The Jump (Sumiru)
They had hit a wall. A... a wall in space. The entire ship must have. It was the only explanation for that shockwave of nothing that took them clear off their feet. It was the only explanation for why it was so quiet now. It was the only explanation for why Sumiru’s entire chest felt like it had been hit with a hammer, and they couldn't inflate their lungs.
“Sumiru, please get up! Please!”
Somebody was yanking on their arm. And crying. Definitely crying.
Their body heaved and writhed inside their skin, and they took a pained gulp of air. The room cleared, oxygen surging through them.
The first thing they saw was a round face, gray-eyed, with wild ashy brown curls. Young, smeared in dirt and soot. Too young to be who they initially thought they were seeing.
“...Sharabi?” They gasped.
The little girl stopped yanking on them. Oh thank the stars.
Sumiru sat up, trying to keep their breathing deep and measured. They were in their classroom, because it was class time, right. Then why was Sharabi here? Sharabi was only eleven, she was still in D-class. Heck, Sumiru only knew Sharabi because she was Shayana’s little sister, and Shayana was cool. They met two months before they were officially brought onboard the Zariman, during the vetting process, and she introduced them to her other friends Annily and Delo.
Those three made Sumiru feel like they belonged. They almost cried when they were put into class B-18 all by themself. They had friends only to have them taken away for the largest part of the day.
“Sumiru!”
A different voice. Chaliez, one of their classmates. Chaliez, who was so smart that she probably knew more than the cephalon and could answer faster too.
They drug their eyes away from Sharabi, over to Chaliez. Chaliez was laying on her back, and both of her legs were under a huge, gray slab. Her usually neat cornrows were spread all over the floor with blood and dust caked on them. The colorful silk ribbons she always had woven into the lower parts were filthy now.
“We fell,” someone else whispered. A little kid, Sharabi's age. Blood on their face.
Sumiru looked up.
The ceiling of classroom B-18 was gone. Pieces of it littered the classroom. Several of them had pieces of people sticking out from under them.
“You're in class D-18, aren't you?” Sumiru whispered.
“Yeah,” Sharabi said. “Something's wrong. I don't know what it is but we did the test like they said–” she gripped at her knobby knees. “I don't think it worked. Cephalon Hart from my class won't respond. I think he's broken.”
Sumiru cleared their throat. “Cantis? Cephalon, respond.”
Silence.
“What is the current ship status?”
Nothing.
“We’re gonna die,” Chaliez whimpered, fingers scrabbling at the block pinning her legs.
Sumiru made themself take a long, deep breath. The air still smelled clean. No smoke or coolant leaks. A quick headcount said there were twelve people who weren't trapped under pieces of the fallen ceiling. Seven from class B-18, including themself, and five who had to be from class D-18, including Sharabi.
“Korro, go next door and inform the cephalon in B-17 that we need medical help,” Sumiru said, looking at their long-legged classmate. “Juli, Raniel, Felsur, help me get that thing off of Chaliez. Sharabi, get the medkit from the storage unit at the back of the room.”
Sharabi jumped up and ran to the back of the room. Wide-eyed, Korro also got up and left without a word.
They managed to lift the block off of Chaliez's legs. Or what was left of them. They were mostly just flat, bloody mush with random pieces of bone.
Sumiru choked on acid. Around the room, the little kids started crying.
Just wounds, just blood. Nothing they hadn't seen before on a farm animal. They had seen some of the fancy show horses their parents bred and sold recover from worse with a little bit of care and gene therapy.
“Hey, hey, it's going to be okay,” they said. They took the medkit from Sharabi and pulled out the tourniquet, and then the backup tourniquet. Thank the Seven there was a backup. Not all kits had one.
It was just like with a horse. Just like with a pig. Pull the tab. The tourniquet unwound. It was slightly fancier than the kind they were used to back home– back on the farm, but the theory looked about the same.
Chaliez was unconscious and whimpering now. She was still bleeding too much. Sumiru put the tourniquet on her left thigh just above the place where her leg was crushed, and pressed the button. It snapped shut with a hydraulic hiss, and the bleeding stopped immediately.
See. Just like with a horse. They could do this.
They did the same for the other leg. No more bleeding. Easy.
“B-17 is completely caved in!” Korro shouted, racing back into the room. “I called and called but nobody answered! They're all dead!”
“Go try B-19,” Sharabi suggested. “My sister’s in–”
“Go,” Sumiru interrupted her, jerking their head at Korro. They didn't want to think about Shayana, and Delo and Annily right now. Those three were the only friends Sumiru had on this entire ship, and if the roof had also caved in in B-19–
They couldn't think about it.
Korro went.
“Cephalon!” Sumiru tried again. “Respond. What is the ship’s status?”
They didn't get a response.
It would be okay. It would have to be. The scientists had made plans for this, right? That was what scientists did. They made plans.
They took a deep breath. It would be okay. They just had to take this one step at a time.