4

In a weird way, I’m a little relieved.

The 118 didn’t just glitch out on its own. According to Tim, it got hit with some kind of energy pulse. He doesn’t know much more than that because the ship’s scanners and comms are down. AI, too, I think. And without them, we can’t even begin to figure out who attacked us, what they want, or why they seem to have stopped.

But we do know one thing: this wasn’t my dad’s fault.

The teachers have told us to sit down and wait for further instructions while they huddle up and debate our options. I’ve heard the word “evacuate” a few times, followed by whispers of “Too dangerous?” and “What if they’re still out there?”

In theory, getting to the hangar bay and leaving in the shuttles should be easy. That’s exactly what we were all supposed to do this afternoon, when school officially let out for the summer. Of course, that was before the attack.

I don’t know what’s worse, the chaos that came just after the explosion or the goosebumpy silence that’s creeping up on us now. We’re sitting on the floor in scattered clusters, waiting to be told if we’re going to stay on the ship and get blown up all together or if we’re going to escape in the shuttles and get blown up in small groups. I know that the teachers don’t want us to think that those are our only options. But it only takes one look at Principal Lochner’s face to see that he isn’t exactly overflowing with optimism. In the dark red glow of the emergency lights, even his rubber ducky tie screams DOOM.

Ari and I are sitting in the middle of the room with our backs against the principal’s podium. It fell and slid over to this spot when the ship was still off balance—and it’s now the perfect spot for eavesdropping on the teachers. Ari didn’t want to, but I insisted that we scoot over here. I’ve kind of become obsessed with finding out if people are talking about me, and I need to make sure that the teachers aren’t somehow blaming this on my dad.

“There’s some kind of large-scale communications jamming going on out there,” Tim explains. “We can’t talk to Ganymede or anyone else. We can’t even talk to the other ships in the area.”

“And the ship that attacked us didn’t send a message?”

Tim shakes his head.

“What do they want with us?” Ms. Needle asks.

“No idea. Harriet thought it might be a Peruvian ship. You know, that war over South Ceres just goes on and on.”

Harriet’s technically the captain. But she’s not an especially reliable source of information. Whenever my class has gone on “field trips” to see the functional parts of the ship—crew quarters, reclamation, the command bridge—Harriet acts as our tour guide, and our teachers always end up correcting her about something. Once, somebody asked her how far it is from Jupiter to Saturn, and she answered, “Is that the one with the rings?” WHICH IS BANANAS.

“Maybe it was all a mistake?” Ms. Needle asks. “They shot at us and realized that we’re not who they think we are and will leave us alone now?”

“Maybe,” Principal Lochner says. “But the more pressing question is, what do we do now?”

“Well,” Tim adds, “Harriet’s trying to see if we can get out of range of that jamming. She’s diverted all non-essential power to the engines and pointed us toward open space. Maybe we can get a call into Washington and find out if they know what’s happening out here. Hopefully they can send help before we’re hit with any more surprises. If we’re fast enough.”

“How long before we can make the call?” Mr. Cardegna asks.

Tim looks down at his feet and takes a few too many seconds to answer. “I don’t know. I’m not sure Harriet knows either. Even if we run as fast as we can, any ship with half a military-grade engine will easily catch up with us if it wants to. All we can do is hope that, whoever they are, they have more important things to—”

My pants beep.

“What’s that?” Principal Lochner asks. He looks down and finally notices me and Ari sitting only a foot away from him.

“Did you hear that?” he asks us.

“No, sir,” I say, which probably sounds suspicious because I’ve never called anyone “sir” in my life. I elbow Ari in the gut so he doesn’t say anything either.

The principal squints but lets it go. He and the other adults take a few steps away to be out of earshot. Which is probably for the best. Because suddenly my pants beep again—a familiar sound, but it doesn’t make any sense right now. I pull my left hand out of my pocket and stare at the metallic ring on my forefinger, which is faintly glowing like it does when I’ve got a new text message.

“I thought that communications were down,” Ari whispers.

“Me too,” I say.

Up here in space, our rings tap into a ship’s communication system. If the ship can’t send and receive messages, then I shouldn’t be able to either.

I press the fingers and thumb of my left hand together and open them back up again, bringing up a bunch of tiny holograms that appear in my palm. I scroll through them by swiping my right hand over my illuminated left hand. Some of the messages I recognize: An old video voicemail from my mom that I haven’t deleted yet. A calendar reminder for today’s test that I probably shouldn’t have ignored. A software update notification for the ring itself.

I wave my right hand over my left to clear away the mess and pull up something new. A lot of somethings, actually: seventeen text messages. All from my dad. One text came in only a few seconds ago, which explains the beeping. (I always forget to put my ring on silent.)

Ari looks down at his own ring and shakes his head.

“How do you have service? Mine is totally dead.”

I flip my hand over to bring up the new texts over my knuckles. Little floating words and numbers all saying the same thing. “Engine Room. Now.” Sent from: Ganymede Residential Complex (Block 17).

Over and over.

I laugh and close my fist, shutting down the ring. I don’t know what my dad wants from me. But there’s no way I’m following in his footsteps and getting kicked out of school for going into a restricted area of the ship. We’re not even allowed to visit the engine room during “field trips.”

“So?” Ari asks. “Are we going over there?”

I was hoping Ari hadn’t seen the messages.

I roll my eyes. “Like my dad hasn’t caused enough trouble?”

“But if he texted you the same thing a hundred times, it’s got to be important, right?”

That’s just it, though. My dad’s idea of what’s important is pretty questionable. For as long as I can remember, he’s called himself a “scientist” and not a “science teacher.” And sure, teaching middle-school thermonuclear physics wasn’t necessarily the best use of those skills. But he’s the one who got married, had a kid, and took this job instead of continuing to build rockets, or whatever he did for NASA. He made those choices. And even if he regretted them, that’s no excuse for running secret and dangerous experiments on the engines of a schoolship, with a hundred kids onboard (not to mention his son). It wasn’t just his own life he was ruining.

He must’ve had a mid-life crisis or something. But he could have just have leased a new hover-sportscar and dyed his hair. I suppose it’s possible that he snapped after my mom left us. But I get the feeling that she left because he snapped, not the other way around.

Long story short: I’m not sure I can trust him anymore.

“I’m not gonna risk going down to the engine room when we’re under attack,” I say.

“But Jack,” Ari says urgently, “maybe he’s trying to help us! He’s down on Ganymede right now, just like all our families. Maybe they’ve been attacked too and he’s trying to do something about it!” He runs his hands through his hair. “Think about it. How does your ring have service when no one else does?”

“No idea.”

“Come on. Your dad’s, like, a super genius. All that awesome stuff he’s always building around your housing pod? Remember the hourglass?” (An alarm clock that sprayed sand in your face if you hit snooze too many times.) “And his rocket flip-flops!” (Those were basically exactly what they sounded like.) “And his science experiments in class were the best! You know that! What if he . . . did something to your ring? Made it better. And what if, when he was doing . . . those things to the ship, he did something in the engine room that can help us? Something nobody found out about?”

Now I’m annoyed. My dad is my business, not his. And if he had some super-secret plan to protect the 118 from a random attack that no one saw coming, he’s had plenty of chances to tell me.

“No,” I say. “Just no. Drop it.”

Ari tilts his head and presses a hand onto the floor to push himself up.

“Well, we should at least tell Principal Lochner about the texts, right? Let the teachers check things out?”

“No,” I say again, pulling Ari back down. “We’re not doing that either.”

I may not be my dad’s biggest fan right now. (That’s Ari, apparently.) But I don’t want to get him in any more trouble either. I just want the Graham family to have nothing to do with this particular crisis.

Ari looks at the kids scattered around the room and then up at the teachers huddled nervously in a corner. “Listen, I know you’re mad at your dad, but we’re in danger, and I don’t think the teachers know what to do. And your dad might. So . . .” He pauses and bites his lip like he always does when he’s extra nervous. “. . . if you don’t want to check out the engine room, fine. I’ll do it myself.”

I want to scream at him. I clench my fists tight and feel my fingernails digging into my palms.

“This isn’t some video game where you can swoop in and save everyone,” I snap. “This is real life. And you’re not actually a brave person in real life. You know that, right?”

The old me would never have said something like that to my best friend. But the old me left the ship with my dad. So instead of apologizing, I pray for Ari to say something mean back to me and even us out. He doesn’t, though. Ari just has to be the better person, which only makes me madder.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I know. But I’m going—with or without you.”

“And what if something goes wrong?” I ask. I’m starting to feel panicky now. “Or what if Principal Lochner decides to evacuate the ship and you’re down in the engine room all alone?”

But I know it’s no use. I can see it in his eyes. Now he has something to prove.

“I guess I’ll have to take that chance,” he answers, his voice cracking. “I’ll see you later.”

This is unreal. Ari is siding with my dad over me. I don’t know who I’m angriest at. My dad, for making this mess? Ari, for pressuring me to do something I absolutely don’t want to do? Or me, for reacting to Ari in the one way that guarantees there’s no turning back?

I glare at him as I turn my ring back on and reply to my dad’s last text: “Ugh, fine. Going.”

“But if we blow up the ship,” I say to Ari, “I’m telling Principal Lochner that this was your idea.”