Embers in the Sea

by Jennifer M. Eaton

  A deep, sour prickle slithered across our bond, a regret deeper than anything I’d ever experienced. He wasn’t lying. He genuinely didn’t mean to hurt me.

  I slipped my arm around his shoulder. “I’m sorry for the way I reacted.”

  “I thought about you every day. You have no idea how hard it was to keep away.”

  “So, why did you?”

  “Earth isn’t exactly an easy trip unless you have one of these.” He motioned to the ship. “And visiting—it’s just not something my people do. We’re taught to give our females space, breathing room. I didn’t want you to think I was weak.”

  I wove my fingers around his. “Why would I think you were weak because you wanted to see me? That’s crazy.”

  His smile warmed me in places I didn’t even realize were cold. “I’ll have to remember that.”

  “And what’s all this stuff about me being the only one who believes in you? You’re the guy who’s building a planet. I mean, your people will probably name schools after you. You have to be totally stoked about that.”

  His smile faded. “Children may learn about me, but not for the reasons you think.”

  “What?”

  “Why does it rain, Jess?”

  “Huh?” That had to be the strangest turn of conversation ever. But then again, there was nothing all that normal about sitting on a beach at sunrise with an alien.

  I’d been a pretty big jerk up until this point, so it wouldn’t hurt me to go along with David’s extraterrestrial whims. And today’s scientific topic, apparently, was rain. “Well, water evaporates into the air, turns to clouds, and the clouds drop the water as rain.”

  “Yes, but why?”

  “I don’t know. It just kind of happens.”

  “It doesn’t just happen. There has to be a reason. A catalyst.”

  “Well, aren’t you some kind of environmental biologist? I mean, you just filled all the oceans on Mars and stuff. Don’t you—”

  “It didn’t work, Jess.” He blinked, his eyes tired and puffy.

  “Huh?”

  “It didn’t work. The Mars project, it’s over.”

  “Wait, what?” I straightened, kicking sand onto the blanket. “Every telescope on this planet is pointed in your direction. We watched the oceans fill. Half the planet is blue.”

  A beam of pride crossed his features. “Yes, they did fill, and you should see them. The ocean is so deeply blue, and the coastline—the blue swells lapping against the red sand—Oh, Jess, I wish I could take you to see it. It’s really beautiful.”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  He covered his face with his hands before dropping them to his lap. “We harnessed the power of the sun, warming the planet and melting the polar caps to fill the oceans a hundred times faster than anyone believed possible. I utilized pre-existing scourge technology to inject the atmosphere with synthetic greenhouse gas and protected what we’d achieved with a series of superconducting rings.” He shook his head. “That was supposed to be the hard part. I was even able to introduce a nitrogen factor to increase the density. It worked. Everyone said it was impossible, but I did it.”

  “I don’t understand. That sounds like everything went according to plan.”

  “It did, but there’s no catalyst for evaporation. The moisture stays in the oceans. Without movement of the water through the air, the planet won’t be able to sustain life. It will die, just like it did a million years ago.”

  I stared at him, agape. All that time, all that work for nothing? It couldn’t be possible. There had to be an answer. Maybe even an obvious one. “Can’t you set up an irrigation system of some kind?”

  “The planet needs to naturally sustain itself. A planet lives, just like we do. It needs moisture to travel and replenish itself just like we require blood flowing through our veins. Without a naturally circulating vapor system, there is no life, and no hope for Mars.”

  My stomach twisted. Two years of work, leading to another failure. No wonder he needed me. He’d become a scientific pariah again—the same problem that drove him to Earth in the first place.

  “So what happens now?”

  He stared at the sea, his lips pursed. The silence tore through me.

  “David?”

  “I told you their acceptance of my proposal to spare Earth was conditional.”

  I gasped. Visions of giant spaceships and billowing explosions flashed through my memory. The night the world stood still. The night humanity almost ceased to exist.

  “No. No you can’t let them.”

  He pushed up on his knees and grasped my shoulders. “There is a place in your ocean where the land beneath the sea is closest to the planet’s core. A kinetic energy manifests from that point.” The colors in his eyes spiraled. “This energy travels to the surface, charging the particles with enough kinetic energy to overcome the liquid phase intermolecular forces.”

  My mind raced. “Okay, but what does that have to do with saving Earth?”

  “There’s something in your ocean, Jess—something that creates kinetic energy and spreads it through the sea. It’s the reason your planet is alive. It charges the water particles strongly enough that they keep their own energy until they return to the sea to be recharged.” He loosened his grip. “Whatever is down there is not on Mars.”

  A chill ran across my skin. The experimental ship behind me—a craft made to withstand a pressurized atmosphere. “You’re going down there, aren’t you? You’re going to look for whatever is making that energy.”

  He nodded.

  “Well, you can’t take it. Whatever it is, Earth needs it!”

  “I think you know me better than that.” He dragged his thumb across my cheek. “I need to see it. Study it. Understand how it works. Once I do, I should be able to duplicate it on Mars.”

  “And that will stop your people from taking Earth?”

  David sat back. “I don’t know, but it’s all I can come up with. I have to try.”

  A waft of yellow fluttered across the exterior of the ship.

  “Edgar is signaling me. I have to go.” David stood. “You’ll be safe here.”

  “Wait. What?” I jumped to my feet. “You’re leaving me here?”

  “When my people come, they will eradicate the main continents first. Uninhabited islands will escape the initial scourge. You’ll be safe here until the population phase.”

  My legs trembled. “They’re coming? Now?”

  “The Caretakers had already begun assembling the armada when I left Mars. Thankfully, the ships large enough for a full-scale scourge cannot travel as quickly as this one. We should have at least two days before they get here.”

  “Two days? But, but … ” But everything. Earth was supposed to be safe. The Erescopians were supposed to be our friends. But now we were back where we started: on the brink of annihilation. And … Omigosh. “What about my father?”

  David lowered his gaze. “I was hoping to find him at your home. I wanted to bring you both to safety, but I barely had time to find you.”

  Two more flashes of yellow rolled over the ship.

  “I’m out of time.” He walked toward the shimmering craft.

  Was he serious? “But—”

  A thomp echoed across the sea, and the edge of the water splashed up like someone threw the world’s biggest rock into the waves.

  “Hide in the trees!” David screamed, jumping through and sinking into his ship’s liquid hull.

  Another thomp reverberated from above, smashing into the beach and spraying the sand across my shoes.

  Was someone shooting at us?

  The cylinder below David’s ship began to retract.

  He was serious. He was actually leaving me here!

  Yeah, you know what? Not today.

  I sprinted toward the cylinder and jumped. My sneakers barely bridged the base of the retracting tube as I pulled myself inside, but the open
elevator I expected closed in around me. The cold of the liquid metal stung my skin—colder, wetter, harsher than I remembered. The air iced my lungs, burning from within as I whirled upward encased in the ship’s frigid grip.

  My head poked out into the rear compartment, and my chest rose into the room, but nothing else. The hull started to solidify around my ribcage, trapping me inside the floor.

  “David!”

  The metal surrounding me constricted, pushing the breath from my lungs.

  “David!” I screamed with the last of my air.

  He bolted into the room and stopped short at the entrance, gaping. “Are you insane?”

  I reached for him, and tried to call out again, but my voice wouldn’t come. The ship rumbled as his arms slipped beneath my shoulders. My ribcage stretched as he pulled, fighting against the ship’s tightening grip.

  Was this where my own stupidity had finally lead me? To get crushed inside a disappearing elevator?

  No. I wasn’t going out like this. I refused.

  Tightening my grip around David, I twisted, fighting against the ship’s hold. My body shifted, slipping toward David before the floor constricted again.

  David gasped. “Whatever you just did, do it again. Quickly! The ship is trying to seal itself for takeoff. It will cut you in two!”

  The flooring now strangled my waist. David growled, digging his heels into the tiles on either side of me. Inside the liquid floor, my knee found something hard. I pushed with every ounce of strength I had and the metal around me gave. I slid free, falling to the ground beside David.

  “You’re crazy,” he said, popping to his feet like a poodle on speed. “We were taking off. You could have been killed.” He sprang toward the front of the ship, not even checking to see if I was okay.

  I trotted after him, rubbing my bruised ribs. “Well I wasn’t about to let you leave me there. Don’t you know I—”

  “Shut up, Jess.”

  I stopped short. “Excuse me?”

  “I said shut up.” He grabbed my wrist and flung me onto the still-forming seat beside the pilot’s station. The chair came to life and seized me like I was breakfast and it hadn’t eaten in weeks.

  A thud pummeled the side of the ship and the window screens wavered before the island disappeared in a blur as three smaller, opalescent ships crossed paths before us. David veered us away, over the ocean.

  “I thought we had two days before the other ships got here?”

  He glanced at me, then back to the windows before him. “Those are sentry ships. They were already here.”

  A bright flash of light crossed our path. My seat tightened around me as we jolted forward.

  “Why are they shooting at us?”

  “I told you this was experimental technology, right?”

  The ship quaked as another bolt streamed across our hull.

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I forgot to mention that I stole it.”

  “You what?”

  We rolled, just missing a fourth ship as another blast of light splayed across our hull.

  The side panels pulsed yellow twice.

  David glanced up and then out the window. “I see it. Thanks, Edgar.”

  “What did he say?”

  “That they’re falling behind. They can’t keep up with this ship. Nothing can.”

  We turned up toward the clouds.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Getting ready to dive. This is going to get interesting.”

  “Do I want to know why?”

  “Probably not.”

  We stopped and hung in the air for a moment, before dipping in slow motion until we faced the ocean. The shimmering water seemed worlds away. Quiet. Soft. Peaceful.

  Then we started to fall.

  4

  My fingers curled around the edges of the chair that had built itself up around me. I sucked in a breath, shaking, as a million prayers rolled through my mind. My heart thumped, matching the rhythm of the first time I rode the Kingda Ka roller coaster at Great Adventure. I tried not to think about how much higher this drop was.

  The ocean raced toward us. The roll of the waves cast back the morning sun’s brilliance, blinding me—until our black liquescent pursuers shot up directly toward us.

  “Hold on!” David sunk his arms into the panel and swished twice before pushing back into his seat. The chairs came alive, filling the room with the scent of warm copper as a clear gel bubbled up around us, encasing all but our eyes, nose, and mouths.

  I screamed, bracing for impact as the dark ships filled our view, then split and flew in opposite directions before we collided. But that was only two. Where was the third?

  Thomp.

  Our ship clattered as a panel beside David’s window flashed blue.

  “Just another second, Edgar!” David called out.

  I clutched my chair restraints as the sea rushed towards us. A shring sound filled the chamber, like a knight drawing a sword out of a metal scabbard. We jolted, hitting the surface, then slid through the sea’s crest like a hot knife through butter.

  Bubbles covered the windows and floated away.

  Thomp.

  The echo beneath the water rattled my skull, but not the ship.

  “Are they following us?”

  “Probably, but they won’t be able to dive as deep as we can.” His restraints relaxed, allowing him to look at the panels over his head. “Edgar, bring us down two sellecs.”

  “Edgar can fly the ship?”

  “Who do you think helped me steal it?”

  The ship shuddered and the lights flickered before fading to black. My restraints loosened slightly, allowing me to move my head, but not much else.

  “Are we hit?” I asked, squinting in the dark.

  “No,” he said. “We’re fine.” David shifted again in his seat. A slosh like a kid splashing in a bubble bath filled the chamber. Was he free of his chair? “Turning out the illumination at this depth is as good as hiding. They can’t dive this far without losing cohesion, so they won’t risk it. And if they can’t see us, they can’t … ”

  Thomp.

  The ship jarred to the right. So much for hiding.

  Thomp.

  We seemed to drift to the side, and I had the sensation that up wasn’t quite up anymore.

  Thomp. Thomp.

  A weight slammed against the top of my head. I wanted to protect myself, but my hands remained immobile within the glossy grip of my chair. David grumbled a few words in his own language. My stomach sank as the gel bubbled around my face again. My ears filled, pounding with pressure. I tried to open my mouth to help pop them but my restraints locked around my jaw, securing me motionless. A scream formed in my throat, but I didn’t set it free. I couldn’t stay secured in that seat much longer.

  The incessant thomping stopped. We swayed, as if floating gently on the breeze, a feather drifting in the dark. David rustled beside me again, and the liquid console splashed and trickled.

  He exhaled. “They’ve returned to the surface.”

  Thank God. “Where are the lights?”

  “Just a few more minutes.”

  Once my restraints loosened, I pinched my nose, closed my eyes, and popped my ears. I sighed at the sweet release of pressure and flopped back into my now cushy, regular, not-alive chair.

  “Why were they chasing us?”

  “Like I told you. I stole this ship. They don’t care why.”

  They don’t care, and they were coming. Them, and thousands more like them.

  Two years ago, when the liquescent ships first came to Earth, alien-induced brilliance had shattered the darkness—wide beams of glowing orange stole the air and cracked the soil beneath our feet.

  I shivered. That couldn’t happen again. It just couldn’t. “Are they really going to scourge my planet?” I rubbed my shoulders.

  “I negotiated with the Caretakers as much as I cou
ld. They agreed to give your leaders twenty-four hours to move your population to the colder climates to the north and south.”

  “One day to move billions of people? That’s impossible.”

  “I know that. That’s one of the reasons I stole this ship. I knew this new technology would get me to Earth at least two days before they did. I wanted to warn your United Nations, give them more time to evacuate. But from their reaction, I’m afraid they will try to defend themselves rather than comply.”

  “Well what do you expect, for us to just roll over and die?”

  The lights flipped on. I squinted as David leaned toward me. “No. I expected them to take the extra time given to them and get as many people to safety as possible. They can’t fight our technology. It would be fruitless.”

  I folded my arms. “Then you don’t know humans as well as you think you do.” How could he sound so callous, so matter of fact? We were talking about people here, not statistics.

  He grabbed my wrists and pulled me toward him. “Let’s not make this our fight, Jess. Earth’s only chance is to make it rain on Mars.”

  I nodded, looking away. I knew he wasn’t my enemy, but how could he speak of moving that many people like it was nothing? “What will happen to the people who aren’t moved in time?”

  He turned from me. “Our focus is whatever is in the trench.”

  A sinking pain sliced through my core. His not answering was answer enough. All those people … He was right though. The best I could do for them was to help David. “What trench? Where are we going?”

  “A crevice deep within the heart of the ocean, eleven-hundred miles west of the island I wanted to tuck you away on. Secure. Where I didn’t need to worry about you.”

  Holy staccato rub-it-in-my-face sentences. “You’re mad at me.”

  He shrugged. “I just wish you were safe. That’s all.”

  Why couldn’t he comprehend that the only time I really felt safe was with him? It wasn’t that I was a simpering little girly-girl. I just felt stronger with him. More sure of myself. More alive. Why couldn’t he understand that?