It all felt like too much. There was a pang in his chest. He looked at Hot Dog for a few more seconds before placing the apple on a nearby counter. “I’m not hungry.”
“Benny . . .” Hot Dog said.
He glanced around the kitchen until his eyes landed on another door. He remembered from their tour on the first day at the Taj that it led out into the hallway.
“There’s food in my room,” he said, making a beeline for the exit. “Tell the others we’ll meet in the morning. I just . . . I need some time alone to think.”
“It’s okay to be scared,” Hot Dog said. “I’m scared. We all are. But we have to—”
The door closed behind him as he entered the hallway, darting for the nearest stairwell.
In no time he was back inside his suite, where he leaned against the door for several minutes until his pulse calmed down. Then he threw himself onto the bed. The glove in his pocket poked at his leg. He wondered if things would be better if he could just figure out how to use the alien tech to help them. Or, he thought, maybe he was just desperate, hoping that there was some simple solution that could solve all their problems. A magic glove. Another, habitable planet for the aliens. Some exiled genius living on the dark side who could tell him exactly what he was supposed to be doing.
He sat up, put the glove on the nightstand, and grabbed the only bag he’d brought with him to the Taj. Inside he found the cracked old HoloTek that he’d been using for years. He’d said he wanted time away from Hot Dog and the others to think, but now that he was in his suite he didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts and fears. He needed something to occupy his attention, to make him feel like everything was going to be okay. With a few taps, he was watching old videos of his family, of the caravan, of the endless dunes he never thought he’d miss so badly. The images were slightly fuzzy due to the Drylands dust embedded in the screen. He could have just played the clips on his new datapad or on the wall across from his bed, but this felt right. The weathered old piece of tech smelled like dirt. It reminded him of home.
He watched the hundred or so members of his caravan dance around a bonfire somewhere in what was once California, remembering how they all reeked of smoke for what seemed like weeks afterward. He watched his youngest brother, Alejandro, blow out a pillar of a candle that sat on a lopsided cake his grandmother had somehow put together using flour, an expired jar of applesauce, and the meat of a prickly pear cactus. He watched his family saying good-bye to him in the message they recorded the day before he left for the Moon, all so excited, so happy.
And finally, he pulled up videos of his father, who’d marched into the desert less than a year ago in search of water and never come back. Most of them were candid moments from everyday life—clips of him fixing cars, teaching his brother Justin how to filter water, or singing a song in Spanish that always delighted Benny’s grandmother. In one, his father seemed upset. Benny could remember the night clearly, because it was so rare that his father was unhappy around them. Or, at least rare that he would let them see that he was worried or angry. But that night there had been some kind of caravan meeting about what their next destination would be, and his father had been outvoted.
“What’s wrong, Dad?” Justin asked in the video.
His father’s face—twisted with frustration—softened as he looked at his son.
“Nothing,” he said. “Your dad’s just being a worrywart.”
“You should tell them they should do what you say,” Benny said on the video, and his voice seemed so high-pitched and young that it took him a second to recognize it. “You’re always right.”
His dad looked at him and laughed the low, bellowing guffaw that always made Alejandro giggle. “No one is always right,” he said. “Heck, half the time I’m playing life by ear. I just try to face the world head on and do what feels right. Sometimes things work out. Sometimes they don’t, and I have to do better next time.” He smiled. “If the rest of the caravan thinks this is what we should do, then we’ll follow them.”
“Are you scared?” Justin asked.
“Of course not,” his dad said. He grinned a little. “But even if I was, you can’t let fear get the best of you. Then you’d never get anything done.”
“We could just go off on our own instead,” Benny suggested.
His dad looked puzzled for a moment. “Benicio,” he said, the full name his father reserved for when he was being serious. “We might not always agree, but the caravan makes us stronger. We have to work together. It’s how we survive. Sometimes you just have to trust others.” He grinned, raising both his dark eyebrows. “Or trust that they’ll realize their mistakes on their own. Don’t you know we’re nothing without each other?”
The clip ended with his father lunging forward, scooping both Benny and Justin up in his arms, the camera shaking back and forth and unable to focus as the boys squealed. In his suite, Benny stared at the frozen image of his father the video ended on before starting it over again. He watched it several more times, his body heavy with a strange mixture of feelings—the comfort of seeing this moment again and the intense longing to be with his family. Eventually, his eyes got heavy, and he let himself fall into the memories of the videos he’d just watched, until it was almost like he was living them again.
9.
Benny woke up with his old HoloTek on his stomach. It was early—had he been in the Drylands, the sun wouldn’t have risen for several more hours—and there was a knot of hunger in his stomach. He’d never eaten the night before, which, combined with everything that had happened yesterday, was probably why he’d passed out so hard on his bed, lying on top of the covers with no memory of falling asleep. As he sat up and stretched, sharp pains shot through his body. Every inch of him was sore and tender. In the bathroom mirror, he saw bruises forming on his chest and shoulders, maybe from when he’d crashed against the asteroid mother ship. Or when he’d tackled the alien. Or when he’d been shot out of the sky on the dark side of the Moon.
He was kind of surprised he was able to get up and move around at all.
After cleaning himself up and throwing on a fresh space suit, he tore through a bunch of the snacks in his suite. And then he sat on his bed, unsure what to do. Eventually, the quiet stillness of the room became claustrophobic, and he started to feel the same anxieties he’d had the night before tingling in his chest. He looked at the old HoloTek. His father’s words rang in his head.
You can’t let fear get the best of you.
He knew he couldn’t stay in his room, waiting for the rest of the Taj to wake up. He had to do something to make himself feel like he was making strides toward solving at least one of the many problems he and his friends had been burdened with. And so he pocketed the alien glove and headed down to the meeting room, trying to stretch out his tight muscles along the way. He kept thinking of words from the video, and he repeated them in a silent whisper as he walked through the halls of the Taj.
Do what feels right.
The mantra—plus a solid night’s sleep dreaming of the old days in the caravan—gave him some comfort. A renewed sense of purpose. The only problem, though, was that Benny was completely unsure what felt right anymore.
The lights of the meeting room powered on as he stepped inside. Pinky appeared in one of the floating chairs.
“You’re up very early,” she said.
“But you already know I was asleep very early, too,” he responded.
Pinky just smiled a little and nodded.
“Update me, please,” he said, coming to a stop in front of the holodesk.
“On what?” Pinky asked.
Face the world head on.
Technically, Benny was facing several worlds, but he figured that didn’t change the spirit of his dad’s words.
“Everything,” he said. “If the rest of the Taj has questions for me, then I want all the information I can get.”
They went over reports, scans, and calculations Pinky had put together thr
oughout the night, but nothing had really changed much since the day before. There was still no sign of alien activity—though, now that they knew their radars didn’t register the purple-colored ships, that wasn’t very comforting—or a clear way to reestablish communications with Earth. The Pit Crew was all still asleep. Ricardo had passed out at Elijah’s desk, plotting possible ways to find Elijah deep into the night.
“He’s probably driving himself insane,” Benny said. “I’m guessing it’s only a matter of time before he gets tired of feeling like he’s not doing anything and does something crazy.”
Pinky raised an eyebrow and murmured in agreement. “And you’re sure you aren’t going to end up doing something crazy yourself?”
He thought about this for a second and then shook his head. “I had a better mentor than him. And I’ve got friends watching my back and keeping me focused. Speaking of which, can you wake up Hot Dog and Jazz and Drue for me? And Ramona, too. We have work to do.”
“Actually, Jasmine has been baking for the last half hour in my kitchen, Hot Dog just started up a flight sim in her suite, and I’m not actually sure that Ramona ever sleeps. Drue’s the only one I’ll have to drag out of bed.”
Benny laughed a little. “Never mind. Let them keep doing what they’re doing. Give them an hour.”
Pinky smiled. “A little time to blow off steam. It’s not a bad idea.”
“Right.” Benny started for the exit. “And I need to talk to Jazz, anyway. Oh, and Pinky . . .” He paused at the door for a moment before turning to face her. “It would be cool if you didn’t talk to Hot Dog about me behind my back. Or anyone, I guess. Please.”
The AI looked surprised, only for a moment.
“Of course.” She tilted her head back, looking at him over the bridge of her nose. “You know, there’s something about you this morning. You sound kind of like he did once upon a time.”
“You mean Elijah?” Benny asked. “That doesn’t really make me feel great.”
She looked off to the side at something Benny couldn’t see. Something that wasn’t there. “It should. Elijah was many things, but you can’t argue that he wasn’t a strong leader.”
She turned back to him and smiled.
“Thanks,” Benny said, and then he headed out the door.
He found Jasmine in the Taj’s kitchen. Despite all the high-tech lasers and kitchen gadgets lining the walls, she was standing alone with a big mixing bowl and a few bags of ingredients at a clean work space in the center of the room.
“Hey,” he said.
She jumped, clearly not expecting anyone. A little cloud of flour plumed around her hands. Then she stood very still.
“Hi,” she said.
We’re stronger together.
“I don’t mean to interrupt or anything,” Benny said as he walked farther into the room. “But . . . I wanted to say that I’m sorry about yesterday. I shouldn’t have lied to Ricardo and the others. We should have all talked about what we were going to do first. It was the kind of thing Elijah would do.”
She seemed to relax a little. “I didn’t mean it like that. Well, I did, but I was so surprised and confused and . . .” She trailed off.
“No, you were right,” Benny said. “I’ll talk to them later, when they’re up, and take the heat for it.”
“Ricardo’s going to be so mad.” She sighed. “I guess I could go with you and make sure you don’t get murdered. Plus, I bet Trevone will want to know all about the tech we saw.”
“That would be cool,” Benny said. He walked to the other side of the table she was working at. “What are you making?” he asked.
“Cookies. They’re my favorite things to bake.”
“I’ve never made cookies before.”
“It’s super simple,” she said. “You can help me.”
He looked at the measuring cups, the big bag of sugar, the little vials that could have held anything as far as he was concerned. He was way out of his element, their tiny kitchen RV not up to the task of cooking much, even if they’d had the ingredients.
“Maybe I’ll just watch this time.”
She nodded as she poured some amber-colored liquid into a spoon. “I know you’re frustrated,” she said. “I am, too. So I’ve been thinking about things we can do. Baking actually helps me do that sometimes.” She began to stir the mixture. “I agree that we need to find a way to fix all this without hurting anyone. We’re still trying to figure out how to get past the asteroids so we can put Ramona’s satellites up, but . . . what if we tried to get in contact with the Alpha Maraudi instead? Communication could be the key to all this, and Dr. Bale obviously hasn’t tried that. Not that we have any idea how to connect with them right now. But I asked Ramona to think about it.”
“Yeah,” Benny said, and the more he thought about it, the better it sounded. “Yeah. That’s a great idea.”
“I’m glad you think so,” Jasmine said. “This is all so crazy that sometimes I’m not sure if I’m having a really smart moment or going nuts.”
“I can kind of relate.” Benny smiled. “I’m glad we’ve got you on our side to help us. We couldn’t have done any of this without you.”
Her cheeks flushed and she looked at the floor. “Thanks.”
Someone snickered behind them. Benny turned to see Ramona in the doorway.
“Heart holograms all around,” she said, turning her attention to the HoloTek on her arm. “Don’t mind me, though. I’m just the real brains behind everything.”
“I’m glad we have you, too, Ramona,” Benny said.
“Agreed,” Jasmine added.
Ramona opened up one of the giant refrigerators that lined the walls. “Some hacker’s been stealing my soda stock in the garage. Not cool.”
Benny and Jasmine looked at each other.
“Um,” Jasmine said. “Not to be rude, but I’m pretty sure you’re the one drinking all of them.”
Ramona just burped as she headed toward the door with half a dozen cans in her arms. “Whatever, newbz.”
Dozens of cookies sat on a counter in the meeting room an hour later.
“In retrospect, something more breakfasty would probably have been a better idea,” Jasmine said, a dusting of flour still coating strands of her shiny black hair.
“What’s not breakfasty about cookies?” Drue asked, biting into one of the six he’d grabbed and tossed on the holodesk. “Whoa . . . This is . . . this is like the best thing I’ve ever tasted, Jazz. Seriously.”
She smiled wide, and then tried to hide it. “There’s lavender in the caramel drizzle.”
“Super health power-up,” Ramona chirped as she tore a small piece off one of the cookies and shoved it into her mouth. “Max impressed, J.”
“Do you have any idea how expensive that piece of tech is that you’re getting crumbs all over?” Pinky asked, glaring at Drue.
He shrugged. “Bill me.”
Hot Dog pointed at his black space suit with silver rivets on the shoulders. “You’re kidding me with these, right? Just how many space suits did you bring from home?”
“What?” he said through a mouthful. “The blue ones you guys have are so plain. They look itchy, to be honest.” He shrugged. “Besides, my dad always says a Lincoln should look like a Lincoln.”
“Your dad sounds like a ton of fun.”
“He . . .” Drue paused for a second. “He has his moments. Besides, the Lincoln family does have an image to maintain.”
“An image? If I’m not mistaken, Drue Bob Lincoln the First argued in Congress that climate change wasn’t real and so we shouldn’t waste time or money trying to stop it,” Jasmine said. “Maybe you should ask Benny how that worked out for the Drylands.”
Drue just laughed nervously and picked at his cookie. Benny shook his head—the Lincoln family was the least of his concerns.
Hot Dog turned her attention to him, barely meeting his gaze. They hadn’t spoken since the night before. “What’s first?” she asked.
“Sweet!” the other boy said. “Uh, what was it?”
Benny looked to Pinky. “Let’s go through Elijah’s files. Prototypes, research, special projects, anything even remotely connected to the aliens. Especially in terms of communication. Also, anything that could help us get rid of the asteroids between here and Earth.”
“Of course,” Pinky said. “Though, I warn you that for someone who was always on the cutting edge of technology, he was a bit old-fashioned when it came to the creative process. His brainstorming was almost always done with pen and paper. Unfortunately, those journals are all in his office, which—”
“Has been taken over by the Pit Crew,” Benny said.
“I’m uploading everything I can find to your HoloTeks,” Pinky said.
“There’s so much here,” Jasmine said, swiping through files on her screen. “There must be hundreds of Space Runner prototypes alone, not to mention reports from researchers he hired, engineers, astrophysicists. It could take us forever to get through these, much less come up with any way they might be useful.”
“Many of these projects are purely hypothetical, never meant to be executed,” Pinky said.
“Uh, I think I’m looking at a model of the Taj being shot into space,” Hot Dog said.
“Exactly. Elijah often spent a fortune—and an absurd amount of time—just to see if he could come up with a way to do something, with no intention of ever actually doing it.” She smiled a little. “Also, it turns out you can shoot the Taj into space. It would just require a lot of time and planning combined with a ridiculous amount of money.”
“Okay,” Benny said. “So, where do we begin?”
Pinky snapped her fingers. Benny’s HoloTek screen flashed, and a series of folders appeared.
“I’ve taken the liberty of compiling the projects that might be most helpful to you,” she said. “Possible Taj defense systems. Experimental hyperdrives. Plans for large-scale Space Runners primed for deep-space travel.”
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