his hands up.
A hologram man dressed in a captain’s outfit sprung from the console. “Welcome to your auto-pilot, Mr. Steward Lyons. We have already plotted the course uploaded to your keycard.”
Xanthus moaned, “Auto-pilot.”
The computer displayed a green line arching from Earth to a white square.
“No,” Nick yelled at the hologram. “We’re the pilots. We’re supposed to fly it. I hate this planet!”
The shuttle turned a strong left and towards Moon.
The auto-pilot announced, “Now, sit back, relax, and enjoy this timeless singer from the twentieth century: Tony Bennett.”
A hologram of Tony Bennett began snapping to the beat. “Oooh, the good life. Full of fun, seems to be the ideal . . .”
“Wow,” Xanthus said. “Look at those stars. Never been in space before . . . Hey, Nick.”
“Yeah.”
“Back at the church—something weird happened when your grandpa punched the scucca. His eyes were all nuclear reactor blue. His hands, too.”
“It’s awesome. Grand calls it jynn’us. We all get these mythic powers when we breathe Mon air,” Nick said.
“No way!” Xanthus’ salami arms punched the air.
“I know, right?” said Nick.
“Don’t tease me like that. Are you serious?”
“I’m not kidding. And your jynn’us is supposed to reflect who you are or something. It’s gonna be fun on the other side.”
“Totally agree . . . seriously, those are a lot of stars . . . Hey, bet I’ll get that power where I soak up everyone else’s power. But I won’t be a villain or nothing. I’ll just be like the Sorcerer General over a legion of magical creatures. Yeah. That’d be sweet. Hey, dude. Ten minutes, twelve seconds to vector. Are we supposed to do something?”
“Yeah. Grand gave me a key, but just give me another minute. Need to catch my breath.”
“It’s the good life, to be free, and explore the unknown,” Tony crooned away as the sun’s rays escorted them spaceward.
Nick glanced at the perimeter camera. The American continent was completely shrouded by the cloud cover, but more importantly, the scuccas started to slip from the hull. The first two peeled off, and the third was dragged down until its talons couldn’t hold any longer. His chest deflated.
They’re gone.
Nick grinned. He had to hand it to himself. They launched the shuttle, managed to get away from the monsters, and no one got hurt . . . for the most part. Even if the auto-pilot took away all the fun, at least they made it off Earth. Then it hit him. He looked back at Earth and smiled.
I got away.
And it really wasn’t all that complicated, Nick thought. See, Caroline? Life can be simple. Just keep it simple.
“Oh the good life,” Tony sang on. “Let’s you hide the sadness you fee—”
“Forgive the interruption—” Tony Bennett was replaced by the auto-pilot. “—an uninvited passenger has been detected on the hull.”
WHAMM-CRAKK!! The scucca head-butted the cockpit window.
“Woah!” The boys sat up.
The scucca’s talons anchored into the shuttle, shifting its gaze between the two.
CRAKK!! CRAKK!! CRAKK!! A white thread shot across the cockpit.
“Dude! It can’t breathe out here,” Nick said.
“I know, I know.” Xanthus quickly flipped through his bestiary.
CRAKK!! CRAKK!! A dozen more threads flared.
“It doesn’t breathe oxygen.” Xanthus held up the bestiary. “It lives on scent!”
“What do you mean, scent? You have to have oxygen to breathe scent.”
CRAKK!! Nick’s cockpit view was a net of fractured glass.
“Asteroid repellant!” Nick pointed to Xanthus’ console. It was common for smaller asteroids and space junk to cross paths with interplanetary shuttles.
CRAKK!! CRAKK!! CRAKK!!
“Right.” Xanthus grabbed the trigger. The gun kicked. No sound, just a flash of light and the scucca spinning into the inky void.
Tony Bennett ended a pirouette. “Well, just wake up. Kiss the good life, goodbye. . . .”
The vector sign flashed: 01:53.
“OK,” said Xanthus. “So where is that gate?”
“The key!” Nick almost forgot. “In my lap . . .”
Nick picked up the chronostone and pulled out a piece of paper.
“Oops,” Nick said, holding up the spell, which had somehow wrapped around a stray piece of gum.
Xanthus buried his face in his hands.
“Don’t worry. I got this.” Nick pulled the piece of paper apart, stretching the gum with it. The spell was partially hidden by chewed gum.
Pa—
Nick started to pull bits of gum off the paper.
Pat—
“Forty-two, forty-one, forty,” Xanthus’ voice quivered.
A piece tore with the gum.
Pata—
Nick tried to reattach the ripped piece.
Pata—hu—
Patahu.
“Patahu!” Nick grabbed the stone and shouted, “Patahu!”
The chronostone quaked in his hands and began to burn. Nick dropped it. The stone vibrated, hesitated momentarily, and then glass shattered from within. The cockpit filled with hot,