Mission Multiverse

by Rebecca Caprara

  “I mean it was suuuuuper boring. So, like, sciencey. Eww.” Blake pretended to gag. “And then that quiver hit and spooked everyone. It was total pandemonium. Not chill at all.”

  “Was anyone hurt?” Zoey asked, growing a little more concerned.

  “I don’t think so,” Blake said, opening a compact to fix her lip gloss in the small mirror. “Except Hailey chipped a nail, I think. Tragic, right?”

  “Uh, did you forget about my injury?” Gage said, lifting up his foot.

  “It looks fine to me,” Zoey said. “What happened to it?”

  “That nerdy ginger kid happened, that’s what.”

  “Who? Nolan?”

  “Oh my gosh, Tessa, I can’t believe you actually know his name. You are hysterical,” Blake cackled, and gave her a playful swat.

  Gage scowled. “Yeah, I guess that’s him. He dropped his giant dorkwhistle on me. And I’m pretty sure he did it on purpose.”

  Zoey knew Nolan well; that kid didn’t have a mean bone in his body. But she honestly wouldn’t have blamed Nolan if he had dropped his tuba on Gage’s foot intentionally.

  “He’s lucky my foot’s not broken. My dad definitely would have sued!”

  Blake rolled her eyes. “Okaaay, Gage. Don’t be dramatic.”

  “I was so mad that I swiped it!” He lifted up a huge black case. “See? Gonna teach that loser a lesson. It was chaos when we evacuated the building, so I don’t even think he noticed I’d taken it. He’s probably gonna freak when he realizes it’s missing.” He laughed meanly. “Sucker.”

  “You have to give that back,” Zoey snapped, her face flushing with anger. Gage locked eyes with her, surprised by her tone. She swallowed and tried to soften her voice so she sounded more like the real Tessa. “Why don’t you give it to me, Gage? Please? I’ll return it to Nolan. I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.” She knew Gage and her sister had some history, and she suspected he still had a crush on her, so she batted her eyelashes, hoping it might help.

  “Fine,” Gage relented. He handed over the case. “I don’t really want to be seen carrying it around anyway. Might damage my rep, ya know?”

  “Hey, have either of you seen my sister anywhere?” Zoey asked, setting the case on the ground. She’d lifted a tuba before, but this felt much heavier.

  “No,” Gage said, leaning on the nearby locker, uncomfortably close to Zoey. “And I still can’t believe you’re related to a band geek.”

  Zoey fumed. She had to clench her teeth just to keep from biting his head off. Once she regained some small bit of composure she said, “Don’t talk about my sister like that.” She glared. “And you’ll never be half as cool as those band geeks.” She delivered a swift stomp to his already sore foot before storming off, lugging Nolan’s tuba case awkwardly.

  “Ouch! What the heck?” Gage yelled, but she refused to turn and look back.

  She hurried down the hall and exited the building, wondering if Tessa might be waiting for her at Baxter Field, where band practice was supposed to start in just a few minutes. She was about to cross the parking lot when a big blue electric bus pulled up to the curb, its roof glittering with solar panels and electricity conversion cables. It had been retrofitted from its earlier days as a gas-guzzler, and you could still see patches of its old yellow paint beneath the new coat of blue. Benni, the driver, stepped down.

  “Just the girl I was looking for,” he said with a warm smile.

  “Hey, Benni,” she said, setting the tuba case on the sidewalk and shaking out her arm. “You drove to the field trip today, right?”

  He nodded.

  “Was Tess, uhhh, I mean, Zoey on your bus? I can’t find her anywhere.” She tried to hide the frustration in her voice.

  He looked at Zoey carefully. His left eye twitched. “I think you will find the answers you seek in here,” he said cryptically, handing her a notebook.

  She stared down at Isaiah’s Journal of Strange Occurrences. “Where did you find this?” she asked. But when she looked up, Benni and the blue bus were gone.

  27

  STATION LIMINUS

  Back in the diplomatic salon, Duna had just described the severity of Earth’s situation to the cadets. They sat in silence for several minutes, baffled, upset, and frustrated. Tessa felt like she might burst into tears; Dev was so overwhelmed that his face and hands went numb; Lewis gaped, open-mouthed like a fish out of water.

  “It troubles me to see you this way, Earthlings,” Duna said gently. “Do not fret, please. Remember, the MAC agreed to aid Earth for a full year. In that time, you will be trained to heal your ailing planet. You will be heroes.”

  “Heroes? There’s a new title!” Maeve snorted. “Normally, everyone just calls us band geeks, freaks, or space cadets.”

  “I refuse to believe it,” Duna scoffed. “As Earth’s most intelligent, competent, and resilient humans, you are the most qualified individuals for the job. That is why you are here.”

  “The collider …” Dev said, putting together the pieces. “I think there was some sort of mix-up. We’re not elite, advanced, or even that coordinated.”

  “Hey, speak for yourself,” Lewis snorted. “I’m a great dancer.”

  “What I mean is, we’re only kids,” Dev said.

  “Only kids? How can you say that?” Duna wagged a finger. “If you want the council to respect you, you must respect yourselves.” They thumped a fist to their chest proudly. “Keep in mind, I am fifteen, only a few years older than you. In my dimension, youthful voices are embraced and celebrated. Do not diminish the value of motivated minds and hearts!”

  “Right. I totally agree. Except this whole thing was an accident.” Dev looked at the others apologetically. “And it’s my fault, because it was my dad who—”

  “Stop.” Duna raised a hand, their face clouded with conflicting emotion. Even though the kids and Duna were alone in the room, Duna leaned forward and lowered their voice. “By denying that you are the selected Earthlings, you may incriminate yourselves in a number of crimes. Not to mention compromise your planet’s only shot at an already fragile aid package.”

  “Crimes?” they all said in unison, gulping.

  Duna looked distraught. “This is just the sort of thing the council will seize upon,” they said seriously. “They’ll make an example of you. Or worse. You must show them you are up to the task at hand.”

  “Listen, Duna. I appreciate your faith in us. I really do,” Maeve replied. “But this is too big for us to take on. In any other circumstance, I would totally be on board with the fake it ’til you make it approach, but if we mess this up, lives may be at stake.”

  “Don’t you get it?” Isaiah hissed. “They already are!”

  Maeve bit her lip. “We need to get home as quickly as possible and make sure the right people speak to the council. If Earth is truly in such bad shape, we can’t risk it.”

  “I agree with Maeve,” Lewis said, “and that rarely happens.”

  Duna sighed. “I understand your reasoning. But …” They paused, looking at each cadet, one at a time. “I wonder if maybe you are the people meant to fix this.”

  Dev shook his head despondently. “We told you, this was a mistake, a misunderstanding.”

  Duna clasped their hands together. “Perhaps. However, the multiverse works in strange ways. On Mertanya we’re taught to trust in coincidence.” They looked down at the chains around their neck, at the rectangular silver tags that bore scripts and symbols the cadets could not understand. “You have something called fate in your world, correct? Occurrences that are preordained or destined to happen in a particular way?”

  “Yes.” Maeve nodded. “In ancient Greece, the Fates were three goddesses who presided over people’s destinies by spinning, measuring, and cutting threads associated with each person’s life.”

  “Exactly,” Duna said. “Sometimes callings are woven into our futures, into the very fabric of history, long before we are even born. In my language, we call it
th’ahnai, an ineluctable outcome. It is often represented by a ring intersected by a dot, demonstrating that all outcomes will eventually return to their point of origin.”

  “You don’t actually believe that, do you?” Tessa said.

  Maeve elbowed Tessa. “Stop it. You’re being rude.”

  Duna waved a hand. “No, no. It’s fine. I understand your reluctance. But I hope you might consider the possibility that you five may be destined for something bigger.”

  The cadets let Duna’s words sink in. For Maeve’s whole life, she’d been told she wasn’t good enough, that she’d never amount to anything. That her future in Conroy was a dead end. She had refused to believe it, always searching for a way out. And now someone was telling her she might be bound for greatness. The idea was exhilarating, intoxicating. And terrifying.

  Dev’s mind was racing. “What happens if we can’t convince the council to save Earth? What if the terraforming or mining, or whatever else they expect us to do, isn’t successful?”

  “Aw, buddy,” Lewis said, giving Dev a friendly pat on the back. “Remember what Mrs. Minuzzi always says: Mistakes are part of learning.”

  Duna sucked in a breath. “On the contrary, if you fail, the council will compactify Earth.”

  Lewis blinked. “Do what now?”

  “Without getting into the complex laws of physics, it’s essentially putting a celestial body into a trash compactor and squeezing it down to the size of a marble, then flicking it away,” Duna explained.

  “Rude.” Tessa scowled.

  “I agree. Which is why I voted against such actions. But the council worries that if your planet self-destructs, there may be ripples throughout the multiverse. When Dim8 vanished, neighboring dimensions suffered adverse effects, like warped magnetic fields, atmospheric degradation, et cetera. Luckily, most planets recovered, but the council is wary of exposing the broader multiverse to harm.”

  “I can’t say I blame them,” said Dev glumly.

  Maeve huffed. “So, you’re telling me that humans have not only nearly destroyed our own planet, but we’ve also put the entire multiverse in danger?” She was disgusted and dismayed by the entire mess.

  Duna shrugged. “Essentially, yes.”

  “Geez. No wonder Ignatia and Quirg dislike us so much,” Tessa said.

  “Ignatia may seem stern and intimidating, but she is fair. And Quirg’s not as bad as he looks. Somewhere deep beneath that grouchy exterior, he actually has a heart. Technically, three of them. All Quomions do.”

  “And Shro? What about him?” Isaiah asked.

  Before Duna could answer, a sentry appeared in the doorway. He summoned Duna, and they conversed quietly in an alien language the kids could not understand.

  After a few minutes, Duna returned, their face serious. “The council has assembled for your official hearing. It is time to go.”

  “Ugh. I didn’t sign up for this,” Isaiah moaned.

  Duna’s russet eyes flickered with an idea. “You’re musicians, right?” They pointed at Maeve’s oboe.

  The kids nodded. Thankfully, all their instruments had passed inspection at intake.

  “Then you’re going to need to improvise.”

  Maeve set her jaw. She was a performer, darn it. And this disaster could be her greatest achievement. These kids, her school, heck, the entire planet was counting on her.

  “I have to go now,” Duna said. “One of our Station guides will arrive shortly and escort you to the meeting chamber.” They looked at the kids. “Good luck. I’m rooting for you. The council desperately needs fresh voices, new perspective. I will do what I can to help, but the rest is up to you.”

  “So, like, no pressure, right?” Lewis said, smiling goofily to mask his nerves.

  28

  EARTH

  Gil Greene sat up in his recliner. His heartburn was worse than normal. Maybe it was the chili dog he’d eaten for lunch, or maybe it was the fact that his granddaughter hadn’t come home yet. Maeve often stayed at school after band practice, or stopped by the library to do her homework before returning to the trailer, but today she was later than normal. He couldn’t blame the poor kid for making herself scarce. The last few years had been rough on all of them. He wished he could change the past, but no good came from thinking like that.

  He surfed aimlessly through the television channels, grateful the power had been restored after the day’s freak quiver and energy surges. He stopped at one of the local stations.

  “Breaking news!” the reporter said. “Miss Mary’s Dairy Farm reports another missing cow!”

  The video cut to a farmer named Ray Harkis, the owner of the dairy, and one of Gil Greene’s longtime pals. Ray was holding a pitchfork and shouting, “I blame those MegaAg folks! Every year, they come knocking, making me offers, trying to convince me to give up my land and my livelihood.” He scowled. “Well, that’s never gonna happen! I told ’em to get lost. But folks like that don’t take no for an answer. Instead, they come sneaking round, trespassing on my land. Kidnapping my cows, trying to intimidate me.” His voice grew louder. “If they keep this up, they’ve got another thing coming!” Ray shook his fist angrily.

  Gil watched the rest of the segment. In the distance, on the screen, he caught a glimpse of an old silo with the faded letters G-R-E-E-N-E painted on the side. His corn and soy fields had once been adjacent to Ray’s dairy. Something deep inside Gil’s chest softened. He missed that place terribly. He missed the life they had had there. He knew his granddaughter and daughter did, too.

  He pulled himself out of the recliner. He was tired of feeling useless. He would stop by Miss Mary’s Dairy for a visit. He would help an old friend, in case any hooligans came snooping around, looking for another cow to kidnap. At the very least, he could bring Ray a chili dog to fill his stomach.

  Gil Greene grabbed his shotgun from the locked cabinet in the den, hobbled out to the pickup truck parked in the yard, climbed in, and drove to the outskirts of town.

  29

  STATION LIMINUS

  A complex silver duct system pumped fresh oxygen into Station Liminus, but the air felt thick and tense. The cadets had been moved from the lavish diplomatic salon into a cold, white waiting room with uncomfortable metal benches. The typically boisterous group was quiet, awaiting an audience with the council. Each of them was full of uncertainty and nervous energy.

  Lewis drummed his fingers on his knees incessantly, his shaggy, sandy-colored hair falling over his eyes. Maeve was meditating on her bench with her eyes closed, getting into character. Dev sat nearby, watching Tessa fidget with her silver bracelet.

  “Psst! Hey! Earth to Zoey,” Dev hissed, sliding along the bench near her.

  Tessa snapped her head to the side. “Huh?”

  “I’ve been calling your name for, like, five minutes.”

  “You have?” She’d been so deep in her own thoughts, it took a second before she realized he’d been calling her sister’s name, not hers. If she was going to keep up this ruse, she needed to be more careful.

  “Anything you want to talk about? I know it’s been a rough day, but you seem … different.” In the past, he’d been too shy to say more than a handful of words to Zoey, but the day’s events had helped him feel a little braver.

  She stared blankly back. “Um, no?”

  His crooked grin drooped.

  “It’s just, I don’t think this is the best place to chat.” She gestured around the room. Cameras blinked from each corner, recording their every move, and armored guards stood at attention along the perimeter.

  Dev looked disappointed but nodded.

  “I’m fine. Really,” she lied. “It’s probably just hyperspace jet lag or something.” Unintended teleportation was draining enough, but pretending to be her sister was becoming exhausting.

  “Here.” He shook a bag of sour gummies. “I know candy helps calm your nerves before a big performance. Remember, we’re in this together.”

  Tessa felt bad that
she didn’t know anything about her sister’s preperformance butterflies, or her candy-eating ritual. She vowed to take greater interest in Zoey’s band performances when they returned home. “Where’d you get those?” she asked Dev, holding her palm open.

  “Lewis bought, like, fifty packs at the Milky Way Café during the field trip. I stashed a bag in my pocket before we tried the Zero-Grav simulator. Somehow it survived the trip.” He shook some gummies into her hand. Without thinking, she popped a pineapple one into her mouth. Dev watched her curiously.

  “Mmm, yum,” she said. She ate another pineapple gummy, then another. “I feel better already. Thanks.”

  “No problem.” Dev flashed a soft smile. He didn’t call her out, but in that moment, he knew the girl sitting beside him was definitely not Zoey Hawthorne-Scott. He’d been crushing on the real Zoey since the day they’d met at band auditions, and he knew she despised all things pineapple. He felt confused, and a little deceived. He turned away.

  “Cheer up, dude,” said Lewis, noticing Dev’s change of mood. He scooted beside his friend and grabbed a fistful of gummies. He’d already eaten his own remaining pack of licorice twists. “It could be worse. At least your parents don’t think you’re at track practice. They’d lose their minds if they knew I quit sports so I could focus on the band,” Lewis said, chewing thoughtfully.

  Tessa’s eyes grew wide, listening. Apparently she wasn’t the only one with a secret.

  “You didn’t tell me you quit,” said Dev, surprised.

  “I just decided,” Lewis said. “If today’s multiple near-death experiences have taught me anything, it’s that life’s too short.”

  “That is surprisingly deep,” Dev said.

  “My family thinks music is artsy-fartsy. Everything is a competition to them.” Lewis sighed and ate another gummy. “I just wish I didn’t have to hide the thing I love.” He started tapping a soulful beat on the seat with his single drumstick. “I wish I could show them …”