The extra delay caused by the defective cold fusion reactor put them behind schedule. If they could get the new reactor to work, and pushed the engines, they might still reach sector three on time. Elle had to believe they would. If not… No, she wouldn’t think of the consequences, but she couldn’t stop herself. She’d lose Toman and break her promise.
She twirled the ring on her thumb, the precious jewelry her only memento of her mother. Mata… Her heart clenched, and a single tear slipped over her lash. Elle turned her back on her friends and through the bridge’s transparent invisi-screen, stared into the vastness of space as the memory surfaced.
Elle crept into Mata’s room, her tiny feet padding along the dirt floor. A thin ray of light filtered through the thick window pane, sending a brilliant cascade of color across the bed. Elle focused on Mata, her once brown hair now white with the sickness. A low rattle eased from her lungs. The sound echoed against the walls.
Pin pricks of energy tingled along Elle’s arms, and she took a tentative step forward. “Mata?”
Mata opened her eyelids. A hint of a smile pulled at her lips. She inhaled, and a round of loud, hoarse coughs wracked her body.
“Oh, Mata.” Cradled in a small crevice carved out of the dry dirt walls, the satchel of glacial water was too far away for her weakened mother to reach. Elle grabbed the small flask and ran to Mata’s side. She clasped her mother’s hand. The coolness of the elder woman’s skin chilled Elle’s palm, sending a shiver up her arm.
As the attack ran its course and the coughs subsided, Mata relaxed, but the rattling in her lungs persisted. Elle’s chest constricted. Even at ten years old, she understood Mata wasn’t long for this world.
With tender care, Elle cradled Mata’s head in her palm and tipped the canteen to the older female’s lips. As she drank, a few drops spilled over her chin, landing on the soft moss and loam that formed her bed. Elle returned the flask to its spot on the shelf and gripped Mata’s fingers once again. With a quick tug on the thin fur stole, she covered her mother’s bony shoulders.
Mata licked her cracked lips. “Child, be strong.”
“Elle, I told you not to come in here.” Pata’s raspy voice skated over Elle’s nerves. She turned to face him. Not tied in his usual queue, his dark brown hair cascaded over his shoulders. A dull redness rimmed his eyes, evidence of too much Transinian beer. He wavered and leaned his shoulder against the doorframe.
Heat flared through Elle’s veins. “I must care for her, Pata, since you won’t—”
Faster than she imagined, his forceful slap whipped her head to the side. Her cheek burned, but not as much as the fire in her gut. She clenched her fist and held back the tears.
“She’s of no use to us. Let her die.” His gaze narrowed on his mate, not a single hint of compassion anywhere on his features. He glanced at Elle before he stumbled from the room, his disjointed steps echoing down the hall.
Elle’s chest constricted, and she peered at her mother.
A tear slipped down Mata’s cheek. “He’s right. I’m taking up resources.”
“No, Mata!”
She squeezed Mata’s hand, and the older female glanced at her, but the will to fight was gone from her mother’s gaze.
“Elle, take care of your brother.”
As much as Elle encouraged Mata to look at her, talk to her, she refused. She’d gone to her mental escape zone, shutting off all contact with the outside world. Over the next several hours, Elle stayed by her side, encouraging her mother to eat, drink, respond in some small way, all to no avail.
Never once did Pata return.
At long last, the rattling in Mata’s ragged breaths ceased. Elle kissed Mata on the forehead, then glanced into the hallway.
Heat raced up her throat and into her face. Now that Mata was gone, there was no shelter from her father’s wrath. She curled her hand into a fist. “I’ll watch out for Toman, Mata, I promise.”
Elle wiped the tear from her cheek and her stomach hardened. Her brother hadn’t been home when Mata passed away. He’d run an errand for His Magistrate, the wealthiest man in their district, the one he’d ultimately robbed. Work started early for the destitute on Alta, and if you weren’t a member of the elite ruling class, life wasn’t easy.
Many of the underprivileged succumbed to thievery to survive. Once caught, the so-called “justice” system forced the felons into the pits to mine the Tenium. Few survived a sentence to work in the tough labor camps, and the ones that did, didn’t return unscathed.
She pounded her fist against her leg. No matter the price, she’d do whatever it took to keep her brother out of the mines.
“Hand me the wrench.” Angelo Thirteen crouched on the cool metallic floor, his shoulders squished into the small crevice between the cold fusion case and the wall. The muscles in his back ached and he longed to stretch, ease the tension in his arms, but the need to assist Elle and her crew burned in his gut. He analyzed his emotions, this strange desire to help when all he’d earn for his efforts was a return trip to Earth, but he couldn’t make sense of the feelings.
“Here. This should work.” Britnie slapped a thin rod into his hand. It was no wrench, and he peered at her through the slats between the reactors.
He held up the small device. “Don’t you have a wrench? Something to tighten this down?”
She smirked. “Try it. You’ll see.”
He tapped the rod against the reactor and the belt tightened around the core. With a sense of wonder, he studied the small tool. A smile pulled at his lips. This ship and the crew had many wonderful surprises, things he’d never seen on Earth.
Elle…
He inhaled. Why did she come to mind?
“Did it work?” Britnie’s words tore him from his thoughts.
“Yes, remarkably well. I think we should give the reactor a try.” Over the past couple of hours, he’d worked with Britnie to pull his cold fusion reactor from his pod and bring it to the Engineering Unit. The capsule wasn’t a perfect fit, but he’d tinkered with it enough to make it work or at least he hoped so. They’d all find out soon enough if his small reactor would suffice. A tendril of worry crept into his mind, and he ran his hand over his lucky rock.
He scooted from his cramped space between the reactors and stood. Wiping his hand over his brow, he caught the bead of sweat before it dripped down his nose.
Britnie tapped her fingers over the gold filament on her forearm and a vid-screen on the wall came to life, displaying the bridge.
Elle’s profile appeared. Sheer determination radiated from her stiff posture, and with a raised chin, she stared through the clear panes into the darkness of space.
Angelo Thirteen caught his breath. Such spirit…
Britnie cleared her throat. “Elle, we’re ready to charge the reactors.”
Elle turned to face the screen. Her yellow eyes flared. “Fabulous. Nice work, Britnie.”
Britnie glanced at him, an appreciative smile gracing her lips. “I can’t take the credit. Angelo Thirteen figured out how to synchronize his reactor with the others. I couldn’t have done it without him.”
A feeling of weightlessness lifted his spirit. “I’m glad I could help, Captain.”