Tundra 37 Read online

Her heart raced as she tapped the panel and the particles dis­ap­peared.

  A wave of hot air blew by her as the hatch re­opened. Gemme jumped down and slammed her fist against the panel to close it above her. As the particles so­lid­i­fied, she climbed down to the next level and kicked some­thing block­ing her way.

  “Whoa! Look out.”

  Miles Brent­wood gazed up from the toes of her boots, his green-flecked eyes pier­cing the semi­d­ark­ness. Gemme’s heart sped up. To see any per­son right now made her emo­tions crumble, never mind the man she’d been think­ing of ever since she de­leted their pair­ing. “If you’re go­ing up, there’s no way out. I sealed the pas­sage.”

  “I’m not go­ing any­where.” He took the sight of her in, trav­el­ing up her cheek to her eyes and she al­most lost her grip on the lad­der rung. “I’m look­ing for you.”

  Miles Brent­wood had come to spend the end of the world with her? Gemme’s mind reeled. Noth­ing that morn­ing had made any sense. She felt stuck in some sort of quasi-night­mare turned hot dream. “What?”

  Al­though chaos crashed around them, his hair still looked per­fect, the blond wave rising an inch above his broad fore­head. “I’m re­triev­ing all the strag­glers. I fol­lowed your locater num­ber.”

  “Oh.” She looked away, feel­ing sheep­ish and small. How could she have ever thought he’d know who she was, never mind go search­ing for her in par­tic­u­lar dur­ing this dis­aster?

  He ges­tured over his shoulder. “There’s a safe cham­ber just down this hall. Fol­low me.”

  Gemme col­lec­ted her scattered emo­tions just as some­thing crashed against the hatch above them. The screech­ing sound of crushed metal echoed down the vent shaft.

  Brent­wood shouted over the din, “This com­part­ment’s los­ing pres­sure, come on!”

  She fol­lowed him down two more levels and through a side pas­sage she’d never have found by her­self. They crawled through an air shaft, col­lect­ing dust webs un­der their fin­gers. A metal grat­ing hung miss­ing half its hinges. Had he come all this way just for her?

  Brent­wood looked back at her over his shoulder. “It’s not far. You can jump.”

  He paused at the hole be­low them and waited for her to make the first move.

  Of course, his valor screamed “ladies first.”

  Gemme dangled her legs and judged the dis­tance from the ceil­ing to the floor be­low her feet. If she fell the wrong way, she’d break both her ankles.

  He must have seen fear cross her eyes be­cause he offered his hands. “Here, I’ll help you.”

  The warmth in his voice calmed her ra­cing thoughts. She locked on his gaze. The flecks of green were so pure, they re­minded her of the fo­liage in the biod­ome. Those eyes could have been hers to gaze into. She damned the pair­ing pro­gram. Why had it ever put such an out­rageous idea in her head?

  “Take my hands.”

  Gemme blinked her thoughts away and slid her hands into his. Their palms mol­ded into a per­fect fit. His skin em­an­ated heat, warm­ing her cold fin­ger­tips. She closed her eyes as the ship crashed around them. She ex­pec­ted to feel pain, but a light-headed ec­stasy bubbled over her.

  When she opened her eyes, the air­shaft re­mained in­tact with Brent­wood eagerly wait­ing for her to move. All the crash­ing had happened in­side her, levels be­ing knocked down to re­veal sur­pris­ing emo­tions she didn’t think her­self cap­able of. Yet, the feel­ings stirred an un­der­cur­rent of fa­mili­ar­ity. Gemme searched his fea­tures to see if he ex­per­i­enced any of the same emo­tions, but his wide lips frowned. He was more con­cerned for her than drunk on pos­sib­il­ity He hois­ted her down and her feet hit the floor with a bounce. The ship pitched again, and she fell against the wall. Brent­wood jumped be­hind her and ushered her for­ward, his hands along her waist.

  “Just a few more steps.”

  They ran to the belly of the ship, where the struc­tural in­teg­rity would hold un­der pres­sure. Brent­wood slapped a panel and the portal dis­ap­peared to re­veal a bunch of col­on­ists hud­dling to­gether. Food ra­tions were stacked against the far wall along with space suits. Panic worked its way up Gemme’s spine. If they needed those suits, they were dead already.

  “Shouldn’t we run to the es­cape pods?”

  Brent­wood shook his head. “Not yet. The Seers be­lieve they can sal­vage the ship. The es­cape pods would only scat­ter us into deep space.”

  Gemme nod­ded and bit her lower lip. She’d known his an­swer. Es­cape pods were use­less un­less they found a hab­it­able planet. It would only delay in­ev­it­able death.

  He bent down, his face hov­er­ing a breath away from hers, lips slightly par­ted. Gemme froze in shock, no­ti­cing each light hair in his eye­brows and the mois­ture on his lips. Only lifemates leaned in so close. He pulled back, shak­ing his head as if re­cov­er­ing from a trance.

  “My apo­lo­gies. I must search for oth­ers.”

  Be­fore Gemme’s heart could beat again, he’d dis­ap­peared down the cor­ridor, smoke trail­ing in his foot­steps.

  Chapter Two

  Damage Control

  Each comet col­li­sion to the hull hurt like a punc­ture wound to Mestasis’s own flesh. She checked on Abysme, but her sis­ter calmly cal­cu­lated re­ad­just­ment man­euvers by her side, as if eval­u­at­ing a math equa­tion. More cy­borg than wo­man, she showed no sign of phys­ical pain or emo­tional re­ac­tion to the threat. Al­though Mestasis had no more of a claim to nor­mal hu­man­ity than her sis­ter, her thoughts battled with which parts of the ship to sal­vage.

  The biod­ome sat in the cen­ter, just above the heart of the ship. She’d in­struc­ted Lieu­ten­ant Brent­wood to se­cure the ma­jor­ity of col­on­ists be­neath it, so that part of the ship took pri­or­ity over all else. They must pre­serve the hu­man, an­imal, and plant life, which meant steer­ing the ex­tremit­ies into the line of fire.

  Abysme’s head jerked. En­gine ca­pa­city at thirty-six per­cent. Rerout­ing al­tern­ate en­ergy means.

  Mestasis sent out a cor­res­pond­ing im­pulse. Har­bor­side ca­pa­cit­ors en­gaged.

  Did Abysme’s voice hold a hint of des­per­a­tion, a frac­tion of hu­man­ity? Or was Mestasis the only one of them to weigh such de­cisions on her soul?

  A comet ten meters across crashed into the main com­mu­nic­a­tions tower. She winced as she sealed the bridge, lock­ing out three col­on­ists to pre­serve the lives of the sev­eral hun­dred hid­ing be­low in their fam­ily cells. Each life lost was a unique hu­man gen­ome that could never be re­claimed or re­pro­duced. The Ex­ped­i­tion was los­ing its di­versity, and Mestasis could only gamble so much of it away be­fore their mis­sion failed.

  She needed her sis­ter now more than ever. Bysme, what are we go­ing to do?

  Abysme’s catar­act eyes flickered like two ra­di­ant moons. Struc­tural in­teg­rity will hold. We must fly through the field. Pro­tect the orb.

  The orb was the least of their con­cerns. What was her sis­ter talk­ing about? Bysme? Pro­tect the orb?

  Abysme shif­ted, wires stretch­ing. Pro­tect the ship.

  The cold, ana­lyt­ical edge to her tone made Mestasis want to cry out and shake her. But Abysme was right. The comet con­glom­er­a­tion trailed too far back to sit and wait it out. They had to nav­ig­ate their way through or risk fur­ther dam­age.

  The en­gines flared up and she knew Abysme would use their last store of en­ergy to pro­pel the ship for­ward. Es­tim­at­ing the tra­ject­ory with the least amount of ex­pos­ure took only mil­li­seconds, but to Mestasis it weighed on her soul like an etern­ity. She chose the course, and Abysme ap­proved it. To­gether their minds steered the ship within cen­ti­meters of col­li­sions on either side.

  Ninety-two per­cent of her mind worked on nav­ig­a­tion, while the last eight per­cent traveled to a memory she tho
ught she’d lost. They’d worked to­gether once be­fore to pre­vent a dis­aster threat­en­ing both their lives.

  §

  Old Earth, 2436

  The air hung hot and dry with golden swirls of dust ac­cu­mu­lat­ing on everything in a thick sheen. The world had turned stale and Mestasis could feel con­flict brim­ming in every mo­lecule. She chipped a piece of old paint off the ban­is­ter and let it fly into the wind. Lean­ing over the bal­cony of her high rise, she peered through the smog cloud­ing the lower levels be­low.

  A piece of tarp rustled as a wo­man hung her laun­dry to dry. Chil­dren kicked den­ted con­tain­ers in a game of soc­cer on an in­ter­sect­ing cor­ridor between her build­ing and the one next to it. Above her, the roar of en­gines filled the air. Hov­er­crafts flew between the build­ings stacked like dom­in­oes across the world’s sur­face. The rich had no need to des­cend to the lower levels.

  Un­til today.

  “When will he come?”

  Mestasis turned and saw her own face: dark skin, round, vel­vety brown eyes, and thick lips. Abysme leaned on the edge of the patio door, wear­ing her best clothes and the one pair of wa­ter­proof boots they’d saved up for all sum­mer to share.

  “Soon. I thought I heard the en­gines com­ing down, but it was a trans­port ship.”

  Abysme jut­ted out her lower lip. “I don’t want to leave Mom. She needs us.”

  They’d had this ar­gu­ment a thou­sand times, yet Mestasis tried once again to con­vince her. “With this, we can help Mom more. Just think of the money we could make if we get in, if we gradu­ate.”

  “I just want the world to stay as it is.”

  “Everything is go­ing to change, Abysme. I can feel it. The only way we’re go­ing to sur­vive is if we change with it.”

  Her twin joined her on the bal­cony, clutch­ing the rail­ing as if the smog would rise up and take them away. ”That’s what I’m afraid of, Metsy.”

  Mestasis took her hand. “I’ll al­ways be by your side. That’s one thing that won’t ever change.”

  The air rumbled over their heads and a gust of wind blew back their hair. A hov­er­craft with the words Tele­pathic In­sti­tute of New Eng­land lowered between the build­ings and hung like a dragon across their bal­cony.

  The hatch lif­ted and a middle-aged man emerged. His pale skin shone white in the sun. Streaks of gray shot through his curly blond hair.

  “Are you Abysme and Mestasis River?”

  Mestasis nod­ded with de­term­in­a­tion. Abysme shot him a sus­pi­cious stare.

  “Are you ready to take the tests?”

  “We are.” Mestasis nudged Abysme and she nod­ded, study­ing her boots. If their mom had been home to say good-bye, Abysme would’ve had more clos­ure. But she had a double shift at the re­cyc­ling fact­ory, and she’d lose her job if she missed a day. They paid a hefty sum to live in New York City on Level Four­teen above the gangs.

  “Jump in. I’m Doc­tor Jasper Fields. I’ll con­duct the tests when we ar­rive.”

  Mestasis mind­spoke, reach­ing out to com­fort her sis­ter. Bysme, take a deep breath. Don’t look back.

  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 in­ter
­com. “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.