CHAPTER 7

W ithin a few minutes, we’re all cozied into the cockpit again like one big dysfunctional family, strapping in for the jump to lightspeed. It feels good to be rid of the weight of that belly and back in my normal gear, but the way Mitchell looks at me this time when he glances over his shoulder leaves me with a different kind of weight.

It settles in my chest and urges me to retreat from his stare. But I refuse to look away. I don’t want him to know how guilty I feel.

Sam’s finished another checklist and we’re about to make the jump when Ballga swivels suddenly toward Mitchell. “We’re getting a transmission from Customs. They’re telling us to hold the light engines and stand by for boarding again . They say they have reason to believe we have unauthorized passengers aboard.” She glances back at us, an expression of what I’d guess is either annoyance or worry etched in her furry features.

“Could they have picked up our tracking chips after all?” I ask, trying not to sound as anxious as I feel. Not even Tori knows my real name and who I’m running from, but my tracking device carries all that information. And if Border Security identifies me, they will stop at absolutely nothing to deliver me back into my father’s custody.

Ballga’s pupils narrow as she looks at me. “They didn’t say.”

“Don’t respond.” Mitchell keys in the jump sequence as he speaks. “We’re already cleared and set for the jump. We’ll proceed as if we didn’t receive the transmission.”

Ballga nods and goes to work on her own set of touchscreens, her movements urgent. The light drive revs up to a high, pulsing hum, thankfully not as jarring as the rumbling launch engines we used to break through the planet’s atmosphere.

“Light drive at full power,” Ballga says.

“Secondary systems at minimal draw.” Sam’s youthful voice has the serious tone of someone much older.

Mitchell slides what looks like a large throttle lever toward the dash. “Here we go.”

The ship leaps forward with pent-up energy, like a horse coming out of the gate at one of the races I used to attend with my father. For a half-second, we accelerate at an insane rate. Then, without warning, we lurch to a sudden halt. My harness catches me before I sail into the cockpit and smash against the dash. It digs hard into my shoulders. My head whips forward, then slams back into the seat .

Stars flash in my vision. Everything blurs. I must be disoriented because it feels like we’re being pulled slowly backward .

Wait.

We are definitely moving backward.

“What’s going on?” Tori’s voice pitches high with distress.

“Border Security’s trying to pull us into their station,” Vince says. How the hell he would know that is beyond me, but it does feel a lot like we’re trying and failing to resist a backward tug.

“Cut power to everything but life support,” Mitchell orders. “Put everything we’ve got into those engines.”

Movement blurs the cockpit as six hands fly over the controls. Mitchell’s working at his own central station and reaching over to help Sam without even looking. He fires commands so fast I can’t follow their meaning. Then we’re shooting forward again, and this time I see the lights of distant stars blur into shining streaks through the narrow windshield, a familiar sign that we’ve hit lightspeed.

There’s a collective sigh of relief and sagging of tight shoulders as all six of us seem to exhale at once. The crew members slump back in their seats, panting.

We’re safe .

We sit in silence for a long moment, the hum of the light engines punctuated occasionally by a beep from the dash monitors.

In the stillness, guilt gnaws at my conscience.

“Won’t you lose your licence after disobeying their order like that?” I ask finally, voice coming out quieter, and a lot shakier, than I mean it to.

Mitchell looks me up and down like he’s skeptical I would actually care. Then he sighs. “They may have a few questions for us on return, but it’s not unheard of for light drive to interfere with transmissions. And we’d already been cleared. It’ll come across as a valid excuse.”

“Thank you.” I look Mitchell in the eye, then turn to Ballga, and then Sam. “You guys saved our asses.”

Ballga’s expression softens just a little, but all she says is, “Watch your mouth, girl.” She turns back to her station and resumes her work.

Sam grins at us over the back of his seat. “Anyone wanna play Sliders?”

It’s a Varunese game I’ve played with Sana’s kids. Sam was bragging about his skill with a slider board when he gave us our tour.

Tori laughs. “Sure, we’d love to. Right, Gee?”

I bet it’s a relief to her sensitive faculties to feel positive emotion coming from someone on this ship, even if it’s just a kid. For Tori’s sake, I grin. “Absolutely. But I’ve gotta warn you, I used to play this game with my neighbours and I always kicked ass.” I glance at Ballga’s back. “Er… I mean… kicked butt.”

I think I hear Granny Cat snort.

Tori, Sam, and I have only taken a few steps toward the exit when the pitch of the light drive suddenly drops multiple octaves from a high hum to a deep drone. We don’t lurch to a stop like before, but I can tell we’re slowing.

“That… didn’t sound right,” Tori says. She and I share a worried glance and turn back toward the cockpit.

Ballga’s already unstrapping. “Something’s not right with the light drive. Fighting the pull of that tractor beam could have overheated a cylinder.” She brushes past us and out the door, Mitchell at her heels.

“C’mon,” Sam says. “Let’s see what’s up.” He looks at me and Tori with his big, whiteless eyes and gestures for us to follow.

I don’t want to intrude, especially when I’m not exactly a welcome guest, but I am curious. Tori and I share another glance. I can tell she wants to go, too. We fall into step behind Sam.

Vince joins us as we follow the kid down the hall. “Guess there’s a party in the engine room.” He squeezes between me and Tori and throws an arm over each of our shoulders. “And I’ve got the two hottest dates. ”

Sam halts, turns on his heel to face us, and crosses his arms. We crowd to a stop.

The kid levels his gaze at Vince, giving him a very Mitchell-ish stare. “Hey. I invited them.” He seems completely unintimidated, and completely serious.

“Oh…” Vince stares at the kid, obviously unsure how to react. He tightens his hand on my shoulder like he’s considering arguing the point. Then lets both his arms drop.

A grin lights Sam’s face. His eyes twinkle with laughter. Tori bursts into giggles. I smile, shaking my head as the kid turns and scampers down the hall.

A ten-year-old who can keep a grown bounty hunter on his toes.

I think I’m going to like this kid.

-X-

The light drive, housed in a central room apart from the blast motors, is unlike any engine I’ve ever seen on a hover or other terrestrial vehicle. A thick column composed of many smaller cylinders stretches up from the floor and into the far recesses of the high ceiling, emanating a blueish white light that pulses rhythmically. A hum throbs in sync with the glow, intensifying as the cylinders brighten and waning as they dim. The light drive’s energy fills the engine room with a lifelike presence, as if it were a colossal idol imbued with the life force of some cosmic god.

My skin prickles. Flyaway strands of pink hair lift around Tori’s face.

For the first time, I kind of get why, when humans first arrived on Varus sporting this technology, Varuns thought they were messengers from the Celestial Realm. It was all too easy for my ancestors to take advantage of that notion.

Ballga scales a ladder attached to a circular track in the ceiling and another in the floor, enabling it to slide around the circumference of the column like a library ladder slides along a bookshelf. She stops a few metres up, at a section of cylinder glowing dimmer than the rest.

“Scanner,” she calls. Mitchell hands up a tool that looks a little like a crescent wrench but more delicate, with a narrow screen embedded in the inner curve. Ballga secures the device’s c-shaped tip around the dimmed section and slides it slowly along the cylinder, then removes it and reads the screen. “It’s fried,” she says, handing the tool back down to Mitchell. “Whole section’s going to go.”

The captain runs a hand through his short hair. “How long can we maintain speed?”

“Couple of minutes, if that.” Ballga looks grim as she leaps the last few rungs to land soft-pawed on the engine room floor .

“Minutes, shit.” He mutters under his breath, concentrating on something I can’t see like he’s doing calculations in his head. He glances back to Ballga. “Fixable? With what we have on hand?”

“Possibly, but I’ll have to completely shut down all systems, including life support. We’ll need to land somewhere with decent air quality. And fast.”

I’m still wrapping my brain around the fact that I just heard Captain Goody-Goody swear as he turns on his heel and sweeps out of the room.

“God, we’ve got to be halfway to nowhere,” Vince mutters. Tension brackets his mouth, and his smirk is nowhere to be seen.

Nothing else on this delightfully eventful trip so far has caused Mitchell to swear or Vince to look anything but insouciant. Not even being sucked out of light drive by Border Security. If these two are worried, I’m guessing it’s a sign that things are about to get really grim.

I look to Tori for confirmation of my suspicions. Her face reflects what she must be picking up from Vince and the crew. Fear.