubble.

  “This is it,” David said. “Three, two, one.”

  He smashed his fist into the panel. A wave of clear brilliance wafted up and over the ship as the last few feet of sky between us and the Martian sea disappeared.

  32

  David grabbed my hand and tugged me onto his lap. I wrapped around him as the chair came to life, bubbling up and congealing around us.

  We hit the ocean like a roaring train. The impact blasted us with a numbing crescendo that sliced into my skin. David’s grip on me tightened as we rolled over, slamming and banging again and again. I screamed into my clenched teeth as a tearing explosion rumbled around me, followed by a whoosh that ended in utter silence.

  A dull ache started in my scalp and crept over my entire being. David’s grip relaxed. I released a breath, and struggled for the next.

  My ears popped. I recoiled in the deep, fading gray around me. A television buzz screamed like Godzilla stuck inside my head. I tried to gasp, but there was no air to take in. David flinched, his heartbeat drumming against my hand.

  Holy crap. We were alive.

  David! I winced, unable to distinguish my own inner voice above the monster wailing in my skull.

  David woke, flailing and pawing at the cushioned membrane around us.

  I fought the ringing in my ears, concentrating my thoughts. I think we’re sinking.

  He grasped my hand. Do not let go of me. Take a deep breath.

  Deep breath? Deep breath of what? There was no air!

  A ripping sound broke past Godzilla, throwing the screaming monster out of my mind. We slipped out of the remains of David’s chair into water that burned like a hot tub cranked to the boil setting. I scrunched my eyes shut and kicked toward what my instincts told me was up.

  David floundered.

  Keep kicking your feet. Not that kicking my own feet was helping much.

  The sea drove the searing heat against me. My brain pounded as if my skull was too snug a fit. Why was the ocean so hot?

  I broke through the surface. My mouth opened to worship the air, and was rewarded by a dry, tangy heat. My throat constricted.

  David’s hands slipped against my cheeks. “Take shallow breaths. Let your lungs get used to the heat.”

  The heat? Was there even any oxygen?

  “Not as much as on Earth. This atmosphere is synthetic. We don’t have any photosynthesis yet. But your respiratory system should adjust.” He slipped under the waves, and popped back up, choking.

  “Are you okay?”

  He grimaced. “Like I said, I’ve never had the need to learn to swim.”

  Blue sea rolled in soft waves, kissing the pink horizon. I would have been a lot more comfortable treading beside a weak swimmer if I were able to see land. Or if there was some debris to cling to. “How can there be nothing left of the ship? Even when the Titanic went down there were doors and stuff to float on.”

  “As usual, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  I tried to gulp away the dread building at the base of my throat. “It’s just another movie.” I shuddered, remembering what happened to Jack on that ill-fated night.

  David slipped beneath the swells again. I caught him and held his head above the water. Unlike Rose in that movie, I would not let go.

  A forced smile covered David’s face. “You can’t keep doing this.”
r />   “No? Watch me.”

  His gaze scanned the steam drifting up from the sea. “So, you watch a lot of these movies, huh?”

  I laughed. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

  He spluttered as froth splashed into his face. “Tell you what. When we get back to Earth, I’d like to see one. Can we do that?”

  “Absolutely. Totally.” I drew him closer. My tears trailed cool lines down my cheeks.

  David’s legs weren’t kicking as hard as they first were. His exhaustion crept along our bond, poking at my fortitude. If I had to tread for both of us, how long would I last?

  No. No. No. No. No. Bad thoughts. Definitely needed new ones.

  What could we talk about? The weather? Why not? After all, it was the reason we were here. “How will we know if Ruby, Silver, and all survived?”

  “I don’t know. It’s not like they can swim up here and tell us they’re okay.”

  Well that was a very short, uninspiring conversation.

  The sky darkened, as if the mood wasn’t somber enough.

  “I’m sorry it turned out this way,” David said.

  Was he serious? “You mean you’re sorry we didn’t get torn to pieces on reentry? Gee, yeah, I sure am ticked off about that, too.”

  “I’m not sure drowning will be much better.”

  A lump formed in the sea between us. Water sheened down a two-foot, hairy back before three black eyes rose above the ocean.

  “Edgar!” I tried to hug him, nearly dunking both of us.

  He wiggled away from me, raising one of his legs. A thick leather band twisted around his leg.

  “My backpack? Seriously?” I clutched the heavy burden, a bag filled with worthless equipment. But my little dude had saved it for me. As much as I wanted to let it sink down to the ocean floor, I couldn’t. I slipped it over my shoulders.

  Edgar cooed and flipped out of the sea, spread his legs, and landed atop the rolling waves. His legs held him above the ocean like a giant water bug.

  I gaped. David’s mirrored expression told me he didn’t know Edgar could do that, either.

  Could it be that simple? Could we cling to Edgar like a life raft?