Cold Fire Rising

Chapter 1

Chapter One

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It wasn't even a mission. Professor Honeycutt had let them explore this new planet with ease, like a vacation. Stretching, under a different sun, a new wind rushing at their backs. And they ran, taking in all the oxygen the atmosphere swirled with. This planet was so much like Earth. They didn't need suits, or breathers, or anything.

The living embodiment of joy, Michelangelo cackled and whooped, spinning inches from the sand, arms propelling him higher, his mouth wide in a laugh that echoed through the silver trees. Silver trees!

And Leonardo grinned and shook his head, watching Mikey do backflips and shout about the softness of the sand. He was feeling pretty exhilarated. The air was crisp. The sky had sparse clouds, even. And it all felt so familiar. He sat down and leaned against a tree.

Donatello gazed around, soaking up the sights and sounds, calculating in his head how fast the wind was, how close that sun was, why the sky looked so much like the sky on Earth. His hands worked carefully as he crouched. His brain moved too fast and his body too slow and he was nearly bowled over by his little brother, who was cartwheeling through them, "Watch it, Mikey, I need to take sand samples!" and behind him, Raph grunted.

Raphael was on high alert, twitching, waiting. Danger? What was that? No, trees rustling. Why are the leaves so gray? Why where they here, so alone? This forest... this... place, it felt abandoned, and he growled softly, turning there, punching out. "Duuude, relax! This place is so sweet! Sit down and breathe!" and Michelangelo whirled past him with a giggle. Raphael wanted to slap him. Nobody should be that excited about sand and trees.

"Okay," Leonardo said, "we are going to explore for a few hours and then get back. We're still on a mission."

"Hm." Donatello, distracted, finished collecting samples and stood. "I did see what looked like a bar or pub on the other side of the forest."

Raph let himself loosen. "I'm hungry, yeah. And I smelled good food when we passed that place."

They began walking back through the forest, keeping all eyes on their surroundings. There was an abrupt "Oooh, hey, what's that?" followed by an automatic "Mikey, do not touch anything!"

Donatello let himself relax and smile. This was normal. This was their family. This was-

"Mikey! Put that down! What do you think you're doing?"

"Aww, Leo, it's a rock! See? It's just a shiny stone. It's green. It looks like a turtle shell. Look!"

Don looked up, eyes narrowing. He didn't recall seeing any green rocks...

Michelangelo was holding it in both hands. It looked like a polished, perfectly smooth cabochon. Opal? Emerald? Fluorite? Serpentinite? Why was he comparing it to Earth rocks, anyway? He stepped closer. "Michelangelo, I'll take it. I can always run an analysis on-"

"Nope!" Raphael had pushed himself between them. "None of that. Mikey, just drop the rock and let's keep moving. I don't need to listen to you cooing over how shiny it is, or Donnie playing science geek with it. Put it back where you found it, right now."

Michelangelo blinked. "I... I can't."

"What...?"

Leonardo turned with Leader Face on as Raphael's voice dropped an octave. Donatello frowned.

"No," said Michelangelo, "I mean I can't. It won't let me. It's heating up. Guys? Something isn't right..."

Donatello saw it, opened his mouth, lunged to knock the suddenly glowing thing from his baby brother's hands, grabbed his right wrist – and then Mikey screamed. He screamed like the air was being yanked from his lungs, like his body was a puppet. He jerked back and forth, and then he was glowing, and the screaming rose in pitch, and Don felt Raphael's arm collide with his chest, shoving him back, and his brother was crying now, Mikey was sobbing in that way that indicated fear and confusion and pain, and everything was a painfully bright greenish-gold glow, and a final forced wail was expelled-