by Kate Blair
He turns to Sabik. “I want peace, but it’s my responsibility to defend this colony.”
“I want peace too,” I say.
Yuri ignores me. “Whoever killed Orion and Cassius will keep killing as long as they have the ship to defend. I have to make the hard decisions so people like you don’t have to, Sabik.”
“That’s so patronizing,” Sabik says.
But now Yuri is staring at a patch of the woods, his head swiveling as we pass to keep it in sight. I try to see what he’s looking at, but there’s nothing. Just glowferns, trunks, and branches.
“What is it?” But Yuri closes his mouth. I guess he’s just trying to distract me.
Still, I’m glad for the silence as we jolt our way over the rest of the route to the shuttle. I keep a close eye on Yuri and Vega, but neither of them moves. Yuri stares into space, and Vega glances between him and me, her gun drawn.
When we pull onto the runway, the reassuring bulk of the shuttle is ahead of us. We climb off the trailer, and I keep Vega in front of me, covering her, Yuri, and Sabik with my gun. We head up the clanging steps and onto the shuttle. Leda and Sirius go into the cockpit, and I stay close to Yuri and Vega. I watch closely as she uncuffs Yuri’s hands from behind his back and recuffs them at his front so she can strap him into his bucket chair. Yuri doesn’t resist. He looks limp, deflated. I do the same with Sabik, then strap myself in next to him. I keep one hand on the latch of my strap, ready to undo it at any sudden movement. In the other, I clutch the pulse gun.
The flight is longer than usual, as we didn’t time the launch to coincide with the Venture’s next overpass. Yuri stares out the window next to him, concentrating on the sky as if it holds the key to a tough puzzle. Vega is breathing too fast, eyes shining. Sabik slumps in his chair.
After a while, climbing through the atmosphere, it gets harder to focus. I’m so tired. I haven’t slept properly in too long. The scene grows fuzzy. My eyelids are heavy, trying to close. My crowded thoughts grow more confused, threaten to slide into the nonsense of dreams. I squeeze the latch tight, letting the metal leave red marks on my palm, but the pain wears off too quickly, the exhaustion creeping back. I can’t fall asleep now. I have to watch Yuri. I have to watch Vega and Sabik. I can’t trust any of them.
I exhale when the Venture appears, glinting through the window. Our home. I made it back.
We pull alongside the ship, match the rotation and dock, and gravity kicks in again. I stand up in a daze and uncuff Sabik.
Vega does the same with Yuri, then she spins around, pointing her pulse gun at my head. There’s a wide grin on her face. I fumble with my own weapon.
Sabik kicks me in the back of my knees, hard. I drop the pulse gun as I start to fall.
Vega shoots.
I twist as I fall. I smack into the ground — first knees, then hands, then chest. I land between two bucket seats, and my breath is knocked out of me. I can’t see Vega and Yuri. My pulse gun rolls under a chair. Pain in my chin where it hit the metal of the shuttle floor. I’ve bitten my tongue, and my mouth fills with the sharp taste of blood.
“What’d you do?” Sabik shouts at Vega.
I’m not stunned. The zap from Vega’s pulse gun must have gone over my head and grounded itself in the ship’s body. I knew I couldn’t trust her. I should have had my gun ready.
Muddy boots appear in front of me. Then a face, leaning down into my field of vision. Sabik. He betrayed me. Why didn’t I see it coming? I’m about to grab him, scratch his eyes out. I’m going down fighting. I’ll take him with me.
Then he winks and his fingers go to my neck, taking my pulse. Sabik keeps staring at me. I’m blinking. I’m clearly not even unconscious. So why is he checking if I’m alive? The back of my knees ache where he kicked them, and I want to punch him in his dumb face. But that wink holds me back.
That and the fact that Vega has a pulse gun, and mine is out of reach.
Sabik pulls his hand away. “You killed her!”
“She’s dead?” Yuri sounds shocked. “Vega, what did you do?”
Sabik stands, leaving me staring at his boots. “The button is red!” he shouts. “I can see that from here!”
That’s when it clicks into place. I was busy going for my weapon when I should have been ducking. Sabik kicked my legs away. Vega thinks I fell because she shot me.
There’s warmth in my chest. Sabik saved me. Sabik is on my side. I stare at his laces. He missed a hole on the left boot when he did them up.
“I didn’t mean to,” Vega says, her words coming fast. “I forgot it wasn’t on stun.”
Yuri’s breathing hard. “Oh Beta. What have you done? No one was meant to get hurt.”
“I’m sorry!” she says. “I’m changing it now. I forgot. I should have switched it back.”
I can’t tell if she means that or not. She hates me. Does she hate me enough to kill me?
“I’m sorry. I am. But we have to go, Yuri,” she says.
There’s no response. I can’t see Yuri from here. Don’t know what he’s doing.
“Yuri?” Vega asks.
“I … there was something. In the forest. I saw it on the way back.” Yuri’s voice wavers, like he doesn’t quite believe his own words.
Silence for a moment. Then Vega speaks. “Someone was in the forest?”
“No. An animal. A big animal.”
My eyes go wide.
“What?” Sabik says.
“You’re imagining things,” Vega says. “You’re letting them get into your head. We know Ursa killed Orion and Cassius.”
“Vega,” Yuri says. “What if there really is a creature?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Vega says, but there’s a tremble in her voice. “We have to go through with this. I’ve … I’ve killed Ursa. I’ll be arrested. I’ll face the Exit. And they found the weapons. They’ll use this as an excuse to stop the flights.”
“Vega, think for a moment.”
But her voice is rising. “We have to go, Yuri! Before Leda and Sirius finish with the landing checks. Think of my brother. He’ll be for the Exit too if they force us all back up —”
“Vega …”
“I’m not letting Perseus die! He’s all I have!”
But then Sabik leaps, his boots disappearing from my frame of view.
There’s a thump, the sound of a body falling, then a groan.
“Yuri!” Vega screams. She’s pointing her pulse gun. My body tenses, ready to jump.
Then Yuri appears in my line of vision, on the ground between the chairs, struggling with Sabik. Sabik’s on top of him, but Yuri has one of his wrists. Sabik grabs Yuri’s thick black hair with his free hand.
Vega hasn’t fired. Sabik and Yuri are tangled together. Yuri’s bigger, but he’s caught off guard, and his uncertainty is holding him back. Sabik uses his opportunity to swing Yuri’s head into the corner of a metal bulkhead. Hard.
Yuri grunts and lets go of Sabik’s wrist. He raises his hands to his head. Sabik rolls off him. Jumps up, runs at Vega. Like an idiot.
There’s a zap, and Sabik collapses, falls right in front of me.
My breath stops. My heart stops. No. Not Sabik. I want to grab him, help him.
In the silence, I hear voices outside the main door. Sirius and Leda.
Try to breathe. Sabik. Oh, Sabik. Please let her have switched the pulse to stun.
I turn until I can see Vega. She’s staring at the door, passing her gun from one hand to the other. I can’t see what color the button is. Yuri has one hand on his head, still lying on his back, eyes screwed shut in pain, dark blood between his fingers. Vega runs back over to him, reaches in his pocket, and pulls out a white box.
“Stay there,” she says. “I’ll take care of this.”
“No, Vega …” Yuri manages.
She s
hoves whatever she’s taken from Yuri into her own pocket and runs back to the door, gun in hand. Sabik doesn’t move. Vega is focused on the door. I have to take the risk; I crawl to Sabik, quietly, and touch his familiar face. He’s warm.
Of course he’s warm. He was only just shot. He’d still be warm, even if … I blink, fast. Reach for his pulse and find it, fluttering gently against my fingers. I close my eyes. Gulp down the panic. Thank Beta. He’s alive. Sabik’s alive. Vega did change her pulse. Perhaps it was an accident when she shot me. But now what?
There’s an alarm button on the wall, right next to Vega. I have to get there.
Yuri groans, tries to roll over. His eyes open, focus on me. I freeze. The main airlock buzzes and begins to open.
“There you are!” A cheerful voice outside the shuttle. Leda.
Vega raises her gun.
“What are you —” Two zaps, cutting Sirius off. Two thumps: bodies hitting the floor.
Vega launches herself through the airlock. Footstep clang on the metal as she sprints across the loading bay. I push myself up. Stumble to the shuttle door. Peer out into the bay.
Leda and Sirius are sprawled on the floor. Vega’s already heading through the doors to the main corridor, disappearing from sight. I slap my palm against the alarm. The blare of the klaxon echoes off the metal walls. That should throw a wrench in her plan.
Leda’s eyes are closed. Sirius is lying face down. I dash to them and kneel beside Leda, check her neck. There. A pulse. Thank Beta. Just stunned too. I pull out my linkcom.
There’s a huge bang, and the whole ship shakes. The linkcom clatters to the floor.
A different alarm starts sounding, adding to the cacophony. My mouth is dry. I’m holding my breath, waiting for another explosion. It doesn’t come.
That white box must have been the remote detonator. I missed a bomb. But I checked the vents! Where was it? I should have stopped her. Should have moved faster. The blast may have killed people. Sucked them out into space like the crew of the Venture 2.
Oh Beta, Vega. What have you done?
I run back to the ship, scramble under the seat, and grab my pulse gun, then run to the wallcom and ping Astra. The ship creaks. The scream of metal under pressure. The Venture is hurt. Can she hold on?
Astra picks up right away. “It’s me,” I say. “Yuri is injured. Sabik, Sirius, and Leda are stunned. Vega got away. Detonated a bomb.”
“Where is she?” Astra asks. I can barely hear her over the blood rushing through my ears.
“Just left the offload bay. Probably heading for the engine room.”
“I’ll shut down the elevators. Warn the engineer on duty.”
I swallow. “She may try climbing the spoke. She has a pulse gun.”
“I’ll send backup.”
“I think the bomb took out an air circulator. If Vega gets up there with that weapon, she can blow out the bypass route. Trigger the failsafe. I’ve got a gun. I’m going after her.”
There’s a gasp, then silence for a second. I think Astra is going to argue, but she exhales.
“Good luck. Take care, Ursa. I love you so much, Little Bear.”
I’m running before I’ve broken the connection.
I sprint out of the cargo bay, down the corridor to the nearest spoke. The light above the doors is off, so the elevator isn’t there. There’s no point in calling it. By the time it gets back down, it’ll be too late. I use my override code to force the doors open. They swish apart, revealing the hollow tube of the spoke. I step down into the space where the elevator should be and look up.
The tube of the shaft stretches up above me, the skinny emergency ladder riveted to the far side. The dark metal column is half lit with emergency white panel lights running up either side of the tube.
There, high above. The dark cube of the elevator, cutting off the rest of the spoke, its gears holding it against the shaft, not moving. Vega got about a third of the way up before Astra got the elevators shut down.
I grab the narrow ladder. Start climbing. Hand over hand on the cold rungs. Footsteps echoing up the tube above me. Getting out of the elevator will delay Vega, but she’s got a good head start and she’s strong. There’s less gravity at that height, too. She’ll be able to climb faster than I will down here where the artificial gravity is at full strength.
I climb quickly. Two rungs at a time. My hands are dark gray in the pale lights on either side of me. I’m soon out of breath, but I keep going, listening for sounds from above.
I’m about a hundred meters up when I hear the clang of the hatch on the elevator roof opening. It sounds like she’s struggling to lift herself out. Heavy breathing, grunts echoing in the space. Kicks against the cabin walls as she hauls herself up.
My hands are sore from gripping hard to compensate for the sweat on my palms and the push of the ship’s rotation. My lungs ache. Sabik was right, I am unfit.
More clanging above. Boots on metal rungs. She’s on the emergency ladder. I keep climbing, listening to the rhythm of Vega’s climb. I try to move my legs at a faster, quieter tempo so she won’t hear me. Soon I’m at the bottom of the elevator. I adjust my handhold and peer down.
My heart freezes and I’m dizzy, like I’ve already begun the fall. But I keep holding on and turn back to the ladder. I start climbing again, keeping my body close to the wall, not looking down. Then I pull myself into the gap between the elevator and the side of the shaft, squeezing past the teeth of the frozen gears, trying not to think about what would happen if the elevator restarted now. It’s narrower here. It’s lucky I’m small. Instead of a sheer drop behind me, the elevator is at my back.
Metal clangs, from above, getting closer fast. Something falling down the shaft, hitting the wall on the way down, then the elevator roof. Something small and heavy. What?
I reach the top of the elevator and pull myself, panting, onto the level surface. My arm muscles burn. My thighs are hot blocks of pain. I wipe my sweaty hands on my landsuit. I wish I had time to take it off. It’s too warm on board for it.
The hatch Vega climbed out of is still open, a hole down into the comfort of the padded cabin below, a world away from my desperate climb. Next to the hatch lies a hammer.
Where did that come from?
I look up. There’s Vega. She’s still a good way ahead, but I’m closing the gap. Above her, the doors to the engine room are open. There’s a face in front of the familiar curve of the wall and the blinking red alarm lights. Aldrin is leaning out over the elevator shaft. He must have thrown his hammer, hoping to hit Vega. That’s what the noise was.
Smart thinking. Shame about the aim. But he has to throw it hard in the low gravity up there, and it’s nearly impossible to com-pensate for the ship’s rotation.
I keep climbing, quietly. I don’t want to give away that I’m here. It’s my only advantage. Maybe I’ll be able to creep up on Vega. She’s slowed down. I just need to get within my pulse gun’s range.
But then what? If I shoot her, she’ll fall. She’ll die. Can I do that?
We used to be friends. Until I made her choose between me and having a family.
I see the soles of Vega’s feet on the rungs above me as she glides her way up. She has less gravity, but she has to be ready for Aldrin’s missiles. She’s not close enough to the engine room to fire her gun. Yet.
Hand over hand. Ignore the stitch in my side. Ignore the ache in my fingers. Ignore the elevator growing smaller below me.
Bang! A screwdriver slams into the wall near my head, then bounces off and continues its chaotic fall down to the elevator. Ah. Yes. The missiles are a problem for me, too. I crane my neck up. If a tool hits me and I let go, the fall down the shaft will kill me.
I swing to the side as a blowtorch hits the wall, then whizzes past.
Sounds from the bottom of the shaft echo up. Protectors, cl
imbing the ladder, finally. But they’re too far away. Vega doesn’t look down. She knows they’ll never reach her before she gets to the engine room. If Aldrin or I can’t stop her, it’s all over. My breath is coming hard. My hands are slippery with sweat. I can’t stop to wipe them.
I’m not going to catch up with Vega in time.
How many tools does Aldrin have? He’ll have to run out soon, and then what?
As if in answer, a linkcom falls toward me, hitting the wall. I swing to one side of the ladder as it whistles by. Aldrin must be getting desperate if he’s throwing his linkcom.
I keep climbing quietly, gliding up the ladder in the low gravity. Watching the scene above me. Down comes an empty gear bag. That would be useless even if it hit Vega. And she’s getting closer to the engine room.
Aldrin is holding a wrench. He’s not throwing it. He’s waiting, aiming. It must be his last missile. But Vega isn’t far now, almost in pulse gun range. Aldrin’s tongue comes out, licks his lips. Vega might be close enough to hit now. She knows it. She’s still climbing, but slowly. She’s watching. If she dodges this one, it’s all over.
Aldrin will close the elevator doors, of course. But once Vega reaches the top, she can shoot the control panel, short it out. Then the doors will open and she can glide in, stun Aldrin, zap out the air circulation backup, and the ship will fall to Beta. She’s too far above me. Even if I could shoot her, she’s out of range.
But we used to be friends. Maybe that still means something. Maybe I can talk to her. Yuri told her about the creature. Cassius spoke to her about me. Perhaps she’ll listen.
It’s worth a shot. And what else can I do?
“Vega!” I shout, loud as I can. “Please don’t do this!”
“Ursa?” She sounds shocked. Which makes sense. She thinks I’m dead. She turns, looks down at me. “You’re alive!”
There’s relief in her voice. In her face. It lights up as she smiles, just like she used to, when we were friends. And for one moment, I think it’s going to be okay. We can talk through this. We can make it right.