Tundra 37 (3 page)

Abysme stuck out her lower lip.
You can’t make me.

Frustrated, Mestasis threw down their only case of luggage. If her twin exhibited a negative attitude the whole time, TINE would never accept them.

Tears dripped down Abysme’s cheeks. She mouthed something, but Mestasis couldn’t tell what she said over the din of the hovercraft’s engines. To her surprise, Abysme jumped first. She settled into the seat next to Dr. Fields and sulked as she clicked the seat restraint.

Mestasis paused at the threshold. If they passed the tests, they’d live at TINE, and she wasn’t sure how much they could visit. She ignored her own advice. Looking back to their tiny apartment, she tried to memorize the weave of the rug where they’d played algebra games all night, the shape of her mother’s sleeping bag huddled next to the wall, and the antique mirror where she’d helped Abysme braid her hair. Emotion surged up, and her knees weakened. She shouldn’t have looked back. Sniffing, she tore her gaze away and leaped into the hovercraft, feeling like she plunged off the balcony to end her life. She settled into the seat next to the doctor.

“Get comfortable. It’s a long ride to the coast.”

Their tiny apartment disappeared and they rose through the misty clouds. Neither of them had seen the world above Level Fourteen. Mestasis shielded her eyes as they adjusted to the bright sun. The upper levels had windows with real plants, extravagant porch-side gardens, and decks to land hovercrafts. A greenhouse capped each building, shielding the damaging ultraviolet sunlight.

§

A crash against the outer hull brought Mestasis back to the present. She blinked, staring at the comet trails streaking across the main sight panel. How could she loose herself in a memory in a time like this?

Because they succeeded in the past, and she needed the memory to remind herself they’d succeed again. When they worked together, they were an unbeatable pair. Using her sister’s ability to stretch her mind ahead of the ship in the vastness of space, she calculated the course, steering clear of the largest comets.
We can do this.

§

An hour later, someone nudged Mestasis’s arm. Her lids flickered open, golden swirls dissipating. Where was she? She stared out the sight panel of the hovercraft seeing sky so blue it looked like paint. Dr. Fields. The tests. They’d left home forever. She decided she’d rather be asleep than deal with her turbulent emotions.

Bsyme, Bysme, why did you wake me?

Something’s wrong.

Mestasis was the emotionally stronger twin, but Abysme’s talents outdid hers by tenfold. If anything was wrong, she’d know.

What is it?

Abysme grabbed her sister’s hand and shoved it against the dashboard. Images flooded Mestasis’s thoughts: energy capacitors, system hydraulics, air exhaust pipes. Something wavered beneath the hood, an oval-shaped metal pod. The heat signature surged well beyond normal levels. A drip of sweat ran down her forehead.

What is that?

Abysme shifted on her seat, eyeing the doctor.
I don’t know, but it’s gonna blow.

Panic flooded Mestasis’s mind.
How are we going to tell him? He’ll never believe us.

Abysme’s eyes widened, intense.
Show him.

Their heads turned to the doctor and they stared, projecting the image of the metal pod. The doctor winced and jerked his head. The hovercraft dipped in the air before he regained the controls. Mestasis’s stomach flipped and she gripped onto her sister’s arm for support.

“What the—”

Abysme squeezed her twin’s hand and they resubmitted the image.

His head turned to them and his eyes widened. “It’s coming from you?”

She nodded in unison with Abysme.

“You’re telling me there’s something wrong with the engine?”

They nodded again, slow and certain.

Looking like a ghost had slipped over him, the doctor brought up the systems with the tip of his finger and eyed the gauges. “You better not be pulling a prank to delay us, girls. It says here everything’s fine.”

Abysme shouted through her mind.
Don’t be stupid.

Mestasis hushed her twin’s words before they reached his ears. She gave her sister an admonishing look.
You could explode his head and make us crash anyway.

Abysme shrugged as if admitting to cheating on a test.
I’m just trying to keep us safe.

Don’t think you could fly this thing.

Abysme stuck her nose up in the air.
You wanna bet?

The doctor punched in a landing code. He spoke into the intercom. “Requesting clearance on the next available dock.”

A signal from the top of a building below them blinked as a beacon.

He sighed. “We’re going to be late to our appointment, but I’ll have them take a look.”

The hovercraft descended toward the building, clouds parting before them in wisps. As the pressure on the engine lifted, the heat signature dropped and Mestasis breathed. The ship parked on the ridge of a greenhouse, sending up dust and dirt into the atmosphere. The hatch lifted and cool morning air seeped in.

“Don’t go far. I’ll be right back.” The doctor jumped out and signaled a man from inside the greenhouse. Abysme jumped out after him.

Where are you going?

Just looking around.

Mestasis gazed out the main sight panel. The tangle of vegetation spread against the glass of the greenhouse. Vines reached up for the sky as if struggling to break free of containment. Besides their potted single blade of grass, she’d never been close to real leaves. It reminded her of the jungle stories Mom whispered at bedtime. Maybe it was okay to take a closer look.

She caught up to her sister just as Abysme smeared her face against the glass. Mestasis touched the greenhouse, and condensation formed around her fingertips. A tomato, vine ripe and bulging with watery seeds, made her tongue tingle. Beyond that, rows of apple trees stood like soldiers in a formation, dotted white with growing blossoms.

She trespassed in a high-up world where she didn’t belong. Pulling a soybean wafer out of her pocket, she crumpled it in her palm. They ate processed food, while the rich enjoyed the last fruits of a dying Earth. As much as she hated them, she wanted her family to be a part of their world more than anything, to live in the final rays of the sun.

Steps sounded behind them. The girls whirled around as if caught stealing. Doctor Fields panted, running a cloth over his forehead as he caught up.

“You’re both accepted.”

“What?” Mestasis rubbed her eyes against the glare of the bright sun.

“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.

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.