Free Leaving Blue 5.1 by Thadd Evans Page B

and shuttle.
    Near the bottom of a yellow monitor, the other atomic weapon split in half. Without warning, one blew up. A mushroom cloud vaporized all of the Uduss fighters. This was a hydrogen bomb. Caldur had given us the wrong information. I was irritated because someone had either lied to us or they were so careless that they had given us the wrong facts.
    As everyone in the room gasped in horror, David shouted, “Although the indigo ship was far enough away, the electromagnetic pulse won’t reach us. However, the pulse from Aom will hit Exp One in twenty minutes. Brace yourselves!”
    Exp One lurched, hit by the shock wave.
    Jen screamed, “Owwwww!”
    Irea, Mona and Adam jerked sideways. But they didn’t utter a sound.
    I winced. “Alan, has the ship been damaged?”
    “I’m not sure yet. Database is collecting arrays and primitives.”
    In the center of an azure screen, near Aom’s equator, the bomb went off. A mushroom cloud rose. All around it, a firestorm spread like tree branches as webs on thousands of ruins burned.
    Sam flinched.
    Lesley screamed.
    On a magenta screen, miles north of Aom’s equator, a large group of Uduss, their claws burnt off, stumbled down a street. Close by, flames raced over Uduss corpses.
    Sam turned away, a terrified expression on her face.
    Near the top of a cyan screen, in Aom’s northern hemisphere, a burning ruin collapsed, crushing hundreds of Uduss.
    David’s jaw dropped. “Gruesome!”
    Thomas, his back toward me, didn’t move. “Horrible.”
    Sam blurted, “I don’t know how much more of this I can take!”
    Close to the bottom of an ivory screen, in Aom’s southern hemisphere, smoke rose on every building in a small town.
    In the corner of a white screen, text indicated that within the next two days, every building, forest and meadow would be destroyed. Only insects, bacteria, viroid and viruses would survive.
    Jen winced.
    Although I was glad that all the Uduss had been obliterated, dropping these weapons made me feel like a destroyer of worlds, a role I despised. I knew I would have nightmares, images of burning homes and charred corpses, for years.
    Alan announced coolly, “No damage.”
    On a mauve screen, Aom shrank as Exp One moved away from it.
    “Alan, put in code five.” This procedure would take us to D36.
    “ Code in.”
    “Alan, has Thomas put in the ACC methods?” This request referred to acceleration programming methods.
    As the engine roared louder, braces wrapped around everyone. They wouldn’t be thrown out of their seats.
    “Yes. ACC methods in.”
    Sam leaned forward, staring at a black monitor, examining a star map.
    “Alan, has Joel finished all the R Ten engine maintenance?”
    “Yes.”
    On a monitor, text flashed. All the hatches were closed. Every computer network was functioning normally. My vtp remained quiet, no incoming emergency emails.
    I paused, thinking. “Is everyone strapped in?”
    “They are,” Alan replied.
    Would the acceleration tear a hole in Exp One’s tail before we reached D36?
    “Resume flight path priority Bch.” This change activated a voice command for the computer network.
    “Bch acknowledged,” Alan announced.
    The ship accelerated. Everyone’s face masks closed while their chairs shook harder.
    Would the translator’s necks break during the extreme acceleration?
    On a mauve screen, the room’s electromagnetic settings indicating that the field preventing anyone from being torn out of their seats increased. Now the skin on our faces yanked downward, pulled by inertia.
    Sam hollered in pain.
    Alan bellowed.
    Jen screeched.
    David yelled.
    Thomas groaned.
    Would the translators die of heart attacks? Were the Reen ships tied down correctly—my body pushed harder against the back of my seat. Now it was harder to breathe because inertia was compressing my rib cage and lungs.
    Hours later, I climbed out of my chair. It withdrew into the floor. All around me, everyone else stood, fatigued expressions