The Pioneer

by BRIDGET TYLER

  “Why wouldn’t she just tell us?” Chris says.

  “She didn’t have a choice,” I say. I tell them what Mom told me about the survey report being incomplete.

  “Classified?” Leela says. “Why would the ISA classify parts of a Planetary Survey Report?”

  Beth huffs an irritated sigh. “We’re getting off topic. Again. We need to get back to Pioneer’s Landing as quickly as possible. There is no scenario in which confronting the party that brought us here is a good idea.”

  “The party?” Miguel says, dubious. “I guess it is kind of hard to believe Dr. Brown rescued us alone.”

  “Impossible, in fact,” Beth agrees.

  It takes a second for that crazy hypothesis to sink in. There are no other humans on Tau. If the people who brought us here weren’t Rangers or pioneers, that means they weren’t human.

  “You seriously think we were abducted by aliens?” I say, finally.

  “No,” Beth says. “If there is an intelligent life form on Tau, this is its home. We are the aliens here.”

  My heart sinks. If Beth’s right, this could be the end of everything. The Galactic Frontier Project’s mission statement is very specific—we will not settle on occupied worlds. No exceptions. Nobody wants to steal other people’s homes the way our ancestors did when they built empires on Earth. If there’s intelligent life on Tau, the mission is over. Everything we’ve been through, everyone we’ve lost, will have been for nothing.

  “You should have gone back to the Landing for help,” Leela says. She doesn’t add, Joanna, but she’s looking right at me.

  “We were trying to save you!” I protest.

  “Miguel and I were safe in the cargo pod,” she fires back, “until we had to go out to save you.”

  “How could we possibly have known those things were out there?”

  “You couldn’t. Which is why you should have gone for help,” she says, biting off each word. “But you had to be Joanna Watson, girl hero. And now we’re stuck here.”

  “Take it easy, Divekar,” Jay says. “This isn’t on Jo. We made the call together.”

  “Uh-huh,” she says. “You haven’t been around the Watsons as long as the rest of us, Jay. They might act like they’re listening to you, but they aren’t. They decide, and you agree.”

  “Well,” I say, “you don’t have to worry about me deciding anything anymore, do you? You’re cadet pilot. Whatever we do, it’s going to be your call. Hopefully, you’ll make better decisions than me.”

  “Be hard to do worse.”

  She’s never stopped blaming me for Teddy. She won’t forgive me for this, either.

  Bitterness and grief tangle together inside my chest, turning each other toxic. I’m about to say something I know I’ll regret when Chris blurts out, “It isn’t Jo’s fault! It’s my fault! I wanted to come. I thought we could help Mom. Now we’re stuck here because of me.”

  With that, he bolts into the dark.

  “Chris! No!” Jay shouts.

  “I got this,” Miguel says, already moving after Chris. “Wait up, little dude!”

  “God damn it,” Leela mutters, swiping tears I didn’t see before from her eyes and running after them.

  I instinctively move to follow, but my bad leg folds under me. Jay catches me before I hit the ground. “Come with us, Beth,” he says. “We shouldn’t get separated.” Then he sweeps me up into his arms and strides after the others.

  “What are you doing?” I sputter.

  “Would you rather stay behind in the cabin?” he counters.

  “No.”

  “Then stop squirming.”

  The others are spread out ahead of us. The glows from their flexes look like beads of light rolling through the darkness. I can still see the cabin lights behind us, but what are we going to do if Chris goes too far and we lose sight of it?

  Dampness rolls over my skin. It feels like a mist that’s just becoming rain, which is weird, since we’re in a cave.

  I run a hand over my arm. It’s not wet. But I can still feel droplets pattering over my skin.

  “What the hell is that?” Jay says. “Is there water coming from somewhere?”

  “Maybe we’re getting close to an entrance,” I say, relieved he feels it too.

  The damp cold is abruptly replaced by a blast of tingling warmth, and then moist coldness seeps through the heat again. It feels like I’ve got a fever set in fast forward, chill and heat alternating at impossible speeds. Weird emotions are surging through me in response to the sensations. I don’t know how to describe it, exactly. Anticipation, maybe? My stomach is tight and my muscles are tensed, but in a pleasant way. It’s like I’m standing knee-deep in the ocean on a hot day, waiting for a cool wave to crash against my chest.

  Ahead of us, Chris stops.

  “Do you hear that?” he calls out, squinting to see past the glow of his flex. “Is something out there?”

  I didn’t hear it before, but now I do. Somewhere, voices are singing in a close minor harmony. The warmth and chill, the excited tingling, it’s all part of the rise and fall of the song.

  Chris screams and disappears into the dark.

  “Chris!” I shout. There’s no response. No sound of struggle. Nothing.

  Jay puts me on my feet and tosses his light stick into the dark after Chris. It illuminates nothing but empty space. Chris is gone.

  “The hell?” Miguel says.

  Behind us, Beth gasps. I spin just in time to see her disappear, sucked into the darkness without so much as a scream.

  I don’t think, I just move, plunging after my sister. I can feel the pain in my ankle, but it doesn’t matter.

  “Beth,” I shout. “Beth! Talk to me!”

  There’s a grunting shuffle ahead and to my right. I follow the sound, swinging my light stick like a weapon.

  There’s nothing there. She’s gone.

  “Beth!” I spin again, flailing out with my light. “Beth!”

  My hand brushes something thick and scratchy—roughly woven fabric. Before I can react, a cold hand with fingers long enough to overlap around my arm yanks me against a hard, narrow body.

  My attacker is unbelievably strong, and its arms feel like they bend in more places than they should. I buck and kick, ignoring the pain that ping-pongs through my limbs. I try to shout, but my captor squeezes harder, driving the air from my lungs. Sparks explode through my vision. I’m about to pass out. This is my last chance to fight.

  I throw my head back as hard as I can. My skull cracks against a sharp, bony chin. My assailant lets out a buzzing growl and drops one of its arms. I grab the other and try to pry it away from my body, gasping and trying to scream. Just a little farther and . . .

  A knife blade presses into my throat.

  I freeze. My attacker growls into my ear once more, in a voice that’s more like a choir. The harmonic sound feels like a thousand tiny slices all over my body. I don’t need to understand the words to know the meaning. It’s a threat.

  Then light swells around us, temporarily blinding me.

  “Pel, release her.” The English words are spoken in another multitoned voice that cannot possibly be human. “Now.”

  The blade lingers, digging into my flesh. Then it falls away.

  I collapse in a gasping heap.

  After I catch my breath, I sit up, blinking furiously as my eyes adjust to the sudden light. A figure in a hooded black robe is kneeling in front of me. Beth is standing a few meters away, beside another kneeling being in an identical black robe. Yet another kneels beside Chris, who is still curled up in a terrified ball.

  The light is coming from a being wearing a pale hooded robe that seems to glow in the dark. They’re walking toward us, flanked by a dozen more beings in black who are almost invisible against the darkness.

  The luminous being raises a hand. Their escort stops. They keep walking until they are standing right in front of me. Now I can see that their robes aren’t actually glowing. The light c
omes from within, filling the cascading folds of fabric with layers of bright and shadow. The pistol holstered on their belt strikes a jarring contrast to their ethereal beauty.

  The being pushes back their hood.

  Huge, cupped ears flare over the being’s skull in a crest of flesh and cartilage. Thin lines of blue-violet light trace branching fractal patterns over their cheeks and run down their neck to disappear below their translucent robes. The extraterrestrial is both fierce and beautiful. And they’re wearing sunglasses.

  “I believe some introductions are in order,” the being says in their layered voice.

  “As you wish, Ord.”

  One of Ord’s entourage steps out of line and drops their hood to reveal a human face. It takes me a moment to recognize Dr. Lucille Brown. She’s changed since the picture was taken with Dr. Pasha in the lake. She’s thinner, and her skin is chalky white. It makes her look older than she is. So does her close-cropped hair, which has gone gray.

  “Come forward, juveniles,” she calls, looking past me to my friends. “You have nothing to fear.”

  I twist to see Jay approaching cautiously, his hand on his stun gun, keeping himself between Leela and Miguel and the robed beings. Beth cautiously edges past the being who still kneels beside her to join us, but Chris doesn’t move. I want to go get him, but the glowing being is between him and us. I don’t know how their guards will react if we get too close.

  Dr. Brown turns her gaze to me. “You shouldn’t be on your feet, Joanna. Your injuries are serious.”

  The way she says my name makes me think she recognizes me, but we’ve never met. I’d remember.

  “You know me?”

  “In a way,” she says. A warm smile washes over her face. “The last time I saw you, I think you were about four. You were playing pioneers in the garden with your brother and sister. And your father and I were discussing a dream we called the Galactic Frontier Project.” She turns her attention back to the bioluminescent being standing between us. “Ord, these juveniles are Joanna and Bethany Watson. They are daughters of the great leader I spoke of—Alice Watson.”

  “My name is . . .” The glowing being makes a series of gentle moans that brush across my skin like dappled sunlight. “But our language is too sophisticated for human voices, so you may call me Ord.”

  “Ord is Followed,” Dr. Brown says. “He is the leader of the Sorrow.”

  “The Sorrow?” Leela says.

  Dr. Brown nods. “It is a poor translation for this species’ name, but human linguistic capabilities are quite limited. Thankfully, Ord was willing to learn English in order to communicate with me after he saved me when the same predators that attacked you killed my crew.”

  “It has been our honor to protect and nurture such a being.” Ord’s voice hums over my skin like a touch, even when he’s speaking English. “As it is our honor to welcome you, Joanna Watson. You and your companions may consider yourselves guests of the Sorrow.”

  “No, please. My friends are over there,” Chris’s voice punches through the awe-inspiring moment. My head snaps around to see Chris on his feet, struggling against the restraining hands of the black-robed being beside him.

  “Chris! Just wait for—” I call, but it’s too late. Before I can get the words out, Chris throws himself back, harder than before. The being loses their grip. Abruptly freed, Chris stumbles a few steps, straight into Ord.

  The being kneeling beside me lunges forward and snatches Chris off his feet. Their hood falls back as they press a long, slender knife against Chris’s throat. The Sorrow warrior has a wide, gray strip of fabric wrapped over their eyes. The pale-green bioluminescent patterns on their skin flow out like organic lace around the blindfold-like cloth. Their delicacy is a striking contrast to the thick scar that slices down one side of the warrior’s face.

  Jay’s hand darts back to his stun gun, but Dr. Brown holds a hand up to stop him. “That won’t improve the situation,” she says calmly. “Ord, this one is a child. He is overwhelmed by your presence and distressed. He meant no harm to you.”

  Ord hums something low and warm like a fire on a cold night. The scar-faced Sorrow replies with a shriek and a series of sharp sounds that feel like sparks popping against my skin. Ord opens his mouth in a wide oblong. Whatever he’s saying must be out of the range of human hearing, but I can feel the sound. It’s like a hard wind, the kind you think is going to knock you off your feet.

  Nobody moves for a few painful breaths. Then the scarred Sorrow shoves Chris toward us, making their knife disappear into their robes in a single fluid movement. Miguel darts forward and grabs Chris around the waist and half carries him back to us.

  Ord holds his hands out on either side of his body, palms forward. Bioluminescent light traces over his palms and down each long, triple-jointed finger.

  “My apologies. Pel is one of my most devoted Takers. She is passionate about my safety.”

  “No kidding,” Leela mutters.

  “We’re sorry she was alarmed,” I say, trying not to sound terrified.

  “Your apology is accepted, Joanna Watson,” Ord says. “Do not be anxious. We have been waiting for your people. It pleases us that you are here.”

  They’ve been waiting for us? What does that mean? I badly want to exchange a what the hell look with Jay, but I manage to keep a straight face. “We’re . . . um . . . thank you. But we have been in a, I mean, some of us have been in an accident. We need to return to our people and, ah, seek medical attention.” It has the virtue of being true, and it can’t possibly offend them.

  “We will see to your well-being, juvenile,” Ord says. “And return you to your people when the night has come and it is safer to move about on the surface. In the meanwhile, you will allow me to show you our city.”

  “No!” I twist to stare at Leela, who looks just as surprised as I am that she blurted that out.

  “Leela,” I start, but she cuts me off with an I know head shake.

  She steps forward to address Ord. “I don’t mean to offend, but we aren’t trained for this, nor are we equipped to make sure that we won’t inadvertently harm your people,” she says. “It would be much better to wait for our leaders—”

  Dr. Brown cuts her off. “Your thoughtfulness is admirable, but you take too much responsibility upon yourself, juvenile. I am an International Space Agency colonel. You are cadets. Children. For you, I am the Followed. Understood?”

  Despite her strange choice of words, what she means is clear. She’s giving us an order. But that doesn’t mean we should follow it. Taking a bunch of, as she put it, cadets and children into an extraterrestrial city without even briefing us on the local culture is incredibly dangerous. Chris nearly got himself killed already. He’s just a kid. What if he gets scared and does something like that again? What if I do? We know nothing about the Sorrow. Any of us could easily do or say the wrong thing and offend them, hurt them.

  But to my surprise, Leela doesn’t even argue. She says, “Understood, ma’am.”

  “Very good,” Dr. Brown says. She smiles warmly at us. “Now, juveniles, please extinguish your light sticks and switch your flexes back to standby. The Sorrow tolerate artificial light sources here, but they are deeply offensive in the Solace.”

  “You want us to walk around in a cave with no light?” Chris asks, his voice shrinking from the idea.

  Before Dr. Brown can answer, Ord slams his staff down on the cave floor. The resulting boom unfolds into a string of echoes as he strides up the row of black-robed beings. They turn to follow him in a single motion, stepping in time like dancers moving across a dark stage.

  “Follow Ord,” Dr. Brown says. “He provides as much light as you will ever need.” With that, she flips up the hood of her cloak and disappears into the dark.

  Seven

  Thanks to his glow, Ord is easy to follow, but his light isn’t bright enough for us to see anything or anyone but him. Especially not his guards, who are dressed to disappear. I can hear
the whisper of their footsteps, I think, but that makes it worse. It feels like the darkness is alive and watching us.

  “You cool, Jo-Jo?” Miguel calls out from somewhere ahead of me.

  “I’m fine,” I call back, even though I’m not. Pain sparks from my toes to my hip with every step, but Miguel doesn’t have any medical supplies with him. There’s nothing he can do, so there’s no point in making the others worry.

  Abruptly, a strong arm wraps around my waist. I recognize the shape of Leela’s body as she levers her shoulder under mine. “I’m okay,” I say. “I don’t need—”

  “You gasp every time you take a step,” she mutters, hauling me forward. “Don’t be an idiot.”

  “Fine,” I say. “Whatever.”

  Walking is a lot less painful with Leela bearing some of my weight. I should thank her for the help, but I don’t feel like giving her another opportunity to lecture me about my poor life choices.

  “I didn’t reboot the computer.” Leela’s voice is so quiet, I’m not sure I heard her right.

  “Huh?”

  “I had time,” she says, ignoring my confusion. “The rear engines failed right after we crossed the stratosphere. I had twenty-four seconds before we were falling too fast to recover. I could have rebooted the computer and gotten the engines back online fast enough to do an emergency burn and land.”

  Oh. Now I understand. Leela has spent the walk dissecting the crash in her head and trying to figure out how she could have prevented it. I’d be doing the same thing if I were her. I’ve been doing it every day since Teddy died.

  “You can’t know whether a reboot would have brought the engine back online,” I say. “And if it had failed, you wouldn’t have had time to get everyone into cargo.”

  She grunts, neither accepting nor rejecting the reassurance.

  “That was brilliant,” I say. “I’d never have thought to use the cargo pod to get passengers down safely.”

  “No,” she says, shifting her grip on my waist as we pick our way over a patch of uneven rock. “You’d have thought to reboot the computers.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. And if it hadn’t worked, we’d all be dead,” I say. “Remember Mom’s first rule—space is always trying to kill you. Some days it tries harder than others. That’s all.”