These Broken Stars by Amie Kaufman Read Free Book Online

another glance in the salon.
    “How much would we have to pay you to not spread this story around  once they pick us up?” I fumble with the harness. It’s not the elegant and comfortable lap belts of the passenger pod—this is a five-point harness that chafes at my bare shoulders.
    The Major snorts, turning his head toward the tiny viewport, which shows only a scattering of stars that blur and lurch as the ship does. “Why do you assume I’d ever want to tell anyone about this?”
    I decide to bury the Major in icy silence for the rest of the drill, for both our sakes. If we don’t speak, he’ll have nothing to report.
    The countdown to ejection continues, blood roaring in my ears out of annoyance with the Major. Forty-five seconds. Forty. Thirty-five. I watch the numbers over the door click down one by one, trying to make my stomach settle. A LaRoux doesn’t show weakness.
    Without warning, we’re slammed down into our seats as the entire pod jerks. A ripple of white-hot energy shoots through its metal frame. I taste copper, and then the universe goes black with a sound like a thunderclap in my ears. All the lights, the countdown, even the emergency lighting … gone. We’re left in utter blackness but for the stars outside the viewport.
    Stars that are no longer stretched thin. The Icarus has been torn out of hyperspace.
    For a few moments there’s no sound. Even the background hum of the engines and life support are gone, leaving us in the depths of the most crushing silence either of us has known since we came aboard.
    The Major starts cursing, and I can hear him fumbling with his straps. I understand his haste. Without power, we’re going to run out of oxygen before anyone out there even realizes the Icarus has had a problem. But that’s not our most immediate problem.
    “Don’t!” I manage, the words tearing out of a throat gone dry and hoarse. “There could be another surge.”
    “Surge?” I can hear the confusion in his voice.
    “There are huge amounts of energy involved in interdimensional travel, Major. If there was another surge and you were standing on the metal floor, it could kill you.”
    That makes him pause. “How do you know—”
    “It doesn’t matter.” I close my eyes, trying to concentrate on breathing. And then, the emergency lighting comes back online. It’s not much,  but it’s enough to see by. And it means the emergency life support has engaged.
    The Major’s face is drawn, tense. He looks back at me, and for a moment neither of us speaks.
    And then a scream of metal tears through the ship, making the pod shudder; it’s still attached to the Icarus . We both look up at the countdown clock—still blank. We’re stuck. I look across at the Major, then down at the metal grid floor. If there’s another surge while I’m standing on it, I’ll die—but if there’s another surge while we’re attached to the ship, it could destroy the pod anyway.
    Just do it. Don’t think.
    I jerk my straps open and drop to the floor. The Major protests but I ignore him and make for the control panel by the door. I don’t know what’s happening to the Icarus but I know that the last thing we want is to be attached to the ship if another surge goes through it like the last one. I just have to get the separation and ignition sequence going using the emergency power, buckle myself back in, and we’ll be safe until the rescue ships show up.
    You can do this. Just imagine Simon, and his tools, and everything he showed you before… . I take a deep breath, and open up the panel.
    So much for not giving him a story to take back to the tabloids. They’d go crazy for a month with just one picture of me up to my elbows in circuits. No man, woman, or child of my class would own up to something like this.
    But none of them would know what they were doing. Not like I do.
    I reach in for the bundle of rainbow-colored wires behind the panel, pulling them out and inspecting them. No doubt they’re