“You don’t need to take any tests. You’re in.” He handed them a locator. “Call your mom if you want and let her know before we take off.”
“I don’t understand.” Abysme finally spoke out loud, and Mestasis jumped at the rancor in her sister’s voice.
“The hovercraft had a bad ventilator. Rat droppings clogged the filters.”
He shook his head in astonishment. “I’ve seen a lot of telepaths in my career, but never have I seen two bound together in synchronization. You girls saved our lives. You don’t have to worry about a single thing again. TINE will take care of you from now on. Be back by the hovercraft in five minutes, girls.” Doctor Fields gave them a stern glance before turning around.
Abysme kicked the side of the glass with her boot. Mestasis cringed, but the wall didn’t shatter. The tip of her sister’s boot thunked and bounced back. Even though Mestasis had secured their future, she couldn’t help the dirty feeling she’d also given away their deepest secret and sold their souls for a better place to live.
Abysme crossed her arms. Don’t have to worry about a single thing again, huh?
Mestasis’s skin burned with embarrassment on her cheeks. The situation overwhelmed her. She’d lost control, handing their future to a man her sister didn’t trust.
If only what he said was true.
§
Engine failure seventy-eight percent.
Her sister’s voice brought Mestasis back to the present. She twitched her neck, calculating alternative energy means. They had to fly the ship out of the parameters of the hurtling comets.
Mestasis analyzed the systems still online and prioritized the ones less likely to cause physical harm to the colonists. Shutting off gravitational rings, rerouting energy from bays 4, 13, and 20.
No matter what she did, it wasn’t enough. The energy gap tore at Mestasis’s soul until she could barely stand the pressure. She turned to her sister, pleading.
Bysme, I need your help.
Her white eyes turned down, as if she could suddenly see her. Her cheek twitched, the wrinkles scrunching. We’ll make it, sis. Keep trying.
Abysme spoke in common speech patterns! A real person still rolled around inside her fragile skull. Her sister’s true voice urged Mestasis to focus. In a fraction of a second, she’d figured out enough energy to keep them sailing well away from the hurtling rocks.
Clear space shone on the main sight panel, a sea of darkness sprinkled with twinkling stars. The ship soared free of the danger zone.
Mestasis breathed, feeling cold, regulated air sear her old lungs. She shouldn’t have taken so many breaths without her breathing apparatus, but in that moment she needed to feel alive.
Abysme’s voiced jerked her out of her relief. Mission to Paradise 18 abandoned. Seeking alternative colonization habitat.
Panic rushed right back through the bolts in Mestasis’s spine. What? Change the entire course of the mission? She shot a finicky glance at Abysme. Had her sister truly lost her mind? Reviewing the ship’s performance and the remaining functioning systems, Mestasis’s hopes plummeted. They’d never make it another two hundred days in deep space, never mind two hundred years.
Abysme’s calculations were correct. Their mission to Paradise 18 had failed.
Disappointment in herself and hopelessness choked her. Next came emptiness, a black abyss of dire oblivion threatening to obliterate her last pulses of determination. Mestasis hung limp, allowing the wires to stretch dangerously far as her body weight pulled her down. She’d have given up and died in that moment if it wasn’t for the shining star shimmering on the edge of her sight.
Compatible habitat found. Abysme drew up a star chart and Mestasis took in another breath.
Tundra 37 lay in the star system they passed. The initial readings reported compatible oxygen and carbon dioxide levels, light gravity, and solar exposure, mostly on the northern side. A category six planet experiencing an ice age; it was not optimal for survival, but certainly adequate, better than drifting in deep space.
Mestasis straightened and the wires pulled her back up.
Change of course approved.
Chapter Three
Messenger
Lieutenant Brentwood hustled down the corridor clutching a beeping locator. Already thrown off by the emergency, he questioned his sudden urge to lean in and kiss that woman’s cheek. It seemed so commonplace, like he’d done it a thousand times before. But he’d never met her. Was he losing his mind? As a lieutenant, duty always came first.
Smoke filled the adjacent corridor, and he searched for an alternate route. The locator showed three dots on the far side of the running track above the biodome, and the Seers had ordered him to evacuate decks eighty through ninety. He’d only made it up to eighty-four.
He spun around and banged open another ventilator shaft. Did the smoke inhalation distort his senses? He loved people and interactions. Social prowess and charm came as easy to him as simple math. His mother used to call him her little sweet talker. His class had elected him as senior president, and upon graduation, the Seers had chosen him as their personal messenger, delivering their decisions to the congregation in his smooth-toned speeches. But that woman had thrown him off his mark.
Even now the intensity of her presence affected him. His tongue still stuck to the bottom of his mouth. She wasn’t a blonde bombshell, or an aggressively sly upper officer. She was the Matchmaker, a shy computer analyst, with freckles speckling her cheeks, sleek nutmeg hair, and smoky gray eyes. Nothing about her screamed intimidation, yet she possessed a subtle draw, pulling him in. Maybe his reaction to her had something to do with her job. She held his destiny in an important way. As the sole matchmaker of her generation, she’d decide his lifemate, his match.
The alarm wailed in his ear. He realized he stood frozen before the shaft, breathing in smoke-clogged air. He shook his head and climbed. She interfered with his job, and this was no time for such thoughts. He had more people to save. The dots on the locator beeped anxiously as far cries for help.
Crawling through the airshaft, he reviewed his options. The Seers had locked off decks eighty-six through ninety, and the locator traced the vital signs to eighty-seven, smack in the middle of the depressurizing zone. Maybe they they’d found an air bubble. Brentwood ground his teeth together in determination. He’d find a way to reach it.
He found a vent to an alternate corridor. He kicked in the metal grating and jumped down. Bringing up a blueprint of the ship on his miniscreen, he studied how to reach them. The main corridor leading to the upper decks had been compromised and the Seers had sanctioned it off, withdrawing air pressure to conserve energy and reroute it elsewhere.
An airtight service shaft filled with cables ran adjacent to the corridor. He could crawl through and emerge in the hydraulics room, which controlled the aerobics pool and the spin cycle bikes. The track lay just beyond that.
Brentwood pulled out his laser gun and fired three shots at the chrome wall. He’d damage the cables, but no one would be using the exercise room any time soon. A hole big enough to squeeze into sizzled in the laser fire. He waited for the metal to cool enough to touch it and climbed in.
The serrated cables, thick as his fist, made for excellent ropes. He brought himself up, silently thanking all the pull-ups his fitness coach had shouted out in his class years. His muscles tightened as he
grasped a handhold and heaved. Thankfully, if the three Lifers weren’t hurt, it would be easier to bring them down.
The shaft bent at a right angle, and he hauled himself over the edge, catching his breath. The blueprint on his miniscreen shone fluorescent green into the darkness. He’d reached halfway. The cold wire rubbed against his stomach as he crawled over the cables. He used the screen to light the shaft ahead, casting a ghostly glow on old spider webs and rat nests, the offspring of the test subjects taken on the Expedition in the first generation. The sides of the shaft pressed in on him. He groped with his arm to judge the distance. Had it been this narrow before?
He checked his locator. One meter separated him and the place where the floor hovered close enough to blast through. The cables dug into his torso as he squeezed himself forward and the cold sank into his bones like a disease. His toes numbed and his fingers throbbed. Only three meters of metal separated him from deep space, and the Seers had cut off all heat to the outer decks. The temperature dropped every second he spent in the shaft.
The Seers’ voices came on his intercom, startling him.
“Lieutenant, turn around.”
He brought his arm up and squeezed the button on his lapel. “I’m following orders, evacuating the upper levels.”
The monotone voices buzzed back. “Deck eighty seven will collapse any minute. Return to the emergency chamber immediately. I repeat: turn around.”
Anger formed a boulder in his chest. He growled, “I can save them.”
The cold machine-women had no right to shut off human life, no matter what the consequences. Fury turned to determination, burning within him, keeping him warm. He slid on his elbows until he reached the end of the shaft. His readings reported the atmosphere holding stable. He dragged out his laser and fired up into the floor.
A warmer gush of air flowed in. Flashing red lights illuminated the ceiling of the fitness bay. Brentwood pulled himself up. If he read the miniscreen correctly, the upper deck had lost its pressure and the hull buckled above his head.
He moved to run, but his feet rose from the floor.
“Damn.” The Seers had shut down the gravity rings. What next? Lower the oxygen levels as well?
Bubbles of water from the pool jiggled in the air like giant amoebas. Brentwood flailed his arms as he floated out of control. He struggled to pull himself together, but the dizziness swimming in his head made it difficult.
Beeps cried out between each pulse of alarm, bringing him back to attention.
The three colonists. He had to reach them and get them to safety.
A pool net floated by and he lurched out his arm and grabbed onto it. He spun under the new weight, but regained balance. Swinging the pole, he caught a wall light. Pulling himself to the wall, hand over hand on the pole, he gripped the bulb. Using handholds along the wall, he worked his way to the distance track.
“Hello? Anyone in there?”
The alarm drowned out his words. He felt like the last survivor of a shipwreck, left to wander alone as it broke apart around him with no anchors to hold onto. The thought of being the only man still alive made his stomach wretch more than the light gravity. He didn’t even like working in an office by himself.
He checked the locator, and the green dots were larger.
“Hello?” His voice echoed down the bay.
He ducked as a hoverchair floated by in a meandering arc, sputtering as the thrusters flared out of control. The seat was upside down and vacant, straps dangling.
A screech echoed so loud he thought his ears would bleed. The ceiling warped under the decreasing pressure. Resisting the urge to panic, Brentwood kicked his legs against the wall and floated over the bright orange track.
Three people wearing white civilian jumpsuits floated in the corner next to the sealed portal. Two girls clutched each other, shivering, while a young man tampered with the portal panel.
One of the girls spotted him and waved him over. “Over here. We’re trying to get through.”
Brentwood yelled back. “You won’t make it.”
They didn’t hear him, or chose to ignore his comment.
Damn it. He kicked his legs like a swimmer in molasses, wishing he could run again. “You have to come back this way with me.”
As he drifted closer, one of the girls recognized his navy lieutenant’s uniform and pulled the boy back.
“Dammit, Daryl! We’re in trouble now.”
The boy swatted her away and pulled a clump of wires out of the wall. “I’ve almost got it.”
Brentwood ordered, “Don’t open it.”
The boy whirled around and glared with defiance. “I’m trying to get us out of here.”
Brentwood pulled himself within arm’s reach. “There’s no atmosphere on the other side. The Seers sealed the corridor.”
The smaller of the two girls covered her face with her hands. Her malformed legs hung limp in the air. Even with the Matchmaker’s double check on genetic calculations, birth anomalies still manifested. They could only tame so much of nature and the small genetic pool made it more difficult to keep each subsequent generation healthy. That’s why they had analysts like Gemme Reiner giving the cold computer analysis a double check with a human touch. Computers weren’t always perfect.
Brentwood made a point not to draw attention to her. Thank goodness for the zero gravity. He could never fit her hoverchair down the cable shaft.
He put a reassuring hand on her arm. “What’s your name, hon?”
She peeked from under a finger. “Vira. That’s my sister, Rizzy.”
Rizzy stared at him as if he’d flown them into the comets singlehandedly. “How are we going to get out?”
“Using an energy cable shaft. It’s a tight squeeze.” He looked at their boney bodies. “Anyone hurt?”
They shook their heads.
“Come on. We don’t have much time.”
They floated across the track like ghosts in a dead land. His emotions surged when he looked into their young faces. How could anyone leave them to die here? They had parents, brothers, sisters, and friends. They weren’t a math equation, not to him. He wondered if the Seers had discounted Vira because of her handicap. Maybe they thought she wouldn’t make it either way. Brentwood’s chest tightened. He’d make sure she survived, even if it meant staying behind himself. The Seers wouldn’t understand. They’d calculate it as an uneven trade. His anger surged, and he gritted his teeth together, focusing his energy on saving them.
They reached the hole he’d blasted through the floor. Brentwood handed Daryl his miniscreen.
“Use the screen to see ahead and watch out for a drop in four meters.”
“Yes, sir.” Daryl took the device and disappeared into the darkness. Brentwood nudged Rizzy down into the hole next, wondering how he’d get Vira through. He much rather hold her, but the narrow shaft prevented it.
“Hold onto my boots, and I’ll pull you through.”
“Okay.” The determination in her voice made him proud of her courage.
The metal ceiling screeched as Vira’s small fingers grabbed his ankles. He plunged into the hole, pulling Vira behind him. Soon the deck would cave under the pressure. He thought of calling on the Seers, but he knew they’d already done what they could. He would have to hustle the kids to the lower decks. Good thing the Seers seemed busy with saving the ship.
“Let’s go, guys. Be careful, but crawl as fast as you can.”
Rizzy squeaked in disgust. “There are
rats down here.”
Brentwood tried to console her, “They’re harmless, just remnants of old experiments that managed to escape.”
She halted in front of him, his head stuck under her feet. Behind him, metal crumbled and a familiar gush of air blew by him as deep space sucked their atmosphere out. He didn’t want her to panic, so he tried a technique he used on his little brother to make him eat his vegetables. Just think of the dessert in the end, little dude.
“Just think of being down on the safer decks. Being free.”
“I’d rather think of not being sucked into space,” she called back, half giggling, half crying.
He laughed. “That’s true too. Whatever works. Just keep going.”
The route back seemed longer than the climb in. The suction of air increased until Rizzy’s long hair stood out behind her like a cape, and he could feel his own wavy locks blown back so hard, he’d be left bald by the time they cleared the shaft.
“Vira, hold on tightly.”
He felt her unlace his boots and tie the strings around her wrists.
Vira shouted, “What’s wrong with the air?”
He whipped his head around, swallowed his misgivings and forced himself to wink. “Just a small leak. We’re almost there.”
When they reached the angle, the shaft widened, and Vira wrapped her arms around his neck. He pulled himself and Vira down behind Daryl and Rizzy. They emerged from the laser hole into the corridor. The bright fluorescent lights reassured him, but his lungs worked harder to breathe the thin air. A steady gust pulled them backward and he clutched the portal panel, pulling them through against the suction.
“Brace yourselves against the portal frame.”
Once Rizzy and Daryl cleared the portal, he slammed his fist on the panel behind them and the particles rematerialized, sealing the remaining atmosphere in.
His ears rang in the silence. He stopped and drew a long breath of relief.
“What were you guys doing up there so early?”
Tundra 37 Page 3
