“The shuttle sensors are messed up,” Elder says. “It’s detecting rapid pressure changes. ”
“But the pressure isn’t changing,” Dad says, holding his hand out as if he expects the air pressure to suddenly drop.
“I know,” Elder says. “That’s why I said the sensors are frexing broken. ”
“Can you cut off the damn alarms?” Dad shouts.
“Lockdown in fifteen minutes and counting,” the computer’s voice cuts in before the alarm continues.
Elder throws up his hands. “Even if I could fix it, there’s no way I could get it working again in fifteen minutes. That door is going to seal one way or another. ”
“For how long?”
Elder shrugs in frustration. “I don’t know. It depends if the problem is coming from the sensors themselves or if there’s something else wrong. ”
“We’ve got to get everyone out, then,” Dad says, frowning. His frustration is evident, but that’s hardly fair. He can’t expect Elder to know everything there is to know about the mechanical operations of a shuttle that’s literally centuries old. Dad glances up at the sky, and I remember the horrible screeching cries of the alien birds, the huge dents on the side of the shuttle. Could they have somehow caused the sensors to go off-line?
Emma seems to be thinking along the same lines. “Sir,” she says, “but what about the planet’s native wildlife? Any alien presence could be a threat to the population. ”
My father looks deep in thought for a second, but then Chris interjects. “The negative ramifications of confining the ship’s crew and our own to the shuttle for an indeterminate amount of time, with limited food and water and without any restrooms, will be a bigger threat than anything the planet could plausibly present. I can assure you, sir, that the biggest danger lies in trapping everyone in the shuttle, not evacuating it. ”
Dad whirls around. He’s heard enough. “Chris, Emma, get the evacuation started now. Everyone—every single person—must leave the shuttle. Immediately. All military is to aid with evacuation, then pick up as many weapons as they can carry on the way out. ”
The computer adds, “Fourteen minutes, thirty seconds. ”
“Hurry!” Dad shouts.
“I’ll try to buy us more time,” Elder says, turning back to the computer.
I want to help him somehow, but I know I’d just get in the way. Instead, I race after Emma. The military is already up and waiting for orders. As soon as Emma tells them what to do, they scatter, pulling people into the hallway and ordering them to the outside door. The people from the ship near the hallway are the first to go—too surprised to object, I think. The scientists try to bring their equipment with them.
I run over to Mom. “There’s no time,” I say, pulling the microscope out of her hand. Honestly, a microscope?
“Amy, what’s going on?” she asks impatiently, as if this were all a prank that I orchestrated. The alarm pauses while the computer announces, “Thirteen minutes before lockdown. ”
“We have to go. Now!” I say.
“Why?” Mom picks the microscope back up.
“The doors are going to seal!” I shout as the alarm resumes. “You’ll be trapped inside!”
Mom blanches. “For how long?”
“I don’t know!”
Mom finally gets the message. She drops the microscope on the table and starts pushing the other scientists toward the hall. The door has seal locks, strong enough to keep out the vacuum of space. We’re stuck on a planet with only the possessions we carry—if that door locks and the computer malfunctions, there’s nothing we can do to open it again.
The shuttle will become a tomb.
“Go! Go! Go!” Emma screams at the group of shipborns clinging to the wall. I race over.
“We have to go!” I shout.
They look at me, confused. They’re willing to listen to me before Emma—I’m not one of them, but they know me at least, and trust me . . . sort of. But they don’t understand that the shuttle’
s turning against them; they see it as their only source of protection.
“Go to Elder—he’s just outside, you have to get out!” Something in what I say must penetrate—they follow the scientists already evacuating toward the door.