Chapter 12-3
1295 Words
Oh, stars, they were boned.
She wiped sweaty palms on her trouser legs. She needed a distraction to get her out of her own head. When they were kids, she and Joseph used to sing a nonsense song when they felt scared. Mari hummed a bar but couldn’t find the melody. Or remember the words.
As the ship entered the asteroid field, sensors lit up with a whole set of vivid colors reserved exclusively for freak outs.
“Yeah, I know,” she muttered, turning off the audio. The last thing her fragile concentration needed was a wailing klaxon in her ear. Fluff was serious. She got it.
Gravity disengaged. For approximately three seconds, she hung in the air, strapped to the chair by the safety harness.
Gravity slammed back. Her hip protested. She hissed, shifting to relieve the discomfort. She’d feel that tomorrow.
“Explain what in all the stars in the sky was that,” she barked over the comm.
“Apologies. The switches are poorly labeled,” Winter replied.
“CayneTech ships—”
“Do not say it. I will have words with the designer. This is unacceptable.”
Lights dimmed and returned. Winter must have set the manual override. The rest of the ship would be down to emergency lighting and minimal environmental standards. If things got truly dire, she could limit environmental and power to just the cockpit. It’d be crap, but all three could squeeze in.
She narrowly dodged a honking huge boulder. Debris grew thicker, shifting and drifting together. She steered toward an opening, hoping to find a clear route.
“Blast it. Computer, call Joseph.”
At this distance, she expected communications to be limited to audio only and low quality with interference from the asteroids.
“Mari? If you’ve been murdered, I will kill you dead,” Joseph said, sounding as crisp and clear as if he were standing next to her. She had to hand it to CayneTech. They made top notch communication systems. Their ships left a lot to be desired, but no matter where you traveled in the deep black, the ship never lost network connection.
“That seems like an overreaction on your part,” she replied, already feeling more relaxed. “I need you to sing the song.”
“What now?”
“The song. You know which one. It’s important.”
He paused. Static cracked over the connection. “I’m working right now.”
“So am I, and it’s a lot more serious. I need to focus and I can’t, so I need the song.” One of the great things about her brother was that he never questioned her when she said something was important. He believed her.
“Hold on.” More static and the sound of voices in the background. “Are you actively dying right now? Are these your last breaths because that’s not cool, Sunshower Marigold,” Joseph said.
“I’m actively trying to fly through an asteroid field. Not dying.”
“For real? Shit.” Static drifted over his voice, but Mari could hear the alarm.
“It’s fine, Joe,” she said. “I’m just having trouble finding my zen. The song?”
The door opened behind her. “Marigold? My room is cold.”
“Is that him? Sounds like a twerp,” Joseph said.
“Come and have a seat, Zero,” she said. “Safety harness. Your dad seems to think gravity is an option. And he’s fourteen, Joe. Be nice.”
“Oh s**t. Sorry, kid.”
Mari rolled her eyes. “He thought you were your dad,” she whispered to Zero.
“Is it okay if I stay with you?” Zero asked.
“Sure. Don’t touch any buttons unless I tell you to.”
“Aren’t you mad at me?”
The alarm went off again, snagging her attention back to the screen. The ship dipped down as two massive boulders moved to clear a space.
“Silence that, please. And I’m upset with your behavior but not with you,” she said. “Joe?”
“Here,” the distant reply came. “I had to lock myself in a storage closet, just so you know. This is embarrassing.”
“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need it.”
“Fine,” he dragged out the word as if being punished. After a bit of throat clearing, he stumbled over the first line, restarted, and found the melody. Just like that, stress eased its grip, and Mari remembered the entire song, including all the verses. It was a scrap of a tune that rhymes badly but never failed to make her feel better. When she had been ill in the hospital, Joseph sat at her bed just rhyming words to cover the beeps of machines and the noise of other patients. Since then, whenever the other felt bad, they sang the silly song.
Zero watched with confusion on his face. Maybe the lyrics failed to translate.
“Again,” she said, gesturing for Zero to join.
They sang the entire thing twice, Zero mumbling the words, then growing bolder. By the end, the ship had cleared the densest cluster.
“Status report,” she commanded the computer. Shields were decent but depleted. Smaller debris burned in the shield but the larger chunks of rock pinged and battered the hull. “So far, no breaches,” she said.
“Can I ask now?”
She gave her brother a quick run-down of the situation, careful to avoid naming who exactly changed the flight plan. Zero sank into his seat, chin tucked down defensively.
Well, fluff.
“We’re through the worst of it,” she said, and not just for Joseph and Zero’s benefit. She needed to hear the affirmation too.
“Any firepower to blast a clear path?” Joseph asked.
Mari rolled her eyes. “Like you don’t know this is a civilian vessel.”
“It’s custom built. You never know. Rich dudes are eccentric and have secret weapons stashed away, like Mars Man.”
“Oh my fluff and stuff, this isn’t a cartoon.”
“Mars Man is a beloved comic book icon, I’ll have you know,” Joseph sniffed.
“Zero, does your dad have a stash of secret weapons?”
“Like what?” he asked.
Joseph gave a triumphant laugh. Mari rolled her eyes. “I heard that,” Joseph said, because of course he did.
“Clearly my brother thinks this vessel has a massive plasma ray or drill, something rated for mining, which this ship doesn’t have the power supply to support or the space to even carry,” she said.
“No. Nothing like that.”
The ship shuddered. The proximity alarms blared. Zero yelped, digging his claws into the chair’s armrest. Joseph shouted, “What was that?”
“Asteroid. Shield integrity is holding. It just shook us around a little,” she said. Without thinking, she reached over and squeezed Zero’s hand. “We’re fine.”
“The stabilizers should have absorbed that,” Joseph said.
“I know! It’s a CayneTech ship, so the stabilizers gave up the ghost when I looked at them funny.”
“Ugh, really? Enjoy your bumpy ass ride.”
She checked their progress on the nav screen. Three-fourths of the way through the field and thankfully the debris thinned out. She still needed to pay attention to avoid collision, but it was not as tense as fifteen minutes ago.
“Are you going to be okay now?” Joseph finally asked.
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“You’re the one paying the bill.”
“Which I will forward to the boss,” she replied, knowing that audio calls were inexpensive.
“Be safe. Love you,” he said.
Mari returned the sentiments, disconnecting the call. Winter arrived, holding a hot mug of her favorite fruity tea. “You never brought me that water,” she said, accepting the mug gratefully.
“I thought you’d appreciate having power to the shields.” Grease smeared his cheek, and a clump of dust clung to the end of his tail. Without thinking, she brushed the dust away. Winter sucked in his breath, then gave her a heated look. So much heat.
What caused that reaction?
Oh.
Oh.
“Umm, we’ll be, umm, back on track soon,” she said, blushing furiously and stumbling over her words. She did not just grab that man’s tail in front of his son. It was tacky and gross, and she acted before her brain caught up with what her hands were doing. “Returning power to environmental systems. You should have heat in your cabin again, Zero.”
“You heard Marigold. Return to your cabin. You are under punishment,” Winter said, his eyes never leaving her.
Something bright and tense shifted inside her, filling her with the zing of anticipation.
- Writer
