The Remnant. Laura Nolen Liddell

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       Eight

      I slid into the hatch. He caught me before I hit the seat, and my hand was like a limp rag in his as we completed the handshake inside the Arkhopper. I was in a tiny, round glass cabin with two metal chairs. A complicated series of straps hung from the seats and was mirrored in the webwork around the glass. Marcela leaned in after me to buckle my seatbelts. I pursed my lips and turned away. The process took a long time, then was repeated with Isaiah.

      “Thank you, Mars. Now show her the stuff so we can get out of here.”

      Marcela turned to me and extended a hand toward the dash. “This is your helmet and a skin. You have four hours of oxygen. If they’re not sealed together correctly, your blood will boil as soon as the cabin loses pressure. Get yours on before you do his, or you’ll both boil. Not that anything’s going to happen.”

      I tried not to let my rising panic show in my voice. From the look on her face, she was definitely enjoying this. “Who’s flying this thing?”

      Isaiah laughed out loud. “You don’t think I can do it? Come on, little bird. Have a little faith.”

      Marcela smirked. “Okay, time for your heads.”

      Without further warning, she pressed my forehead back until my head was against the cushion behind it, then pulled the cushions around the side of my head, securing them with a heavy strap. If I was nervous before, now I was approaching outright dread. I couldn’t move my head at all. Sounds were muffled by the cushions, and my vision was almost completely obscured, save for a view of the dash in front of me. My breathing came harder, and my fingers curled into fists.

      At the last second, Marcela turned back to me. “Try to keep your neck relaxed, if you can.” She slapped Isaiah’s headstrap into place on the velcroed side of the cushion. “I’ll have auxiliary control of the avionics until you get there,” she said to him. “Then I’ll transfer.”

      The tightness in my chest pressed up against my throat. “To whom?” I squeaked.

      “The Asian Ark,” said Isaiah, louder than usual, thanks to all the padding around our heads.

      “That’s our big plan? We’re just going to pop into the Asian Ark and beg them not to blow us up?”

      “Unless we lose pressure and boil first. Zai jian, Mars. Thanks for that image.”

      In response, Marcela slammed the hatch shut. She met my eye through the glass for one final instant while securing the latch from the other side. She was still pretending to suppress her amusement when the port closed off completely.

      “Hang on tight, all right?” said Isaiah. “You’re not going to like this.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “Right now, we’re spinning. Whole Ark is. But when I hit the release, the airlock will open, and we’ll be free floating. Takes a minute to engage the thrusters, so we’ll still be spinning for a minute. Then there won’t be any gravity at all. It takes some getting used to.”

      Apparently, Isaiah had done this before. Where had he gone that time?

      I took a deep breath. “I’m ready.”

      His long fingers spread out on the dash, delicately brushing the switches and buttons until they found a square yellow knob. “All right. Here we go.”

      The pressure that had forced its way up to my throat was joined by the new sensation of my neck being pulled down into my stomach from deep inside me. The tension in my innards spread to beneath my belly. I heard myself make a strange, guttural sound, but I didn’t start screaming until the pulling and pressing reached its icy hands inside my head.

      I was spinning. Heavy arcs of swinging motion overtook me in waves. I screamed louder and louder, until my voice broke. We were completely helpless.

      A dull pain bit into my right forearm, and I realized Isaiah was trying to get me to hold his hand.

      Then, gravity gave out, and the stars swung slower and slower around the clear pane of the Arkhopper. We went around and around, and the pressure forced its way fully into my skull, blackening my vision. The stars winked away. The dash went dark.

      I kept screaming.

      I knew I had to stop, but I couldn’t. Isaiah’s hand was frantic against my arm. He’s afraid for me. He’s worried.

      Then, gravity released us completely, relieving me of what wits I still commanded. My body lifted from the seat.

      I think I’m dying. I definitely wasn’t breathing. The world was red, with streaks of gray. My face felt cold. Everything was so cold, except my hand.

      “Charlotte. Char, baby. Come on. You still with me?”

      My throat tried to swallow, but failed. “What was that?! What happened?”

      “I don’t know.” Isaiah was calm, except for an errant muscle working its way through his jaw. “I couldn’t hear Control.”

      “No. Right.”

      “Because of all the screaming.”

      “Ah.” I looked at him, pulled a face. “Sorry.”

      “Take my hand, Turner.”

      I spread my fingers, and his fingers slid across my palm. I folded my hand to his. It occurred to me that this was Isaiah’s first order. I laughed. What a stupid waste of an order. The streaks of gray in my vision shrank hard, and the red was abruptly angry.

      “Marcela. Come in,” Isaiah’s voice was tense. It made him sound like someone else. “Mars, you there?”

      “I’m here, sir. Cabin lost some pressure right out of the airlock. Some kind of defensive mechanism, maybe, or something standard that we just weren’t prepared for. I couldn’t warn you because of… the noise. Life support is rebooting. You’re two minutes out, but there should be enough air to go on if she calms down.”

      “This isn’t her fault, Mars.”

      “I wasn’t—yes, sir.”

      “Get us back on track right now.”

      “Yes, sir. Eighty seconds.”

      “Sign off, too. I don’t think she likes your voice.”

      There was a moment of silence. My stomach seemed to float in a space all its own, only briefly knocking into my ribs and lungs.

      “Char, you have to breathe slower. You gotta calm down.” He gave my hand a little squeeze, and I found I could make sense of his words.

      I focused on nothing but Isaiah’s hand and its warmth against my own. It wasn’t the first time his steady grip had taught me how to breathe again. I squeezed him back.

      “Hey. There you are.” His voice СКАЧАТЬ