Kapitel 11: Chapter 11: Sammel

Sammel ran faster than he had ever run before. He found himself sliding sideways when he reached corners, skidding around as fast as his feet could carry him. He fell several times, mostly when the ship bucked. But he knew they were running out of time and Archer needed the engines up and running.

He didn't have the heart to tell his brother the wound they found in the hull was a different one than he had seen. Sammel tried not to think about how many other such punctures there were in the skin of the Day Wanderer. Doing so would drive his mind to try to calculate how much time they had on emergency power before the force fields serving as a skim of protection collapsed.

Sammel slid to a halt outside the main engine room, grateful the door was still partially open from his exit. It felt like forever ago he'd scrambled out into the hall, but it couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes. He squeezed through the crack and dove for the first control panel. It was dead, circuits blackened from an overload. He went immediately to the second and breathed a sigh of relief. It was working just fine and only took him a few moments to reroute control to it from the other. He did so without thinking, without understanding the very things that made others in the crew think he was a screw up were the exact talents serving them all now.

The sensors for the star drives glowed red. Sammel ignored them. It was likely they were destroyed. And there was no way the Day Wanderer would survive if they were engaged anyway. They were lucky to hold together as it was without placing that kind of pressure on the delicate balance of the force fields. He held out hope for the sublights and saw another piece of good news from the flickering panel. Two of the smaller engines were out of commission, but the other two showed slow-flashing yellow. They were functional, but cold. He tapped the

screen, drawing on the knowledge he needed to keep going. They had about a half hour of emergency power left.

Sammel sagged against the console in relief. He knew he could get the engines on line before then, restoring at least enough power to keep them shielded from the cold of space. He keyed the com.

"Engine room to bridge. Archer, the sublights are fine. I'm going to fire them up. Stand by."

He abandoned the panel, not bothering to wait for a reply. It wasn't like Archer could do anything to help him. Sammel paused as he realized what he was doing. He was a failure! What did he know? He would probably blow them up with his meddling.

There's no one else, his heart told him. You know what to do. Just do it. And if something does go wrong... at least you tried.

Grim and determined, Sammel forced the door to the engine compartment open and entered.

Ten minutes later, he emerged back into the control room, a glow of satisfaction flooding through him. The fix had been simple, if awkward. He was forced to climb around the inside of the giant generators to the back of the panels and realign the sensors by hand. Whatever the attackers did to the ship affected all of the main circuits, rendering them inert.

Sammel held his breath as he commanded the engines to fire. The rumble of their comforting presence vibrated through his feet as main power came back on line. He wasted no time checking the Day Wanderer's condition and when he did, he wished he hadn't.

The hull was riddled with holes, easily two-dozen entry points held at bay by the ship's force fields. He was right about the star drives. Both massive engines were totaled, the shining metal housings crumpled and slagged. The only positives in the mess were the oxygen recapture system was functioning normally and two fuel cores were unharmed. Without life support, the ship already damaged and in trouble, their breathable air would have been used up quickly, no matter the vastness of the ship, drawn in and utilized by systems that didn't care humans needed the air more. And if the fuel cores had been leaking or damaged at all, the Day Wanderer would have been destroyed long ago.

Sammel gripped the console with both hands and braced himself as the ship slanted harshly on its axis. The stabilization net keeping the interior of the ship level at all times was so badly taxed he wasn't surprised, especially when he saw the cause. At least he knew his brother made it to the bridge. Either that, or someone else up there radically changed their course.

Sammel scanned ahead for the target. As he did, another great shudder passed over the hull as one of the sublights went down. Frantic, he keyed the controls and saw red where once there had been green and knew the truth. The repair he made was temporary after all. They had very little time. He went back to his study of the planet they hurtled toward and performed a rapid calculation in his head. It was close. They were fortunate it was so close, and habitable for all that, a colony no less. Still, close didn't get them there if they lost power again and the force fields collapsed.

Sammel urged the last sublight on, rerouting every last bit of channel he could think of to keep it going. He watched the power peak and retreat, the strain overloading the already damaged engine.

Knowing he had done everything he could from the control room, Sammel dove for the rear compartment. His only hope was to get to the engine itself and nurse the thing through the last of the trip.

He just reached the half-open door when something inside the compartment exploded, rocketing him back and up to impact against the bulkhead and crumple to the deck, out cold while the Day Wanderer managed to engage its fire suppression system and save his life.

***

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Kapitel 12: Chapter 12: Quinn

Quinn watched Minnesota march away from him and felt a surge of embarrassment. Not wanting her to show him up any further, he followed after her, scowling that she hadn't been afraid.

He was terrified. Used to his life, accustomed to it as much as it sucked, prepared for ordinary problems and worrying about where he'd get his next paycheck. The idea there was something bigger and scarier than what his experience taught him so far almost drove him to his knees in terror.

But the sight of that little slip of a girl marching with determination toward danger was just the kick in the ego he needed to push the fear aside and follow her.

He could hear the twins shuffling along beside him and felt oddly better he wasn't alone. He felt them leave him, heard their footfalls move off to his left when they reached the outskirts of the colony, knew that, like him, they were going home. But he couldn't bring himself to do so right away.

He, too, felt the weight of the silence as he made his way through the center of town. New Paltos hadn't grown much past its original size. The population stayed pretty much the same in the hundred and twenty-odd years humans had lived here, replacing itself in a natural but withdrawn manner, as though those who chose this location knew by instinct the corner they carved out was the only place to be. So it didn't take long for Quinn to make his way to the outside of town, to walk the familiar road to the head of the mine.

Once there, he tried peering down the shaft around the creaking of the elevator, but the hole was dark, just like the rest of town. The emergency power for the mine must have been taken out at the same time as the main. He keyed the com, hoping for contact, but it too was dead. He listened for a moment, straining to hear something, anything, but no sound wafted up toward him.

For all he knew, Quinn and the three others were all that remained of the four hundred people who lived and worked in the colony. The idea was impossible to absorb.

Quinn felt his foot slide on loose dirt and grabbed for the cold steel elevator. He shuddered and backed away from the black pit, his heart in his throat. The last thing he needed was to fall into the mine hundreds of feet below.

Reluctant, but feeling the weight of obligation, he spun on his heel and headed for home.

The front of the house looked much the same, though one of the windows had shattered out into the street, spraying over the front step. He crunched through the glass to the door and pushed it open. The darkness inside seemed absolute. Quinn fumbled at the small table by the entry, fingers locking on his flashlight. He wound the rechargeable cell for a full minute before turning it on. The bright beam carved through the dust and darkness, cutting a path to the living area. He stopped in the doorway, his light exploring the empty couch, the discarded blanket. He slid his foot forward and he heard something skitter away. He followed the object with his beam and retrieved the sparkling thing.

His father's now-empty bottle gleamed in his hand.

Quinn tossed it aside, lost. Now what? He hated he didn't have an answer to the question.

He turned to leave when the beam revealed another treasure. Quinn crouched over the shattered glass filling the small silver frame. He shook it upside down to loosen the slivers then looked at it. His mother's smiling face was untouched by the damage. Quinn felt heat and pressure rise in the back of his throat, choked on the tightening in his chest and clung to the picture of his mother for support. When the wave of emotion passed, he used his penknife to pry her image loose. He tossed aside the ruined frame and stared at her in the fading glow of his flashlight before sliding the photo into his pocket.

He wound the light again, bringing the charge back up to full and headed for the door when Minnesota came rushing in. He was almost angry with her for intruding until the renewed beam showed him the look on her face.

"You'd better come quick," she said, turning and running off again before he could answer.

Personal grief shoved aside by a resurgence of fear, he went after her, the door of his empty house slamming shut behind him.

***

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