surface, and light bounced from them at odd angles. As he set his pack upon the floor, he saw a hundred images of himself move in sync.
One of the mirrors opened, and Robert Wilde stepped forward. He gave a low whistle. “I’d like to know what they’re thinking. The amount of energy required to maintain five rings at once must be staggering.”
Trace grimaced. His mind returned to his meeting with Arkenstone and the two officials. “They know what they’re doing.”
“Let’s hope you do.” Wilde adjusted his mask. “Daddy’s boy.”
Trace’s jaw dropped. Of course. That was the crux of it. Wilde figured he’d been named team leader because of his father.
And he was right. Arkenstone knew no other Scout would take this mission—just as he knew Trace could not refuse. Because of his father. He couldn’t let his father die.
But how could he enforce a partial evacuation? It was accepted that Impellic rings could carry up to four people at a time. That meant each Scout could take only three colonists with them. That’s fifteen out of seventy. Trace stifled a moan and turned away, but he could not hide his expression from the multi-mirrored room.
Behind him, Wilde sat on the platform at the base of a cylinder. “So why five rings? Why not pair us up as usual?”
“Precaution, that’s all,” Trace told him. “It’s a dangerous mission. They want to give each of us control over our own ring, so that if one of us gets in trouble, they can ring back by themselves instead of waiting for me to do it.”
Wilde smirked. “Kind of dilutes your authority.”
“No. I still carry the master control.” But Trace could not deny feeling used and constrained. His stomach roiled. Fifteen out of seventy.
Anselmi entered. His gaze fell on Trace. “Fifteen what?”
“He’s reading your mind.” Wilde grinned.
“It’s time to go,” Trace said. “Where are the girls?”
“You know how they are,” said Wilde.
Just then, Natica came in. She caught Trace’s eye and looked away.
Trace wanted to ask what was wrong, but he didn’t want to embarrass her in front of the others. Instead, he said, “Where’s Impani?”
Without a word, Natica crossed the room and stepped onto a platform. Wilde snorted in derisive amusement and stood beside his own cylinder.
A voice over a speaker said, “You’re powered up, Trace. Is your team ready?”
Trace’s gut squirmed. He looked at Anselmi.
Then another door opened, and Impani burst into the room.
“I know I’m late,” she said.
“We’re good to go,” Trace called to the unseen tech.
With his pack over his shoulder, he stepped onto the last platform and pressed against the cylinder. A deep hum grew in his chest. The lights brightened. Glare ricocheted from the walls. He closed his eyes. Soon he would stand before his father. He forced away a familiar dread. Natica was right; only the mission mattered. Colonists needed his help.
The ring descended and closed around him. The hum intensified. He felt a tremendous yank, tearing him from the Chamber, spitting him into the void. He braced against a sensation of inconceivable speed, his body tense, jaw tight.
Abruptly, his velocity stopped. For a moment, he flattened against an unseen barrier. Then, with a sense of being born, he felt the barrier part. His eyes opened upon another world.
CHAPTER 7
PLANET NGC920-03
T race’s boots sank into mossy loam. He stared at the fungus jungle, and awe overran his apprehension. Thick, black mushrooms stood as tall as trees, their trunks laced with orange and red vines. Toadstools piled one atop the other like gnarled, bright green rocks, and saw-toothed canes rattled and snapped.
“Look at this one.” Impani laughed and stepped toward a purple puffball that stood nearly to her chest. It pulsed rhythmically, growing with each beat.
Natica grinned and glanced around. “No wonder they wanted to farm this world.”
Trace ran his hand along a huge
One of the mirrors opened, and Robert Wilde stepped forward. He gave a low whistle. “I’d like to know what they’re thinking. The amount of energy required to maintain five rings at once must be staggering.”
Trace grimaced. His mind returned to his meeting with Arkenstone and the two officials. “They know what they’re doing.”
“Let’s hope you do.” Wilde adjusted his mask. “Daddy’s boy.”
Trace’s jaw dropped. Of course. That was the crux of it. Wilde figured he’d been named team leader because of his father.
And he was right. Arkenstone knew no other Scout would take this mission—just as he knew Trace could not refuse. Because of his father. He couldn’t let his father die.
But how could he enforce a partial evacuation? It was accepted that Impellic rings could carry up to four people at a time. That meant each Scout could take only three colonists with them. That’s fifteen out of seventy. Trace stifled a moan and turned away, but he could not hide his expression from the multi-mirrored room.
Behind him, Wilde sat on the platform at the base of a cylinder. “So why five rings? Why not pair us up as usual?”
“Precaution, that’s all,” Trace told him. “It’s a dangerous mission. They want to give each of us control over our own ring, so that if one of us gets in trouble, they can ring back by themselves instead of waiting for me to do it.”
Wilde smirked. “Kind of dilutes your authority.”
“No. I still carry the master control.” But Trace could not deny feeling used and constrained. His stomach roiled. Fifteen out of seventy.
Anselmi entered. His gaze fell on Trace. “Fifteen what?”
“He’s reading your mind.” Wilde grinned.
“It’s time to go,” Trace said. “Where are the girls?”
“You know how they are,” said Wilde.
Just then, Natica came in. She caught Trace’s eye and looked away.
Trace wanted to ask what was wrong, but he didn’t want to embarrass her in front of the others. Instead, he said, “Where’s Impani?”
Without a word, Natica crossed the room and stepped onto a platform. Wilde snorted in derisive amusement and stood beside his own cylinder.
A voice over a speaker said, “You’re powered up, Trace. Is your team ready?”
Trace’s gut squirmed. He looked at Anselmi.
Then another door opened, and Impani burst into the room.
“I know I’m late,” she said.
“We’re good to go,” Trace called to the unseen tech.
With his pack over his shoulder, he stepped onto the last platform and pressed against the cylinder. A deep hum grew in his chest. The lights brightened. Glare ricocheted from the walls. He closed his eyes. Soon he would stand before his father. He forced away a familiar dread. Natica was right; only the mission mattered. Colonists needed his help.
The ring descended and closed around him. The hum intensified. He felt a tremendous yank, tearing him from the Chamber, spitting him into the void. He braced against a sensation of inconceivable speed, his body tense, jaw tight.
Abruptly, his velocity stopped. For a moment, he flattened against an unseen barrier. Then, with a sense of being born, he felt the barrier part. His eyes opened upon another world.
CHAPTER 7
PLANET NGC920-03
T race’s boots sank into mossy loam. He stared at the fungus jungle, and awe overran his apprehension. Thick, black mushrooms stood as tall as trees, their trunks laced with orange and red vines. Toadstools piled one atop the other like gnarled, bright green rocks, and saw-toothed canes rattled and snapped.
“Look at this one.” Impani laughed and stepped toward a purple puffball that stood nearly to her chest. It pulsed rhythmically, growing with each beat.
Natica grinned and glanced around. “No wonder they wanted to farm this world.”
Trace ran his hand along a huge
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