United as One
Page 35
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
“Six, maybe you could help me out with the wind situation?” Lexa calls over her shoulder.
“Good idea,” I reply. I start to step away from Sam. His eyes widen immediately, like I’m abandoning him. I grab his shoulders and squeeze. “Relax. You can fix this. I’m just gonna slow us down a bit so you have more time.”
I go to the nearest window and concentrate on the weather outside. It’s a clear-blue sky out there. I focus on the wind—it’s blowing hard at this altitude, but not so strong that I can’t control it. Instead of buffeting against the side of our ship, I command the wind to change directions, pushing it across the ship’s underbelly, cushioning us. Combined with Lexa’s careful navigation, soon we’re circling gently, like a leaf caught up on a breeze.
I’ve slowed us down. This ship still probably weighs half a ton. I won’t be able to keep us gliding around forever, not without some help from the engines. It’s only a matter of time.
I’m sure Sam knows this. He keeps at it, trying different tones of voice, commanding the engines to start back up. The ship’s not listening, though.
In my peripheral vision, I notice Ella gets out of her seat. Little flecks of blue energy spit from the corners of her eyes. She holds Bandit under one arm; the raccoon was losing his mind as we started to crash. As soon as Ella picked him up, he calmed right down. I don’t know what he’s so worried about anyway—unlike the rest of us, he can sprout wings.
Ella studies Sam for a moment. She nods once, like she’s come to a conclusion.
“Before, you said you pictured the inner workings of the video game player and that helped, right?” she asks.
“I said they popped into my head eventually,” Sam replies. He runs both of his hands across his scalp. “I don’t know how it happened.”
“Okay,” Ella replies. “Give me a second.”
Sam blinks at her, trying to work some moisture into his mouth. He watches as Ella strolls casually towards the cockpit. I half turn to watch, too, still giving most of my attention to padding the wind.
“This thing’s gotta have parachutes, right?” Daniela asks me.
“Don’t worry,” I reply, watching Ella. “I think we’ve got this.”
Daniela looks at me like I’m crazy. She’s not used to this whole close-calls thing.
“You know how this ship works, right?” Ella asks Lexa, standing right at the pilot’s elbow. “You could, say, picture the engine?”
“What? Yeah, I guess,” Lexa answers, although she’s more focused on navigating us towards a patch of flatland newly visible on the horizon. It won’t be enough space to land us clean, but at least we won’t be getting thrown between trees.
“Could you do it right now?” Ella asks patiently. “Just—visualize the engine or the power system or . . . I dunno. Whatever you think Sam screwed up.”
“I’m kind of busy with . . . ,” Lexa responds sharply, then thinks better of it. She makes sure the controls are pointed in the right direction before leaning back for a second and closing her eyes. “Okay, I’m pictu—”
Lexa breaks off suddenly with a shudder, like a chill just went up her spine.
“Thanks, got it,” Ella says.
Lexa reopens her eyes. She squeezes the bridge of her nose for a moment before wordlessly refocusing on her controls. “That was weird,” she mutters.
“Sam, I’m going to send this image over to you,” Ella says, peering back at Sam from the cockpit.
“Send it to me how?” he replies, though the answer should be obvious. Telepathically. Sam’s head jerks back, and his eyebrows shoot up. “Oh. There it is.”
“Try your Legacy now,” Ella suggests. She leans against the cockpit entrance and gently strokes Bandit’s fur. She’s so confident, I let my grip on the supporting winds slip a little. Our ship dips suddenly to the left. Daniela’s the only one who notices—she lets out a quiet moan of despair; everyone else is focused on Sam.
His eyes are glazed over, and he stares into the distance, like there’s something floating out there that only he can see. His lips move wordlessly, rapidly, as if he’s whispering a quick count to one thousand.
“Ship, turn on and stabilize, return control to pilot,” he says confidently.
Immediately, there’s a whir of activity under our feet. The ship’s engines turn back on, and there’s a satisfying chorus of buzzes and beeps from the cockpit. We level off and begin to gain altitude.
“Good idea,” I reply. I start to step away from Sam. His eyes widen immediately, like I’m abandoning him. I grab his shoulders and squeeze. “Relax. You can fix this. I’m just gonna slow us down a bit so you have more time.”
I go to the nearest window and concentrate on the weather outside. It’s a clear-blue sky out there. I focus on the wind—it’s blowing hard at this altitude, but not so strong that I can’t control it. Instead of buffeting against the side of our ship, I command the wind to change directions, pushing it across the ship’s underbelly, cushioning us. Combined with Lexa’s careful navigation, soon we’re circling gently, like a leaf caught up on a breeze.
I’ve slowed us down. This ship still probably weighs half a ton. I won’t be able to keep us gliding around forever, not without some help from the engines. It’s only a matter of time.
I’m sure Sam knows this. He keeps at it, trying different tones of voice, commanding the engines to start back up. The ship’s not listening, though.
In my peripheral vision, I notice Ella gets out of her seat. Little flecks of blue energy spit from the corners of her eyes. She holds Bandit under one arm; the raccoon was losing his mind as we started to crash. As soon as Ella picked him up, he calmed right down. I don’t know what he’s so worried about anyway—unlike the rest of us, he can sprout wings.
Ella studies Sam for a moment. She nods once, like she’s come to a conclusion.
“Before, you said you pictured the inner workings of the video game player and that helped, right?” she asks.
“I said they popped into my head eventually,” Sam replies. He runs both of his hands across his scalp. “I don’t know how it happened.”
“Okay,” Ella replies. “Give me a second.”
Sam blinks at her, trying to work some moisture into his mouth. He watches as Ella strolls casually towards the cockpit. I half turn to watch, too, still giving most of my attention to padding the wind.
“This thing’s gotta have parachutes, right?” Daniela asks me.
“Don’t worry,” I reply, watching Ella. “I think we’ve got this.”
Daniela looks at me like I’m crazy. She’s not used to this whole close-calls thing.
“You know how this ship works, right?” Ella asks Lexa, standing right at the pilot’s elbow. “You could, say, picture the engine?”
“What? Yeah, I guess,” Lexa answers, although she’s more focused on navigating us towards a patch of flatland newly visible on the horizon. It won’t be enough space to land us clean, but at least we won’t be getting thrown between trees.
“Could you do it right now?” Ella asks patiently. “Just—visualize the engine or the power system or . . . I dunno. Whatever you think Sam screwed up.”
“I’m kind of busy with . . . ,” Lexa responds sharply, then thinks better of it. She makes sure the controls are pointed in the right direction before leaning back for a second and closing her eyes. “Okay, I’m pictu—”
Lexa breaks off suddenly with a shudder, like a chill just went up her spine.
“Thanks, got it,” Ella says.
Lexa reopens her eyes. She squeezes the bridge of her nose for a moment before wordlessly refocusing on her controls. “That was weird,” she mutters.
“Sam, I’m going to send this image over to you,” Ella says, peering back at Sam from the cockpit.
“Send it to me how?” he replies, though the answer should be obvious. Telepathically. Sam’s head jerks back, and his eyebrows shoot up. “Oh. There it is.”
“Try your Legacy now,” Ella suggests. She leans against the cockpit entrance and gently strokes Bandit’s fur. She’s so confident, I let my grip on the supporting winds slip a little. Our ship dips suddenly to the left. Daniela’s the only one who notices—she lets out a quiet moan of despair; everyone else is focused on Sam.
His eyes are glazed over, and he stares into the distance, like there’s something floating out there that only he can see. His lips move wordlessly, rapidly, as if he’s whispering a quick count to one thousand.
“Ship, turn on and stabilize, return control to pilot,” he says confidently.
Immediately, there’s a whir of activity under our feet. The ship’s engines turn back on, and there’s a satisfying chorus of buzzes and beeps from the cockpit. We level off and begin to gain altitude.