control panel inside the hold, but as soon as she spotted it, the control panel flipped back into the wall where she couldn't get it. There was no way to pry the control panel open, either, as the panel was flush with the rest of the wall and the tools she had were useless for anything other than holosphere repair (although, as she had learned earlier, they were not much good even for that).
“Okay, Galaxy,” she said aloud, not sure why she was talking to herself but choosing not to think too deeply about it. “This isn't that bad. You can get out. Just use your light-gun. Should be easy to blast the door open and escape.”
Galaxy reached down for her holster and found it was empty. Frantic, Galaxy looked down at her empty holster, hoping that maybe she had somehow misplaced it, but she almost despaired upon seeing the holster empty. She looked around the hold, hoping to see the gun perhaps placed on the bench or worktable, but she saw no sign of her light-gun anywhere. It was like it had disappeared, which was just her luck.
I know, Galaxy thought. I'll send Space and Sparky a message. Then they can come down and save me.
Galaxy held up her com-watch and tapped the screen. She smiled when she saw it turn on and then tapped the image of Space, knowing that it would take much less than twelve hours for him to get her even if Zingfree and his crew were uncooperative.
Galaxy felt the smile vanish from her face, however, when the com-watch displayed a 'ERROR. CANNOT CONNECT' message.
“No, no, no,” said Galaxy. “Don't be stupid. Of course you can work.”
Another message appeared on it: 'NO. I CAN'T. YOU'RE SCREWED. SORRY.'
Galaxy cursed. She knew she shouldn't have let Space program the com-watch to respond to certain voice commands from her.
So she tried to connect again and again and again, but every time the same 'ERROR. CANNOT CONNECT' message popped up (and when she swore at it once in frustration, it said 'IF YOU DON'T HAVE ANYTHING NICE TO SAY, DON'T SAY ANYTHING AT ALL'). She had no idea what the problem was. Even after she used the com-watch's troubleshooting program, it did little to help.
Must be Jeff, Galaxy thought. Somehow he's blocking all transmissions in and out of the Artistic Sail. He doesn't want me getting out, doesn't want me backing out of the deal. Great.
She lowered her com-watch and looked at the ceiling. She could scream and shout; however, she had a feeling that Zingfree couldn't hear her. And even if he could, was there any guarantee that he would let her out? He was an artist whose tools were broken. She knew from experience how demanding and unyielding he could be.
Sighing, Galaxy sat down on the floor and glanced at her com-watch's clock.
She had eleven and a half hours left. They all had eleven and a half hours left.
Come on, Space, Galaxy thought. You gotta get down here and save me. Please.
-
Ten hours left …
“It's been two hours,” said Space, standing on the bridge of the Adventure, looking at the ship's computer display of Magna 5. “And Galaxy hasn't responded or told us to beam her up. She doesn't even seem to be on the surface of the planet.”
Sparky, who was monitoring one of the computers below the bridge, looked up and said, “And Zingfree Drifle's ship has not yet departed from the planet, either. That means he is probably intending to stay.”
Space slammed his fist on the small, waist-high wall dividing the captain's chair from the front part of the bridge. “Damn it. Sparky, did you try to contact Zingfree directly?”
Sparky nodded. “I did. Couldn't connect. Something is blocking all transmissions between our ship and his.”
“And I haven't had much luck in contacting Galaxy again,” said Space, glancing at his com-watch, which lay silently on his wrist like the useless piece of junk it currently was. “Won't connect to hers.”
“I am suspicious, Mr. Space,” said Sparky. “Someone down there is intentionally trying to keep Galaxy from leaving. Further, this person is trying to keep Zingfree down there, too.”
“But why?” said Space. “Who could possibly be trying to do this? I mean, a meteor is gonna strike in a little less than ten hours and kill them all.”
“I have no idea, sir,” said Sparky with a shrug of his robotic soldiers. “All I know is that unless we do something fast, Galaxy will die and so will everyone else on that ship.”
Space scratched the back of his head. “Is the meteor still on course for Magna Five?”
Sparky glanced at the computer screen and nodded. “Yes. It has not changed course and will likely not between now and then.”
“All right,” said Space. “Beam me down to Magna Five, near Zingfree's ship. I'll go in and rescue Galaxy myself.”
“Sir, that sounds awfully dangerous,” said Sparky. “If someone is intentionally blocking transmissions between our ship and theirs, I imagine they will not hesitate to use violence to harm you if they consider you a threat to their plans.”
“And?” said Space. “I can't just let Galaxy rot in their ship's hold, dying like a rat, awaiting the final moments when she shall give up the ghost. No; I must go and rescue my friend, even at the risk of my own life. As the great Zainarthian poet Zarsk once said, 'True friends are like a shower of rain after a drought.' And I shall be that shower of rain to Galaxy's drought.”
Sparky tilted his head to the side. “I am not sure I understand the metaphor, but if you want to go, then I suppose I won't stop you, because it's better to do something than nothing. Suit up. I'll be at the teleporter room.”
“All right,” said Space, punching his fist into his free hand. “While I do that, you try to blast the meteor off course. In case … in case everything goes to hell.”
-
Nine hours left …
Galaxy sat at the workbench, screwing and unscrewing a loose screw on the damaged holosphere, though she only did it out of boredom. Every so often, she'd glanced at her com-watch, hoping against hope that Space would somehow connect with her. Every time she did, she did not see any recent messages or attempts at connecting from him.
By this point, Galaxy had nearly given up. She had only a measly nine hours left until the meteor hit. She could just imagine what her corpse would look like when it hit. If her corpse wasn't completely incinerated by the heat of the impact, of course.
I didn't think this is how I would die, Galaxy thought. Repairing a broken holosphere on a ship that's not even my own. Kind of depressing when you think about it.
She put down the screwdriver and stood up. Despite having intellectually resigned herself to her fate, emotionally she didn't see any reason to give up just yet. It was her stubbornness yet again compelling her to go even when the odds were against her.
For the hundredth time, she looked around the hold for anything, anything at all, that could help her get free. There were crates of food and equipment, but none of it could be used to open the door and help her escape. It all seemed useless, utterly useless.
In frustration, Galaxy swept the holosphere off the workbench. The holosphere fell to the ground with a clunk, causing her to look at it. That was when an idea occurred to her. It was a crazy idea, but it might just work.
Feeling the time slip away, Galaxy bent down over the holosphere and began to work on it. Not to fix it, but to use it to help her escape, God willing.
-
Eight hours left …
Space materialized on the surface of Magna 5 approximately four hundred yards from the Artistic Sail. He had hoped to get down there sooner; however, he was unused to suiting up and so had spent two hours finding his space suit and helmet, as well as deciding what kind of equipment he needed to bring. Not to mention that the teleporter for some reason refused to work until Sparky hit the control console with a wrench and even then it had taken more than a few minutes to power up completely.
And now that Space was actually here, he hoped he could save Galaxy in time. Not only that, but he also planned to tell Zingfree about the meteor. He had not originally planned to, because he did
n't think Zingfree's death would be any great loss to the world of film, but Sparky had suggested it and he couldn't shoot down Sparky's suggestion without looking at least a little bit like a sociopath.
Space peered around the large boulder he had materialized behind. The Artistic Sail stood on the sand, looking as innocent as a baby, but if Sparky was correct, there was someone aboard the ship who would not hesitate to use violence to achieve his goals. Space didn't see any cannons or guns on the ship's outside, but he figured they could easily be hiding behind panels and might be activated by motion detection.
I should test that theory, Space thought.
He bent over and picked up a rock. He tested its weight and then hurled it at the Artistic Sail. The rock landed about fifty yards away from the ship, but no guns blasted it into pebbles, so Space felt confident that he could just walk up and knock on their front door.
Before he could take even one step from behind the boulder, however, a gigantic cannon—much bigger than anything the Adventure had—popped out of the side of the Artistic Sail, aimed at the rock, and fired a gigantic blast of plasma. The explosion was large enough to make Space hide behind the boulder again even as the cannon retracted back into the ship. When he peered around the boulder, all he saw was a large hole in the ground where the rock he'd thrown had been previously.
That rock will be missed, Space thought. This is where I'd say, 'Time for Plan B,' but frankly I have no Plan B, so …
A shadow fell over him just then, causing Space to look up in time to see a large robot standing over him. The robot was huge and bulky, with arms that looked capable of smashing through rock as easily as if it were cake. It did not have a face; instead, it had a single red eye that glowed menacingly down at Space.
“Oh, hello,” said Space, waving at the robot. “Who are you? Are you part of Zingfree's crew? Because if you are, I'd really appreciate it if you'd let me on board the ship. My friend is currently probably being held against her will there and I have to save her.”
The words barely left Space's mouth before the robot brought both of its huge fists down on his head. The explorer leaped forward between the robot's legs as its fists smashed into the boulder, creating a huge crack in it that almost split it in half. Space got to his feet as the robot turned to face him, its body making whirring and beeping noises that sounded almost angry.
“That wasn't very nice,” said Space as he drew his laser pistol from his holster. “Whatever you are, I'll take you down and walk over your body to get to Galaxy if I have to.”
The robot's hands folded into its arms, replaced by two large barreled cannons that glowed with charged energy.
Space gulped. “You know what? Maybe we can talk about this over a cup of tea instead.”
-
Seven hours left …
Galaxy wiped the sweat from her brow and stood up. It had taken her the better part of an hour—which alarmed her greatly, as that meant she had even less time to escape than before—but the task was done, and if all went well, in the next ten minutes she'd be back on board the bridge of the Adventure and telling Space and Sparky to take the ship as far from this cursed planet as possible.
The damaged holosphere was set up at the foot of the exit. Attached to the damaged holosphere via wire was its undamaged cousin, which Galaxy had managed to program to activate in five minutes. Both holospheres had been stripped of their outer shells to provide for maximum impact when they exploded.
As Galaxy retreated behind the overturned work bench (which would protect her when the makeshift bomb went off), she recalled how she had rigged the holospheres to blow. Normally, holospheres were sturdy little things that were never used for explosives; however, Galaxy's study of the damaged holosphere had revealed to her that certain metals and chemicals within the holosphere could, if combined in the right way, explode. She could not say how big the explosion was going to be, but she figured that however big it was, it would at least be enough to weaken the door enough for her to knock it down herself.
Galaxy had also rigged it so that the undamaged holosphere was connected wirelessly to her com-watch. She just needed to send a message from her com-watch and the bomb would go off. And when it did, she would be able to escape and maybe figure out exactly why Jeff was so determined to kill them all.
After making sure that she was crouched low enough behind the workbench that she wouldn't be killed or harmed by the shrapnel in the inevitable explosion, she tapped the screen of her com-watch and hit the floor. She expected the explosion to be big and loud, but all she heard was a small pop like a soda can being opened and when she looked over the overturned workbench she saw that the holospheres had indeed blown up. There was definitely no way to salvage those now.
But that wasn't the most important thing she saw. The most important thing was the simple fact that the door, now blackened at the base, was cracked open. Not enough for her to slip out, but she figured that she could force the door open on her own now. It wouldn't be too difficult, especially with the crowbar she found stashed in the crates.
So Galaxy dashed up to the door, crowbar in hand, and began to pry it open. It was difficult work, not in the least because the door weighed a ton, but every time she got tired and thought about giving up, she would remember that she had less than seven hours left before the meteor hit. That thought alone propelled her to finish, to pry open the door so she could escape.
And after what felt like forever, she successfully opened the door wide enough for her to slip through. She emerged onto the hallway of the Artistic Sail and looked around. She seemed to be alone, which meant that the crew of the ship hadn't heard her escape. That meant she could potentially escape without any of them ever being the wiser.
She slipped her helmet back on her head, but didn't run away immediately. Her every instinct was telling her to get the hell out of there as fast as she could, but she remembered that none of Zingfree's crew knew about the incoming meteor save for Jeff, who clearly wanted them dead for reasons unknown to her.
Why should I try to warn them? Galaxy thought. Zingfree won't believe me. He trusts Jeff far more than he does me. If he's too stupid to listen, then there's not much you can do, Galaxy. Besides, maybe his ship's computers will pick up the meteor before it hits and he'll be able to escape in time.
That thought seemed so impossible as to be laughable. Still, Galaxy had a strong conscience and she realized it would be biting her for the rest of her days if she ran away now without at least trying to tell Zingfree.
Sighing, Galaxy removed her helmet once more and began making her way down the hall, remembering the path she had taken here from the bridge. She moved quickly, knowing as she did that she had only six and a half hours left, if even that much.
-
Six and a half hours left …
Space knew that he shouldn't be running away from the Artistic Sail. Galaxy was still on board the ship and the meteor was getting closer and closer to the planet with each passing second. He could waste no time in rescuing his best friend.
Unfortunately, Space had little choice in the matter. The robot was still chasing him, firing off blasts of plasma from its cannon hands, which Space narrowly managed to avoid. He wasn't sure how the robot was keeping up with him, considering Magna 5's heavier gravity, but he had little time to think about it because thinking slowed him down and right now he could not afford to slow down.
By now, Space had been chased to the entrance of a valley that he recognized as the same valley that Galaxy had been collecting rocks in. He almost stopped, not wanting to go in there, but when one of the robot's plasma bursts almost fried off the backside of his spacesuit, Space kept going.
He ran down the incline, ran so fast that he almost tripped. He staggered down the last few feet of the incline, sweating hard as he heard the robot's stomping after him above. Space stopped briefly and looked for a place to hide, immediately noticing a small grotto in the side of the valley that looked perfect for cov
er.
Space dashed into the grotto just as the plasma robot appeared at the top of the ridge above. Space hid in as far back as he could, while at the same time dragging a large rock to cover the entrance so the plasma robot wouldn't see him. Then he crouched low, getting on his hands and knees and trying not to make a lot of sound. He felt foolish, like a small child playing hide and seek, but if it would help him survive, he didn't care.
Holding his breath (even though he doubted that the plasma robot could hear him breathing), Space listened to the plasma robot's heavy footsteps against the sandy floor of the canyon. At first they were frantic, like the plasma robot was running around trying to find him, but then they slowed down to a walk and eventually stopped entirely. Space didn't dare get up and look over the rock he had dragged in front of the entrance. No way was he going to give that robot a chance to see him.
Then a red light shone. It entered the cave in which Space hid, just barely avoiding his helmet. The suddenness of the red light almost made him cry out, but he kept his mouth shut, knowing as he did that the red light was probably the plasma robot's way of scanning the area for him. Hence why he stayed low to the ground, where he was safe.
Then he heard the footsteps of the robot, walking away slowly into the distance until they were not audible at all. Carefully, Space crawled to the entrance and peeked out through a gap between the boulder and the cavern entrance. It was such a small gap, but it confirmed to him that the plasma robot had indeed left because he saw its footprints in the sand, while the robot itself was nowhere to be seen.
Space waited a few extra minutes—even though every instinct in his body was telling him to get up and leave now—before standing up to his full height and pushing the boulder aside. He slipped through the gap between the cave and entrance and looked around cautiously, but saw no sign of the plasma robot at all. It appeared to have left.
At least, that was what Space assumed, until he looked at the sand and noticed that, rather than walking out of the canyon, the robot's footprints went to the right wall. Space followed their trajectory until he saw that the footprints ended at the base of the cliff, causing him to look up just in time to see a ball of plasma flying toward him.
With a yelp, Space jumped backwards, just barely avoiding the plasma ball that crashed into the ground where he had been standing. Little droplets of plasma splashed onto his spacesuit, but thankfully they were not enough to melt it or create any big holes. He looked up in time to see the plasma robot, one of its plasma cannons replaced with a mountain climbing hook, hanging from the wall, glaring at him with its one eye.
Then the robot jumped down from its perch, forcing Space to scramble backwards once again to avoid being squashed. The robot's