By mid-afternoon, we even managed a full ten minutes of play without incident. Pip showed me how she liked to stack the colored blocks. It wasn’t by size or color, but by some internal logic. I didn’t understand it, but respected her choices. I sat, letting her lead, handing her block after block. For a few precious minutes, she seemed comfortable with me.
Then the sky turned green.
I’d never seen a sky turn green before. Thanks to our guarding shields, we managed and predicted our weather on Earth down to the minute. Storms were scheduled events, and authorities announced them days in advance. These storms occurred in designated zones, and shelters had protocols in place. This roiling mass of chartreuse clouds that seemed to boil across the horizon was something primordial and wild.
“Andrek?” I called, trying to keep the alarm out of my voice. Pip stared at the sky with wide eyes, her fur pressing against her body, patterns shifting to darker, more muted tones. Thanks to my notes, I’d learned it was a sign of anxiety.
Andrek appeared in the playroom’s doorway, and I saw his ears flatten against his skull the moment he looked outside. “Quantum storm,” he said. “I should have been monitoring the weather systems. Get Pip to the interior shelter, now. I need to secure the research equipment in the east wing."
“How bad is it?” I asked, scooping up Pip, who whimpered. “I’ve never seen a storm like this.”
“Bad enough.” He moved down the hallway, his tail lashing with urgency. “The shelter is three doors down from your quarters. Heavy door, reinforced walls, emergency supplies inside. Get there and stay there until the all-clear.”
“But,” I protested.
“Now, Danielle!”
Andrek’s sharp command sent a jolt through me, and Pip let out a frightened cry. His ears flattened further, and he paused just long enough to press his forehead briefly to Pip’s. “It’s all right, little star. Danielle will keep you safe. I promise.”
Then he was gone, disappearing down the corridor toward the research wing at a run.
I clutched Pip closer and tried to remember the way to the shelter. Three doors down from my quarters. Easy. Except Pipwas crying now, her small body trembling, and I could feel fear radiating from her body.
“It’s okay,” I murmured, trying to project calm. “We’re going to a safe room. It’s going to be fine.”
The first crack of thunder hit, and the entire house shuddered, the lights flickering. Pip shrieked, her hands clutching at my shirt, and I broke into a run.
I made it outside the room as the power died, plunging the house into total darkness. The bioluminescent panels that provided soft background lighting throughout the house all went out, leaving me blind and disoriented. I stopped short, Pip screaming in my arms, and tried to remember the layout of the hallway. Three doors down.Which direction? Left or right?
Another thunderclap, this one so loud it felt like the sky was splitting open. Something crashed in the distance; glass shattered and metal collapsed. Pip’s screams reached a pitch that seemed to pierce directly through my skull, and my shirt dampened.Was it raining inside? No… that’s Pip. She’s making herself sick. Calm her.
“Okay, okay, it’s okay,” I chanted, spinning in the darkness, trying to orient myself. My eyes adjusted to the darkness until I could pick out dim shapes in the green-tinged light that filtered through the windows. “We’re okay, Pip. I’ve got you. The storm is outside; it can’t hurt us here.”
I started moving again, one hand on the wall, counting doorways. One. Two. Three. This should be it. I fumbled for the handle, found it and pulled.
Wrong room. Storage closet.
“Fuck,” I breathed, and Pip’s crying intensified. She felt my panic, I realized. Every spike of fear, every surge of adrenaline, she felt all of it. My fear made everything worse.
I backed out and tried to think.Three doors from my quarters. Maybe I miscounted. Maybe in the opposite direction?
Between rumbles of thunder, I heard Andrek’s voice calling out.
“Danielle!” Andrek's voice, distant and strained. “Danielle, can you hear me?”
“I’m here,” I called back, covering Pip’s ears with my hands. I tried to pinpoint the direction. “Where are you?”
“East wing.” He stopped as a crash hit; the sound of grinding metal filled the air. “Ceiling collapsed. I’m pinned.”
My blood turned to ice. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m manageable. But I can’t move. Did you get Pip to the shelter?”
I looked down at the screaming child in my arms, then at the surrounding darkness. “I can’t find it. I’m trying, but my eyesight,” my words cut off with another clap of thunder.
Another massive boom followed, this time accompanied by a brilliant flash of green-white light that illuminated the entire hallway for a split second. In that moment of visibility, I saw the shelter door. It was in the opposite direction from where I looked, marked with reflective safety tape that I missed.
Through the window at the end of the hall, I saw the storm, and it was like nothing I could have imagined. The sky was alive with energy, writhing bolts of lightning that weren’t white or blue but shifted through a range of colors. The twin moons were visible through the roiling clouds, and they looked wrong, almost distorted, as if I were seeing them through warped glass.
