“Totally,” chuckled Winston. “I think he’s hiding a stash of leftover Halloween candy up there, too.”
Little did either of them know that Lewis’s ultimate Brute Brothers Takedown prank was still armed and ready.
Kingston cracked his knuckles. “What a sucker. Come on. Let’s go!”
“Sorry Lew,” Winston mocked. “You snooze, you lose.”
Two minutes later they were staring at each other, dumbstruck, covered from head to toe in maple syrup, shaving cream, feathers, little suction cup darts, and the most dreaded of all weaponry—glitter bombs.
31
STATION LIMINUS
The holding cell was an octagonal pod similar to the diplomatic lounge, but this one had too-bright lights, uncomfortable chairs, and no refreshments. Each cadet was shackled with electromagnetic tethers that flared bright blue and sent a warning shock through their ankles if they struggled against them. The goo-slinging Oolg they’d seen earlier occupied a far corner. A trio of hairy, waist-height inmates occupied another bench, swatting each other and occasionally biting one another with sharp yellow teeth, chittering like angry, oversized squirrels.
Closest to Tessa sat a scruffy humanoid kid in a tattered maroon jumpsuit with a large capsule bag slung over her shoulder. Her skin was scattered with amber-colored freckles. Her half-shaved hair was pure white, as were her irises.
“Well, well. Look what the prison guards dragged in. Let me guess—Earthlings?” the girl asked in a lilting accent. The blue translator around her neck was a slightly different shape and color than the ones the council members wore.
“How could you tell?” Lewis asked.
“No gills. Two legs, walking upright. Warm-blooded. Bilateral symmetry. Nike sneakers. Plus, you have the arrogant swagger of those greedy, planet-wrecking, fuel-burning jerks.”
“She said I have swagger. Did you hear that?” Lewis nudged Maeve.
“I didn’t get the impression she meant it as a compliment,” Maeve shot back, holding the young inmate’s stare.
“My name’s Kor. From the colony formerly known as Ebvar in Dim7. Accused of theft, possession of unsanctioned parcels, and being too charming for my own good.” She winked.
Maeve rolled her eyes.
“Listen, I’m not a criminal. I like to consider myself a collector of sorts. A peddler of wares from across the multiverse.” Kor held up her bag. “I don’t steal. I barter. I trade. People lose things, I find things. It all evens out in the end.” She reached into the bag and removed a tall LED lamp, an entire chocolate cake, and a small jade box.
Tessa blinked. How all those items could fit into such a small bag was a mystery. “What are you, like an intergalactic Mary Poppins with that bag?”
“Your Earth references are lost on me,” Kor replied flatly, setting the bag carefully on the floor. “Although, I think I may have a few artifacts from your planet in here somewhere. Let me see …” Kor dug around and retrieved a skateboard, a plastic fork, and a yellow-striped harmonica. Isaiah’s mouth gaped. He’d gotten a harmonica just like that from Uncle Ming for his sixth birthday, but it had gone missing …
“So, what’re you five in for?” Kor leaned back, picking at her teeth with the fork.
Maeve took a deep breath. “Breach of this, violation of that, cracked the space-time continuum, accidentally activated a Transfer portal …”
“Which we broke,” Tessa added.
“By accident,” Lewis retorted.
Kor let out a long whistle. She scrubbed a hand against the back of her neck. “The MAC decide your sentence yet?”
“No. Soon, I hope.” Maeve flashed her most optimistic smile, but it felt fake. “We just want to go home.”
Kor’s white eyes dulled, her voice grew quieter. “At least you have a home to return to …”
“Maybe not for long. According to Duna, our home planet isn’t in the best shape. We want to help, but we’re not sure how.”
“How noble.” Kor eyed them skeptically. “Good luck with that.” She eyed their instruments. “What do those do?” she asked nonchalantly.
“They help us play music,” Maeve said, holding on to her oboe a little tighter.
“Ahh, I remember the first time I heard some Earthling tunes.” Kor’s shoulders rolled, her head bobbed. “Chuck Berry’s ‘Johnny B. Goode’ was my mom’s favorite song. She would listen to it when she cooked dinner for my brothers and me. She’d dance around the kitchenette. She said the rhythm was too powerful to resist. We used to laugh so hard at her, at how silly she looked, until we realized our own feet were tapping and our hips were swaying.” Kor closed her eyes, savoring the memory. But then a shadow of sadness fell over her face. She opened her eyes, blinking away the image of happier times.
“How did you hear that song?” Dev asked, surprised something from Earth had made it across the Threshold and into homes across the multiverse. “Johnny B. Goode” also happened to be one of his mom’s favorite songs. How crazy that he and this girl from a completely different dimension could have that in common.
“You guys blasted that tune into space, remember? The Voyager Golden Record? It topped the MV’s charts for at least a decade. Mostly because no other dimensions know how to replicate Earthling music. Which means it was pretty much the only thing on the charts … except for that weird dotty, pulsy thing that you guys broadcasted from Arecibo.”
“You heard that, too?” Dev asked. “Oh man! If my dad were here now, he’d have a billion questions for you!”
“Well, I’d tell him that that Arecibo song sounded more like a broken video game than music. No one understood what you crazy Earthlings were trying to say. It was awful.” Kor rubbed her ears, remembering the sound.
Suddenly a grating shriek blared. The Station’s AI system announced, “Earthlings, your sentence has been decided. You will be Released in T-minus nine hours. A sentinel will be sent to retrieve you, at which time you will board a Release pod. End message.”
“We’re going to be released! Hooray!” Maeve cheered. The others tried to jump up for hugs and high fives, but the electromagnetic shackles zapped them, restricting their movement.
Kor shook her head. “That is not what you think it is. It means they are Releasing you into the outer reaches of the cosmos. Think of it like walking the plank off a pirate ship … directly into darkspace.”
Tessa sucked in a breath. Her hands trembled.
Kor continued, “They’ll stuff you in a tiny pod with no nav panel, then launch you into pure nothingness.”
“Will there at least be snacks?” Lewis asked. “My suit was fresh out of space biscuits and juice tabs when we got here.”
“Not likely,” Kor said, giving him a weird look. “You’ll perish as soon as your oxygen supply runs out.”
“You’re joking,” Isaiah said. “This isn’t happening.” His head began to throb.
“Release is less expensive than housing inmates in the penitentiary on Praxalis. And it’s considered more humane than tossing criminals into the bile pits, or feeding them to the long-toothed crarks on Jelingor, but I’m not so sure.”
“There’s no way they’d do that to us … would they?” Dev asked. “That Finto guy wouldn’t let them.”
“But he’s nowhere to be found. And we messed up all communication with Earth. What makes you think Finto even knows we’re here, let alone cares about us?” Isaiah replied.
“Then my dad will do something. I know it. He’s probably already looking for us,” Dev said, fighting back the sting of tears. “He’ll find us.”
Maeve’s heart thrummed. She hoped Dev was right, but still, they needed a plan. She was supposed to be a leader, yet she’d never felt more unprepared.
“My advice? Whatever you do, do not get into that Release pod,” Kor said, re-packing all the items into her bag.
“How do we know you’re telling the truth? Maybe you just want to hijack our pod so you can escape!” Tessa snapped, her nerves fraying.
>
Kor’s face shifted. “My parents were Released when I was small. I would never willingly switch places with you.”
Isaiah looked at the others. “I hate to say it, but I told you so. Ninety-nine point nine percent chance we’re D-O-O-M-E-D.”
“Stop being so dramatic,” Maeve said. “Everything will be fine.”
“Seriously?!” Tessa said, astronomically annoyed. “Don’t you remember what happened the last time someone said that?”
32
EARTH
Zoey sat on her bed, flipping through the pages of Isaiah’s Journal of Strange Occurrences and chewing her nails anxiously. As soon as she came home from school, she had changed back into her normal clothes and eaten an entire bag of gummy bears (minus the pineapple ones), but she still felt off.
Her mother was working late as usual, her father was in his painting studio in the garage, and her sister was off gallivanting somewhere. She hadn’t mentioned anything to her parents about Tessa yet, hoping her sister would show up before anyone else noticed she was missing. At this point, she was more irritated than worried.
Tessa had flaked and hadn’t appeared at band practice. Neither had Isaiah, Dev, Maeve, or Lewis, which was completely out of character. They weren’t the types to ditch a rehearsal. Especially Maeve, who never missed a chance to boss everyone else around. Even Coach Diaz, the punctuality police himself, was late. When he finally arrived at the field, he was unusually frazzled, canceling practice with little explanation. This was especially odd, given that regionals were only weeks away and their formations were a hot mess.
Unfortunately, Coach left the field before Zoey could grill him for answers about the whereabouts of her sister and friends. She hadn’t even been able to find Nolan to return his tuba, so she’d lugged the massive case all the way home with her. The whole afternoon had dissolved into total … hmmm, Zoey couldn’t even think of a good vocabulary word to describe it other than … weirdness.
She returned her attention to Isaiah’s journal, emptying the envelope pasted onto the back cover, which contained most of the letters Isaiah had received from his late uncle Ming. She and Isaiah had read through the notes and postcards countless times before, but something about Benni’s cryptic message made her reconsider them with fresh eyes.
33
STATION LIMINUS
As Tessa and Maeve argued, Dev lifted his saxophone to his lips and began to play. The first few notes were quiet, soft.
Everyone stopped, stared, and listened. Through the music, they felt Dev’s emotions—the shared sadness, the confusion, the fear—all the things words couldn’t properly express. Maeve closed her eyes and let the melancholy notes pour over her. She picked up her oboe and joined in, followed by Isaiah, and finally Lewis, whose typically frenetic drumming calmed, becoming a rhythm that felt like a heartbeat. Tessa knew that if Zoey were here, she would play and add to the melody, but Tessa wasn’t her sister. The clarinet would be useless in her inexperienced hands.
But there was one instrument she could use: her voice. Normally she was way too self-conscious to sing anywhere but the shower. At this point, what did she have to lose? Dying by embarrassment might even be an improvement over perishing in some space pod.
Tessa began to sing, matching the tones and notes of the bandmates. She felt the scar on her left wrist prickle. Deep beneath the marred skin, the metal plate that the surgeons had implanted grew hot and itchy. In spite of the growing discomfort, she sang louder.
Music filled the holding cell, blossoming in every corner, making them forget—for a brief moment—the reality of their situation. Tessa’s wrist grew more and more painful, but she carried on, singing and improvising, accompanied by the instruments.
From somewhere deep inside Kor’s bag of questionably acquired goods, a small, shelled creature emerged, slowly, hesitantly. Curled within the pearlescent shell was a child with shimmering gray skin and huge, ice-blue eyes. She turned to look at Tessa, riveted by the vibrations of Tessa’s voice. She moved liquidly onto the bench and inched her three-fingered hand closer to Tessa’s.
Surprisingly, Tessa didn’t flinch. She felt some unspoken thing pass between herself and the child, an understanding. The child placed her palm atop Tessa’s. Beneath her silver bracelet, the prickling sensation of Tessa’s skin cooled. She took a breath and when she sang again, her voice changed in her throat, words melting from English into an unknown language.
The bandmates paused, faltering for a moment, then kept on playing. The music swelled. It wasn’t a piece they had ever rehearsed at band practice, but they played it flawlessly, perfectly in sync. Even Kor was transfixed. She fumbled inside her sack and retrieved a recording device.
As their improvisation was about to reach a crescendo, the cell doors flew open. The music screeched to a halt. The child withdrew her hand and curled defensively into a tight spiral, rolling quickly back inside Kor’s open sack, safely out of sight.
Ignatia stood in the doorway, flanked by Shro and an assortment of guards.
“Explain yourselves, at once!” the secretary demanded.
“We were just having a little jam session to help cope with the fact that we’re about to die in darkspace. No thanks to you!” Lewis blurted.
“Precisely what sort of session?” the secretary asked, her horns flaring a bright cerise.
“Music,” Isaiah replied matter-of-factly.
The secretary’s eyes darted around the cell, searching for something. “How did you generate it? What code sequence did you initiate? What apparatus did you engage to transmit such powerful sound waves?”
“Uhhh … We just played our instruments.” Lewis shrugged. “Isaiah on the trumpet, Maeve on oboe. Dev on sax. Me on bench drum. And then Zoey started singing. Which I’ve never heard before, but dang girl, you’ve got some pipes!”
Tessa blushed. She couldn’t fight the proud smile tugging at her lips.
The secretary eyed them suspiciously. “At the precise moment you began to generate your … music … we received a flood of transmissions on this.” She held up a thirteen-sided stone the size of an apple. “This triskaidecagon has been dormant since the silvox plague struck.”
“Sorry. I’m not following … ?” Maeve said.
“Triskaidecagons are highly complex translation devices that allow the council to communicate with sentient beings in all dimensions, regardless of language or dialect, via a cross-universe platform. They are like larger, more sophisticated versions of the pendants we wear.” She touched the small, blue stone around her neck. “Thirteen of them are installed in the Station’s primary communication hub, one for each dimension.”
Shro nodded, explaining further: “The planet of Klapproth exists in Dim2, but a few years ago, a terrible plague struck. To protect the rest of the multiverse, a decision was made by the MAC to place the entire dimension under quarantine to prevent further spread of the virus. A strict interdiction was issued, preventing all travel to and from Klapproth. As head of Defense, it is my duty to make sure the interdiction is enforced.”
“Right, but what does all this have to do with that triska-decka-whatsit?” Lewis asked, scratching his head.
“We were led to believe that the virus was capable of infecting both biologic and technologic hosts,” Shro explained.
“Meaning it could jump from people to gadgets?” Lewis asked, fascinated, imagining what might happen if his favorite Maxcroft gaming console could get sick with the flu or somehow infect him with a bad cold.
“Indeed,” Shro said, nodding solemnly, as though the information was greatly disheartening. “As such, it was deemed necessary to cut all standard communication lines with Klapproth until the virus was under control. Ever since, there have been no incoming or outgoing transmissions with Dim2.”
“Until today,” Ignatia said. “Something activated Dim2’s designated triskaidecagon, and we followed the signal to this room.”
“Could the virus spread through that?”
Maeve wondered, pointing to the faceted turquoise-blue stone, hoping they hadn’t accidentally infected themselves with a nasty bug.
“No. Triskaidecagons work differently from normal communication channels. They are highly secure, encrypted with metaphysical firewalls and sonic barriers, to be utilized only in extreme circumstances. The sudden flood of transmissions could mean Klapproth is finally cured, or it could be a distress call.”
“It could also be a ruse, or a trap,” Shro added, giving Ignatia a pointed look.
The secretary frowned at the implication. “I have only ever known Klapproth to be a peaceful planet.”
“Of course, Your Eminence, but one can never be too careful with these things. Especially when the safety of the entire multiverse is at stake …”
Ignatia lifted her chin regally. “Yes, well, I’ve summoned our top analysts to review the data. We will not proceed recklessly, but it seems as though the Earthlings’ music may provide the key to reconnecting with an important and powerful ally,” Ignatia declared. She directed her gaze at the cadets. “You will replicate the sound waves in the auditory lab at once. Please follow me. Time is of the essence.”
“So we’re not being Released?” Tessa asked, clinging to hope.
“None of you are going anywhere until we figure out exactly what occurred in here.”
The secretary swiveled on her heels. “It appears these musically inclined Earthlings may be more valuable than we initially believed.”
General Shro nodded. “Indeed.”
As Ignatia led the group toward the auditory lab, Shro put his hand on Dev’s shoulder. “May I speak with you for a moment?” he said.
“Me?” Dev gulped, pausing as the others moved on.
Shro smiled. “Of course. You are the leader of this group, are you not?”
Mission Multiverse Page 14