Blood Ties by Kevin Emerson Page B

ears started to ache as the pressure dropped sharply. There was a rush of warm air, and everyone turned expectantly toward the clear plastic tube beside the platform.
    A cylindrical charion rocketed into the station. The moment it halted, the tube filled with black smoke. As the train’s pulsing engines cycled down to a low hum, panels of the tube slid open, and giant fans in the ceiling rumbled to life, sucking the black smoke upward. The train’s silver sides were charred. Large embers and chunks of molten rock tumbled off it, carving tracks through a gray film on the train’s surface. The film looked like ash, but was really frost that had formed on the super cooled exterior.
    The charion doors hissed open, and passengers filed out of the low-lit interior.
    â€œOliver, over here,” Phlox said, motioning toward the nearest doorway as if Oliver was in danger of missing the train when he was only two feet away.
    â€œI’m right here,” Oliver grumbled. This was how Phlox always got when they were traveling. She wouldn’t relax until they’d arrived where they were going, whereas Oliver found the traveling the most relaxing part, especially given what might await him at their destination.
    The Nocturnes stepped into the train, and the echoing clatter of the platform was replaced by carpeted quiet, with the gentle stringed music of the Melancholia drifting through the air. They filed down the aisle, past leather seats arranged in pairs. Phlox and Sebastian took one set, Dean and Oliver the next. Bane lounged across the two behind them.
    â€œWhat are these?” Dean asked. On the back of the seats in front of them were a series of brass valves. Red tubes led from these valves back up to the ceiling.
    â€œThat’s dinner,” Oliver replied. “There’s a menu in the magazine.”
    The train filled quickly, crowding with families desperate to escape the sun. Oliver smiled when an old woman asked for one of Bane’s free seats and he had to give it up with a sulking huff.
    â€œAttention, please,” a deep female voice intoned over the speaker system. “Charion transit line B now departing for New York City and connections to Morosia and Naraka. Welcome aboard.”
    The doors slid closed, and there was a sharp sucking sound that made Oliver’s ears compress again.
    â€œOw,” said Dean, wincing and holding his ears.
    â€œThe train just pressurized,” explained Oliver. There was a quiet murmur of anticipation among the passengers, the volume of the Melancholia increased slightly, and then with no warning, the charion rocketed forward. It rumbled, vibrating left and right, then suddenly smoothed out. “That’s the magnets kicking in,” Oliver added.
    There were no windows on the train, but plasma panels shimmered to life on the walls. A map appeared, showing the curve of the earth, seen in a cross-section. A dot at one end showed Seattle. There was one in the middle for New York, at the highest point of the curve, and then one on the far right for Morosia. The charion line was drawn in yellow and looked like a very shallow U between Seattle and New York, and then again between New York and Morosia. At the lowest curve of each U, the line shaded to red.
    â€œSee where the line changes color?” Oliver pointed for Dean. “That’s where the train passes through the mantle of the earth. It’s cool what happens then.”
    It took five hours to get to New York. Oliver and Dean spent a while playing video games on screens built into the seats in front of them. The attendants passed out goblets and plates of chocolate to everyone, and they dined from the blood valves.
    â€œThey’re probably not going to come around with brains, or intestine pâté, or anything.…” Dean mused, looking hungrily at his goblet.
    â€œSorry,” Oliver replied.
    After dinner, the charion lights were dimmed and everyone began