Space Rocks! (8 page)

T
he air in the pod had long since run out, now replaced by the surface atmosphere of Gelo. I sat on the floor of the sideways room, still tied, with the four humans. They had all put on their spacesuits several hours earlier. At first, they were eager to talk among themselves. They were close enough to actually hear each other without the use of their radios, though the glass of their helmets and the thinner atmospheric composition gave their voices a muffled, far-away quality. For the past hour or so, though, no one had said anything.

Even the computer voice, so eager to remind the humans of their impending doom, had fallen silent. After the air had run out, it probably assumed that all sensible humans had evacuated.

The young humans had sent their message. They'd located the book, and then Nicki had used another hologram computer device, this one belonging to Hollins. She'd plugged it into the wall and reprogrammed the ship's lighting controls. Instead of flying saucers, the holographic display had shown a floating stream of human computer code that Nicki manipulated and changed. Apparently the devices weren't just for games.

Now, periodically, the lights of the pod would flick on and off according to an ancient human code of dots and dashes that represented characters in their alphabet. If someone was observing from space, and they knew this code, they might have gotten the following message:

“SOS. ONLY THREE HOURS AIR LEFT. SOS.”

For a while, the blinking lights kept repeating this message (with Nicki periodically revising the number in the middle downward). Eventually the air had run out, and so it was shortened to simply:

“SOS.”

The humans had each collected a few things in airtight bags: food, water, small illumination devices, more of the rope they'd used to restrain me, and Hollins's folding knife. They'd gathered these things as if they meant to take them somewhere, but it was unclear where they planned to go.

I'd gleaned that this was the pod where Hollins had lived with his two originators—the fact that all humans apparently have two originators struck me as incredibly bizarre and disturbing. I was morbidly curious, and I wanted to ask them more about this. But I didn't quite have the language skill, and frankly it seemed like the wrong time.

Every so often, the whole world would rattle and shake for a few moments. Aftershocks from the quake. Each time the rumbling would raise the young humans' hope: Perhaps their mothership was landing nearby. Each time those hopes were dashed.

“They're not coming,” said Becky at last. Her voice was faint, barely a whisper.

“Don't say that,” said Hollins. “They'll come back. My mom won't leave us here.”

“Why didn't she override the automatic quarantine?” Becky began.

Nicki cut her off. “Does it really matter, Becky? We're here now. That's all.” Becky shrugged and went silent again.

“I never even got to see Paris,” said Little Gus.

“Did you want to see Paris?” asked Nicki.

“Not really,” said Little Gus glumly. “That makes me sad too. Why didn't I want to see Paris? Is something wrong with me?”

“C'mon, let's send the message again,” said Hollins. Nicki plugged her hologram device into the wall, and the lights flicked off and on in the now familiar pattern. Three short blinks. Three long blinks. Three more short. SOS.

The humans were trying their best to deny the obvious. In a little while, the oxygen tanks on their spacesuits would be out of air as well. Despair was creeping in.

“Can help,” I said, breaking the silence. Becky glared at me. At this point I knew what was coming next. My offer would be met with an argument, an accusation, a declaration of my obviously hostile intentions.

“How?” she said instead. “How can you help?”

“Have air,” I said. “Have human air.”

I'd made a decision. I couldn't just leave these humans to suffocate. If I hadn't sneaked aboard their pod, they would be up there between the stars. Headed home. Safe. Among their own kind.

It was my fault they were here.

Our two species might very well be at war now. But these four were my responsibility. I wasn't going to let them die.

I
stood with the four humans in the sideways airlock. We were packed and ready to depart.

I had told them, in halting human, that I could guide them to the cavern entrance near Jehe Canyon—where I'd seen them racing before. Once inside, they would be able to breathe the oxygen-rich air without their spacesuits.

At least this is what I hoped that I had said to them. I was learning their language quickly, but I was still only able to string a few difficult-to-pronounce human words together at a time. To me, human speech still sounded a bit like usk-lizards making territorial grunts.

Mercifully, I had been untied. Though I was informed in no uncertain terms, by both Hollins and Becky, that I was still their prisoner. Now possibly a “prisoner of war,” in fact. Which sounded much worse to me.

“They can both be kind of bossy, huh?” said Little Gus, when he and I were alone for a moment. Nicki overheard and nodded knowingly.

“My whole thing is just chill, you know?” he said. I didn't know. But I nodded anyway.

My only request of the humans was that we bring all the remaining boxes of Feeney's Original Astronaut Ice Cream with us. Perhaps it was unfair of me to ask anything of them, since I had gotten them into this predicament and they were in no position to refuse. But honestly, I didn't care. I wanted—nay, I needed—to eat more of those delicious pink treats.

As it turned out, they had two unopened packages in addition to the one I had, er, sampled—and Little Gus had fallen on. I offered to carry all three boxes. To be helpful.

“We have to let our families know what happened,” said Becky. She attached a handwritten note to the wall of the airlock. It explained the situation—why the humans were leaving the pod and where they were going. It included a crude map—that the young humans had drawn with my guidance—pointing toward the cavern entrance where I planned to take them.

I felt torn about leaving the human race a map to the Gelo cavern system, but I saw no other way. I realized I would likely face many similar ethical dilemmas if I was going to help these young humans survive.

“All right. Time to go,” said Hollins. He pushed the glowing orange button, and the inner door of the airlock slowly rolled closed. Then the outer door opened. There was no whoosh this time. The air inside was the same as the air outside. The blue-gray surface of Gelo stretched out beyond us.

“Sound doesn't carry far in this atmosphere,” said Hollins. “So we'll need to be on communicators once we're out there. Try not to talk much. Let's conserve battery power.” I reactivated the tiny Nyrt-Snooper still in my ear.

Hollins hopped onto one of the four rocket-bikes in the airlock. “I'm the best pilot,” he said, “so I'll take the lead.”

“Wait a second,” said Becky. “You're not the best pilot. Everyone knows I am.”

“Becky, you remember the emergency flight training course we did in preparation for this mission? I shouldn't tell you this, but I got rated ninety-four percent.”

“I was rated a ninety-seven percent,” said Becky, smiling.

“Yo, I got a twenty-two percent,” said Little Gus quietly. “That's still pretty good, right?”

“Not really,” said Nicki, but no one seemed to hear her.

“Look, we could debate this all day,” said Hollins to Becky. “Even if we are both equally good pilots—”

“Ninety-four and ninety-seven aren't equal,” she snapped.

“Becky, my mom was the commander—”

“Meaning what, exactly?”

“I'm thirteen. You're only twelve. I'm nine months and twenty-two days older than you. So that means I'm the leader,” said Hollins petulantly. Maybe he was still sore about losing the rocket-bike race to her?

“They're always like this,” said Little Gus, shrugging. “It's like ‘get married already.'”

“What? They are not going to get married!” cried Nicki. It was the most animated I'd ever seen her.

“We are not going to get married!” said Hollins and Becky in unison. Hollins's voice crackled high.

“What is ‘married'?” I asked. No one had a very good answer for me. Apparently it was a legal and emotional union between two humans who specifically were not originator and offspring—the two adult Hollinses I'd seen earlier were an example. Beyond that, the humans got a little evasive.

“Why are we wasting time explaining this to it!” said Becky, exasperated.

“It? It has a name, you know,” said Little Gus. “Wait . . . you do have a name, right?”

“I am Chorkle,” I said.

“Whew!” said Little Gus. “I was worried it was going to be something crazy like ‘Zhalufaxdyn' or ‘Ranvonmo the Eternal.' Chorkle. That's easy enough to say.”

“Pleased to meet you, Chorkle,” said Nicki, and she extended her hand.

“Pleased to meet you,” I said and waited. Her hand was still out. At last I grudgingly handed her a Feeney's Original Astronaut Ice Cream bar. She looked confused and then handed it back to me. That was good. I really hadn't wanted to give her one.

“Since we only have four bikes, Chorkle can ride with me,” said Little Gus, clapping me on the back. I suddenly recalled watching him wreck his rocket-bike a dozen times when I'd observed these humans before. I didn't want to end up a Chorkle-colored stain on some jagged rocks.

“Maybe should ride with Hollins,” I said, “as guide.”

“Good point,” said Hollins. “Hop on the back.” I climbed onto the rocket-bike behind him and grasped him around the trunk.

“Everyone ready?” said Hollins, firing up the ignition of his rocket-bike.

“I kind of have to go to the bathroom,” said Nicki.

“No time. Just go in your spacesuit,” said Little Gus. “They all have automatic waste-processing capability.”

“What?” said Becky. “No they don't.” Everyone stared at Little Gus.

“Oh. Huh,” he said. “Oops.”

“Hang on, Chorkle,” said Hollins. And I did.

There was a roar. Then we were hurtling across the asteroid's surface at an impossible speed. Rocks and craters flashed past us in a blur. Hollins kept the rocket-bike steady with his hands on the pronged steering mechanism.

Sometimes we'd swerve left or right to avoid an obstacle. Sometimes Hollins would give the bike a little altitude and we'd sail right over a boulder at the last possible instant. It was thrilling and terrifying at once, like some sort of a real-life hologram game.

Just then another rocket-bike started to nose past. It was Becky, a broad grin spread across her face. She was turning this into another race.

Hollins leaned forward and punched the accelerator, and we went even faster. But Becky was still ahead of us. I clung onto Hollins for dear life. I looked back. Far behind us, I saw Nicki shaking her head.

“Becky, slow down! What are you doing?” said Hollins over their communicators.

“It's called ‘piloting,'” she radioed back. “Don't worry. I can teach you.” She actually sounded happy for the first time since the pod had crashed.

Becky pulled dramatically into Jehe Canyon a few seconds before Hollins.

“Wow, glad you finally made it,” she laughed. “I was getting bored.”

“That was totally irresponsible,” yelled Hollins. “This is an emergency situation. Now is not the time to goof off.”

“Sorry, what did you say? I don't speak loser,” said Becky. I had understood Hollins, so I felt a burst of pride that I apparently did speak loser.

At last Nicki arrived in the canyon.

“Guys, splitting up the group and traveling at high speed for no reason is kind of dangerous,” said Nicki. “You know that, right?” From the looks on their faces and their mumbled responses, they both knew that.

Little Gus pulled up a little while later. His rocket-bike had a fresh dent in it, and his spacesuit was covered in dust.

“Good thing you weren't riding with me, Chorkle,” said Little Gus, rubbing his neck, “This rock came out of nowhere, and wham! I think I fractured my, uh . . . this bone right here.”

“Clavicle?” said Nicki.

“Gross, Nicki,” said Little Gus.

“Okay, so where do we find these caves?” said Hollins to me.

And so I brought four humans to the hidden entrance to the real Gelo.