PYRA AND THE TEKTITES

by Rebecca Melanie Sunquist

Part 4: Ichthia

"I'm not going," said Pyra. She folded her arms across her chest and stood her ground, even as Lay By reached for her.

The woman in the lime green outsuit shrugged, and turned away. "You have your instructions, Lay By," she said. "I'll meet you aboard the Mockingbird in ten minutes...Flanagan! As I live and breathe!"

Pyra ducked away from Lay By and grabbed Flanagan's hand. "She said she bought me! She can't do that! Flanagan, tell her she can't do that."

Flanagan pitched forward as if he had been shoved. Behind them, Mister Block's voice boomed. "She owns you both, then. Ichthia, Mark the Shark considers this transaction completed and your present account balanced."

Ichthia smiled. Pyra thought it was the coldest thing she had ever seen. "Agreed," she said, and added, "Hello, Flanagan. Where are my nightcrawlers?"

Flanagan grasped a protrusion of the rock wall to steady himself. "They were needed elsewhere."

Ichthia slapped the back of her hand across Flanagan's face. Her own face showed no sign of emotion as she said, "You might have thought of that before you accepted my money. Lay By---"

"Run, Pyra!" yelled Flanagan. He ducked under Lay By's outstretched arm and came up to kick Mister Block full in the chest. The wide man's face turned scarlet as he struggled to breathe.

Pyra threw a glance at Flanagan, who was already rushing down the corridor with Lay By in hot pursuit. As Ichthia returned her attention to Pyra, she scurried through the corridor in the other direction, reached an intersection, and turned left. The artificial gravity was strong enough for normal movement, but the rocky floor under her feet was uneven, and a misstep sent her into a rough wall. Jagged stone scratched her arm. Pyra heard echoes--Ichthia was giving chase. The corridor she had just entered was narrower than the others, with portals to either side, as if it might be a residental tunnel. Pyra began to run toward the far end. It was dark there, and she might find a place to hide. One of the portals proved to be another intersection, and she dashed to the right.

This new corridor had the same residential appearance. Pyra paused to listen. Behind her the echoes had stopped. Either Ichthia had given up the chase, or she was creeping silently in an attempt to take her by surprise. Pyra dared not peer around the corner of the intersection...it was possible that Ichthia did not know exactly where she was, but might be watching for her.

A girl's voice said, "Quick! In here!"

Pyra almost squealed in surprise and fright. In the open portal stood a girl about her age, wearing a turquoise outsuit. Her mouth was smeared with chocolate from the frosted cookie she was munching, and some of the frosting had even gotten into her long yellow hair. She beckoned excitedly, urgently, to Pyra.

"You can hide in here," the girl repeated. "Hurry!"

Pyra hesitated. If Mark the Shark or Ichthia decided to mount a search of each warren, she would be trapped. On the other hand, there was no place to escape to on Kublukan.

Pyra stepped into the warren. Behind her a heavy plastic curtain crackled as it fell over the portal. The air smelled like boiled hydroponic seaweed, and Pyra's nose wrinkled as she gazed around the warren. On the floor along the back wall lay several futons in various states of disrepair. Pyra also saw a plastic stand, a nuke for warming hydroponic foods, a soaker for concentrated protein tablets, a table surrounded by three low stools, and a stuffed cat.

"My name's Energie Davenport," said the girl. "What's yours?"

"Pyra. Where are your parents?"

"Working at the farms? Are you hungry?" Energie led Pyra to the table. "There's dry-heated algae, and a nodule of vanilla ice cream. That's my favorite," she added, as if hoping that Pyra would not take it. "It's my dinner. It has to be eaten. My Mom says I should think of all the starving children in the United States who would fight for scraps like these, and I should be grateful for it. Sometimes I don't think that's true. Nobody would fight over seaweed. I think they fight over pizza. What do you think?"

Something Energie had said was nagging at Pyra. Farms? There were no farms on asteroids. The only farms were on Earth. She poked a finger into the pile of gray-green flakes in the plastic bowl, and decided not to try them. "Do you have anything to drink?"

"I think there's some Tang left," said Energie. "Why were you running?"

"Ichthia was chasing me. She said she bought me. But you can't buy people like that."

Energie picked up a pinch of algae and stuffed it into her mouth, then wiped some of the chocolate from her lips and licked her fingers. "Ichthia buys children now and then. Everyone knows that. And sometimes she brings adults here for sale, to work on the farms."

Pyra sat down on one of the stools. One of the legs was loose, but it held her weight. "How can there be farms here?"

"I have a little farm in here. Would you like to see it?"

Before Pyra could answer, Energie disappeared behind a curtain on the left wall of the warren and returned moments later carrying a rectangular plastic box about the size of a shoebox, with a clear plastic tray under it. In it Pyra saw two rows of tiny plants. She touched a finger to the leaves. They felt cool and moist, although they were dry.

"Radishes," said Energie. "I hate radishes, but they are so easy to grow. I keep these under a blacklight in the workroom." A gesture from her indicated the area behind the curtain. "My Dad is trying to grow beets, too, but only a few seeds have come up."

"Where did you get the dirt?"

"We made it. Oh, listen! They're looking for you."

Pyra had heard the noise in the corridor, too. "Or for Flanagan," she said. "If I hide in here, you could get into trouble."

Energie shook her head. Flakes of dried frosting flew from her hair. "On the other side of the workroom is a tunnel. It leads to another corridor that takes you to the main docks. My parents use it to get to work."

Pyra stood up and started for the curtain. "Thanks, Energie. I won't forget this."

"Are you sure you don't want something to eat?"

"You go ahead," said Pyra, and ducked under the curtain.

The secondary tunnel was high enough for Pyra to stand up, but it was dimly lit by the few glowpanels embedded in the ceiling. She was able to see well enough to avoid the walls, which were rough and abrasive, and to find the main corridor that Energie had told her about. At the portal Pyra stopped. People were moving here and there--carguers and dockworkers mostly, and a few men speaking to the comms on their outsuits, supervisors, she reckoned. There was no sign of Flanagan...but what a strange place to live. And growing beets? Real beets? How was that possible?

"Are you lost, little girl?"

Pyra made a face at the carguer. He was not much older than she was, perhaps seventeen or so. His gray outsuit was dusty and smudged. "I'm eleven!" she protested. "And I'm not lost. I'm supposed to go to a cargo pod, but I don't know which way the dock is."

The boy laughed, and pointed. "Off you go. And stay out of the way. There's real work going on here."

Pyra made a face at him, and read his nametag. "Klutz?"

He hushed her. "Don't you start. I've only been working here for a month. Go, go. Shoo!"

Pyra made another face, and scurried off. Ahead was more activity, and several small craft in the dock, schooners by the look of them. One thing was certain: she had to get away from Kublukan.

Off to the left she spotted a stack of plastic crates. Pyra picked one up--it wasn't very heavy--then made for the nearest schooner as if she worked in the docks. No one stopped her, and she understood why. Other children were similarly employed in the dock area, carrying this and that, or delivering water to the workers. On Kublukan, it seemed, everyone had a function, a purpose.

Except me, thought Pyra. All I ever got to do was go to school.

"Watch where you're going, girl!"

Pyra almost stumbled. She'd collided with a carguer carrying an armful of plastic tubes. "Sorry."

"You must be new here," said the carguer, and for a terrible moment Pyra thought she might be discovered. But the man went on, "Go on, get those loaded. You kids...you think if you do one thing, the work day is over. Go on, move!"

Pyra moved. The sooner she got off this rock, the better. The cargo hatch was open to receive, and she ducked inside, looking for a place to set the crate. In a dark corner she spotted a large lump. It seemed to be moving...

"Hello, Skinny."

Pyra's heart raced. "Flanagan!"

And behind her Ichthia said, "Lay By, secure that hatch, and let's power up."

Don’t Miss PYRA AND THE TEKTITES, PART 5: ‘THE ELASTIC AQUARIUM’ appearing on this site on 10 October 2002.

PYRA AND THE TEKTITES appears EXCLUSIVELY on the AOIFE’S KISS/KISSES FOR KIDS sites courtesy of prize-winning writer Rebecca Melanie Sunquist.