Authors: Ken Brosky
The engines increased their whine. Sound dampeners negated the worst of it but it was still loud enough and powerful enough that Seamus could sense it all around him. His body felt warm and suffocating inside the Ecosuit. Was it supposed to be like this? Was it supposed to feel so stifling, or was it his imagination? Was he
afraid
of flying?
The Apollo’s rubber wheels rolled on the smooth concrete, around the airbase hangar and onto the main runway. Seamus had never flown before, of course, but in the movies someone always announced over the comm system that they were about to take off. Skye did no such thing. Instead, the ship simply began to pick up speed, the twin engines growling.
Then the ship began to move much, much faster.
Seamus gripped the armrest, accidentally turning on the touchscreen on his console. It automatically brought up the ship’s diagnostics, providing him with the speed.
150 km/h.
175.
225.
The bump-bump of the tires rolling across each patch of runway concrete ceased. Seamus felt his stomach bottom out. The ship was airborne. He could feel it in his body. He could feel the speed of the vehicle moving
through
him like a fast-moving stream flowing around a wayward rock.
“Skye,” Cleo said.
“I see them.”
“Skye!”
“I see them!”
The ship banked right. Through the front glass, Seamus saw half a dozen Manteidos Specters flying toward them, so close that he could see their glowing red wings flapping wildly. They disappeared out of the sight as the ship climbed higher. The Apollo penetrated the clouds, and all Seamus could see through the front windshield was white. When they emerged, there was only the Ring arcing over the sky, looming over the planet. The ship banked right; Seamus clutched the seat, feeling his body move slightly as it pressed against the loose straps.
“Hold on,” Skye said calmly. “Initiating ramjets. Keep your heads back on the seat. If you feel sick, look forward.”
The ship increased its speed. The nose rose higher toward the bluish atmosphere. Seamus closed his eyes. Vertigo muddled his head. The ship began to shake. Someone in one of the rows ahead was whimpering or crying, but Seamus couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes. They were climbing higher, faster, and he could feel his body pressing into the back of the seat. The muscles in his neck refused to loosen and they became sore, making it impossible to swallow. They were riding a colossal wave, and a shark had a hold of Seamus and was shaking him fiercely, but the wave was too strong and it was pushing them both.
Higher.
Higher.
Then: a pause. He felt his body drift forward, trying to catch up with his stomach. Were they in space? He opened his eyes. He could see the soft delineation of the Earth’s atmosphere far ahead. He could see the
curvature
of the planet! He could see the blackness of space beyond. He could —
The engines let out a terrifying roar. Seamus’s body slammed back into his seat with such an intense force that he nearly blacked out. It was as if the ship had been fired from a cannon. He wanted to scream but he couldn’t open his mouth. His skin pushed on his muscles and his muscles pushed on his bones and his bones screamed for release.
And then it was all gone. All of the pressure, all of the force and urgency and intensity. The ship was calm. The engines grew silent. Were they falling? No. His body felt
ghostly
, held in place only by the seat’s straps. He was weightless.
They were in space.
Seamus blinked. The others were looking around, too. From where Seamus was sitting he could see Reza fumbling with the straps. His sister, sitting across the aisle, looked as if she’d passed out. She opened her eyes, blinked, and immediately reached across the aisle to swat Reza’s hands. “What are you, nuts? You’ll float away! You’ve never been in space!”
“I feel sick,” Ben said. “I’m going to apologize right now for vomiting.”
“The atmospheric stabilizers are fully operational,” Cleo told him. “You’re not gonna puke. Everyone is going to be all right. Just take a deep breath.” She seemed to fight a grin, then gave up, flashing it right at Seamus. “Forget everything that’s happened to us for just a second and, like,
be in
this moment.”
They sat weightless in the silence, staring out at the vast emptiness of space. In the direction the nose of the ship was facing, there were only stars. No signs of civilization. No Ring. Just blackness and stars in every direction.
Ben turned in his seat, looking at Wei. Gabriel was clutching her hand. “Are you all right? How do you feel?”
“Icky,” came Wei’s quiet voice.
“I’m guiding us toward the Ark,” Skye said. “Cleo, is the ship all right? I have about fifty status readouts on my screen and have no idea what any of them mean.”
“Uh . . .” Cleo slid her finger across her three-dimensional screen, pulling up a new one that was filled with bright green-and-yellow diagnostics. “Yeah. Everything’s nominal. A few extra burn marks on the exterior, but that just gives this beast some character.”
“OK. Everyone sit tight. The Ark isn’t too far away.” Seamus noted the new tone in Skye’s voice. Was it a rare moment of relief? Best not to speculate.
“I’m gonna put down the blast panels,” Cleo said. “Might as well enjoy the sight a little while longer. Because, you know, Armageddon and all.”
Two long, rectangular panels to the left and right of Ben and Tahlia lowered, revealing more space. Skye adjusted the thrusters so that the Apollo banked right. As it did, Earth came into view through the window to Seamus’s right. It seemed to rise up as if peeking in through the glass.
It was beautiful.
Seamus took a deep breath. All of his training rushed out with his next exhale. There was no way to detach one’s emotions upon seeing this. The land along the horizon that seemed to be painted on the globe. The swirling clouds encompassing the northern atmosphere, puffy and thick and full of life. The ocean, such a striking blue that Seamus had to turn away to keep from crying. To think: a color could bring out such emotions in him. Something must be wrong. But when he turned to look again, it hit him anew. It was the
promise
of that rich, dark blue. The promise of a vastness that his eyes couldn’t possibly comprehend.
Here, seeing it all, gave him a perfect understanding of why Skye and Gabriel wanted to return to fight. No speculation was necessary — Seamus did not want to abandon this planet, either.
“We’re coming up on the Ark,” Skye announced. “Looks like we’re not the only ones hitching a ride.”
Seamus leaned over in his seat so he could look out the front of the ship. Skye was right: there were other spaceships flying beside the massive Ark. Another ship was in the process of exiting the earth’s atmosphere, this one much bigger than the Apollo and carrying a massive red fuel tank along with twin propulsion reactors. As it escaped Earth’s pull, the ship’s thrusters kicked in and the massive red fuel tank detached. It drifted slowly back toward the planet, growing smaller and smaller.
“One-way ticket,” Cleo murmured. An anxious beeping sound began emitting from Cleo’s console. “Wait, we got a problem. That’s a proximity warning. Skye, check your starboard!”
To their right, there were two more ships, cruising past the larger ship. One — sleek, with a fat box-shaped body and two detachable solar wings — banked left, half its thrusters firing wildly. Its right solar wing bumped into the larger cigar-shaped ship, tearing away a chunk of metal.
“Hold on,” Skye said. “Cleo, are there any other ships below us?”
“No,” Cleo said. “You’re clear! These are the only idiots within a thousand meters.”
Skye banked the Apollo left. Seamus braced himself, expecting to feel his body turn sideways while gravity pushed him left. But instead, he remained securely in place in his seat. The clicking of the gas thrusters, audible inside the cabin, was the only auditory evidence they’d changed position.
“Sacrebleu!” Cleo shouted. “Skye, that close call of theirs loosed a heckuva lot of debris. They tore a chunk right out of the hull and now their cabin is depressurizing!”
“Is there anything we can do?” Gabriel asked.
“Yeah, we can give them a wide berth so we don’t hit any space debris,” Skye muttered. “I’m going to show them our belly. It has thicker armor.” The thrusters engaged again, pulling them left. Seamus watched the dark shape of the Ark disappear from sight. Earth appeared in the top of the windshield.
A sinking feeling plagued Seamus. Now he could see the Ring, orbiting Earth, angled, fiery red and threatening like some restrictive collar. Out here it was clear the Ring was thousands of kilometers away and yet its very size was enormous. And he could see more, too: a handful of cities on the land between two massive swirls of white clouds. Black smoke rose up from the cities, so thick that it could have been mistaken for a volcanic eruption. Black smoke of that magnitude could only be due to a complete Phenocyte reactor breakdown.
“Once upon a time,” Gabriel said, “in the land of Hush-A-Bye . . . around about the wondrous days of yore . . . they came across a kind of box . . . bound up with chains and locked with locks . . . and labeled ‘Kindly do not touch; it’s war.’ A decree was issued round about, and all with a flourish and a shout . . . and a gaily colored mascot tripping lightly on before . . . Don’t fiddle with this deadly box. Or break the chains, or pick the locks . . .”
“. . . And please don’t ever play about with war,” Seamus finished from memory.
Skye took the Apollo underneath the much larger cigar-shaped vessel, traveling in the shadow of its belly like a fish swimming below a shark. It was quiet, only the shifting of Reza in his seat to entertain Seamus’s eardrums. He couldn’t turn away from Earth, even when Tahlia pointed out the magnificence of the Ark up ahead. Earth’s gravity pulled on Seamus’s eyes. There was the Akashi mountain range. It rippled across the surface just like the pictures he’d studied in primary school, only here in this place, without the edges of an image file to limit its scope, it seemed so much more
immense
.
There, just east of the mountain range: Neo Berlin. “Look,” he whispered. “Our city.”
“What of it,” Skye said, not turning.
“There’s no smoke yet,” Seamus said. “That means their Phenocyte reactor is still safe.”
Gabriel craned his head to look. “Someone’s fighting back.”
They all looked through the glass at their home.
A new beep emitted from Cleo’s console.
“We’re getting pinged,” she said. The image on her holoscreen posted a list of commands and she reached up, tapping the RECEIVE button with one nimble finger. “I’m bringing it up now.”
The holoscreens on everyone’s console turned on. On each screen was the face of Gabriel’s mother. She moved her weary eyes from left to right, then, satisfied, allowed a smile. “You all made it. You can’t begin to comprehend how happy I am. Spartan, you will dock in bay seven. I’m uploading the location to the Persian’s console. Follow the automated flight response. We are not allowing anyone to dock without authorization.”
“What of a counterattack?” Gabriel asked.
“There is no counterattack,” his mother replied calmly. “Seven major cities have already fallen. Cleo will ping comm channel five when you’ve safely docked.”
Everyone’s holoscreens went off, except for Cleo’s. She was cycling through datasheets, tossing the three-dimensional files left and right so they lined up side-by-side. “She’s not being entirely truthful,” Cleo said. “The Apollo’s sensors are picking up more than forty Phenocyte reactors in thirty-six cities still operational. Coordinated counterattacks. Someone’s definitely giving the Specters all they can handle.”
“All the more reason to get back down,” Skye said. Another red light began blinking on their consoles. Skye looked over her shoulder at Cleo.
“Uh . . .” she used her hand to toss aside all the digital files and pulled up a new screen with a 3-D diagram of the ship. “Bad news? Something flew out of the hole in that ship and dinged our hull. Minor structural damage. Good news? We’re officially close enough to the Ark that it doesn’t matter.”
“I’m turning on the autopilot,” Skye said, exhaling so deeply that it was audible in Seamus’s earpiece.
The ship’s thrusters automatically altered the trajectory, slowly turning it forty-five degrees. They were moving directly underneath the Ark now. The Ark, like a massive gray whale, looked as if it was lowering itself onto the Apollo, but as they moved closer to the belly, a hatch opened, revealing a docking bay. The Apollo drifted upward, guided by the thrusters. A thousand different safety lights blinked on and off. There were reinforced windows in the docking bay, but Seamus saw no human beings.
Through his earpiece, Seamus could hear Skye calmly talking her brother through the automated flight system’s progression. Surely, Seamus thought, the girl was something special. At least, in the eyes of the Spartans who valued strength and bravery. He hoped she would receive some kind of commendation. She deserved it.
But then the memories of the research facility returned in blinding detail. Things would never go back the way they were — the Parliamentarian had been right. Whatever happened next was uncharted territory, and if humanity’s history was any indication, it would be a trial indeed.
“Initiating a connection with the Ark,” Cleo announced.
A screen popped up on all of their holo-consoles. Seamus flinched. The screen featured a close-up of a beautiful green meadow with a herd of buffalo grazing in the distance.
A robot rolled past on two treads.
“Congratulations on your selection to colonize New Earth,” a pleasant female voice said. “When you arrive, you’ll find that many of your anxieties and fears have already been addressed. Thanks to nearly a century of terraforming, the air will be breathable. The gravity is a stable 1.002 g, which means you’ll feel the same as you do now . . . only just a tiny bit heavier!”
“Cleo, shut this crap off,” Skye said.
Cleo pounded on her console. “It’s a pre-programmed message coming from the Ark’s computers. I can’t.”