Chapter I
The metallic surface of the floor was cold against Elsa’s feet. Perplexed by this, she leapt into the air with little force and grasped the two bars, one on each side of her, and positioned her core back into the center of the pod. Now hovering motionless, she dozed off comfortably.
She awoke again to the cold surface of the floor against her feet. She guessed there had to be something off with the gravitational centralizer, but she hadn’t a clue what—its readout flashed a neon blue zero, which was anticipated.
She decided to ask her brother. His pod was conveniently located next to hers, which was entirely incidental as pods were assigned by designated birth-numbers, and as twins, their birth-numbers were directly adjacent.
“Pod four-one-three-four open,” she whispered softly. The pod’s hatch swung open.
With both hands guiding her course, she glided weightlessly out her pod and into the squat cylinder hallway where a foreign hum filled the air. She wasn’t supposed to be outside her pod at this time, but she wouldn’t sleep if her feet kept meeting the icy floor. She knew her brother would likely have an answer—he always did.
She floated towards the front of 4133, hesitated, and daintily tapped on his pod’s hatch. No immediate response. She tapped with greater force this time, resulting in more of a thud.
The hatch swung open.
“Elsa, is that you?” her brother asked with a quizzical, fatigued look.
“Brother, I need your help.”
As if he just realized he wasn’t dreaming, alarm took to his face. “Get inside, quickly.” He grabbed her by the waist, effortlessly hauled her into his pod, and manually shut the hatch behind her.
The pod was invariantly dark and cramped. She could feel the warmth of his breath prickling the hairs on her neck, and his arms were still holding her waist.
“Do you know what would happen if someone saw you,” he whispered.
“I couldn’t sleep. My feet kept touching the cold floor. Why am I… falling in my pod?
“Well, if you were wearing the suit like you are supposed to every night, you wouldn’t feel the floor.”
“But it’s… uncomfortable and I can’t sleep in it,” she complained.
“Please Elsa, just do what you’re told. You don’t want to get in trouble with the Covenant.”
“Okay Brother, I will.” She paused to groom her thoughts. “But what is wrong with the gravitational centralizer?”
“Nothing, Elsa.” His voice was stern, but with a hint of softness that kept her at ease. “You don’t need to worry about it.”
She could tell her brother was trying to hide something, but she didn’t know what. He had always been cryptic, always keeping secrets and hiding her from his thoughts, but why? She thought. It hurt her to feel so distant—cut off—from her only blood.
“Brother.” Her whisper was soft and sincere. “Please, talk to me.”
A brief silence followed.
When he spoke his tone was near inaudible. “We are close to a very large planet, Elsa, and the gravitational pull is nullifying the zero gravity state of our pods.”
She took a moment to visualize this, but didn’t really understand. The ship had various amenities, but a window—or any glass panel that provided external vision, for that matter—was not one of them. She learned all about the various planets and interacted with many of the holographic emulations, but never had she seen the real thing. She never wondered why either, until now.
