Lost Planet 01 - The Lost Planet by Rachel Searles Read Free Book Online Page A

forward into the hallway. Immediately his feet swept out from under him, and he fell on his back with a shout. Parker laughed as he receded in the distance, while the floor somehow carried Chase farther away.
    â€œWhat is this?” Chase shouted angrily, trying to get to his feet.
    Parker leapt onto the moving walkway and jogged over to help him up. “That was hilarious.”
    â€œJerk,” said Chase, rubbing his hip where he had landed.
    â€œIt was just a guess, but I figured you’d probably never used a transway.”
    â€œI can’t even tell that it’s moving,” said Chase, looking down at the stationary floor as his feet traveled forward.
    â€œIt’s a current moving through a layer of adamantine,” explained Parker. “See the blue lights along the wall? That’s how you know it’s a transway. Don’t step over the line in the middle—that side’s moving the other direction.” He grinned. “Come on.”
    They set off at a brisk pace down the long hallway, passing a few standing passengers who paid them no attention. There was a wide opening at the end of the tunnel, and this time Parker gave a warning when the transway was about to end. They stepped off as they exited the tunnel and stopped for their first real look at Mircona.
    Although there obviously had to be a ceiling somewhere, the interior of the building had been created to make it appear as though they were standing in the middle of an open park under a wide blue sky. A few ragged clouds drifted past on a gentle wind. In the distance they could see trees and benches, and a couple picnicking on a hill.
    â€œThis is amazing,” breathed Parker.
    â€œClear out, you’re blocking the way!” screeched a high voice, and both boys jumped and moved aside to make way for an angry old woman who huffed past them. Chase glanced back at the transway tunnel. From the park side, it was camouflaged as an arched entrance to a small brick building.
    â€œCome on,” said Parker. The boys started down a paved path that led across the park and toward a large stone building. When they entered, they found themselves in another transway.
    â€œAren’t we going to get lost?” asked Chase as they moved down the tunnel.
    â€œAbsolutely not. Step right. This is going to split.”
    Chase tried to commit their path to memory so that he could find his way back, but the transway split several times, and soon he was utterly disoriented. When they finally reached the end of the last tunnel, they stepped out into a quaint street lined with small eateries and storefronts. There were no vehicles here, only people who bustled along under the slanting sunlight, haggling with street vendors and filling the tables of small cafés.
    As they walked, Chase looked around at the shops and the street vendors’ wares on display. He tried to open himself up to the surroundings, to loosen his mind so that there was a place for an image or a sound, anything , to fit. He was watching a woman in a long dress scooping amber crystals into a paper cone, and nearly crashed into Parker’s back because he didn’t see that he had stopped. Parker was looking down at a display of random, tarnished junk laid out on a dirty blanket. A sallow man sat cross-legged behind his merchandise.
    â€œWant something special for yourself?” the man asked, waving his hands over the blanket. “Take a closer look, son.”
    Parker crouched down to examine the items, picking up several different things—a flat metal box, a triangular badge of some sort, and an instrument that looked distantly related to a harmonica.
    â€œHow much for this?” he asked, pointing to a slim knife in a green sheath.
    The man jutted out his lower lip. “That’s genuine Falasian craftsmanship, sharp enough to shave an atom off an apple. Can’t give that one away for a song.”
    â€œTry me,” said Parker.