A Daring Rescue by Space Pirates Read online

  “Yes.”

  “That’s not completely true. It’s 98% human. But it’s 2%... something else. I’m still trying to figure out what that 2% is.”

  I looked down at the empty eye sockets and frozen, metallic smile. The skull was taunting me, like it knew something I didn’t. “You going to be here all night, mom?”

  “Most likely. I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  “Well, they’re about to close up the dining hall. You better go eat something while you can.”

  She shook her head. “No time. What am I missing, anything good?”

  “Roast turkey, mashed potatoes, all the fixings. Apple pie.”

  “Rice again?”

  “Yeah. Good luck, mom. Don’t forget to come home sometime.”

  I closed the door behind me and latched it quietly.

  Enough putting it off. It was time.

  My stomach was heavy. I felt like I’d eaten a cannonball for dinner. I walked past the door a couple times, but Mr. Halifax was sitting out on the porch at the end the hall and he started giving me weird looks as I went past, so I had to stop. I stopped in front of the door, half-hoping she wouldn’t be there, that I’d have to come back tomorrow. I knocked.

  She opened the door and smiled. “Oh, hello Tom.”

  Time stopped. At some point a second or a minute or an hour later, I managed to speak. “Hi Zoe. You, um, got a minute?”

  “I have several. Six or seven, perhaps. Now tell me, why should I spend one of my precious minutes with you?” She was relaxed, teasing, in a good mood. I told myself that was a good sign.

  “I, um… I have just a truckload of patars out here.”

  She narrowed her gaze, studying my face intently. “Which type?”

  “Um… cherry?”

  “Very well, you may have one minute of my time for one truckload of cherry patars.” She stepped out and we walked down the hall toward Mr. Halifax. “You are fortunate to have brought cherry. Blueberry would have gotten you a door slammed in your face.”

  We stepped out into the night. The wind had picked up, and it was chilly now. I didn’t feel it.

  “So, I… don’t actually have any patars.”

  She laughed. “In that case I am going back inside. And you owe me one minute.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “You may.”

  All the worrying I’d done about this moment, all the deciding whether this moment was even something I should try, the hundred ways I’d thought about how it might go and what I might say, and now that it was here, and the words just tumbled out of me. I didn’t end up having much control over what they were. “Would you like to go to the Exmass party with me?”

  Her smile faded like a sunset settling behind the mountains. She looked confused. “Tom, I am… I am going to the party with Zhon.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  We stood there in awkward silence.

  “Can I ask you something else?”

  “Yes.”

  “If I’d asked you before he did, would you have said yes?”

  “No, Tom, that is not how this works. You do not get to ask me that now. If you wanted to know, you should have asked before he did.”

  “Okay, okay, I’m sorry.”

  “I am going back inside. Good night, Tom.”

  I walked back with her, a half-step behind. She didn’t say anything else on the way. When we got to her place, she stepped inside, looked me in the eye for a second, and then closed the door without a word.

  I wandered around for a while, trying to figure out what had just happened. Was she angry? Was she sad? She had closed the door without saying anything, but she hadn’t slammed it. Had she wanted me to ask her earlier? Maybe I should go back and keep asking until she said yes, like all those dopes in the movies always do? It worked for them sometimes, by the end of the movie anyway. Was that what she wanted me to do? Or would that only make it worse?

  Before I could make a decision, my dad came and found me.

  “Tom, what are you doing out here? It’s late.”

  “I’m just… thinking.”

  “Girl trouble, huh? Well, you’re going to have to think about it inside. The council just finished their meeting, and they want everyone inside. Nobody outside after dark, nobody outside alone.”

  I walked back with my dad in numb silence. He tried to ask me about what had happened, but I couldn’t answer except by shrugging and grunting. I felt like the world was ending. And it turned out that I was right about that, though I was very, very wrong about the reason.

  The boys settled into their padded seats in the auditorium, and she handed them each their own small box of toasted peanuts and chickpeas. It had to be separate boxes. She had tried letting them share a box one time a few months ago, and that had only resulted in lots of apologies to Mrs. Vermiga as they picked peanuts out of her hair. The snacks would keep them still for a few minutes at least. Hopefully, by the time they ran out, the movie would have their attention.

  The movie started. It was a new one, directed by the Oswell girl. She felt a twinge of disappointment. The colony’s young filmmakers were finding their own voice and style, starting to tell their own stories, which was a good and healthy thing for them to do. But movie night was still something that brought her back to childhood, to curling up with her mom and her sister and sometimes her dog on the floor of the spare and plain old dining hall, watching wondrous things from ancient Earth come to life on the screen. She remembered being entranced the first time she saw a dolphin. It had taken a long time and many conversations to convince her that dolphins were real, and not just something the movie makers had imagined.

  The old films were still there for her to watch, if she wanted to. Whole libraries of them, viewable any time with a simple gesture. But for movie night, the old films were not much in demand these days. There were fewer and fewer Old Ones left with each passing year. Soon there would be no one around who had ever seen Earth at all.

  This film was starting to look like a love story. The boys were already getting restless. She started planning a route to the exit.

  Chapter 6

  When I was a kid, I had trouble falling asleep the night before Christmas. We always spent Christmas eve at my grandparents’ house. They were nice to me, gave me extra ice cream, that kind of thing. I liked playing with Frenchie, their little short-haired black-and-white mutt. Of course, Uncle Harry would usually be there too, which meant he and Mom would fight about politics. Dad would make himself scarce, usually in the kitchen, and I would sit on the sky-blue couch, wondering where the faint pungent smell was coming from, and wishing I was allowed to watch movies on my phone. If I waited to ask until Mom had talked to her brother long enough, she would sometimes say yes. But it took a lot of time with Uncle Harry to get her to that point.

  Then we would get home, and it would be dark, and I would go upstairs and get in bed, pull my Zombie Boogie sheets over my head, and try to sleep. My poor little brain would churn with fever dreams about all the amazing presents I would get to open in just a few hours. I would toss and turn and look out my window at the moon, when I could see it through the smog.

  The night before Exmass, I couldn’t fall asleep either, but for a very different reason.

  I went home with Dad and climbed into bed without saying a word. I pulled the covers over my head and squeezed my eyes shut, but I knew it was no use. I wasn’t sleeping anytime soon, and the presents I might be opening the next day had nothing to do with it.

  Why hadn’t I asked Zoe sooner? If I had, would she have gone with me? I went over and over the moment. Her expression was seared into my mind like the afterimage of the sun. I should never have asked her. I should have asked sooner. What was I thinking, asking her at all? Had she been waiting for me to ask? Was she going with Zhon because she liked him more, or because he asked her first?

  I pulled down the covers and looked out the tiny window above my bed. There was no smog, but there wa
s no moon either. My dad was snoring in the next room. I wondered what time it was. Maybe Santa had already come. Maybe he wasn’t coming at all. Maybe Rudolph took a look at how far away we were and just said “Nope.”

  At some point, I fell asleep.

  I woke on Exmass morning when my parents got up and started moving around, bumping into things. Since my bedroom was also our cramped little living room, one of the things they bumped into was me.

  I rolled over, trying keep out of the way. I felt my dad’s firm grip on my shoulder. “Rise and shine, Tom! Merry Exmass!”

  I grunted and pulled the thin gray blanket over my head. I wasn’t getting out of bed. If I did that, I might have to leave the room, and go outside, and face the possibility of seeing Zoe, or Zhon, or anyone else, and I just wasn’t feeling it.

  “Don’t you want to see what’s in your stocking?”

  I did not particularly want to see what was in my stocking. My stocking was just a sock. It was hung up with a bunch of other socks in the Enchanted Forest. Thousands of socks, hanging from trees. It looked like a sock orchard. There wasn’t much chance of getting anything worthwhile. I’d heard rumors that everyone was going to get a just a single piece of candy, maybe a small article of clothing. Yippee, a sock filled with other socks. Definitely worth getting out of bed for.

  “Come on, Tom, you’re going to miss it. The first Exmass in our new home. You’re going to want to tell your grandkids about this someday. Like the Pilgrims at the first Thanksgiving.”

  I grunted again. I didn’t remove the covers. The door opened, and I think he went outside.

  Mom put her hand on my arm, gently. “I know you may not be too excited about today, Tom. And you don’t have to pretend for our sake. But your father is right about one thing: just like the first Thanksgiving, there is going to be a big feast today. And I’m quite sure you do not want to miss that.” She stood up and took a few steps toward the door. “Come find us when you’re ready.”

  The door closed. I pulled the covers off my head, blinked, sat up. I had forgotten. In all my anguish about the level 5 meltdown of my personal life and the fact that I was going to die alone and unloved, I had totally forgotten about the feast.

  I stumbled out of bed and grabbed whatever clothes were close by.

  For weeks, we had been surviving on rice, water, and vitamins. All the other food had been saved for the big Exmass feast. There would be bread, and butter, and cheese, and maybe even some actual meat. I was so tired of rice that I was willing to consider eating a vegetable. I mean, depending on the vegetable. I wasn’t committing to anything.

  I stepped outside.

  It was a chilly, overcast day. Not exactly a winter wonderland, but maybe this was as close as we were going to get to a White Exmass. The Lawn was full of people. Little kids were running toward the Forest as fast as their tiny legs could carry them, leaning into the chill morning breeze, leaving contrails of parents and siblings in their wake. Little groups were merging into bigger groups, which were merging into crowds, all marching across the dewy grass. A hearty laugh broke through the morning quiet. Everyone looked happy. It was almost enough to make me forget my problems.

  The thought of food propelled me onward.

  I found my parents a short distance away, holding hands and talking quietly as they watched the impromptu parade.

  “You know what I really miss on a morning like this? Coffee. Think they’ll have any at the feast?”

  Mom laughed and shook her head. “Not unless someone found a way to change the soil pH level a full point and didn’t tell me.” She smiled and gave me a hug. “Ready to face the day?”

  I shrugged. “I guess. How long until the feast?”

  “It’s at noon. Which should give you plenty of time to have fun playing with whatever’s in your stocking.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure it’s going to be super great.”

  Dad punched me playfully on the arm. “Come on, where’s the Exmass spirit? Pilgrims, history, all that. You’re always going to remember today. Let’s go take a look.”

  We joined the slow-motion avalanche of festive joy that was rumbling toward the forest.

  I don’t know what it was that made the difference, exactly. Maybe it was watching a bunch of kids running around among scrawny little pine trees not much taller than they were, laughing and pulling treats out of socks. Maybe it was the clouds parting, allowing Regan to cast an orange glow over the morning and warm the air a little. Maybe it was remembering that less than a year ago, we were all still crammed into a tin can in outer space, and that without my help and whole bunch of luck, everyone here would be dead right now. Whatever it was, I started to hate the world less. A little less.

  “Here, Tom, you get one too.” Mom handed me a sock full of something.

  I chuckled. “Thanks, Mom. You shouldn’t have.”

  I promise, you have never gotten holiday gifts like the ones I got that Exmass.

  My sock held not just one but two boxes of #4 machine screws, a spoon, a spool of green thread, four rubber bands, and a promotional ball-point pen that had probably dried up five hundred years ago. It was black with sky-blue lettering that read “Overcorp: bringing you tomorrow today.” Overcorp was one of the corporate sponsors of the Hope/Freedom. If I remember right, they were the ones responsible for the “Freedom” part of the name. The pen had a web address on it. I had my doubts that it was still active.

  Dad laughed at my holiday haul. “I guess it’s not exactly a new bike. But it’s the thought that counts, right? Holiday spirit?”

  I ran into Rick and Kev later and compared gifts with them. To my surprise, they were both feeling good about their new stuff. Kev was already trying to work out a way to use his rubber bands to launch some of the nails he also received. Someone was going to regret putting those items together and letting Kev near them. Rick was surprised to get a set of small metal canisters with screw-on tops.

  “What are you going to do with those?” I asked.

  “I do not know. I will keep something in them.” He smiled and fiddled with one of the lids.

  “But they’re pretty small. What are you going to keep in them, exactly? Your toenail clippings?”

  Nothing I said discouraged him. Everyone but me seemed to be thrilled with the junk they’d found in their socks. I thought about what Exmass must have been like for them on the Heifer. They’d probably never known the maniacal consumer joy that I remembered from back on Earth, where you would open present after present, paralyzed with indecision over what toy or game to play with first, just as soon as you got all the sweaters and socks out of the way.

  I came across Kile sitting between two tiny pine trees, his cheeks wet with tears. Finally, someone who shared my disappointment. Of course, Kile was like five years old, so it was hitting him a bit harder. I sat down next to him.

  “Hey, Kile, you okay?”

  He looked up at me and nodded. He wiped his nose.

  “Are you sad?”

  He shook his head. “No, no, Tom. I am happy. Very happy.”

  “You’re happy with what you got in your sock?”

  He nodded. He showed me a small box of plastic toothpicks that he was really proud of.

  “Those are really cool. But if you don’t mind me asking: why are you crying?”

  He sniffed and smiled. “Bobb was teasing me about Santa. He said Santa would not be able to find us now that we are on this planet and not home any more. But he was wrong. Santa did come. And I am happy.”

  “I’m happy, too, Kile. If I ever need a toothpick, I know who to ask.”

  I left Kile there in the Enchanted Forest, counting his toothpicks. I had so many questions. Was this the same Santa that brought presents to children back on Earth? Does he still handle both Earth children and children on other planets? Or did he come with us on the Hope/Freedom? Have the children of Earth been left with joyless, presentless Christmases for the last thousand years? Maybe Santa was sick of bringing
a billion kids presents each year, so he came along with us and now only has to worry about a few thousand. Fewer cookies for him, but also a much lighter workload. The quality of presents this year made it clear he hadn’t brought any elves with him to make toys, but if he lives here on New Newton now, does he live on its north pole? I pondered questions like these until a crowd started to gather on the Lawn for the Exmass concert.

  I went over and found a place to listen. There was a choir of about thirty, plus three guys playing guitars and a small brass section. I had seen some of the young ones playing guitars and other stringed instruments back on the Heifer, so I wasn’t surprised to see them. The trombone and trumpets had probably been sitting in a storage crate since we left Earth. I wondered how they would sound.

  I was surprised when I heard the music start. It actually sounded pretty good. Mrs. Bjornsen, a tiny, wiry old Young One with white hair and fiery eyes, was leading the band, and it was clear that everyone was doing their best to keep in tune and on time, because they did not want to be yelled at. There was a mix of songs I knew – Jingle Bells, Rudolph, Silent Night – and ones that had familiar tunes but words that I mostly didn’t recognize. They sang something that sounded a lot like Joy to the World, but instead of being about Jesus coming to Earth, it was about how great Earth was and how someday they would be going back. How exactly that was going to happen must have been covered in a later verse, because they didn’t really get into the details.

  Anyway, as good as the music was, I felt myself growing impatient as we worked our way through all twelve days of Exmass. I liked listening and it was good to see everyone together sharing some festive spirit, but I also knew that this concert was the last thing standing between me and the part of this holiday celebration that I was truly excited about: the feast. I daydreamed for weeks about stew, and gravy, and bread and pie and cookies. I knew there would be no pizza or burritos, but I daydreamed about them anyway just because I was already in the neighborhood.