by Amie Kaufman
“Yeah. Not much of a warrior, am I?”
32
Scarlett
“Hold on, Cat, you hear me?” Tyler says. “We’re almost there.”
The girl in his arms, my roomie, his bestie, only moans in reply.
“T-they’re coming. …”
“Scar, how far to the med center?” my brother asks.
“About eight hundred meters,” I reply, voice trembling.
I can see it in the distance now, standing tall in the falling eddies of pollen. It’s three stories high—probably the biggest structure in the settlement aside from the reactor. The green crosses on its flanks are barely visible under the growth of twisted blue-green vines, blood-red flowers, silver leaves. This whole place looks like some ancient ruin on Terra, abandoned centuries ago by people and left for nature to reclaim. Except I get the feeling the people here didn’t abandon anything. And there’s nothing natural about any of this.
Tyler is carrying Cat in his arms—she’s too hurt to walk. Zila is bringing up the rear, ice-cold as always. I’m walking point, and I’m nowhere near as cool, my eyes darting left and right. I’m sweating inside my biosuit, my breath coming quick. The plant life covers everything, rolling and swaying like waves on the ocean’s face—always toward us. The pollen is thick and sticky, and I have to stop every so often to wipe it off the glass dome of my helmet. And I think of Cat, and I think of the rip in her suit and I wonder—
“Movement!” Zila calls, looking at her uniglass. “Three hundred meters!”
I see them coming through the haze, moving in long, loping strides. Their fur is overgrown with weeds and vines and spiny leaves and flowers of blood-red, but I can still see the chimps they used to be underneath. They’re moving quick, crawling across the vertical surfaces of the colony buildings like spiders, or swimming through the undergrowth as if it were water. They’re going to hit us before we reach the med center.
“Open fire!” Tyler roars.
I take a knee, start blasting with my disruptor, feeling the sharp recoil up my arms. Truth is, I’m a bad shot. I spent most of senior year marksmanship classes flirting with my range partner (Troi SanMartin. Ex-boyfriend #48. Pros: loves his mother. Cons: called me his mother’s name), but Tyler scored in the top 10th percentile, and Zila probably sleeps with her disruptor under her pillow.
The shots ring out in the empty streets. It might be my imagination, but as each chimp-thing falls, I swear I hear the plant life around us … whispering. The leaves shiver like the wind was blowing, but there’s not a breath of it. Blue blood spatters, and the animals fall, shrieking as they tumble. But there’s a lot of them.
I can see one bearing down on me, mossy lips peeled back from its teeth, eyes full of flowers. I take steady aim, try to remember my lessons, but my hands are shaking. I fire once, twice. The third shot hits home, striking the chimp-thing in the arm. It spins on the spot but keeps coming. Closing to forty meters. Twenty.
It leaps at me, opening its mouth to scream. And as it does so, its head just keeps … opening.
Lips peeling away from its face.
Face peeling away from its skull.
Skull peeling away from its torso until the entire top half of its body has opened up like some awful flower, ready to swallow me whole.
I’m pinned in place by the horror of it, five meters away now, and I can’t help but screa—
BAMF.
The chimp-thing pops like a water balloon, Tyler’s disruptor blast knocking it sideways and spattering it across the undergrowth. As the blood touches them, the plants shiver and sigh, but Zila blasts them to ashes before any of them can move to attack us. My heart is thunder inside my chest and my legs are shaking and I’m looking for something bitchy or sassy to say, but I can’t quite manage it anymore. Ty’s already up and moving, Cat back in his arms. I can see the blood on her biosuit, the patch job over the tear, the blue pollen clinging to the silver.
As Ty wipes at her faceplate, I can see her eyes are blue, too.
They used to be brown.
“T-Tyler,” she moans. “They’re c-coming.”
“Scar, we need to move,” my brother says. “Now.”
His voice is like iron, but I can feel the fear in him. We’ve known each other since before we were born. I can read him better than anyone. And I know that under the facade, beneath the even tone and steady hands, he’s terrified.
For us.
For her.
I blink hard. Nod once. And then I’m up off my knees, moving quick. We run through the overgrown streets, through the swaying fronds, the med center finally looming up ahead of us.
We have to blast our way past the vines to get in through the entrance, but I’m not sure what he’s hoping to find here. Even if the place wasn’t being swallowed by this … infection, the facilities are two centuries old. It’s only now, up close, that I’m realizing how desperate and hopeless this plan is.
The insides of the building are dark, the windows covered with growth, the power long dead. We arc up the searchlights on our biosuits, bright beams cutting through the gloom. The place is completely overrun—the floors carpeted in moss, the walls crawling with creepers and sticky flowers.
“Zila, what do we need?” Tyler asks.
The girl shakes her head, looking at Cat. Through the visor of her biosuit, I can see our Ace’s blue eyes are open, eyelashes fluttering. Her skin is covered in sweat. I swear I can see a faint silver sheen on it.
“I am unsure, sir,” Zila replies. “I have never seen symptoms like—”
“Improvise,” he snaps. “You’re my Brain. I need you now.”
“Medical storage,” she says. “I do not know what chemicals they had here, or what will be unspoiled after two centuries. But I may be able to cobble some kind of antibacterial agent or suppressant if we find a supply cache.”
“Right.” Tyler nods. “Let’s move.”
We stalk off through the dark belly of the med center, footsteps squeaking and squishing on the carpet of plant growth. Every surface is covered with it. The heat is oppressive, like the inside of a sauna. I can hear Cat’s shallow breathing, my heart thumping inside my chest. We check room after room, but everything is overgrown, useless, unrecognizable. Vague shapes of maybe-beds and possibly-computers, tiny motes of luminous blue pollen dancing in the air.
Cat reaches up in Tyler’s arms, grabs his shoulder. “Tyler …”
“Cat, you just relax, okay?” he says. “We’re getting you out of this.”
“Y-you …” She shakes her head, swallows hard. “D-don’t under … stand.”
“Cat, honey, please,” I beg. “Try not to talk.”
“I … see,” she whispers.
“What do you see?” Zila asks.
“G-men.” Cat closes those new blue eyes. “C-coming.”
“The shuttle we saw.” Zila looks at Tyler. “Survivors from the Bellerophon.”
“Zila, what’s happening to her?” I ask.
Our Brain’s brow creases in thought, her lips pursed. I can see that genius-level IQ at work behind her eyes. Her detachment bringing a clarity I can only envy. I wonder what it was that made her like this. How she got to be who she became.
After a moment pondering, she turns and fires her disruptor at the wall—when all else fails, stick to what you know, I guess. The blast burns a section of the overgrowth to cinders, the blue-green leaves reduced to ashes. Just like when we killed the chimp-things, the rest of the plant life around us ripples, whispers, shudders. And, my heart sinking in my chest, I see Cat shuddering, too.
“Ohhh,” she moans. “Ohhhhh.”
Zila runs her uniglass over Cat’s body, through the air. The device beeps and clicks, Zila playing it like a concert pianist in a concerto.
“Legionnaire Madran?” Tyler asks.
Zi
la shakes her head. “There is so little data. So many variables. But these growths, the infected animals, all we have seen … there appears to be a congruence between them. When one is hurt, the others appear to feel pain.”
I think back to the bridge of the Longbow. The words Aurora spoke when she pointed to those glowing red dots on the star map.
“Gestalt,” I whisper.
Zila nods. “A gestalt entity, yes. A multitude of organisms that actually comprise a single being. It is as if everything on this planet, everything affected by this plant bloom … it is as if they are all connected.”
Cat begins convulsing in Tyler’s arms, a fit gripping her whole body. Her teeth are bared, and he lowers her to the floor as she thrashes, tries to hold her still, tears shining in his eyes.
“Cat?” Tyler asks. “Cat, can you hear me?”
“Ra’haam,” she groans, echoing Auri’s words on the bridge.
“Hold on, we’ll figure this out, I promise.”
Cat groans, head thrown back, every muscle taut as she lifts herself off the floor, back bent in a perfect arch.
“Ra’haaaaa-a-a-aam!”
I feel so helpless, so useless, I want to scream. Every ounce of my terror, my horror, is echoed in the lines of Tyler’s body, in the way he bends down over her, runs a hand helplessly down her arm, tentative, like touching her might break her.
I know what happened between them on shore leave. Neither of them told me, but I figured it out. Coming back with those new tattoos and a new distance between them. I could see Cat wanted to close it. I could understand why Tyler didn’t. Why it might have been a mistake. Why it might have been the best thing that happened to either of them. Because as in love as Ty is with the idea of being a leader, of being a soldier, of being someone Dad would be proud of, I know part of Tyler is in love with Cat, too.
He just hasn’t figured out how yet.
But what will he do if he loses her?
“I can f-feeeeel it,” Cat hisses, sweat beading on her brow. “I can feel them. This place, this planet … I kn-know what it issssss.”
She sighs and sinks back down onto the mossy growth. Her eyes are open, the same faintly luminous blue as the pollen floating in the air around us. And with dawning horror, I realize her pupils aren’t round anymore.
They’re the shape of flowers.
“Cat?” Zila asks, kneeling beside her. “What is Ra’haam?”
Our Ace looks at Zila, tears shining in her lashes.
“We are.”
“Maker’s breath,” Tyler whispers. “Your eyes …”
Cat’s hand snakes out, grabbing Tyler’s arm so hard he flinches.
“G-get th-them out of here, Tyler,” she breathes, teeth clenched. “Auri, especially. It would have killed you all to stop her finding this place. But now she’s here … you … can’t let it t-take her.”
“Cat …”
“I can f-feel it.” She shakes her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I can feel it inside me, Ty. For the love of the Maker … get … get her out of h-here.”
My hands are shaking and I can’t breathe fast enough. I can’t talk, the sobs rising up in my throat to choke me. But Zila says what I’m thinking.
“But the star map inside the Trigger led us here,” she objects.
“Don’t you unders … understand?” Cat shakes her head, spine arching again. “W-wasn’t an invitation. It-t-t w-was a warning. …”
She falls silent, closing her eyes, shivering as if she has a fever. I look to my brother, see his face is pale as old bones. I can see the desperation in his eyes. The hurt. The same sinking feeling that’s building inside my own chest. There’s nothing usable in this med center. We have hostile inbounds—GIA agents in their faceless gray armor and who knows what else. He has to prioritize. He has to put the needs of the group before his own feelings. That’s what good leaders do.
He meets my eyes. And I speak to him without having to say a word.
Show the way, baby brother.
He reaches into the utility belt on Cat’s suit, grabs her uniglass, and speaks into squad chat. “Kal, what’s your status?”
“We were unsuccessful at the spaceport,” our Tank replies. “But Finian says he can synthesize the necessary components for a new Longbow core if he has access to the colony reactor. We are headed there now.”
“Is everyone okay?”
Kal’s voice lowers, as if he doesn’t want to be overheard.
“Aurora is … unsettled. We encountered more colonists, infected with the same ailment as the chimps. One spoke of … spawning?”
“Yessss,” Cat sighs, writhing on the floor.
I take her hand and she opens her eyes and looks at me. I want to look away from that unnatural color, those flower-shaped pupils. But instead I squeeze my roomie’s fingers, muster a smile.
Tyler takes a shaky breath. “We suspect at least one GIA agent was on that transport—it must have been from the Bellerophon. They’re inbound on our position.”
“The colony reactor is the most heavily fortified structure in the settlement, sir. If we are planning a defense, we should gather there.”
“Roger that, we’ll head to you.”
“I will have deterrent recommendations ready for you when you arrive.”
“We’ll be there ASAP.” He swallows thickly. “Kal … tell everyone to mind the integrity of their biosuits. Under no circumstances are you to allow anyone’s gear to breach, is that understood?”
“Zero, is she—”
“Just get it done, Legionnaire. We’ll be there soon. Tyler, out.”
Ty taps the uni, kneels beside Cat. Putting her arm over his shoulder, he scoops her up. But Cat shakes her head, places one hand on his chest.
“N-no … ,” she whispers. “Leave me, Ty.”
He raises that scarred eyebrow of his, and for a second, the charmer in him rises to the surface. “I didn’t know you were trying out for the comedy circuit?”
“I’m … serious,” she breathes. “Let me g-go.”
“No way.” He lifts her up and stands in one easy movement, Cat cradled in his arms. Her head lolls back, her body limp. But with visible effort, she pulls herself up so she can look him in the eye.
“I c-can see it, Ty,” she whispers. “And it can see all of you … th-through me.” She shakes her head, a kind of wonder creeping into her voice. “It’s so big, Ty. It’s so b-big and I’m falling into it and you have to let me g-go.”
“No,” he says.
“Please,” she begs.
“You listen to me, Brannock,” Ty says, his voice hard as steel despite the tears shining in his eyes. “We are the Aurora Legion, and we do not leave our people behind. Do you understand me?”
She licks her lips, eyes slipping closed.
“Legionnaire Brannock, I asked you a question!” he shouts.
Cat’s eyes flutter open and she draws a deep, shivering breath.
“Furthermore,” Ty continues, in his best parade-ground voice, “I shouldn’t have to remind you that I’m your superior officer. So if you’re considering laying down here, if you even think of cashing out on this drop, I’m going to kick your ass so hard the lump in your throat will be my fucking heel, is that understood?”
Tyler Jones, Squad Leader, First Class, doesn’t curse. Tyler Jones doesn’t do drugs or drink or do anything we mere mortals do for fun. I can’t remember the last time I heard him swear. I doubt Cat can, either.
“Is that understood?” Ty roars.
The words have the desired effect. Cat swallows hard and some focus returns to her eyes. Her grip on his shoulder tightening as she whispers.
“S-sir, y …”
“I can’t hear you, Legionnaire Brannock!”
Cat blinks hard, slowly nods. “Sir, yes sir.”
/>
Ty looks to Zila and me, his stare hard with command. I can see the leader in him, I can see our dad in him, burning so bright it makes me want to cry. To reach out and hug him, to tell him how proud he makes me. But instead, I stand to attention. Because that’s what Legionnaires do.
“Scar, you’ve got point,” Ty orders. “Zila, watch our tails. We go hard and fast to the colony reactor tower, meet up with the squad. Anything gets in our way, we blast it back to hells. Nobody in this unit is dying here today, am I clear?”
“Sir, yes sir,” we reply.
“Right. Let’s move out.
33
Auri
All around me, Tyler and his squad are transforming the reactor into the place we’ll make our stand. They’re hauling cabinets to block up entrances, blasting vines away from windows, figuring out how to augment our defenses with what’s left here.
I’m wrestling with a solidly built table, turning it onto its side to lay it down in front of Cat, like a kind of last-ditch shield in case they come at us through the windows. My gaze meets Kal’s every half a minute or so—though he’s busy single-handedly matching the strength of half of us combined, he’s still waiting for me when I look his way.
My nerves are singing as I position the table in front of Cat. The GIA agents are coming for me, but I know they’ll take out everyone here. There’s no way back to the Longbow now without a battle, no chance to repair it, to escape. This is the place we’ll make our stand. And I’m terrified.
“The GIA shuttle is now inbound on our position.” Over by the window, Zila lowers her binoculars, calm as ever. “ETA three minutes.”
“Idea,” Scarlett says. “Could we use their ship to get back off-world?”
Finian rises up from where he’s crouching by a half-dissected computer system, moving with a soft whine of his servos. His containment unit has been rigged up to the core, in a tangle of cabling and pipes that look held together by prayers and duct tape. Apparently his rig is synthesizing the elements we’ll need to repair the Longbow’s reactor for when we get out of here.
If we get out of here.
