Fractured Futures Read online

  “No one tells me anything,” I say. “If I knew, there’s no way I’d be here.”

  Soon, we get a break, thank goodness. A cruise attendant waves us aboard and leads us down the entrance hall of the craft, following a trail of faux paw prints. The walls are covered in an animated mural of the Paleo Planet. She steers us to a small private cabin with pairs of bucket seats on either side and a long table down the center. We have our own window, which for now looks out on the dark, steely waves of the ocean.

  Denver drills the attendant with questions. She pulls out her tablet and reads the schedule. As soon as the craft departs, we’re required to appear in the bar for photo ops. Then we have a show in the main cabin. The whole celebrity fan cruise was Florine’s idea. She’s bringing along her camera crew and banking on this being the big break to rekindle her career and reboot her show, In the Flo.

  “So not only are we forced into being the celebrities for her fan cruise, but she’s going to film it all for the webs?” Denver asks once the attendant leaves. “There are so many things wrong with this, I don’t know where to start.”

  “Are you going to do anything about it?” I ask him.

  He shrugs. “Doubtful. The ride to the space station only takes a few hours. I’ll probably just suck it up and smile for the cameras. It’s not worth the hassle to fight Florine. She scares me.” Denver finds the recline lever on the side of the seat, buckles up, then tips back.

  I’m about to make some jokes about how it always ends up being me and Denver on these flights, but he’s already snoring. I wish I could sleep like that. I can barely sleep anywhere other than my own bed, and then only with a very heavy blanket.

  We depart Earth in a cloud of exhaust smoke and shortly after shift into FTL. I keep thinking I hear a bird chirping. I brush it off since that makes zero sense, until I hear the grunt of a wildeboar. They must be playing wildlife sounds from the Paleo Planet over the speakers. They’re really going all out for the authentic cruise experience. The seats in the cabin are upholstered in fake sabre cat fur. On the wall above Denver, there are photos of the mammoth herd, pomagranana grove, and towering cliffs.

  I wonder if those are the cliffs near the watering hole we visited during our first tour of duty. Maximilian Sheek coaxed us off the touring hovers for a closer look. Minutes later, the Youli attacked. No one knew what was happening other than me and my pod mates. If we hadn’t rushed to defend the others, who knows what would have happened? None of us might have made it off the planet alive.

  It’s strange to think that Earth Force is allowing all these tourists to visit the Paleo Planet just a few years after the attack. Hopefully, they’ve beefed up security, but would all these tourists be excited to go if they knew the truth?

  I close my eyes and think of Mira holding back the herd of charging wildeboars. When the beasts passed beneath the hover sent to rescue us, Mira was gone. I thought I’d lost her that day, when in truth she’d bounded back to the Ezone. Now, though, she may be gone for good, unless I can convince her to come back with us from the Youli planet. Despite all that’s happened since we left the rift, I’m still no closer to understanding why she left with the Youli in the first place.

  A knock at the door shakes me back to the moment.

  Denver jerks awake. “Are we there yet?”

  “As if,” I say.

  The door swings open and two cameramen charge in, zooming for close-ups.

  “Yoo-hoo!” Florine calls, squeezing in behind them. “It’s time!”

  I shield my face with my hands to avoid the camera. “Time for what?”

  “Celebrity photos, of course!”

  Denver yawns and stretches. “Might as well get this over with.” He sticks his finger at the closest camera. “Do not use any of that footage of me sleeping, got it?”

  We follow Florine and her camera entourage down a back lift to the lower level that houses the Watering Hole, the on-craft bar and disco. The scene is totally over-the-top. Hundreds of passengers are packed onto the dance floor, shaking away to throwback tech pop overlaid with a wilder version of the animal sound effects they pumped into our cabin.

  “Isn’t this ahhh-mazing?” Florine says. Her entrance is starting to draw attention. Denver and I try to stay hidden behind the camera crew, but we won’t be able to keep that up for long.

  We wind past the bar where they’re serving up purple drinks with little parasols.

  “Umm… is that pomagranana juice?” I ask, remembering the kegs of juice they served us during our Paleo Planet picnic. We were limited to one cup a piece.

  “Of course!” Florine says. “Imported straight from the Paleo Planet. We’re nothing if not authentic!”

  “Bring me one, will ya?” Denver asks one of the attendants.

  “Emphasis on the ‘one,’ ” I tell him. “It makes you fart.” We tricked Regis and his minions into drinking a ton of it. Of course, we all paid for it on the stinky ride back to the space station, but it was worth it.

  “Seriously?” he asks. When I nod, he catches the attendant’s arm. “On second thought, how about a glass of water?”

  Florine leads us to a corner that’s roped off with red velvet cords. There’s a backdrop of the Paleo Planet watering hole (of course). Apparently, that’s where Denver and I will stand for pictures with passengers.

  By now, a crowd is gathering, and the crew is directing them to form a line.

  “Plaster a smile on your face, kid,” Denver says. He waves the first passenger over to the photo area, like he’s done this a thousand times. Considering how famous the original aeronauts were before the Incident, he probably has.

  I’ll give Florine credit for one thing: efficiency. The pace at which she’s able to send passengers through the photo area is staggering. I probably pose with over three hundred people. Each passenger is hurried in, we shake hands, Florine’s staff somehow manages to arrange us for the picture while the starstruck guest rambles on about how she can hardly believe the moment is real. One guest even asks me to pinch her to make sure she’s not dreaming. I don’t. Half a dozen girls tell me how horribly jealous they are of Lucy. I think about telling them the truth, that Lucy’s just a friend, but I doubt they’d believe me.

  A few of the guests bring us gifts. A woman even more stooped than Gedney knitted Denver an orange scarf with his initials sewn on one end. A guy in his twenties made a scrapbook for me with printed clippings from the webs of all the rallies in the Lost Heroes Homecoming Tour. A woman who is so nervous she can barely speak hands me a tin box and whispers, “I heard you like chocolate chip cookies.”

  When we’re getting close to the end of the photo hour, the handlers hurry in the next guest in line, a woman not much older than me. There’s nothing too distinctive about her. She’s average height, average size, brown hair, brown eyes. The only thing that stands out is that she’s sweating profusely. And rather than seeming enthused to see us like almost every other passenger who has come through the line, she almost looks disgusted. I consider suggesting she take off her coat if she’s hot, but she’s got such a scary look on her face that I decide against it. She glares at us and refuses to step back for the handler, so that the picture is snapped with her standing half a meter in front of us. That’s fine with me. I don’t know why she’s sweating, but I definitely don’t want to catch a virus with all I’m supposed to do in the next several days.

  A few more guests come through, then Florine and her people close the line. I’m hoping we get to go back to our private cabin, but no such luck. Florine announces that it’s almost time for the show to start and that everyone should find their seats in the main passenger cabin. Apparently, Denver and I are the stars of the show.

  We wait in a rear hallway for the crowd to get settled in their seats. Florine announces us from the next room, and one of her handlers waves us in. We’re ushered onto a small stage at the front of the main passenger cabin. The crowd goes wild, squealing and whistling and waving signs like the ones we spotted on tour. Like I noticed at the aeroport, most of the passengers are women my mom’s age. It’s creepy to have so many old women freaking out about me. I’d say the same for Denver, but in Earth years, he’s their age. Most of these passengers probably grew up worshipping Denver.

  Florine introduces us and then takes a seat in the front row like she’s expecting us to entertain the crowd. No script, no guidance, nothing. Denver shrugs. Since we didn’t rehearse anything, he keeps it simple and launches into our lines from the rally.

  We recount the historic rescue of the lost aeronauts held captive by the Youli. All fiction, of course. Since vids of the rallies have been streaming almost 24-7, lots of the passengers know every line. They mouth the words along with us.

  The passengers snap photos, nearly blinding us with their flashes. We make it through the midway mark, and I start to relax. Five more minutes, and we’ll be back in our private cabin. Maybe I’ll even get lucky and catch a snooze like Denver, the galaxy’s best napper.

  I’m describing what it was like to see the lost aeronauts for the first time, when one of the passengers jumps to her feet.

  “Liar!” she screams.

  I recognize her immediately. She’s the sweaty guest from the photo shoot.

  “Down in front!” someone behind her yells.

  “Sit your butt in the seat!” someone else shouts.

  Denver shoots me a questioning look, then takes over the lines, describing their surprise to be rescued by kids.

  “Lies!” The woman raises a shaky hand and points it at Denver. “All lies!”

  “Shut up!” another passenger shouts at her.

  Denver flashes his most endearing smile at the woman. “I think some of the other passengers would like you to take your seat.”

  “I stand with the Resistance!” she shouts. “And I’ve come to make you own up to the truth!”

  Huh?

  Denver shakes his head and whispers, “This is gonna suck, kid.”

  She reaches into her coat and pulls out a silver sphere the size of a grapefruit.

  “She’s got a bomb!” someone shouts.

  “That’s no bomb,” Denver says to me. “That’s a diruo fuse.”

  7

  “A DIRUO WHAT?” I SHOUT over the erupting screams of the passengers. I quickly realize that Denver is right. This is going to suck.

  “Ever heard of a diruo pulse?”

  “Sure.” In fact, Earth Force used a diruo pulse at the last Intragalactic Summit before launching our attack and planting the degradation patch on the Youli vessel. It disrupts all shields and systems within a several-kilometer radius.

  “Well, you use a diruo fuse to set one off, and unless you want to be adrift in space for who knows how long with all your friendly fans until they manage to get the systems back online, we need to make sure that doesn’t happen.” He turns to me with a grim look on his face. “Got your gloves, kid?”

  As soon as I nod, Denver shoves me off the stage. I land on my hands and knees on the floor right beneath the first row of seats. “Get ready to use them and stay out of sight!” he shouts.

  The cabin is in chaos. Next to me, a woman in a sabre cat bodysuit is crouching and crying. I crawl around her, heading for the end of the row. Halfway there, I sneak a peek in the break between seats.

  The sweaty woman is marching up the aisle on the other side of the cabin. Her hand that holds the diruo fuse is shaking. What if she drops it? Will that set off the pulse?

  “Quiet!” Denver shouts. “Quiet, everyone! Calm down! No one’s going to get hurt.”

  “She’ll blow us up!”

  “It’s not a bomb,” Denver explains. “You’re not in danger. That’s not a bomb.”

  Security guards spill into the back of the cabin.

  Denver flashes his palms at the guards. “Hold your position! Lower your weapons! Everybody freeze!”

  The cabin quiets. Eyes dart from Denver to the woman to the guards, then back to Denver.

  Denver keeps his hands extended to quiet the crowd. “I see you have a diruo fuse,” he says to the woman. “Where’d you get that? And what’s the plan here?” He shoots me a quick glance that I think means hang tight.

  The woman continues down the aisle. “You admit to your lies on a live web feed, or I set off the pulse. What’s your choice?”

  She obviously wants to sound threatening, but she mostly sounds scared. Plus, what’s the worst that could happen? She sets off the pulse, taking out the craft’s systems, and we have to wait for an intergalactic tow? The stakes aren’t really that high. But like Denver said, who wants to be adrift in space, especially when you’re caught on a craft with hundreds of people who want a piece of you?

  “You know you’re going to be arrested for this, right?” Denver asks. “There’s no way around that now. But if you cooperate, I can probably get the Force to go easy on you.”

  “I don’t care about the consequences! I stand on principle! I stand with the Resistance!

  “Earth Force has been feeding us lies!” she shouts at the other passengers. “They want us to believe we have no choice but to fight the Youli. The truth is the Youli want peace. The Force is risking all of our lives and using children to fight their wars, and why? So they can get richer and more powerful! This man right here—Denver Reddy—is one of their agents of evil!”

  “You don’t understand,” Denver says to the woman. “We’re on the same team. I want what you want.”

  She laughs. “Don’t condescend to me! I’m done listening to your lies! There’s a countermovement growing all around us. The Resistance. They tried to make a stand at the Americana East rally, but Earth Force stopped them. I bet none of you knew that, because Earth Force has been shoving lies down your throats. Well, I’ve come to finish what they started. We’re going to give the people of our planet what they deserve: the truth.”

  As she shouts, she keeps walking toward Denver. At any second, she’ll pass this row and see me. She’ll probably tell me to get back onstage, and then any element of stealth I have will be lost.

  I shake off another passenger who tries to use me as a human shield (so much for my celebrity) and speed crawl to the end of the row. I’m three meters from the rear hall where we entered. I double-check that the sweaty woman is occupied with Denver, rise to a crouch, and bolt.

  I fling myself onto the ground in the hallway, out of view of the stage. I reach inside my jacket, split the secret seam, and pull out my gloves. I duck around the corner and eye Denver. He looks like he’s pleading with the woman.

  For a moment, she stops paying attention to him. She faces the cabin and waves the diruo pulse in the air. “Listen up!” she shouts. “Quiet or I’ll set this off!”

  Her words have the opposite effect. Screams build, the guests try to scatter, the guards start to advance.

  “Everyone relax!” Denver shouts. “It’s not a bomb. Just stay in your seats until this is over.”

  “It won’t end until you admit to your lies.” She scans the cabin. “Where’s the young hero, Jasper Adams? He needs to answer for his actions, too.”

  Denver’s eyes dart around the room. He spots me first. I wave my gloves. He gives a small nod. I slip them onto my hands and seize the connection. I reach out with my gloves and grab hold of the diruo fuse. I pull with all my might, and the fuse flies through the air, straight to my palm.

  The woman is taken off guard and momentarily frozen. Denver leaps from the stage and tackles her. I hop to my feet and dash over. I help Denver hold her down. The guards rush to the front with cuffs, and we secure the attacker.

  The guests in the cabin slowly stand. Then they erupt in cheers. Our hero points definitely got a boost with this. A guest butts her way into our circle and snaps a photo. She asks if the whole thing was staged. I laugh in her face and shoo her away.

  Who on earth would stage this mess?

  Denver wipes his brow. “That added a bit of excitement to the trip, kid.” He points at the fuse, and I hand it to him.

  “Is there a holding cell on the craft?” Denver asks one of the guards. When we find out there’s not, he suggests we detain her in our private cabin. The guards protest, but Denver insists. This should make for an interesting rest of our journey.

  Denver tugs the woman up by the cuffs. She’s ranting on about Earth Force lies. Denver shakes her. “Shut up. We’ll hear you out in a minute.” That does nothing to keep her quiet.

  I lead the way to our cabin and open the door. Inside, Florine cowers in the corner. “Is it over? Are we safe?”

  Leave it to Florine to hide, just like she did with Sheek on the Paleo Planet.

  Denver shoves the attacker inside. “You were never in any danger, Florine. She only had a diruo fuse.”

  “We don’t know that for sure, now, do we?” She looks at the woman with a mix of lingering fear and disgust. “Why did you bring her here?”

  “I wanted to introduce her personally to the face of Earth Force, or, I suppose I should say, former face of Earth Force.”

  Florine smiles with her gigantic teeth as she ungracefully pushes herself up. “Touché, Denny-boy. I never claimed to be a hero like you. It seems you and Mr. Adams have things under control. I think I’ll find a place to lie down and calm my nerves.”

  Florine exits. Denver steers our attacker by the shoulders and presses her down into one of the chairs. “We’ve got this,” he says to the two guards standing in the doorway.

  “Sir, we really don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  Denver tosses him the diruo fuse. “She’s cuffed, and the kid has his magic gloves. You have nothing to worry about.”

  They still don’t look like they’re going to leave, but Denver closes the door on them.

  Then he spins around and faces the woman. “What exactly did you intend to do? Set off the fuse and strand us in space with all these over-the-top fans? That sounds like torture for you as much as us.”