“I know, but it was so close. They were right there. What if he—”
“No ‘what ifs,’ Jessa,” Litsa said sternly, shuddering at the thought of how close she had come to not making it back. “Your husband is alive. He’s safe, and you’re going to see him tonight. We’re going out there to get him as soon as the sun sets, okay?” Litsa wouldn’t let the woman drop her gaze. “Okay?”
Jessa nodded and clasped Litsa’s hands in hers. “Thank you for saving him.”
“Litsa.” Grant’s voice, from behind. “Joshua calls you.”
Litsa smiled at Jessa and turned to follow Grant.
She was the warrior on this trip, and the gatherers were her responsibility. It was her duty to bring them to the fields, oversee their work, and get them home safely. Joshua wouldn’t entertain any excuses. Litsa would pay for what happened under her watch. Her people lived by a set of rigid rules, harsh at times, but necessary. Joshua, and his father before him, led their band from the southern regions into the northern territories—what was once called South Dakota—and established a home. The discipline that came from living under Joshua’s laws was the only thing that kept their small clan alive, when so many others drifted away and disappeared, either falling victim to the Riy or abducted by the Takers, the masked men who descended from the skies. She swore an allegiance to the laws and lived them to the letter. She would face those laws now.
Grant stopped at the edge of Joshua’s hall.
Joshua sat patiently beside the fire, his face illuminated by the flickering light. He wasn’t a large man, but he was stout for his stature. He had led the clan since his father’s death and bore the colors of the clan chief tattooed on his arm. Rita, his woman, sat leisurely beside him, an eager look pinching her thin face. Jarrod, the captain of the watch, loomed nearby, standing barely inside the glow provided by the fire, his face partly obscured by shadow. His muscular arms hung at his sides, and she noticed his whip coiled at his belt.
Litsa saw judgment brewing in Joshua’s eyes, and she knew how this would unfold.
“Litsa,” Joshua’s voice boomed. “Enter.”
Litsa walked to the edge of the fire pit and stood. She bowed her head in respect. “My chief.”
“Colin and Jeremy did not return. Explain.”
“The Riy, my chief. They approached at daybreak. Jeremy injured himself, and Colin stayed to help him. I distracted the Riy to allow the gatherers time to return and to allow Colin and Jeremy to reach the middle haven.”
“How many Riy?”
“By my count, between forty and fifty drones.”
“If you encountered the Riy, why was the signal not given?”
“It was, my chief. I sent the flame skyward as soon as I saw them.”
“No signal was seen,” Jarrod said, stepping forward into the firelight.
Litsa met his gaze, but only for a second. “The signal was given. The gatherers can attest. The sky was too bright by then, and the watcher probably couldn’t see it.” The gatherers reported her sending the signal as soon as they arrived back home. They also reported why the gathering took so long, and why they were in the fields past the second warning bell. This was all part of the game. The trip did not go according to plan, and someone must be held accountable. Jarrod was only playing his part, even though he was well aware of what happened in the fields.
“But we are not questioning the gatherers,” Joshua said, his voice low and accusatory. “We are questioning you.”
“Yes, my chief.”
Litsa stood motionless as Joshua let the silence stretch before speaking.
“You say Jeremy was injured, yes?”
“His ankle. He fell and hurt his ankle after the signal was given.”
“And Colin stayed with him, instead of marshalling the gatherers, as is his task?”
“The gatherers saw the signal, and quickened their pace. Colin decided Jeremy needed assistance to reach the middle haven.”
“Colin is not a protector, is he?”
“No, my chief.”
“It is the warrior’s role to be the protector. Am I correct?”
“Yes, my chief.”
“Colin failed in his duties, then.”
Litsa paused, resigning herself to the fact that it was going to turn out badly for her in the end regardless of what she said. She met Joshua’s gaze. “Colin did what he thought was necessary to save Jeremy’s life. I cannot fault him.”
“You cannot fault him?” Rita snapped, her eyes flashing. “Have you forgotten your standing, young one?”
Litsa wanted to leap at Rita and tear her throat out with her bare hands. Although Rita was her elder and the taken woman of the chief, she had never earned Litsa’s respect. There she sat, safely ensconced in the scrubbed skins and scented oils befitting her position, but Litsa saw nothing but a red-haired serpent of a woman, her dark eyes peering out from a pale face that rarely ventured from the safety of the caverns. Litsa bravely met her gaze. “I forget nothing,” Litsa said softly, controlling the rage that threatened to spill from her lips. “And I mean no disrespect.”
From the corner of her eye, Litsa saw Jarrod shift his hand to the whip at his belt. In this place, his loyalty was to Joshua and Rita alone, and not to Litsa, one of his own warriors. Joshua raised his hand, signaling Jarrod to stand fast. For now.
“You say Colin assisted Jeremy to the middle haven.”
“Yes, my chief.”
“And what has become of Jeremy and Colin?”
“Jeremy is dead, my chief. Taken by the Riy.”
Litsa watched Rita lean forward, her face framed by the firelight. “Jeremy . . . is dead? And how did this happen?”
“He sacrificed himself to save me. Jeremy ran from the middle haven to draw a jumper away. He saved my life.”
Rita glanced at Jarrod, a mocking smile crossing her lips. “One of your wolves, saved by a simple lamb? How unfortunate.”
A simple lamb. In the end, Jeremy showed more courage than many of Jarrod’s warriors. Litsa clenched her teeth together until it hurt.
“And Colin?” Joshua asked.
“Safe in the middle haven, my chief.” Litsa paused, knowing what was coming, but decided to continue. “I promised Jessa that I would lead a party to retrieve him this night.”
“You shall lead a party? I think not,” Rita said. “You manage to lose one of those under your protection and then expect us to let you take an entire team with you?”
“How many jumpers?” Joshua asked. Litsa was at least thankful that Joshua was willing to ignore his wife’s digs long enough to hear what they were up against.
“There were seven, my chief.”
Joshua thought for a second, then nodded his head. “Another hive is close,” he proclaimed. “We must seek it out, burn as much as we can.”
Jarrod stepped forward. “I will call the warriors. We shall run tonight.”
“No,” Joshua said. “We will probe first, see how strong it is. Then, we will strike. You will take a team to retrieve Colin from the middle haven and send a second team forward to search out the hive’s location.”
“Yes, my chief.”
Joshua shifted his gaze to Litsa, and she knew their meeting was almost at an end. “But only after judgment is passed,” he said, “and punishment given.”
Those were the words Litsa was waiting to hear. The sooner it was over, the sooner she could help find the hive, and hopefully destroy it.
Joshua stood. “Litsa, you allowed a life to be taken today.”
“Yes, my chief.”
“As the warrior assigned to watch over the gatherers, the fault lies with you, and no one else.”
“Yes, my chief. I stand before you, ready to accept your judgment.”
“How old was Jeremy?”
“Thirty-five years, my chief,” Litsa replied.
“Then thirty-five lashes you will receive, before all who know you and trust you with their lives.” Joshua turned to Jarrod.
“By your hand, Jarrod. Assemble the clan.”
Jarrod bowed. “Yes, my chief. It will be done.”
Litsa had felt the lash before, but knew Jarrod was fair when wielding his whip. The leather would snap and bite, but it would be over quickly, and Jarrod would ensure it wouldn’t cut too deeply.
She was, after all, his best warrior. And with a hive close by, he needed her.
Chapter 9
The Neutral Buoyancy Laboratory was never like this. Sif had spent hours suspended in the world’s largest swimming pool at the Sonny Carter Training Facility in Houston, readying herself for the demands of working outside the ship in the cold vacuum of space, but this was her first EVA.
Nothing could have prepared her for what she felt as soon as she left the hatch.
The view took her breath away. Beyond her thin polycarbonate visor, the grand vastness of space stretched away into infinity.
“Sif, this is Hunter.”
“Yeah . . .”
“It’s really something, isn’t it?”
Hunter had made a spacewalk during their short mission to the International Space Station and experienced the same sense of awe she was feeling.
She gripped the edge of the hatch with one hand and reached out with her other. At her fingertips were the same stars she stared up at as a kid, dreaming of what life held in store for her. She remembered lying out at night on the houseboat, in the middle of a mountain lake far away from the city lights. The stars were so bright then, and there were so many, but it sure didn’t compare to this. “It’s beautiful.”
“Soak it in, Navy. But remember we have work to do, and you’re on the clock. Two hours and fifty-seven minutes ’til recess is over.”
Sif glanced at the digital clock on her wrist, and it read 02:57:23, counting down the seconds until she would have to crawl back inside the hatch. “Copy. Heading aft first.”
Her suit was large and cumbersome, a small spacecraft in and of itself, designed to protect her body from the brutal conditions of outer space—radiation, micrometeoroids, and extreme temperature shifts—while regulating atmospheric pressure, her body temperature, and oxygen flow, to keep her comfortable and alive. It also included a built-in gas-jet maneuvering system, allowing her to float free of the ship and move about, restricted only by the reach of her tether.
She clipped her suit tether to the runner and tugged to ensure it was connected properly. The runner bar ran Resolute’s length, and was one of many that spanned the outside of the ship. Using the tether, she could explore most of the critical areas where repairs might be required.
Sif pulled herself outside the hatch, one hand on the runner bar, and allowed her legs to float behind her. Even though she was moving through space at thousands of miles per hour, there was absolutely no sense of speed. She, along with the mass of Resolute, was suspended, motionless, in the middle of a star-dotted void, with no beginning and no end.
The partial module simulators they trained with in Houston—replicas of pieces and parts of the ship—seemed so huge, and the first time she saw Resolute complete in orbit Sif was struck by its massive size. But now, Resolute seemed insignificant against this infinite backdrop. As did she.
The ship itself consisted of four main trusses—one upper, one lower, and two on the sides—which ran from the forward command section all the way to the rear engine section. Nestled within the skeletal framework were three different modules—“mods”—large, cylindrical structures, each designed for a specific purpose. Mod 1, directly behind the conical command section, was the crew area and the heaviest, most shielded part of the ship. It also included the botanical and rations sections. Mod 2 housed the science and experimentation section and was followed by the deployment section in Mod 3, which included the docking stations for the crew transport vehicle and the cargo landers and, at the rear, the flyer deployment bay and emergency escape capsule. Farther back was the propulsion section, where four engines—each based on the old F-1 engines that powered the Apollo program’s Saturn V booster—drew their cryogenic liquid oxygen and liquid hydrogen fuel mixture from eight hexagonal fuel tanks, attached in tandem pairs to each of the four rear truss sections. For the most part, Resolute’s external design was simple, sturdy, and based on reliable, proven technology. It was her innards—the computers and programming designed to get the astronauts to Mars and back—that represented the cutting edge. And right now, a good portion of that technology wasn’t functioning.
“Starting aft now.”
“Copy,” Hunter replied.
Hand over hand, Sif headed toward the rear of the ship. She passed by numerous boxy thruster clusters, with each of the port-pointing nozzles blackened and charred from extended firings.
As she continued aft, she saw no visible damage to the exterior of the ship. She would do a similar inspection along all four of the structural trusses before calling it good.
“No damage along the upper truss.”
“Copy. How are you feeling out there?”
“Never better. Why didn’t you tell me this was so much fun?”
“You won’t be saying that in an hour,” Hunter said. “It’s more tiring than being in the pool.”
At the aft section, she released her hold on the runner rail and allowed herself to float away from the ship, her tether automatically spooling out as she went. By pressing the fingertips of her gloves into small indents in the palms, Sif activated the gas jets, which were controlled by finger position and pressure on the palm contacts. She maneuvered out beyond the four large exhaust nozzles and inspected them for damage. It was then that she noticed something out of order.
Not with the engines. With her.
She was having trouble breathing. Lucas told her the suit’s bio-readout wasn’t up and running yet, so there was no way for them to warn her if they saw something out of specs with her suit.
“I think I have a problem here.” She didn’t like the nervousness she heard in her own voice.
Hunter answered immediately. “What’s wrong?”
She reached down and felt for the cable spool unit, attached to the front of her suit at waist level. There was an emergency button, which, when pressed, automatically reeled in the tether. She couldn’t find it.
“Hunter, I think there—might be a—problem—”
“Sif? What’s the matter?” Lucas this time.
“Breathing—I can’t breathe.”
“Check your oxygen levels.”
“My—my oxygen—” Sif’s vision blurred, and her extremities tingled. She should’ve noticed her hypoxic symptoms right away, but she’d let the excitement of the EVA cloud her thinking.
“Left sleeve, Sif, above the wrist,” Lucas said. “Check the dial above your wrist and tell me what it says.”
Sif tried to answer, but couldn’t. Her fingers fumbled around the tether control, but she couldn’t recall where the emergency button was located. Was it on the side? The bottom?
She knew she was running out of time. She grasped the tether cable, and tried to pull herself back toward the ship. The hatch seemed so far away now, so very far. Her face was tingling, and it hurt to breathe.
She released her grip on the cable as she lost consciousness and floated away from the ship, prevented from disappearing into the void only by the strength of a thin steel cable.
Chapter 10
The murmur of conversation ceased as Litsa entered the Dak’s great hall.
She was once punished like this when she was younger, accused of stealing food. It was only ten lashes, but she still had the crisscross scars on her back as a reminder. The main hall was the largest chamber in the middle Dak, far enough beneath the surface that the temperature was always cool, and water continuously seeped from the walls, little silver rivulets reflecting the firelight from the torches mounted to the rock.
This was the place of gatherings, where the clan discussed important matters, the ruling council haggled over crop yields and field preparation, and
Joshua held court.
It was also where punishment was meted out. In front of all.
Jarrod was waiting at the bottom of the chamber’s bowl. Before him was the wooden whipping stand, a simple post with handholds, where the guilty were tied, hands stretched above their heads, and received their due punishment.
She had once watched a gatherer, accused of killing another man with a stone, be tied to the post, facing forward. He was whipped over and over until his face disappeared, and the skin of his belly could no longer hold in what was inside. The spectacle sickened her, but he deserved it. Murder was the one mistake her clan would never forgive.
Litsa stepped into the bowl and walked to the whipping post. She turned and faced Joshua, who sat halfway up the side of the bowl on the council ledge. The entire clan was gathered, young and old. A little over 120 of her fellow clansmen stared at her, their faces lit by the flames. She wondered what they knew of Jeremy’s death and how she would be treated.
Joshua stood, his voice booming through the great hall. “Litsa, you stand accused of failing in your duties, and as a result of your negligence, one of our own is lost to the Riy. Jeremy is dead.”
Litsa heard the murmurs among the crowd and decided she would not cry out, no matter how terrible the pain. She wouldn’t give any of those who doubted her the satisfaction of seeing her suffer.
Joshua continued. “As a warrior, you hold in your hands the lives of all under your watch. Every one of us assembled in this hall,” he said, waving his arm from one side of the chamber to the other, “relies on you to keep us safe when outside our home.”
Come on, Litsa mused, quit grandstanding and get on with it.
“You are one of our best warriors, Litsa, yet you are not above the creed of our clan. Even I and any of the ruling council must submit ourselves to the lash if our actions result in the death of one of our own.”
Litsa doubted she would ever see that.
“Thirty-five lashes will be given. Jarrod, you will proceed.” Joshua took his seat.
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