Tundra 37 (14 page)

“Besides, it’s an antique, passed down from our ancestors.”

Rizzy jumped out of her sleep pod and crossed her arms. Vira tried to move to the kitchen to avoid her, but her powers had sucked all her energy, and she fell on her side into the carpet.

She expected Rizzy to smack on her head with her pillow, but her sister’s arms came under her, pulling her up. Her voice softened. “Come on. I can’t have you freezing outside your sleep pod. It’s like negative one in here.”

Vira hated how her disability unarmed the people around her, making them feel nothing but sympathy and pity. Sometimes, she’d rather have the pillow smack her on the head like a regular sister fight. “You’re not going to hit me?”

“No. But don’t do it again.”

“I won’t.”

Rizzy tenderly laid Vira back in her sleep pod. She pressed the keypad and muttered, “Nighty night.” But Vira’s mind still raced with thoughts of the presence she’d met. Was there a mind to the machine behind the
Expedition
?

Impossible. The Seers would have detected it. Besides, this presence lurked beyond the mainframe. Each impulse resonated from one source: a real body behind the consciousness, frantic and weak. She clutched her stomach as the lid of the sleep pod closed. She used to feel safe within its bubble-shaped dome, and now even the darkness inside seemed threatening.

One of the Seers themselves caught her.

Vira had always believed the Seers watched over them with the best intentions for all the Lifers. She held onto that thought late at night when she worried about the blackness of space around her and how they all relied on a ship built hundreds of years ago. At least the Seers hovered at the helm, making sure nothing bad would ever happen. Vira clutched her pillow in her hands, squeezing the fabric into clumps. The
Expedition
suddenly became a more menacing place and even the lid of her familiar sleep pod pressed down on her in the blackness.

She’d seen into this Seer’s heart; she’d seen her motives, identified her own fears and triumphs, just as the Seer examined her. She had a name: Abysme. She was a person, just like herself, with wants and needs, priorities and prejudices, strengths and weaknesses. Underneath all her Guide-driven objectives, this Seer just looked out for herself.

Mestasis yearned for the numbness of sleep. Eternally connected to the mainframe, her thoughts moved at light speed throughout the
Expedition
, never ceasing. Each pulse stuck her brain like a pinprick, and with too many holes her mind would turn to mush. Only when the ship terminated would her thoughts be her own again, and she’d be free to rest and, finally, to die.

Pushing away her personal concerns, she returned to the system analysis. The ship sucked energy like a vortex, draining the remaining capacitors at an alarming rate. She regulated the temperature down two degrees and dimmed the ultraviolet lights in the biodome.

The
Expedition
needed an alternative fuel source quickly to maintain their current living conditions. She checked on the status of Alpha Blue. Halfway to their target goal and driving the only working landrover, they provided a decent amount of hope shaded with worry. At least they’d survived the initial exposure. People on Old Earth spent years in arctic conditions, even setting up homes on the poles, but Mestasis didn’t know if the children of the
Expedition
were as hardy after a lifetime of light gravity and regulated conditions. Peering deep into their communications, an anomaly caught her attention. She opened her eye and turned her head to her sister.

Bysme, why did you change Alpha Blue’s mission objective?

Abysme hung tangled in the wires, reminding Mestasis of the dead pigeons caught in Old Earth’s nets. She used to curse the rich who hung the contraptions between buildings to keep them from flying into the hovercraft engines. She’d climb the escape ladders outside the buildings, risking her life to pick the birds out. By the time her nimble hands threaded their bodies free, most of them were already dead.

Bysme?

Her sister’s reticence had continued since the landing and Mestasis wondered if a part of her had given up. Abysme’s communication with Alpha Blue surprised her, sending jolts of optimism through her veins. At least her sister cared enough to check on the exploration team. But the illogical nature of the message concerned her. Why would her sister put any goal above obtaining an alternate energy source? On top of that, Abysme had given the irrational order without consulting her, thereby defying the Guide.

Bysme?

Her silence reminded Mestasis of when the mainframe froze due to information overload. She waited, each second pulling at her nerves.

Bysme’s forehead wrinkled.
The beacon points directly to a matching device. Identification must be made to ensure safety of crew.

Mestasis thought upon her sister’s response. It was a phenomenal coincidence the planet they landed on had a matching alien artifact to the one on their control deck. She calculated the odds with an astonishing conclusion, making her all the more uneasy.

Yes, but we need energy. Alpha Blue’s mission cannot be compromised.

Bysme’s head jerked, wires twitching.
Negative. Nature of object must be revealed before any colonization efforts are secured.

Mestasis paused. They’d never argued about mission objectives in the past. But then again, the Guide had set their course in a straight line from Old Earth to Paradise 18. The comets had forced them to break all the rules, and the lines of right and wrong had blurred.

For the thousandth time, Mestasis contemplated the threat level of the alien artifact. The orb illuminated the corner of their control chamber, bathing their torsos in mystical light. She’d never liked it, and her gut instinct had kept her close enough to keep her eye on the sparkling surface, but far enough to form a barrier, blocking its enticement. Abysme had taken control of monitoring the orb, and she hadn’t mentioned it in a long time, until after they’d landed, until she thought it was gone.

Mestasis’s mind prodded the wires connecting to the orb, traveling the path she’d long feared. She had to learn the nature of what lurked in its misty depths. Her mind crawled toward it, climbing the tendrils it had thrust into the control room floor. The presence of the light loomed like a quasar in her subconscious, its rays reaching to engulf her. Fear crossed her heart in a slash and she fought against it. She forced her mind open, allowing the warmth in.

§

Her hand reached out, fingers wiggling, all five of them, healthy and pink with heat. They moved in the air, dragging swirls of dust through a patch of sunlight. The golden swirls dispersed and she entwined her fingers in ringlets of dark hair, loosening knots, smoothing, and braiding into three thick strands. Euphoria bubbled through her as she moved again, feeling the world beyond her fingertips. Mestasis smelled the familiar scent of burnt plastic from the recycling factory mingling with a whiff of cheap, synthetic peach perfume. A lullaby drifted to her ears, sung in the alto voice, calming her like no one else ever could.

The stars are too many to count.

The stars make sixes and sevens.

The stars tell nothing—

And everything.

The stars look scattered.

Stars are so far away

They never speak when spoken to.

Regret panged in her gut, followed by a deep wave of melancholy and the urge to set things right. Mestasis ached to exist in the cosmic swirls forever, to forget her fragmented body and her cold existence attached to a computer mainframe. Just as she clung to the memory, her imaginary fingers slipped, and the fabric of light, air, and touch dissolved. The vision faltered, the orb only strong enough to hint at the world it held inside.

§

She pulled herself away, tearing her heart in the process, leaving a primary component of herself behind. The cold ship came back, regulated air blowing on her torso, wires plunging into her limbs. But Mestasis would never be the same.

The orb held a memory of her mother.

Gemme smoothed her fingers over Brentwood’s sleep cocoon. The thermal fabric smelled like his minty aftershave mingled with a husky, manly tinge. Curiosity overwhelmed her. She buried her face into the fabric and thought about the warmth of his arms.

Emotions swirled through her in a blizzard. The more she tried to squelch them, the more they raged inside her, and she became more obsessed with him than ever. These feelings were no simple equations to figure out or string of numbers to analyze. They made no logical sense, and that scared her more than any tentacled beast or ice planet. She wanted to dash as far away from him as possible until she regained her rational mind, but she also ached to rush into his arms and kiss the strong angles of his face.

Tech had placed her boots and coat on a container by the tent flap. An hour had passed since they’d left her, and she needed to stand up and do something. Her feet tingled with feeling and some soreness. She reached out for her boots and slipped them on, relishing the way the fur inside nestled her toes. Thankfully the beast hadn’t stolen them as well. She didn’t know what she’d do without her miniscreen, and she’d miss the picture of her and Ferris. But, thanks to Brentwood, she was alive and not some frozen chunk of ice on the ocean floor.

Gemme emerged from the tent into the brisk wind. The rest of Alpha Blue had already packed most of camp. The remnants of their fire melted a crater into the ice, and footprints littered the site like twisting footpaths to nowhere. Tech stood next to the landrover securing the cables around the mining rig. Where was Brentwood?

“Ms. Reiner, you’re up! Feeling better?” He didn’t even call her a name this time, which meant his concern outweighed his sarcasm. Gemme would have appreciated his kindness more if she hadn’t felt as though she had missed something.

She scanned the camp. With the two remaining tents fluttering in the wind, it seemed so abandoned and empty. She walked up to Tech. “Where’s the Lieutenant?”

His eyebrows rose. “I saw him go over that snow mound with Luna.”

“Oh.” Her chest tightened. What could they possibly have to talk about again? The snow samples? Or was she still complaining about the Seers’ choices? Why did they choose such a secluded spot? Part of her wanted to climb the snow to spy, and part of her was too disgusted to care.

She tried to remain logical and conceal her disappointment. “Thanks, Tech.”

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon. If you want me to get him—”

“No, no, no.” To have Tech interrupt their private meeting just because she wanted to know where he was would be momentously embarrassing. She waved him back. “I have to pack up anyways.”

“Okey dokers. Let me know if you need any help.”

“Thanks.”

She dragged her feet to her own collapsed tent. Goop congealed in icicles on the fabric and her possessions lay scattered in the snow. Slipping on a sheet of black ice, she cursed, wondering if she’d ever get used to walking on surfaces that weren’t made out of plastic and chrome. She found her backpack under a section of tent and knelt on the ice, pulling her life back together. She kept thinking of how Brentwood had saved her. Did he merely perform his job, keeping the team safe, or did he act out of a deeper concern?

Trying to remain logical, Gemme waved the rescue off. She should focus on continuing the mission. Ferris and her parents counted on her to find the mineral source, and that’s what she’d do. Anything else distracted her from that cause.

As much as she tried to convince herself not to, Gemme stole glances at the snowdrift. Time seemed to drag on and their prolonged absence stirred up bitterness. As she zipped up the top of her backpack, Luna crested the ridge with a flushed face and windblown hair, looking like she’d just won the Lieutenant’s heart.

“My goodness, Gemme, darling. You’ve slept a good a part of the morning away. I hope you’ve recovered from your near-death experience.”

The derision in her voice made it sound as though Gemme had exaggerated the whole thing. Kicking her tent peg out of the snow, Gemme replied, “I didn’t see you chasing it.”

“I’d been running all morning.”

“Running where?” Gemme scanned the monotonous mounds of snow.

Luna gave her a defensive glare. “For samples, of course.”

“Of course.”

Gemme kicked another peg, sending the metal rod skimming over the ice. She wished there was a whole line of them to take out her frustration on. Her gaze betrayed her, scanning the top of the snowdrift again. Luna caught her staring.

“I sure the Lieutenant will be back to camp soon, dear.” She pulled down the hem of her jumpsuit so the fabric squeezed her curves. “We had important matters to discuss.”

Like what? How to avoid doing actual work? Gemme wanted to ask but knew better than to provoke her. She focused her energy on folding her goop-coated tent.

“Ms. Reiner, you’re up and walking!”

Gemme turned as Brentwood slid down the hill. He seemed thrown off by something, a faraway look haunting his eyes. She wondered what he and Luna had discussed. An illogical current of anger rose inside her and she crushed it down. What he did with his free time shouldn’t concern her. They were on the same team, nothing more.

Gemme watched him closely as he approached, trying to spy any feelings he had for Luna in his bright eyes.

“Are you okay?” His voice sounded too familiar as his brow rose with concern. Brentwood’s presence ripped a vulnerable hole in her heart and she pretended to be more interested in stuffing the tent into a holding bag.

“I’m fine.”

All that time she waited for Brentwood to show up, and now she wished he’d disappear. Gemme couldn’t trust her emotions. They changed every minute, fickle as the wind. Right now his overprotectiveness made her feel like his helpless little sister. She could take care of herself. She was an independent, smart, professional woman. She refused to let her feelings for him get in the way, or let this mission intimidate her, no matter how much it fell out of her expertise.