Chapter 19: Sammel

Sammel came to crumpled against the bulkhead and a console, his world sideways.

Disoriented, he raised his head in groggy curiosity, choking on the remaining smoke in the compartment. He could tell that the vents were wide open, and the fire suppression system had at least done its job after the last sublight engine overloaded completely. That was what he assumed happened from the wreckage in the room.

He found his feet and checked himself out. With some shock he realized, despite being in the path of the blast, he seemed to be fine. His clothing was torn and charred in places, but the skin underneath appeared unharmed. He counted his blessings as he made his way toward the main door, his next goal to get to Archer and find out what miracle his brother had pulled that there was even this much of the ship left after landing.

He reached up to try the door when it jerked open and found himself staring into the chocolate brown eyes of a thin, black girl in dull-colored overalls and a colorful knitted cap. Her mouth hung wide open as she stared right back.

"Hi," he managed. Instantly she grinned, her face showing her relief.

"Wow, you scared the crap out of me!" She giggled, nerves showing. "Are you okay?" "As far as I can tell," he said, eyes drawn to the strange interface imbedded in her arm. It

showed a display with two blinking green dots. She caught him looking and ran her hand over her arm, shutting it down.

"Nice to find somebody on board," she said. "Minnesota Jordan." She stuck out her filthy, dust-caked hand.

Sammel thought he had never seen anyone so beautiful. "Sammel O'Malley," he answered, finding himself smiling again despite their circumstances. It was just great to be alive and to be talking to someone.

"Where are we?" He realized it sounded funny, that he hadn't been specific enough, but she understood him anyway.

"New Paltos," she told him. "Colony planet. You crashed." He smirked. "Yeah, I got that part."

"I guess," she winked. Then tilted her head toward the gaping wound in the side of the ship. "I'm thinking that might have had something to do with it, yeah?"

Sammel shuddered at the memory. "That and about two dozen of its closest friends," he agreed. "We were attacked."

She froze. "Attacked?"

Sammel wondered why she looked so scared all of a sudden. "By... I don't know. Ships.

Small ships, like nothing we've ever seen before." Green eyes shining above something oozing through the hole in the Day Wanderer made him flinch from the memory. "Definitely alien, though," he finished in a whisper. He knew how it sounded, but he had no other explanation.

"Where is everyone?" Her tone was flat, less a question than a request for confirmation. "Gone," he said. "Taken."

She ducked her head, fists on her hips. She was so tiny and looked about his age, but she felt like someone in authority, for some reason, so he waited for her to gather her thoughts.

Finally, she looked up at him again. "We need to get everyone off this ship," she said, voice grim. "Then we have to talk."

Sammel nodded in agreement.

"How many were left?" She turned even as she asked the question and started heading back the way she came. Sammel hurried to keep up, trying not to focus on the wreckage which had been his home for his entire life. His body felt heavier than usual, forcing him to exert more energy than he was used to in chasing her.

"Four, I think," he said. "At least, that's all I saw. My brother Archer and two colonists, both girls."

"Do you know where they are?" Her voice was barely affected by her speed. He wondered if there was terrestrial squirrel in her family tree.

"Archer went to the bridge," he said, "and the girls were in the infirmary."

Minnesota paused, bringing up her display again. Sammel rested his hands on his knees, panting for breath. He felt a twinge in his side and shied away from it. There was a memory attached to the pain there he wasn't prepared to deal with. Not yet, anyway.

"Infirmary is up, yeah?" She showed him the display. "Got three, four... five breathers. But near this area."

"That's the dining hall," he said. "Weird."

She shrugged and moved on. "We'll find out soon enough."

He helped her clear the debris from the hatch housing the ladder. None of the lifts worked, but at least the angle of the ship made climbing easier than it would have been. They made short work of the three decks and found themselves hurrying down a darkened corridor, her light the only illumination, throwing eerie shadows from the piles of debris collected against the wall and the occasional displaced panel dangling toward level. Sammel was about to divert her to the next hatch and keep going up when a head popped out of the one he was aiming for, making him cry out.

The boy who emerged was skinny and about his height, skin a warm brown, eyes the same.

His black hair hung straight and shaggy, clothes the same nondescript color and style as Minnesota's.

"Found one, huh?" His lips twisted to the side as he spoke to her. It made Sammel mad for some reason.

"No thanks to you two," she snapped back as a second boy emerged from the hatch. This one was a copy of the other when it came to his features, but he was easily twice as big. "Where the hell did you get off to?"

"The bridge," the thin one shrugged. "Not much left up there, but wanted to look." He rolled his eyes at her. "I thought you wanted us to find people, Minn."

"Only if you know what you're doing and not be an idiot about it," she said. She jerked her head over her shoulder. "This is Sammel. Miguel, Manuel Diego. Pains in the ass."

Sammel barely heard her. "There wasn't anyone up there?"

Miguel made a face. "Just a mess, man," he said. "Could hardly get the door open. Whole front of the ship is a wreck."

Sammel felt his heart drop. He was in the hatch and climbing up before Minnesota could yell at him. He heard her following.

"Wait up!" But he couldn't. He had to get there, had to know. He climbed so fast he gasped for breath by the time he flew out the hatch and into the corridor outside the bridge. His breath caught at the sight of the crumpled doors, but he didn't stop until he was inside, staggering over debris and still-hot slag, falling to his knees next to all that was left of his father's chair.

Sammel hung his head, grief taking over. If only he had done more. Gotten them more power, been able to reactivate the landing program. Archer was here somewhere, he had to be. The thought overtook him. Minnesota's voice penetrated his desperation as he found himself clawing through the dirt and debris.

"Sammel," she said. "Sammel, stop."

He looked up at her, panting, shaking his head, begging her not to say it. She held up her arm, showing him the display while Miguel and Manuel shuffled through the crushed door and stood watching.

There were four green blips on her screen. It was true, despite his denying it, despite his desperate need for it not to be true.

His brother was gone.

Sammel hung his head and cried while Minnesota tried to comfort him with awkward pats to his shoulder and the occasional, "It'll be okay."

***