by Dylan Steel
It wasn’t like he’d needed to tell me. The difference was immediately obvious. The air grew thinner, colder. My entire body felt like it was being torn apart, but at least my leg wasn’t alone anymore.
Stars. I needed to move. Now.
Breathing was already becoming difficult, but a scream slipped out as I forced my leg from the hole. Muscles and tendons cracked and ripped down the stump that remained of my leg. I nearly passed out from the pain and blood loss, and a big part of me wished I had—it’d be easier than trying to survive this nightmare.
On the plus side, all the blood was probably keeping me from seeing just how bad of shape my leg was in.
What a weird thought.
I was probably going into shock—if I wasn’t there already.
Grabbing the chair, I shoved it on top of the hole, hoping it would be a close enough fit to block the leak. I pushed myself toward the main computer, unable to get the words out to tell Taki to repressurize the cabin. I really hoped he wasn’t wrong about being able to do it—and that the chair would hold.
It was literally freezing in here, but I could barely tell. I wasn’t really cold anymore, and my heart was racing in my chest. That probably wasn’t a good sign.
I reached for the control panel. My tongue tickled. Was that—was my spit seriously boiling out of my mouth right now? Gross. That was all sorts of messed up.
Ok, if I wasn’t in shock, I was definitely going crazy. If I survived this, I should definitely remember to keep that a secret from Taki. Wouldn’t want him to leave me behind in space and have all this effort go to waste.
Why hadn’t Taki started repressurizing the cabin? Why wasn’t he saying anything? Did I seriously have to do everything myself? That AI was definitely getting reprogrammed.
I pounded the screen clumsily. Bonus points for me if I could dodge that upcoming asteroid while repressurizing the cabin. I’d give myself a medal.
My head lolled to the side, giving me another glimpse of my mangled leg. I really needed to figure out what to do about that.
Maybe later. When I could think more… clearly…
That asteroid was getting pretty big.
My limbs stopped cooperating. I frowned as I watched them floating up on their own. I tried to force them back down, put my hands back on the controls, but they refused, and I was too tired to fight anymore.
I gave in.
Darkness swirled around me, welcoming me like an old friend.
6. FIFTY MORE
My eyelids were heavy. In fact, they felt a lot like they did after a Nap. Except I hadn’t just Napped. I’d died.
I blinked a few times, trying to focus. So far, death was a lot less awful than I would’ve expected.
A sudden clarity slammed into me, and I jerked upright out of my COFFIN, heart pounding. I had to get this ship out of the belt. Now.
I was halfway to the control panel when I realized something was wrong. Very wrong.
Because there was absolutely nothing wrong.
There was no hole in the wall.
No meteoroid.
And my chair was bolted to the floor, belt intact.
It was impossible. The room looked completely ordinary, unmarred—as if nothing had happened at all.
For the first time, I forced my gaze down to what remained of my leg, and my breath caught in my throat. There wasn’t a single scratch on it. No scabs. No scars. No missing flesh.
It was perfect. It was whole.
I ran a finger along the skin just below my hip—right where my leg had ended. Or so I’d thought. It didn’t hurt at all.
A sob caught in my throat, and I choked it down. I never thought I’d be so happy to see my own leg—I mean, it was definitely something I’d taken for granted all my life—but never again.
I had to be dead. There was no other explanation for what had just happened.
But I felt so alive.
Ok, yeah, there was one other possible explanation, but that just meant I was as good as dead anyways. There wasn’t much point in entertaining it.
Ugh. Yeah. Except now I couldn’t think about anything else.
My genetic anomaly had failed to protect me. I wasn’t like the others, and I’d taken one too many Naps.
I’d gone crazy.
“Taki?” I whipped my head around the room, looking for any sign of the damage that we’d sustained, some sort of proof that I hadn’t imagined the horrors of the asteroid belt.
“Yes, Jade?”
My shoulders relaxed a little at the familiar sound of his voice. At least I wasn’t dead. Probably. Wouldn’t hurt to be sure, though…
“Am I… Can you… How are my vitals?”
“You appear to be in perfect physical health, Jade. Of course, normal muscle resistance standards are lowered during spaceflight, but you are well within the expected range.”
“Oh. Ok.” Play it cool, play it cool. Don’t let Taki know that you’re taking a trip through crazy—“What happened?” I blurted out. Oops.
“When?”
My eyebrows lifted in surprise. Did he really not know what I was talking about? “Um, let’s start with yesterday? Or today?”
“You have spent the last two days checking over the Seeker VI’s systems.”
The last two days?
“Was there something more specific that you would like me to recount for you?” Taki asked.
I snorted. “You mean like the ship getting destroyed in the middle of an asteroid belt?”
“That would be more specific. But there are no records of anything like that happening. And I do not think we would be having this conversation if it had.”
“Right. You wouldn’t think…” I mumbled, trailing off as I stared hard at the main computer. The date in the corner—that couldn’t be right.
“Taki, what day is it?”
“This is Mission-Date 146,184. Or if you are asking the date on Proximacent, it is October 14, 8782.”
“That doesn’t seem off to you?”
“You are aware that we experience time at a different rate onboard the Seeker VI than those still living on Proximacent.”
My jaw tightened. Way to treat me like an idiot, Taki. “No—I mean, yes, but—it’s two months later than I was scheduled to wake up.”
“Technically, yes. Do you not remember our discussion before your last Nap?”
Apparently not. “Refresh my memory.”
“You indicated it may be more useful to adjust your next waking cycle by a few weeks or months if I detected anything out of the ordinary that might be better handled by a human.”
“Right.” Wrong. I never said that—at least, I didn’t remember saying that.
“As I explained before, I had only intended to let you Nap another two weeks, but by the time we arrived at the point in space of my initial concern, the first potential danger had passed, and a new probable one had taken its place. This occurred several more times. After two months, I decided it was no longer worth postponing your waking cycle for events that may or may not even occur at the expense of scheduled maintenance. After all, I am certainly capable of detecting problems with more than a full day’s notice, and that is more than sufficient time to wake you and get you to a functional state post-Nap.”
“Oh.”
The explanation made sense, but none of it sounded familiar. Or explained why I thought I’d just been through an asteroid belt and gotten the ship destroyed and lost my leg.
“So I’ve still just had four Naps?”
“Of course. Why do you ask? Are you feeling disoriented?”
“A little,” I admitted reluctantly, hoping that wasn’t some sort of known insanity-precursor that would raise AI alarm bells. “Maybe we should just stick to the standard fifty year schedule from now on.”
“Certainly. Then you should begin preparing soon.”
I froze. “Huh?”
“Barring unexpected repairs, you are scheduled to be in your COFFIN again in six hours.�
��
“Oh. Right.”
“Are you sure you’re alright?”
“Fine.” I bit my lip. “I just—I’m gonna do another physical check of the ship first, ok, Taki?”
“Of course.”
I didn’t waste any time. Six hours was hardly enough time to comb through every inch of the ship, but I did my best. I reviewed the full ship diagnostics, and everything seemed in order. I checked every room, every wall. No dents, scratches, holes—nothing. Everything looked shiny and new—like it’d barely seen any wear in the past four hundred years since it had launched on its mission. And to be fair, if I didn’t count the whole going-through-an-asteroid-belt thing, it really hadn’t seen much wear.
The only thing I hadn’t been able to confirm was ok was my own sanity. My only real reassurance was the fact that Taki hadn’t already forced me out the airlock—that, and the fact that I was willing to concede that imagining a catastrophic ship-wide event was probably crazy. If I could think clearly enough to agree to that stipulation, did that mean I wasn’t crazy?
Ugh. My head hurt.
Maybe I wasn’t crazy. Maybe the meteoroid that hit the ship had magical healing properties—healed my ship, healed my leg, healed Taki’s memory of the damage…
Yeah, no. That didn’t work, and magic didn’t exist. I was definitely going crazy.
You’re not alone.
I groaned and rubbed my temples. Answering my own questions with worst-case scenarios wasn’t the best plan for maintaining my sanity. The thought had just slipped out, though, like I hadn’t even been the one thinking it. Like I wasn’t—
My nostrils flared. I seriously needed to get a grip.
Sighing in resignation, I pulled on my suit and settled in to the COFFIN, hoping I wouldn’t remember any of this in fifty years, and that everything in my brain could just go back to normal.
“Goodnight, Taki.”
“Nap well, Jade.”
I blinked as my COFFIN lid slid in place. My breathing was shallower than it usually was before a Nap. Ordinarily, the gasses relaxed me, preparing me for the long sleep. But this time, my heart was racing.
What had happened at the end of the belt was so vivid—so real. So painful. Was it really possible I’d imagined it? Dreamed it, maybe?
Impossible. Something deep inside me told me that it had really happened. So why wasn’t there any proof? The memories trapped in my mind were the only proof—and I was seriously starting to doubt the reliability of the source.
My fingers twitched at my side, brushing my leg once more. It really had felt so real.
Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision as my breath fogged up the glass window in front of me. I couldn’t help it.
My gaze fixated on the COFFIN’s lid. The smooth metal edge had a small, jagged set of scratches just over my shoulder. Odd. I’d never noticed it before.
Hope sparked inside me, but it was quickly tamped down by an equal measure of fear. If those scratches were new, then my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me, and the asteroid belt hadn’t been a figment of my crazy imagination. That would mean that someone—or something—had gone to a lot of trouble to cover up what had happened and convince me that I was losing my mind.
As my vision began to swim in front of me and the Napping cocktail worked its way into my bloodstream, one question pounded over and over again against my rapidly-fading consciousness.
Had that scratch always been there?
Or was I not alone?
***
Jade’s got more problems than she realizes. While you’re waiting for the next release, you can get more of the Third Earth backstory by grabbing SLEEPER - a FREE Third Earth short story prequel set about 400 years earlier.
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-Dylan
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READ MORE BY DYLAN STEEL
Sacrisvita
THE PRODIGY: A Sacrisvita Prequel
(FREE and only available HERE.)
THE INSTITUTION: Sacrisvita Book I
THE ARCHIVES: Sacrisvita Book II
THE RELIC: Sacrisvita Book III
THE ESTATE: Sacrisvita Book IV
THE VANISHED: Sacrisvita Book V
THE CAPTIVE: Sacrisvita Book VI
THE OUTCAST: Sacrisvita Book VII
THE TRIALS: Sacrisvita Book VIII
THE ROGUE: Sacrisvita Book IX
THE CITIZEN: Sacrisvita Book X
THE SURVIVOR: Sacrisvita Book XI
***
Third Earth
SLEEPER: A Third Earth Prequel
(FREE and only available HERE.)
ALONE: Third Earth Volume One
***
For the most updated list of Dylan’s books, visit www.DylanSteel.com.
Join Dylan’s Insiders Club to find out when her next book is out! Plus, get an exclusive Third Earth prequel short story.