Bounders (7 page)

Every muscle in my body tenses as I brace for the suction. Wind fills my ears as an indescribable force grabs me, like a giant sucking me through his straw.

All is black as I rush upward, the force pulling, my body flying.

Faster.

Faster.

Wind tickling, taming, sealing my uniform tight against my body, pinning my limbs down.

Around the corner, picking up speed.

Faster still.

This is awesome.

Up ahead, a faint glow grows brighter and brighter. I brace again before slamming into the exit trough.

The air hisses and is quiet. I can move again. I push up on my elbows. All the Bounders who rode before me watch. Some of them laugh. Yep, I probably look pretty scared. After all, seconds ago, the thin walls of the chute were the only things keeping me from being launched across the galaxy.

As I exit the chute cube, Marco steps up beside me and raises his hand in the air for a high five. “Quite a ride, huh?” he asks.

I slap his palm. “Oh yeah.”

“Hey,” he says. “Let's explore.”

“Do you think that's allowed?”

Marco gives me a
What the heck's your problem?
look. “Uh, it's definitely not allowed, but why should we let that stop us?”

I DON'T THINK BREAKING RULES ON
day one is the brightest idea, but I don't want to look like a complete wimp in front of Marco. Something tells me keeping cred with him is important. When no one's looking, Marco ducks out of the corridor, and I follow.

So yeah, this place is cool—I mean, it's a space station and all—but the hallways are narrow, and the lights are way too bright. And knowing the crushing weight of open space is pressing against the walls doesn't exactly calm my nerves. There's a platinum stripe running down the middle of the floor. I focus on the stripe, place one foot in front of the other, and ignore my growing dizziness. But there's no ignoring that nasty hot dog smell.

“Hey! Spaceman! Snap out of it!” Marco stops short, and I nearly crash into him.

“Huh?” I say.

“What gives? You're, like, completely zoned. Aren't you even checking things out?”

“Right. It's just, I have a headache. And this place stinks something awful!”

Marco spins in a circle, arms outstretched. “We're on a space station! So it isn't homey. . . . So what? Get over it and pay attention!”

I frown at Marco, but his words sink in. Once I push past the claustrophobia, there actually is a lot to see.

The platinum stripe may not be just a stripe. There's some sort of sensor embedded in the floor. I wonder . . .

Beep! Beep! Beeeeeeeep!

Oh no! We're busted! I spin at the same second Marco grabs my shirt and yanks. I stumble to the floor just as a shiny black box the width of a dinner plate barrels past us.

“What the heck is that?” I say.

“Must be a robot. Let's follow it!” Marco is already darting after the speeding box by the time I'm back on my feet.

I dash after him, ignoring the growing dread that we're racing right into a whole heap of trouble.

At the corner, the robot takes a ninety-degree turn, following a new branch of the platinum stripe. So that's what the sensors are for, apparently.

Marco is fast on the robot's tail. At the next hallway, the robot turns, and Marco skids to a stop. “Whoa. That was close. There's a bunch of guards around the corner.”

Great. I knew this was a bad idea. An acidy taste gurgles up from my gut. We definitely aren't supposed to be doing this. “We should head back.”

“Not so fast.” Marco peers around the corner. “Cool. That robot's like a mini Spider Crawler. Check it out.”

We came this far, I might as well take a peek. I switch spots with Marco and carefully lean out. Up ahead about twenty meters and down a steep ramp, four guards stand at a door. The robot has raised itself up on skinny legs, just like the Spider Crawlers that man the quantum ships. One of its legs is lifted to the door, jabbing at a console. Then it ticks forward on its spindly legs and disappears.

“I think the robot must have gone in that door,” I whisper to Marco. He doesn't respond. I turn around to an empty hallway.

Great. Just great. I can't believe he bailed. I hope I can find my way back.

I start off following the platinum stripe, but before I've gone more than a few meters, a door flies open beside me.

I nearly jump out of my skin, but it's only Marco.

“Hey, Zone-Out,” he says, “in here.”

I step inside an empty room that looks like a mini auditorium, except instead of facing a stage, the three tiered rows of seats face a glass window on the opposite wall.

“Great, Marco. Big thrills in here. Thanks for showing me. I'm heading back before we're busted on this clearly off-limits discovery mission.”

“Wait a sec, Mr. Cool. You think I'd drag you in here just to show you a bunch of chairs? I'm pretty sure the room they were guarding is through that glass. Check out the window. And be subtle, okay?”

Shaking off my nerves, I walk around the chairs, dragging my hand along their plastic backs until I reach the edge of the window on the opposite wall.

A story below, a crowd hovers around a table in the middle of the room. It looks like a medical facility. Most of the people wear long white coats. Monitors and carts and all kinds of equipment flank the table and line the walls. The robot we followed scurries up to the crowd. A compartment pops open, and it uses three of its long limbs to extract a large vial filled with a neon-green substance. One of the white coats takes the vial from the robot and turns toward the table.

“What are they doing?” I ask.

Marco creeps up behind me. He steps alongside and leans against the glass.

“Hey, step back!” I hiss. “They'll see you.”

“Nah,” he says. “I'm pretty sure this is one-way glass. You know, we can see them, but they can't see us.” He waves his hands over his head in wide arcs.

I tackle him. As I hold him to the floor, Marco cackles. Yeah, this will be really funny right up until the moment we get busted.

Sure someone is going to come through the door any second, I turn back to the window. A few of the people in white coats work at carts in our direct sightline. If they could see through, they would have noticed us.

“Keep your eyes on the action,” Marco says. “And get your hands off me while you're at it, Tough Guy.”

Two of the white coats step away, opening up a partial view of something thick and slimy writhing on the table. My stomach heaves, and a great flood of bile rises to my mouth. My gaze is glued to the window.

“You okay? You wouldn't want to lose your lunch,” Marco says.

“What on earth is that?” I ask.

Another white coat steps aside, leaving a clear view of the table. On top of it is a man. No, not a man. A thing. A slimy green thing with an enormous head that's lit up like a flickering light bulb. His hands and his heart beat to the same rhythm, lighting him from the inside with each pulse.

His skin looks wet, like washed-up algae. A long incision crosses his abdomen. Wormlike tendrils wave in the air above, spurting mucous everywhere. The green thing struggles with the dozen white coats who try to bind it down.

Again my stomach heaves, but I can't turn away. “That's an alien.” I say it matter-of-factly, but I'm hoping Marco will weigh in.

“No kidding. But not like any alien I've ever heard of.”

Right. That thing definitely isn't a Tunneler.

“Hey, Mr. Cool,” Marco says, “check the corners.”

I don't know how I missed it before. Guards stand in every corner. Eight are stationed in front of the closed door that glows with a strange silver light. They all have their guns out, cocked, pointed at the table.

“I don't get it,” I say.

“Neither do I,” Marco says. “But I have a weird feeling it has something to do with why we're here.”

“Nah. It couldn't possibly . . .” Even as the words slip from my mouth, they sound wrong.

In a flash the alien surges from the table. He whips his arm in a wide arc. The nearest white coat flies across the room, landing in a heap in the corner.

“Whoa!” I grab Marco's arm. “How did he do that? Did he even touch him?”

“I'm not sure. He must have.” The color has seeped from Marco's olive skin.

The guards race to press the alien down. White coats strap the alien's wrists to the table and cover his hands with thick mitts. All around us, lights flash and alarms sound.

“We need to get out of here,” I say, already dashing for the door.

“No joke, Flash. Keep running.”

When we reach the corner before the chute cube, Marco and I slow to a normal pace. None of the alarms or lights are signaling in this section of the space station. No one has a clue what's happening just a few turns away. In fact, no one even seems to have noticed we were gone. Well, no one except Cole.

“Where were you?” Cole asks. He speaks to me, but his eyes keep darting to Marco, and let's just say his face doesn't exactly radiate happiness. Marco doesn't care. He doesn't even notice, actually. He's off talking to some other cadets.

“Nowhere, really.” I hope Cole doesn't notice I'm still trying to catch my breath. “We just wanted to see if we could find the dorm.” I don't know why I'm lying. I guess I'm not ready to talk about the alien on the table. And I'm definitely not ready to hear any of Cole's fact-heavy theories or—worse—lectures for wandering off.

“Marco's trouble, Jasper. Don't say I didn't warn you.”

That annoys me. Who is Cole, anyway? My dad? I shrug. Whatever. I don't feel like fighting. Not when my heart is still pounding from what Marco and I just saw.

“How'd you like the chute?” I say, changing the subject.

“The feeling of zero gravity combined with the suction pull was exhilarating.”

“Right,” I say. “It was awesome.”

We follow Ridders to the boys' dormitory. The room stretches way back, with bunks stacked four high on either side. The bunks are built in to the walls like racks on a ship. Beneath the bunks are pullout storage bins.

“Listen up,” Ridders says. “Everybody gets a bunk, all seventy-six of you. Look at the bunk number, and find your matching bin underneath. That's where you store your stuff. Out of sight, all the time. The plebes will be here soon with your luggage. Grab your bag. Claim your bunk. Understood?”

We grunt our agreement as eyes turn toward the line of bunks. Scoping.

“What do you think?” I ask Cole.

“Definitely the front,” he says.

“Really?” The front bunks are the last place I would have picked. I may not be that sharp at social stuff, but I'm pretty sure front bunks are for losers.

Marco waltzes over and jabs me in the ribs. “What's up, Jasper? Wiki? We're gonna claim the back row of bunks. You in?”

Cole's eyes narrow. “Jasper and I are claiming the front bunks.”

A lopsided smile spreads across Marco's face. “The front. Hmmm. That's your plan, Jasper?”

I look from Cole to Marco and back again. It's a critical moment. The way I figure it, Marco couldn't care less if I say yes to him. In fact, he may just be toying with me to annoy Cole. But Cole's a different story. To Cole, this moment is a true test of our new friendship.

I take a deep breath. I really don't want to be pegged a dork. Still, I like Cole. He's smart and serious and seems to know more about Earth Force than most of the other cadets. And Addy said he was a good first friend. Addy always has it right about people.

“Yep. The front. That's my plan.”

Marco nods. Then he laughs. “See ya, suckers.”

The plebes march in with our bags. Cole runs ahead to claim the front bunks. He squats on the third bunk up and tosses his shoes on the high bunk. The funny thing is, at least two-thirds of the cadets dash for the front.

The plebes heft the luggage on top of the long tables that stretch down the center of the dorm, separating the two rows of bunks. As I scan the pile for my bags, a couple of cadets hassle Cole over the top bunk. He holds firm. Once I grab my duffels and my clarinet case, I head over.

“Your turn,” I say. “I'll hold the bunks.”

“Thanks.” Cole nods at the top bunk. “It's all yours.”

As I climb the side ladder to my bunk, I'm confused. The top is clearly the best. You can see the entire dorm from the high perch, and there's a lot more head room than the other bunks. At first I can't figure out why Cole gave it to me. Then I realize it's his way of saying thanks for choosing him over Marco. Okay, sure. He owed me the top bunk. And in this group, it looks like the front is the best anyhow. As long I keep my klutzy ways in check, things should shape up nicely at the EarthBound Academy.

Most of the cadets set to work, unpacking their bags and stowing their belongings. A guy a few bunks down keeps yelling out letters. I think he's alphabetizing his stuff. I shove everything into my bin as fast as I can and then retreat to my bunk. It will be a pain to dig things out later, but I can't keep anything organized anyhow. As I scan the dorm from above, I see I'm not the only cadet who took that approach.