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Chapter 14
Zach Croft: 2053
“We’re gonna get fucking shot,” Rhea said, knuckles scooping at her purplish eyes. She forced a bite of microwaved mashed potatoes into her mouth and signaled Mabel to give her the laptop. “They’re not just going to let us sneak onto the dropship. We’d be lucky to get anywhere near the launch bay.”
“Don’t you have an ID badge?” Zach asked, his throat filled with barbed wire. He had picked Rhea not only because she was a pilot but because she was someone OSE trusted. Trust meant clearance. Clearance meant access.
Rhea nonchalantly flashed the card pinned to her shirt. “It doesn’t matter if I have a badge. You guys wouldn’t be able to get in with me.”
“My ID can get me in, but only if a guard checks it,” Zach said.
“How many guards are there?” Mabel sat on a stool in the kitchen, elbows resting on the marble countertop.
“Ten. Fifteen. I don’t know,” answered Rhea.
Zach would figure out their shifts that night.
“Are they armed?” Mabel asked. “Are we armed?”
“We’re not trying to start an insurrection,” said Zach.
“It might be good to have something to protect ourselves,” Rhea replied.
“Even if we were armed, we wouldn’t risk shooting near a ship full of rocket fuel.” Zach cocked his head. “But that also means they probably won’t either. So, it doesn’t matter if they’re armed.”
Mabel shook her head. “There’s no guarantee.”
“Then we have to take our chances.”
“How do we even get to the ship?” asked Mabel.
Zach explained his plan and watched Mabel’s head clunk against the countertop. “Rhea’s right. We’re gonna get shot.”
“I already said—” Zach cut himself off and shut his fists tight. “They won’t shoot near a ship full of rocket fuel. Rhea, how long will it take to get us off the ground?”
“Five minutes for preflight checks and safety protocols, but that’s just an estimation. I’m going off what I know about the cruise ship. I’ve never been inside a dropship, let alone flown one.”
Great, just great, Zach thought. “So, how can you fly it?”
“I can fly anything.” Rhea shrugged, then continued, “A simulator would be nice, though.”
“Is there one?” Zach asked.
“Not sure. There’s probably some old software for it that the Prescott pilots used.” She paused as something hit her. Rhea’s shoulders stooped. “That my father used.”
Zach considered the possibility. It seemed to make sense. How else would the colony’s pilots have learned? Not in the real thing. Not after the prototype was blown to bits.
“That was a long time ago. Think it’s still around?”
“If it is, I’ll find it.”
“Are you sure it’ll—” A knock at the door shut Zach up. He sat in confusion for a second, trying to piece together who could be outside. Zach gestured for silence and quietly stood, walking into the front room. At the door, he glanced back at Mabel and Rhea and mouthed, Hide.
Zach opened the door, and there was Carver, holding what looked like a bottle of whiskey in the crook of his arm. Zach leaned against the door frame and pulled the door mostly closed behind him, subtly blocking Carver’s view into the house.
“Hey, Carver… what are you doing here?” Zach peeked around Carver’s shoulders to see if any security vans or armed guards were poised around his house, ready to bust in on his operation.
Carver tilted his head and extended the bottle of whiskey toward Zach. “I feel bad about how we left things the other day.”
“Oh… Don’t worry about it.”
“Really. I know things got a little personal, and I came to apologize.” Carver shrugged. “I said some things I regret, and I just don’t want you to think I shut you down over personal reasons. It wasn’t because I thought your idea was bad, per se—in theory, it could work. But it’s just too dangerous, Zach. For everyone here, for… you. I can’t risk anything bad happening.”
“Hey, I understand—”
“The whiskey’s single malt, by the way. Can I come in?”
“Oh, I actually have company right now. I’m really sorry.”
Carver squinted and looked around Zach’s shoulder. A sound of confusion escaped his lips. “Mabel?”
Zach turned to find Mabel peeking around the kitchen corner. Spotted, she stepped into the open and waved before returning somewhere out of sight.
Carver leaned into Zach and whispered, “I didn’t know you guys had a thing,” with a fatherly smile.
“We don’t. Cora’s here too. She’s just… She’s in the bathroom right now.”
Carver’s face twisted with confusion. “How’d she get here so fast? I just saw her at the office fifteen minutes ago.”
Zach’s mouth was dry and sandpapery. He choked, “Well, you know how Cora gets when lasagna’s involved.”
“God, I remember when you guys were just kids.” Carver smiled at the memory. “Have you heard from Sarina at all? We haven’t spoken in a while.”
“Yeah, she comes by every so often. Listen, I’ve really got to get back to—”
“Right. I just wanted to apologize. I hope we can start fresh.” Carver outstretched his hand to Zach.
Zach took it, his hand like leather compared to Carver’s soft, uncalloused skin. Seriously, what deal had the man made with the gods to make him immune from aging? “See you tomorrow.”
The door closed, and Zach returned to his guests. “I told you to stay hidden!” he hissed in frustration. “That could have been it, Mabel. It.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You almost blew it,” Rhea chimed in.
Zach took his seat. “It doesn’t matter anymore. We’re okay, so let’s get back to what we were doing.” He opened the bottle of whiskey and took a swig straight from it. “We’ve got a long week ahead of us.”
Ryker Gagarin: 2053
I’m dead, Ryker thought as the rain battered him from above, soaking his overgrown blonde hair and turning it the color of mud. The locks clung to his damp face as he looked at the tall marble monument that stood before him.
His thoughts were punctuated by the water hitting the dirty, algae-filled fountain ten paces back. He could hear the two bronze orbs representing Earth and Mars creak on their pikes, suspended above the swampy pool of water. I’m dead, he thought again. Dead.
And there it was, written in stone. His name. Ryker Gagarin. Etched into the slick marble wall adorned with the names of a thousand people. A thousand dead people. People he knew, lived with, and cared for.
Quinton Croft.
Kayla Gagarin.
Cage Gagarin.
Him.
As he ran his finger over the engraving of his name, he imagined a man twenty years ago carving it into the rock by hand, beating a hammer against a chisel, signing Ryker’s death certificate in stone.
Ryker looked at the title at the top of the wall and shook his head at the words. THOSE WE HAVE LOST. Was this all his parents had gotten for their sacrifice? A chipped, faded wall in an empty courtyard? A fountain that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in years and bronze sculptures discolored with age?
The sound of footsteps splashing through puddles behind him caused Ryker to turn around. A man was approaching. He wore a thick, black overcoat and had hair the color of platinum. He stopped next to Ryker and stared at the wall with narrowed eyes.
After a respectful interval, the man asked, “Did you know anyone who passed?”
Ryker looked at his name on the wall and nodded. “Did you?”
“My daughter.” A car flew down the road behind them, cutting through a large puddle in a spray of muddy water. “It seems like so long ago, doesn’t it?” He glanced at Ryker. “You must have been only a kid.”
Ryker zipped up his bomber jacket and scratched his stubble. He wondered if he had ever met this man’s daughter. Could she have been an engineer, or a cook, or perhaps one of the doctors that cared for Ryker’s mother when she got sick? Ryker didn’t know. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.
“Where’d you get the jacket?” the man asked, nudging a pocketed hand toward Ryker. “That’s standard issue, right?”
Ryker was about to give a generic answer, but then he remembered the Prescott patch on his sleeve and quickly thought up a lie. “It was my dad’s. From the training program.” Yeah, that made sense.
“Huh. I thought they didn’t issue those until launch day. I remember seeing my daughter in one as I sent her off.”
“They gave it to him early. Do you have any other questions?” Ryker’s response was a little sharper than he intended. “Sorry. It’s been a weird day.” He looked back at his name on the wall. He couldn’t stop thinking about it.
“I understand,” the man said. “Believe me.” He looked over his shoulder toward the road, then back at Ryker. “I’m gonna go grab a coffee. Care to join? I’m buying.”
“No, it’s okay. I’d hate to be a burden.”
“You’re not. I’m headed there anyway.”
Ryker paused a second, then smiled. “Sure. That would be great.”
“You ever been to StellarCaffiene?”
Ryker nodded. “My parents used to take me there when I was little.”
The man rubbed his hands together and blew into them for warmth. “My name’s Mike, by the way. Mike Ike.”
Ryker snorted. “Like the candy?”
“Just like the candy,” Mike said. They walked away from the memorial wall and wandered down the street in the blowing rain toward StellarCaffiene.
As they approached the coffee shop’s entrance, Ryker got a good look at his reflection. God, he never knew how pale he was. His skin was paper-white, almost sickly. The fluorescent lights of the Gateway did a poor job of replicating natural sunlight. Bright, stinging sunlight.
He studied himself, glancing at others occasionally, trying to discern whether he stood out too much. His bomber jacket was ill-fitting, his hair was overgrown, and his hands were covered with scars. At best, he looked like a drug addict.
Inside the shop, Ryker and Mike got coffee and chose a table at the back of the room. The smell of coffee beans lingered in the air, commingling with a damp scent that rushed in from the street every time the door opened. Ryker tried to ignore it.
Carefully, Mike took off his jacket and placed it on the back of his chair. He again rubbed his hands together for warmth. “If you don’t mind me asking… who did you know from Prescott?”
“I, uh…” Ryker pressed his lips together, looking down at the glossy wood table. “Sorry, it’s hard for me to… to—”
“Don’t worry about it.” Mike took a sip of his coffee, furrowing his wiry silver brows. “It took me years to get over my daughter.” He frowned, rumpling one of his cheeks. “Though I don’t think I ever really did. If that makes sense.”
“More than you know.”
Mike leaned back in his chair. “I think I’d feel better if her death meant something, you know? It feels like she died for nothing.”
Ryker sipped his latte, ruining the alien face the barista had drawn with milk on the surface. “I think about that every day.”
“I mean, they didn’t even finish the mission. We’re just as bad off as we were before. Worse, actually.” Mike leaned over and pulled a small box of candy cigarettes from his jacket pocket. Addressing Ryker’s look of confusion, he elaborated, “I’ve been trying to quit smoking for years. Having something between my fingers, even if it’s just gum, makes it easier.”
Ryker hadn’t eaten candy in years, not since he polished off the last of the Gateway’s reserves nearly a decade back. Once Mike returned to a normal, seated position, Ryker went out on a limb and asked something he probably shouldn’t have. “Do you think they should go back?”
Mike raised his eyebrows. “Go back to Mars? Depends on if they’d succeed or not. If it were up to me, I’d go back in time and redo the whole thing. I’d get the irogen, get my daughter, and get the hell off this dying planet.”
Ryker smiled. “Living in space isn’t as great as people think.”
“And who told you that?”
“People.”
Mike laughed, lifting his hands as if saying a prayer. “Well, there you go. Don’t believe everything people say, I guess. That’s the lesson here.” Mike looked through the window at the front of the store, grinning at the beams of golden light streaming through the clouds. “Hey, look. The rain cleared up. That’s my cue.” He grabbed his jacket and started to get up.
“Wait, where are you going?”
“I told my wife I was going out for milk… I don’t want her to think I was serious.” Mike winked. “You take care.” As the man put on his overcoat, Ryker wished him good luck.
Mike left, and Ryker slouched in his chair. The man was right: all the colonists’ deaths were for nothing. Ryker closed his eyes and pictured the faces of his parents. The Gateway. Prescott.
But his thoughts were interrupted by a cacophony of vibrations and alert tones filling the shop. As people pulled out their buzzing phones to identify the problem, their faces sank with dread. The barista rushed out from behind the counter and ordered everyone into the back room.
“What’s going on?” Ryker asked hurriedly.
“Solar flare,” the barista responded.
A dozen people rushed for the small storage unit. Workers rolled shelves of coffee grounds, creamers, and cups out of the chamber in a desperate attempt to make room for the scrambling customers. But for some reason, Ryker couldn’t move. All he could do was turn to the window and gaze out into the street as the sky shifted from cloudy and gray to searing white. As the brightness spread, Ryker watched trees and shrubs being reduced to their bone-like frames. Branches and twigs were stripped of their colorful leaves in a split second.
Ryker’s eyelids fluttered in disbelief. He could sense one of the baristas running up behind him. Still, he stayed put. Part of him swore it was all an illusion, that none of this was truly happening. Maybe he was still asleep at Cora’s. Or even Zach’s. Perhaps he’d dozed off when Zach went to tell Carver about Mars. He’d dreamt of being asked to go back to Prescott, an attempt his mind made to scare him, to keep him from doing anything crazy that would get him killed.
A hand clamped around his arm and nearly yanked it out of its socket. With the jolt, he fell backward, then grabbed onto the table for support.
“What are you doing? Come on!” The server fought against the brightness as she gave Ryker a firm push toward the back room. The door was still ajar, with one worker preparing to close it once everyone was inside. It seemed Ryker was the last of them.
Swiftly, he ran for the back of the shop. Though he was indoors, patches of red were already popping up on his skin. As soon as he and the barista were inside, the heavy door shut, and labored breathing resumed. One server went around making sure everyone was okay, a small first-aid kit in hand. Nobody appeared to be injured or burned except Ryker.
“Your skin,” the worker said. “Let me help you.” While she walked over to get the first aid kit from her colleague, Ryker turned his hands over to survey the damage. It wasn’t too bad, just a couple of blotches of inflammation. The numerous scars already covering his arms seemed to be brighter. Maybe she mistook the years-old marks for burns.
Over the next few minutes, everyone stayed relatively quiet. The barista slapped a couple of gauze patches over Ryker’s arms and handed him a water bottle. “Drink up.”
Eventually, the light began to fade, and everyone’s phone buzzed. An alert informed them that the flare was subsiding. Single file, they left the storeroom in a dazed state and spread out around the store. Someone near the front window gasped. Ryker jogged over to see what was wrong. He stared through the window, trying to discern what was lying still in the street. Then, he realized: the deformed shape was a body. Mike’s body. The man’s face was covered in bright red boils that reminded Ryker of the Red Plague.
“We have to go out there!” Ryker said and made for the door.
One of the workers stopped him. “It might not be entirely safe yet.”
“Safe? Who cares about safe? A man is dying out there!”
“He’s already dead, man,” the worker proclaimed.
Ryker moved to the corner of the room. He dropped to the ground, rested his head in his hands, and scratched his scalp. As he recalled his conversation with Mike—the colonists’ deaths meaning nothing, irogen never making it back to Earth, wishing to do it all over again—he realized what he needed to do.
Zach Croft: 2053
“Zach.”
Zach recognized Ryker’s voice immediately. He approached his front door and found Ryker sitting beside it, his back against the plaster. Ryker stood up unprompted and gave Zach a defeated look.
“What are you doing back here?” Zach asked. His tone was sharper than he wanted.
Ryker forced a weak smile. “We need to talk. Preferably inside, before another one of those things lights us all on fire.” He turned his head, revealing light burns all along his neck.
Zach extended an arm to the front door. “Please. Come in.” He quickly unlocked it and pushed it with a firm hand. The lights inside were off, causing Zach to stub his toe as he searched for the switch. “I wasn’t sure I’d see you again,” he said. The lights turned on.
“Me neither. I was going to hitch a ride up north, but that didn’t pan out.” Ryker stood awkwardly in the front room, arms crossed against his bomber jacket.
Zach walked into the kitchen and grabbed a few sandwiches he had left over from the previous night. “Why’d you come back?” He handed a sandwich to Ryker, along with a few napkins. “Here. Eat.”
“I’ve been thinking…” Ryker started. “About Mars. About you. About everything.” He laid the sandwich down on the table.
“What about it?”
Ryker smiled uneasily, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I…” His voice seemed trapped in his throat, unable to break free. “I want to help. If you’ll let me.”
His face contorted like the words were poison. Studying him, Zach could practically see the images of Mars, blowing sandstorms, and the colony in Ryker’s dazed eyes.
“Why?” Zach urged. “I mean, what changed? A few days ago, you were about ready to snap my neck. Now, we’re… what? Buddy-buddy again?”
Ryker exhaled. “You know what, maybe I should go.” He got up to leave, but Zach stopped him.
“I didn’t mean it like that. Just sit down.” After Ryker hesitantly sat back at the counter, Zach shrugged. “I understand why you said no. It was stupid of me to ask after everything you went through.”
“In the last week, I’ve been locked up, homeless, and caught in a solar flare. The world is a fucking mess.” Ryker laughed a bit. “I want to go with you. Just tell me where I need to be.”
“Don’t worry about it. We’ve got it covered.” Zach got up from his seat, went to the sink, and filled a glass of water. “We figured out a way to do it without you.”
“What do you mean ‘we?'”
“I got a pilot to help.” Zach went back to the counter and set the cup down on it. “So, you don’t have to do it. I’ve got it under control.”
Ryker raised an eyebrow. “Have they ever flown a dropship? Even stepped inside one?”
Zach pictured Rhea strapped into the simulator, hands dashing across a screen as she guided the ship through reentry. “Yes, she has,” Zach lied, giving a confident nod.
“You’re saying she knows more than me?”
“She knows enough,” Zach said, then sunk into his chair. For a few seconds, he looked Ryker up and down, remembering the little boy with sandy blonde hair that Ryker used to be. That Ryker was gone now.
“Why would you go back to the Gateway?” asked Zach. “You spent decades trying to escape.”
Ryker smiled just barely, slouching his shoulders as he planted his hands against the table and locked his elbows. “I’m not cut out for this world, Zach. Look at me.” A few strands of hair fell over his forehead. “I should have died with my parents in the colony—after everything that’s happened, I wish I did—but I’m here for a reason.” He looked to the ceiling. “Besides… I want to say a few words to my ma.”
Zach rubbed his eyes in exhaustion. “Okay. I’ll put some coffee on. We’re gonna be up for a while.”
Cora. Cora. Something of Cora’s.
Zach rushed across his room and grabbed a silver frame from his shelf. In it was a drawing Cora had done for Zach’s fifteenth birthday. It depicted the two of them standing side-by-side, Cora pressing her pointer finger into her cheek and Zach suppressing a smile. The drawing was so detailed. It was a shame Cora had stopped making art.
Zach carefully placed the frame into his bag, covering it with a few white T-shirts. Then he took Wilford’s laptop from the same shelf.
Ryker appeared in the doorway behind him, gesturing at the laptop as Zach slipped it into his bag… “Why are you bringing that?”
Zach threw a glance over his shoulder and shrugged. “Doesn’t hurt, right? It has all that information about Prescott.”
“True.” Ryker drummed his fingers on the doorway and walked away.
“Hey, wait. You’re not bringing any clothes?” Zach asked. “I can lend you some.”
Ryker stopped and pivoted with a smirk. “You think I just ran around naked on the Gateway for twenty years?”
“God, I hope not.”
Ryker moved into the kitchen. Zach got the rest of his things together, then grabbed his Harvard sweater off the hook on the door and slipped it over his shirt. He followed Ryker through the kitchen and out the front door.
Zach turned and looked back at his house as they walked down the driveway. The big wooden door. The green-tinted shingles. The grapefruit tree in the yard. Zach wished he could bring it all with him, somehow ripping the whole house from its foundation and strapping it to the side of the dropship. But he couldn’t. As hard as it was to believe, this was the last time he’d ever see his home.
Zach joined Ryker in the car, backed out of the driveway, and drove up the road. As they passed Cora’s house, Zach spotted her exiting through the front door, her eyes glued to her phone. He wanted so badly to tell her goodbye. No, not goodbye.
So long.
He would see her again. The second they had the irogen, the second it was time to leave Earth for good, he’d make sure she got a seat on the trip to Alpha Cen. Cora Keaton. The OSE biologist at the top of her field. The daughter of Victor Keaton. And Zach’s best friend.
Cora disappeared from view as Zach’s car zoomed ahead and left the neighborhood. For a brief moment, Zach thought about the possibility that he might never see her again. He never told her where he was going—though Ryker had done that much— or how long he’d be away. Of course, the second she heard about the stolen dropship, she’d know it was him. But by then, it would be too late.
He would already be gone.
The door to Zach’s office opened a crack, revealing a glimpse of blonde hair. Mabel’s eye appeared. It went wide as she saw Zach standing outside. The door swung open.
“Zach! Get in, get in.” Mabel ushered him inside. “I got everything you told me to. And some other stuff, I think…” She trailed off as her eyes found Ryker standing behind Zach. Her jaw went slack. “What’s he doing here?”
“Don’t worry. He’s with us.” Zach glanced back at Ryker. “Come on.” Zach stepped past Mabel and into the office. Ryker followed him in.
“With us?” Rhea echoed.
Zach’s lips formed a straight line. “There have been some developments.”
“No shit.'” Rhea said. “I’m putting my ass on the line, and you’re not even taking your own rules seriously? Whatever happened to ‘don’t tell anyone?'”
“Trust me, he’s legit. I actually went to him first, before either of you.”
Mabel flicked a strand of hair off her forehead. “Yeah. I know.” She glanced at Ryker. “I thought you wanted out.”
“I did,” Ryker answered. “But not anymore.”
Rhea looked between Mabel and Ryker. “You guys know each other?”
“We’ve spoken,” said Mabel.
Rhea nodded warily, then turned to Zach. “And what exactly do we need him for?”
“Well, he’s a pilot.” Zach winced at the baffled expression that crossed Rhea’s face. “I know how it sounds. Believe me.”
“Can I talk to you for a second? Outside?” Rhea grabbed Zach’s arm and yanked him into the hall. The second the door shut, she lowered her voice to a whisper and snapped at him… “What the hell is going on?”
“Listen—”
“You’re replacing me?” she huffed, trying to keep her cool.
“Relax. Nobody’s getting replaced.”
“Who is he?”
Zach glanced at Ryker as he tried to decide whether he should put it all out there: where Ryker came from and why he was here. Honestly, Zach could barely believe it. One minute, Ryker was a dead ten-year-old on a space station, and the next, he was eating sandwiches in Zach’s kitchen. He found it hard to reconcile the dopey kid that Ryker used to be with this man who taught himself to pilot a dropship through countless hours in the Gateway’s simulator. He barely had a fourth-grade education—formally, at least—and yet he understood the dropship better than probably anybody on Earth.
At that realization, Zach’s mind was brought back to Rhea. Her eyes were surrounded by dark, raccoon-like rings, bearing the weight of her exhaustion. By the looks of it, she’d been in the simulator all night. He realized it must seem to her like she was being fired after all the hard work she had put in. And not because some other world-class pilot had strolled into the lab and offered his services. No, it was because a scruffy-looking stranger had somehow won Zach’s favor. If Rhea truly knew who Ryker was, would she understand? Would she accept him as a co-pilot?
Zach settled on just telling her the truth. He could at least give Rhea the courtesy Carver never gave him. “He’s from Prescott, alright? That ship we’re about to steal? He flew it down here. It’s his.“
Rhea took a step back and gave a baffled shake of her head. “If you picked up a random pilot off the street, just tell me. You don’t have to lie.”
“I’m not lying,” was all Zach could say. After all, why would he lie? What did he have to gain from deceiving Rhea? Nothing. She was willing to help him, to risk her entire career in favor of this mission, so the least Zach could do was be honest.
“Okay, fine. Let’s say you’re telling the truth,” Rhea proposed. “Why doyou still need me? You have someone who’s flown the ship. For real, not just a simulation. Knowing that, what’s the point in settling for me?”
Zach considered how to answer. What could he say to her? As callous as it was, he didn’t need Rhea anymore. Not when he had Ryker to fly the ship.
“You know what, I don’t care,” Rhea continued. “Just tell me what I’m supposed to do now. Be second in command to some liar from Prescott? That’s crazy.”
“It’s Ryker! Don’t you remember him from Bring Your Kid To Work Day? The barbecues? The Big Bear retreat?”
“I barely knew Ryker, and he’s dead.”
“No, he’s not. He’s in my office right now while we’re arguing like kids! Now, I’m not replacing you. I need you both.”
“Am I even flying the ship anymore? Or am I just a backup?” Rhea posed the question like she already knew the answer and despised it.
Zach looked over his shoulder, wishing he could escape his problems. “Look. He’s flown it before. He knows it like the back of his hand.” At least, Zach assumed he did. “He can get us into orbit, then you can—”
“And the truth comes out!” Rhea flung her hands out in that proud-parent sort of way. “Congratulations, Zach. You actually have the stones to kick me out. Good for you.”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Then what are you saying?” Rhea raised her eyebrows. “Because it sure seems like that to me!”
“Lower your voice.” Zach led Rhea a few feet down the hall and entered a small storage unit where nobody could hear them. “If you come with me, you’re guaranteed a spot going to Alpha Cen. That’s not changing.”
Rhea chuckled. “Being in the simulator all night got me thinking. Does it really matter if I come with you? I still get a seat on the ship.” Rhea read the confusion on Zach’s face, then cocked her head. “Don’t act like you haven’t thought about it. You said it yourself: I’m the best pilot OSE has,” she insisted. “They’d never leave me behind.”
The nerve.
“You wanna go to Mars, fine,” Rhea continued. “But you got someone to fill my position. I don’t need to go anymore.” Rhea shrugged, starting down the hall.
Zach went after her and grabbed Rhea by the arm. “So that’s it? You’re out?”
Rhea stopped and glanced back at him. “I hope you survive, Zach. I do.” She sighed, then cracked a small smile. “But yeah. I’m out.”
Zach waited until Rhea disappeared down the corridor, then placed his hand in his pocket and fingered a small card. Once he was sure Rhea was far away, he returned to his office.
Now, she was just another person who knew his plan. A liability.
When he got back, Mabel was sitting behind his desk, with Ryker a few feet from her. They were in the middle of what Zach perceived as small talk. They stopped when he entered.
“Where’s Rhea?” Mabel asked, straightening her spine.
“Gone.”
Mabel looked around as if expecting her to appear out of thin air. “What do you mean ‘gone?'”
“She’s out.” With a sodden look, he plopped down in the corner chair. “It’s fine. We don’t need her. We’ve got Ryker.”
“What about getting into the launch bay?” Mabel remarked. “We need her ID.”
Zach pulled the small card from his pocket and held it up. “This one?”
Zach couldn’t think of anything more noticeable than the reflective orange vests they were wearing. Most OSE employees wore civilian clothes, pale-colored jumpsuits, or lab coats. And there Zach and his crew stood, covered in neon. It was impossible for them to go undetected. But in that way—in that strange and clever way—they were hidden. Hidden in plain sight. Hidden because no security guard could think a wrongdoer would wear something so attention-grabbing. They could evade the guards by walking right past them.
Poking out from the armholes of the vest was Zach’s Harvard sweater, clashing with bright orange and even brighter yellow stripes. He slipped on his hard hat and looked in the mirror, satisfied with his appearance.
Ryker situated himself next to Zach, fixing his collar. “Look at me, a functioning member of society.”
Zach took a moment to observe Ryker, considering what could have been. “It suits you. Now, let’s go.”
“Once we’re on the ship, what’s to stop the guards from keeping us grounded?” asked Mabel. “Rhea said it would take her at least a few minutes—”
“I can do it in one,” responded Ryker.
“What about the pre-flight checks?”
“I can bypass them once we’re on board. Most of them are bullshit.” Ryker clapped Zach on the back and walked to the door, rubbing his hands together. Zach and Mabel followed, turning a corner into a wide hallway. The entrance to the launch bay was at the end of the hall. A security guard at a small kiosk next to the door scrolled idly on his phone while waiting for his shift to end.
Zach pulled his own phone from his pocket. He punched in a number and held it to his ear. A few seconds passed before the sound of someone on the other end brought Ryker and Mabel to attention.
“Mr. White?” asked Zach. “This is the Oakburn Academy office. I’m sorry to bother you at work, but your son hit his head on the playground during recess, and we’re concerned he might have a concussion. He needs to see a doctor for evaluation as soon as possible. How quickly can you get here?” A panicked, muffled voice replied. “Okay, we’ll see you in a few. Thank you, sir.” Zach hung up.
The guard rushed down the corridor ten seconds later, leaving the launch bay door unprotected.
Ryker nodded at Zach approvingly. “Impressive.”
“I feel bad, but… Let’s go.” Zach ushered the group into the hall and sped to the launch bay door. The terminal beside it demanded a keycard. Equipped with Rhea’s badge, Zach waved his hand over the sensor and stepped back as the door separated from the ground and retracted into the ceiling.
The launch bay was mostly clear; most workers had dispersed late last night and wouldn’t return for at least another twenty minutes. But that didn’t include the overnight engineers, such as those tinkering with the StarSet space cruiser stationed on the farthest launch pad. Zach didn’t see them as much of a threat. The only real danger was the cameras—which couldn’t do much to harm them once the ship was launched—and the guards who patrolled the bay in intervals.
Tipping his hard hat over his face, Zach crossed the threshold into the launch bay, leaving the comfort of the empty hall. He walked with his eyes on the ground, glancing up for only a second to confirm the location of the dropship. It was maybe a hundred feet away and was mostly unprotected.
The trio passed by a security guard, at which point Zach tipped his face in the other direction. The guard didn’t seem to notice him. They continued—
“Hey, Mr. Croft,” the guard said. “What’s going on?”
Zach turned around slowly, making eye contact with the guard. He felt sweat run down his back. “I was told to survey radiation damage to the ship’s computers.” Radiation damage? Was that the best he could come up with? “The ship was likely exposed to solar flares in orbit and might help us to answer some questions.”
The guard raised an eyebrow, turning his head a bit. “Huh… Carver sent you?” He looked past Zach and into the distance.
Zach turned around, following the guard’s gaze. Carver was standing near the dropship, talking to a small crew of engineers. Zach’s stomach dropped. “Oh,” he said with a casual chuckle. “He’s right there. I can go get him if you want.” Please, for the love of God, don’t call my bluff. I’m begging you.
“No reason. Carry on, Mr. Croft.” The guard stepped aside to let Zach pass.
Zach continued striding toward the dropship. After a few paces, he glanced over his shoulder. The guard had his eyes fixed on Zach, with a radio to his mouth. When Zach made eye contact, the guard looked away and paced out of sight.
“We have to go,” Zach said, reaching around and placing one hand on Ryker’s back and the other on Mabel’s. He guided them to the back of the dropship.
A guard to their right said something into the small radio pinned to his shirt, then followed behind Zach. “Sir? Can I have a word with you?”
“No. Sorry. We have a deadline we have to meet.”
By this point, they were speed-walking nearly to the point of running. Another guard closed in behind them, hand placed on a baton. Zach shot a quick look to his partners that said, “Now,” before sprinting for the secondary airlock at the back of the dropship.
“Hey!” one of the guards yelled.
Boots pounded behind Zach.
When his group reached the airlock, Zach slammed his hand into the airlock’s release. The two guards were maybe twenty feet back. One was yelling into his radio, and the other had his eyes set on Zach as he sprinted full speed for the ship.
An ear-wrenching siren blasted for a moment, then the airlock began to open. “Let’s go!” Zach slipped inside, shooting straight for the blast door’s internal controls. Ryker and Mabel rushed in after him.
One of the guards ran up the ramp, but Ryker drove his thick boot into the man’s chest before he could get on board. Ryker ran down the aisle, crashed into the pilot’s chair, and clicked his restraints on. “Get those doors shut, Zach!”
More guards were gathering nearby. Their hands hovered over their pistols, but they didn’t draw them. Zach was right—they wouldn’t shoot near the ship.
Then, Carver appeared. He was much closer, practically at the foot of the ramp.
Zach grabbed the thick lever beside the airlock and forced it down abruptly.
Carver stared at Zach with his chest rising and falling rapidly. “What are you doing?” The door started to shut, but Carver stayed put. His eyes were glassy. Perhaps he knew it was too late to stop Zach with anything other than words. “No… No, no. Don’t do this! You’re gonna get yourself killed! Do you hear me?!”
The airlock slammed shut before any of the guards got to it. Zach took his seat beside Ryker. “Get me a radio. One that can broadcast to the outside.”
“Alright,” Ryker said in a raspy voice. He reached over, pressed a blue button, then handed him a microphone handset. “You have ten seconds. Say what you have to, then I’m getting us the fuck out of here.”
Zach clenched his fists and spoke into it. “Everyone. Get out of the launch bay if you want to live.” If anyone was still around the dropship when it launched, they’d be reduced to ashes. And that was the last thing Zach wanted.
He could only pray that those outside had heard the message, that the speakers hadn’t been fried when Ryker flew back to Earth. There was no way to tell from inside, and he wasn’t about to open the doors to check.
“We’re ready,” Ryker declared. His hands swiped across the screen and opened the authorization commands. A digital button showed up with the word LAUNCH displayed across it. “Please tell me you still got some juice in you,” he said to no one in particular.
Zach’s eyes went blurry as he struggled to breathe. “Do it.” He clutched the sides of his seat, just like he’d done as a child. For a moment, he could sense his father sitting beside him. Zach wondered—would Quinton be proud of him now?
As Ryker gave the final command, the floor under them began to rumble. Zach could feel his bones vibrating, his teeth chattering. A countdown appeared on the screen.
Ten. Nine. Eight.
Zach glanced at Mabel, giving her a confident smile. It did nothing to calm the petrified look on her face as the clock ticked down.
Seven. Six. Five.
His thoughts brought him back to Cora. He should have told her he was leaving. He should have said goodbye.
Four. Three. Two.
They would finish what Prescott started. They would do what they were never able to do before. And he would do everything in his power to make Quinton proud.
One. Zach shut his eyes as flames erupted from beneath him.
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