Across the cantina, Edgar Han stands. I think Captain Han is the only person in the world who intimidates Regis. And probably Admiral Eames. She intimidates everyone.
When Han starts heading our way, I exhale and finally glance back at Regis. “Looks like someone’s checking up on you.”
“We were done anyway,” Regis says. “I don’t waste my time talking to Tunneler trash.”
I’m relieved when they walk away from our table, but I’ve been around long enough to know we haven’t heard the last from Regis today. I spear a small bite of fungus with my fork and let it slide down my throat before my gag reflex kicks in.
Marco chooses this moment to make his grand entrance. He strolls over to our table just as Regis, Randall, and Hakim are out of earshot.
“What did those losers want?” Marco’s wearing a brightly colored scarf over his frock. It’s adorned with beads I’ve seen some junior ambassadors wear woven into their fur.
“Oh, just to let us know how lovely we smell,” Lucy says. “Where’ve you been? And where’d you get that ridiculous scarf?”
“Ridiculous?” Marco says. “This is high Gulagan fashion, Lucy. You should know. I picked it up at the grand marketplace. I spotted it earlier today when those Tunnelers rushed our smelly selves out of there.”
“Forget the market,” I say. “I can’t believe Regis knows about the trash tunnel. Everyone knows! Who told?”
“I bet it was your best friend,” Marco says to Lucy. “Neeka talks as much as you, and she’s always blurting out stuff she’s not supposed to. I’m sure she was the one who spilled the beans.”
“Don’t just throw Neeka under the bus!” Lucy says. “She’s your junior ambassador, too!”
Great. They’re headed for another fight.
I tune them out and try to choke down the rest of my dinner. All the good vibes I had coming into this tour have dried up. Now it seems we’re back where we started last tour. At the bottom of the pack. Regis’s punching bags.
Mira rises from our table and drifts out of the cantina. She has the right idea. Nothing good is coming our way in here. I chat with Cole and Ryan for a few minutes about Evolution and the cheats to defeat the Alamo, and then clear my tray.
As I’m headed back to the burrow in my Tunneler frock, trying to ignore the amused looks of everyone I pass, a muffled voice calls, “Hey, Jasper! Over here!”
I look around but can’t spot the caller. I jog in the direction of the voice, deeper into the Earth Sector. Someone calls my name again, and I turn another corner. Up ahead is an open chasm. My stomach clenches, and I slow down.
A bridge spans the gap. It’s narrow and made from the same slippery mud that makes up most of Gulagaven. No guardrails. Nothing but air separates a solid step and a step to death below. The bridge looks just as deadly as it did the day I arrived on the Tunneler planet. And I know it’s especially lethal for me, Jasper Adams, or should I say Jasper “Klutz” Adams.
Mira crouches right in the center of the bridge. From either side, Regis and Randall edge closer every second.
18
“THIS WAY, JASPER!” CALLS THE muffled voice. Hakim steps out from behind the corner, erupting in laughter. His hands are cupped in front of his mouth to disguise the sound.
I skid to a stop at the edge of the chasm. “Let her off the bridge!”
“Look! It’s Trash Boy!” Regis shouts. He flinches at Mira, and she jumps back, throwing her hands to the sides for balance.
“Stop!” I shout.
Hakim steps behind me and shoves my shoulder, nearly sending me off the edge.
I dart away from him and stumble over something in my path. Mira’s blast pack.
“Yeah, we didn’t think she’d be needing that,” Hakim chokes out between chuckles.
Mira’s mind crackles with adrenaline and hatred. She tries to skirt by Regis, but he blocks her.
“Leave her alone! Let her pass!”
“Come and get her, B-wad!” Regis says.
The bridge looms in front of me, but my feet feel like lead. Challenging those three to a chicken fight on a Tunneler bridge? I might as well have a death wish.
I scan the rim of the chasm, the intersecting hallways, the nearby hovels. Nothing. No one. We’re alone.
“What are you waiting for, Jasper?” Hakim jogs past me to join his bad buddies. “We heard you love bridges!”
So this isn’t about Mira. It’s about me. “Let her go, Regis! Now!”
Randall charges Mira. She recoils. Hakim comes at her from the other side. She stumbles to her knees.
Pain.
Fear.
Rage.
Are those my emotions or Mira’s? I press my palms against my skull. I have to clear my head, think our way out of this.
“Let’s go, Jasper!” Regis shouts. “Now or never!”
I have no choice. I have to go after her. I have to get on that bridge. At least I have my blast pack. It might just save us from a fatal free fall.
On the bridge, Mira darts and dodges, making them work to keep her from escaping their trap.
“Oh no, you don’t!” Randall shouts.
While their eyes are on Mira, I grab my straps and race for the foot of the bridge.
Every atom in my body urges me to stop. But this is not about my body. It’s about my mind. Mind over matter, right?
My foot hits the bridge.
I feel their eyes on me, but I keep mine locked on Mira.
“Love the dress, Tunneler Trash!” Regis calls to me. “I’ll love it even more as I watch you fall.”
One step. Another.
Don’t look down!
I chance a glance at Regis. His face is lit up like a hungry dog waiting to be fed. When I’m two meters in front of him, he yells, “Now!”
He spins on Mira, and she squares to face him. As soon as she does, Randall darts forward and sweeps her legs. She tumbles off the side, grabbing the edge at the last second.
“Nice!” Regis yells, high-fiving Randall as Mira dangles beneath the bridge. “Are you gonna be a hero, Jasper?”
My legs shake. My eyes are fixed on Mira. She’s hanging by her fingers. Beneath her, the chasm fades to blackness. I can’t see the bottom.
My heart slams against my rib cage. My legs threaten to buckle.
Mira’s fear weaves with my own. Slipping! Help!
I only get one shot. I have to communicate with Mira.
I call up a picture in my mind as crisply and completely as I can. I try to shut everything else out. Mira has to know the plan. She has to read my mind for this to work.
Mira’s mind touches mine, then she screams in my skull, Go!
I run at Regis then leap off the bridge, twisting in midair to face them, and jamming my fingers on the red buttons of my pack straps. I rocket straight up in the air.
“Hey! What are you doing?” Regis shouts.
High above the bridge, I release my fingers and fling my body flat like Superman. Gravity steps in and pulls me into the chasm. Just as I fall past the bridge, Mira lets go. We collide midair. She wraps her arms around my waist and throws us into a backflip. We tumble through the abyss as the bridge fades above us and the muddy walls rush by faster and faster. I grapple with the controls, but I can’t pull us out of the dive.
Panic sizzles through our neural link as we fall. Then a piercing noise rattles my brain.
Mira. She’s trying to reach me.
Relax!
I gulp air and try to tune in. In my mind, Mira shows me the manual controls for the blast pack and how to press my fingers.
We soar left. Right. Too far right. Scrape the side. Drop.
It just won’t work. I can’t fly with these straps!
Close your eyes.
Fly blind through the chasm? No!
Do it now!
I close my eyes.
And I can see.
Mira’s mental pictures take shape, and I grip the controls. I follow her directions and the blast pack levels out
, flies straight. It’s like my music teacher showing me how to place my fingers on my clarinet.
We fly through the chasm. I mirror the pictures she makes in my mind until she mentally releases the straps. I drop the controls and—Bam!—we land in a heap on the edge.
Opening my eyes, I see we’re in the same chasm, although we must have dropped several levels. I try to see the bridge above, but we’re blocked by an overhang. “Where are we?”
Mira’s mind is blank. She doesn’t know either.
The good news: we escaped Regis without falling to our deaths.
The bad news: it looks like we’re lost in Gulagaven again, and that was nearly disastrous the first time.
We’re about to head up an intersecting tunnel to look for help when a Tunneler comes barreling down the ramp right for us.
Grak. Boraneek. Krag. “Oh! I’m so glad I found you!”
The Tunneler is wearing the same frock as us, but the Earth Force insignia is sewn across his chest, just like Neeka’s.
“You were looking for us?” I ask. “Who are you? Are you a junior ambassador?”
“Not here,” the Tunneler says. “Follow me. Quickly.”
I’m not coming up with a better plan, and Mira isn’t offering one either, so when the no-name junior ambassador heads down the ramp and turns into a tunnel, we follow.
When we catch him, he’s standing in front of a stone door. “Stick with me,” he says, pulling on the handle.
The door opens to a room filled with noise and activity. Dozens of Tunnelers squat on squishy benches like the ones in the Nest, stand around long tables, or hurry among huddled groups. Most of them are kind of short—for Tunnelers, I mean—and almost all of them wear jewelry or have designs buzzed into their fur. In the corner, a band plays the funkiest music I’ve ever heard. It’s like a combo of drums, piccolos, and chanting monks.
“What is this place?” I ask.
The Tunneler we arrived with herds us to some open benches in the corner. Almost instantly a dozen other Tunnelers crowd around him. He deactivates his voice box and chatters anxiously. The others don’t look too thrilled to see Mira and me.
Mira squeezes my hand. She senses the Tunnelers’ discomfort, too. We don’t belong here. We probably would have fared better wandering aimlessly through the tunnels of Gulagaven until someone took pity on us and escorted us back to the Earth Sector. I tug at my frock. I would give anything to be wearing my Earth Force uniform right about now.
A familiar grunt is followed by a very welcome translation: “Jasper? Mira?” Neeka slides onto the bench next to us. “What are you doing here? How did you find the Den?”
I don’t know exactly how to answer that question. At this point, I figure less is more. “We were lost, and that guy found us.” I point at the junior ambassador who brought us here.
“Grok?” she asks. When we don’t answer, she deactivates her voice box and grunts at the young Tunneler. They chat excitedly for a minute, then Neeka gestures and barks at the crowd of Tunnelers who have gathered around us. After a few moments of heated discussion, they back away, leaving me, Mira, Neeka, and Grok alone.
Neeka formally introduces us. “Grok’s a junior ambassador, too.”
“So that’s why you have the Earth Force insignia,” I say. “Who’s in your pod?”
He turns away, almost like he’s embarrassed. “I’m assigned to Captain Han’s pod.”
“You’re Regis’s junior ambassador? Is that how you knew to look for us?” Slowly the implications sink in. “Wait a second, did you know what they were going to do? Were you in on it?”
“Oh! No! No! Definitely not! I would never have done such a horrible thing! That’s why I came for you. I’ve tried to do my best as a junior ambassador. I’ve tried to be loyal to my pod. But I never meant for anyone to get hurt.”
“Grok is a good guy,” Neeka says. “He’s just trying to do his job. We’re supposed to stick with our pod.”
“Even when that includes nearly getting two Bounders killed?” I demand, but Grok won’t meet my gaze. “And let me guess, you’re the one who told Regis about the trash tunnel?”
Grok hangs his head.
“Grok!” Neeka says. “I thought we were friends! You can tell my secrets!”
“I’m sorry,” Grok says to all of us. “I’m trying to do the right thing. It’s difficult. Everyone knows it’s hard when you’re dealing with—”
“I’ve told you they’re not all like them!” Neeka says.
What was he going to say? “All like whom?”
“Oh! Now, wait a second,” Neeka says. “Go easy on Grok. You don’t understand. Not all Earthlings are the same.”
Was he going to lump all of us Earthlings in with Regis? “She’s right, Grok. Most of us are nothing like Regis and his minions. You have to believe me.”
Grok looks around. Lots of angry eyes stare back at us.
“It’s okay,” Neeka says to him.
“Neeka has told me good things about you. And I have met some decent Earthlings. But most are not. Most are bullies.”
That’s his impression of Earthlings in general? That we’re a planet full of bullies? That makes me feel awful. “That’s not true,” I say quietly. “Thank you for helping us. I hope we can prove you wrong about Earth.” Grok nods. The band shifts into a new song. “What is this place?”
Neeka explains that the Den is a hangout for Tunnelers who are no longer kids but aren’t quite adults. Kind of like us, I suppose. Grok tells us about his older sister who works at the space dock. I ask him if Neeka talks a lot for a Tunneler. Grok blurts something out in Gulagan, and Neeka slaps him on the paw. They both turn off their voice boxes and jabber away at each other. It doesn’t seem like they’re mad. In fact, I think they might be flirting.
Slowly other Tunnelers gather round our table. Some of them are junior ambassadors like Neeka and Grok. They activate their voice boxes and translate for their friends. They ask lots of questions about Earth and the Bounders. One of them asks why Mira doesn’t talk. I want to say that I’m kind of like them, that the brain patch is like a voice box, and I’m her translator, but instead I dodge the question.
The music grows louder, and many of the young Tunnelers start to dance.
Come. Mira laces her fingers with mine.
“We should really get back.” Showing up late, this time with Mira, may be my last straw with Ridders.
Mira smiles, and her mind touches mine. She doesn’t need words to communicate her reaction: Who cares? She tugs at my hand, and I stand. Her energy thumps in time to the music as she weaves us through the crowd.
When we reach the band, Mira slides onto the raised platform and gestures to one of the Tunnelers, who hits a long stone slab with two mallets. He offers the mallets to Mira, and she strikes the instrument. It takes a few tries—and some nasty looks from the room—before she gets the hang of it, but soon she’s able to find a harmony line with the rest of the band.
Her brain sparkles in a way I haven’t felt before.
I work up the nerve to pick up an extra wind pipe resting on top of a side table. The musician next to me nods, and I blow into the instrument. The sound is definitely foreign, but also familiar in a way, so I’m able to make some consistent sound without much trouble. The Tunneler next to me blows these unbelievable runs. I do my best to match his pitch. It doesn’t matter that I sound like a beginner. I’m making music.
I’m making music with Mira. And that’s all that matters.
I don’t known what time it is when Neeka walks us back to the Bounder Burrow, but I know it’s past curfew. Just as I feared, Ridders and Waters meet us at the door.
“We were about to send a search party out for you,” Ridders says. “Again.”
“I’ve got this, James,” Waters says, touching Ridders’s arm. At first I think Ridders is going to protest and put us in all kinds of trouble, but instead he shrugs and heads the opposite direction toward the officer quarters. Wat
ers steps between Mira and me. “Walk with me.”
We head to the bathhouse. Waters steers us into the side room—the Nest—and gestures for us to sit. “Lucy told me about your new pod room. I like it.”
Mira and I sink down onto the bench. At the space station, Waters fit perfectly in our pod room. He designed it for us, but it was his. Here, things are different. Waters doesn’t belong in the Nest. It’s ours.
“Do you know this carpet is made from mold?” Waters continues. “Anyhow, I wanted to check in. How are the brain patches working?”
I’m not sure how to respond. I don’t think he’d believe me if I said nothing had changed. I drag my toe along the furry rug. “It’s going okay, I guess. I think it’s going to take a while to really kick in.”
“But the two of you communicate now, at least a bit? Can we try it out? Can you translate something Mira says, Jasper?”
“It doesn’t really work that way,” I say. “It’s usually more like an impression than words.”
“Well, then what’s the impression?”
That it’s none of his business, Mira thinks.
“The only impression I’m getting right now, Mr. Waters, is that Mira is really tired. We both are. It’s been a long day.”
“Very well. But I want you to keep me informed. I may need your help very soon.”
Soon? That sounds important. “Why?”
“A critical meeting is about to take place. That’s all I can say for now. I’ve said too much already.”
Waters must be talking about the summit. I open my mouth to ask another question, but he shakes his head. The topic is closed.
As we stand up to leave, my mind is whirling. We have to find out about the meeting. When is it? Where is it going down? Our pod needs to execute on our spy mission. And now. I’m certain the summit is the ticket to the truth about Earth Force and its plans for the Bounders.
19
THE NEXT SEVERAL MORNINGS, WE rise bright and early to the same routine: breakfast, outfitting, astrocache. This week, our curfew to be inside the gates is much earlier so that pods can train with Gedney on the new technology in the afternoon. We stick with Cole’s plan: leapfrog to targets with bounds and blast packs, then bound back to base. Next week, the BPS will be rolled out in the Trials, so we’ll have to shift things up.
The Tundra Trials Page 15