I’d rather be tired.
I sit up and grab my boots.
Beth doesn’t comment as I slide them on and leave our makeshift bedroom. She knows it’s better this way. She can sleep and I can avoid my nightmares.
I slip out of the greenhouse. Low clouds are crowded into the sky, blocking out the stars and turning the moons into dull smudges. It’s so dark that the pale glow of stand-by mode seeping from the cabins around me seems bright.
I get new clothes and brush my teeth and hair. That uses up twelve minutes. I’ve got hours before launch, and I haven’t a clue what to do with them.
I shiver as I step out of the bathrooms and zip up my new parka. Winter got at least this cold back at GFP HQ on Earth, but I don’t remember it feeling this harsh. Of course, I spent a lot less time aimlessly wandering around in the way-too-early-to-call-it-morning back then.
I walk down to the memorial stone. Someone has sealed a flex to the rock, below the carved names. You can use it to scroll through Beth’s list of people who died on Earth. Actually, it’s not just Beth’s list anymore. People have been adding to it. I guess I should, too.
My eyes drift up to the names carved on the stone instead.
Cadet Theodore Watson.
Teddy’s name is right at the top of the list. What a stupid honor—first guy on a list of billions of dead people. I can almost hear him laughing at the thought.
The Ranger team’s names are carved right after his. Dr. Rylan Pasha. Dr. Amahle Obasi. Dr. Vitor Sousa. They should probably come first. We don’t know exactly when they died, but it must have been a least a year before Teddy. Maybe we should add Dr. Brown’s name to the stone. We never found her body, but Ord shot her point-blank after she changed sides and helped us take the Stage Three virus back. There’s no way she survived that.
I check my flex again.
Still way too early.
Maybe I’ll go mess around with the Vulcan.
Grandpa started rebuilding the wrecked Ranger ship two days after the memorial service. He said it was just a way to keep his hands busy, but I think he knew we all needed . . . something. A goal that wasn’t just survival. And he was right. Chief Ganeshalingam joined him, after her shift was up. The next day, Chris and I decided to help them and found the little ship swarming with pioneers and marines. Since then, I think almost everyone has contributed a few hours here and there.
The Vulcan is nearly spaceworthy again. It would be nice to help finish her up, but the little scout ship is at River Bend, and the first jeep won’t head out there for hours. Before, I would have just walked. It’s only half a klick. But with raptors wandering around out there and the prospect of a Sorrow attack hanging over our heads, I don’t dare.
I sort of wish the Sorrow would just get it over with. The waiting is killing me. But if—when they come, they’re going to actually kill people. Marines.
Jay.
No. I’m not going to think that way. I can’t. It makes me feel too helpless.
I stare through the shield, into the inky night shadows of the orchid forest on the other side. It would be so easy to walk to River Bend. I could just carve a portal and—
Boom!
The shield flashes and crackles as something big slams into it. I shriek, stumbling back as a massive phytoraptor with a crown of thorns rears up and drags its huge claws over the shield. It hoots with glee as crackling light bursts in the wake of its swipe, showing off a mouthful of fangs.
I clamp down on another scream. There’s no reason to get hysterical. It can’t get through the shield. But reminding myself of that does nothing to combat the surge of terror adrenaline that thing just sent shooting through my body.
Being, I remind myself. Being.
A hand grabs my elbow.
I scream.
“Chill, Hotshot,” Jay says, gently pulling me around to look at him. “It’s me.”
I blow out a shaky breath. “Hi.”
Jay’s got a helmet and flak jacket on over his uniform, and he’s carrying a rifle along with his stun gun and sidearm. He must be on patrol duty. If I’d known, I would have gone looking for him. But I didn’t. That stings.
“Hey,” Jay says, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and pulling me close. “You’re shaking, Jo. Are you okay?”
“No,” I say. It comes out almost whiny. I hate that. I shake off the irrational terror and try again. “Yes. I’m okay. Stupid, but okay.”
“What were you doing out here?” he asks.
“Avoiding nightmares,” I say.
Jay squeezes my shoulders. “Tarn again?”
I nod into his shoulder. “Amongst other things. I don’t know why I can’t shake them.”
“You got hurt by someone you thought was a friend,” he says gently. “That’s nightmare-worthy.”
I rest my head on his chest and stare through the warping lens of the force field. I guess he’s right, but that doesn’t make me feel better.
“Hey,” he says, “I got good news tonight. The LT is putting together a special team to deal with the phytoraptors, and she put me on it.”
“Deal with?” I pull back, uneasy. “What does that mean?”
He shrugs. “Not a clue. I just got added to the training group.” He grins. “But it’s a promotion. Gotta keep up with you, Ensign.”
“Don’t you think you should know? Before you agree to do it?” I snap, unreasonable anxiety whiplashing up my spine.
“No,” Jay says, instantly irritated. “Because I trust my commanding officers. The LT knows the phytoraptors are sentient beings, so I am gonna give her the benefit of the doubt. Would have thought you’d do the same for me, since I nearly got myself killed helping you save them.”
Dismay crashes over me. “Jay. I didn’t mean to imply—”
“But you did.”
We just stand there for a moment, looking at each other and not looking at each other at the same time. I hate this. It’s like the ground between us is cracking open, pulling us a couple centimeters farther apart every day.
“I’m sorry,” I say, finally. “I know you guys are just trying to protect us. But Shelby makes me nervous. I don’t know why.”
“I get it,” Jay says. “Shelby’s a really different kind of person than you’re used to. Different priorities.” He shrugs. “She’s also kind of an asshole. But she knows what she’s doing.” He flashes me a quick little smile. “Raptor training starts today. I’ll tell you all about it after we run the gauntlet with your folks tonight.”
My face goes hot. Grandpa decided Jay and I need to have dinner with him, and Mom and Dad and Beth. He says he wants to get to know my young man. I was embarrassed to even ask Jay, but he seems to find the whole thing amusing. Of course.
“So,” he says, gentle mischief sparking in his voice. “You think being on the special raptor team will make the admiral cut me some slack at dinner?”
“You don’t have to come, you know,” I blurt out.
Jay raises a sardonic eyebrow. “The admiral invited me to dinner with his family. Pretty sure I have to go.” He snags my hand then and presses it to his lips. “Besides, I’m looking forward to being grilled mercilessly by your family.”
“You are?”
He nods.
“Why?”
His amused grin dissolves into a low laugh. “It’s part of the thing.”
“The ‘Watson family takes time out of saving the species to embarrass Joanna’ thing?”
“Nah,” he says, rubbing his thumb across my palm in these little circles that somehow manage to untangle all the anxious knots in the back of my neck. “The us thing. And I like the us thing.”
“Oh,” I say, all the fear and embarrassment momentarily evaporating into a cloud of hopeless happy. “Yeah,” I say. “Me too.”
“It’s kinda gross how cute you guys are, ya know.”
I twist to see Private Ryan Hart sauntering toward us. Hart is the youngest member of the Prairie squadron—just a cou
ple of years older than we are. He and Jay have gotten to be friends. Jay even brought him along to the greenhouse, the one time we all managed to hang out since the survivors showed up.
“Are tough guys supposed use words like cute?” Jay fires back, slinging his arm around my shoulders, unabashed.
“Artificial gender constructs are so twenty-first century, bro.” Hart chuckles, crouching next to a pylon a few meters up the shield and pressing his flex to its casing. “Power levels ninety percent,” he says, taking the reading from his flex.
“Good enough,” Jay says.
“Till the glow worms show up,” Hart agrees amiably.
The easy warmth of the conversation curdles.
“The what?” I ask, hoping I heard that wrong.
Hart and Jay exchange a look that makes me want to pretend I never asked the question. I think I already know the answer, but I can’t let it go.
“What’s a glow worm?” I ask again.
“It’s just a joke,” Hart says. “The LT’s way of keeping ’em from being too intimidating.”
“You mean the Sorrow,” I say. “Lieutenant Shelby calls them glow worms?”
“Yeah,” Jay says. “She does.” He doesn’t drop his arm from around my shoulders, but the comfortable fit of our bodies is gone.
“It’s not a disrespect thing,” Hart insists.
Jay snorts a yeah right.
“No, seriously,” Hart says. “I know it seems kinda gross and whatnot, but it’s tactical. Y’all came to this weird-ass place on purpose. But most of us never imagined leaving Earth, much less having to fight aliens with superpowers.”
“We’re the aliens, man,” Jay says.
Hart shrugs. “You know what I mean. We’re pretty much scared as hell all the time, and the LT is just trying to lighten the mood. That’s all.”
Tarn’s face flashes before my eyes, bone and muscle painted by the furious glow of the blood pumping under his transparent skin as he loomed over Shelby and me.
Glow worm.
Would thinking of him that way stop the nightmares?
I don’t think I could, even if it helped. I know who he is inside the transparent skin.
“They’re just like us,” I say.
“Hell,” Jay says. “Probably just as scared as us, too.”
“Of us fearsome aliens from outer space?” Hart quips.
Jay makes a face. “Are you saying I’m not fearsome?”
“Yes,” Hart fires back jovially. “Yes, I am.”
Jay grins. “Fair.” He checks his flex. “We’d better get back to it, man. Gonna miss our check-in.”
“Oh. Right,” I say. “Sorry.”
Jay hugs me. “I’m never sorry to see you.”
I blush.
Hart makes melodramatic gagging noises.
Jay ignores him. “I’ll see you tonight, Hotshot. Fly good.” He starts up the perimeter again. Hart follows a few steps, but then stops and turns back.
“Hope I didn’t offend you, Jo,” he calls. “I really didn’t mean to be an asshole.”
“I know,” I say. “It’s okay. I get it.”
He grins. “Good. Wouldn’t wanna land Lim in the doghouse.”
“But you’re fine with making me late for the LT?” Jay calls back to him.
Hart throws me an exaggerated eye roll and calls back, “Coming, Mother.”
With a little salute, he jogs after Jay.
I stand there at the edge of the shield for a long time after they’re gone, watching the moons set. Hart is wrong about at least one thing. The Prairie squad and the survivors aren’t the only ones who are scared. We all are.
Tarn’s face floods my mind again, but not the furious Tarn who haunts my dreams. Tarn, staring up at the landing. At the second shuttle. The end of all hope his world would return to normal. The aching familiarity of his despair crashes through me.
Mom’s voice trails through my mind.
I don’t see a way forward that isn’t hideous.
I didn’t understand what she meant then. Not really. I never imagined this.
But I see it now. And I can’t live with it.
I won’t.
Glow worm.
I have to do something. Change something.
And I think I know where to start.
Eight
Two hours later, I’m lying on the port wing of delta flyer, installing a new conductor in the rotor control system. We have enough flyers now that they need names, but nobody has the energy to do better than their boring official designations.
I have to twist at a weird angle solder the contact wires, so I’m sweating even though the sun is still just a promise of light on the eastern horizon.
Beth’s voice intrudes on the early-morning quiet.
“What are you doing?”
“There was a short in the solar-collection system,” I say as I double-check my weld and snap the panel closed.
I can almost hear her eyes roll. “You’re being deliberately obtuse.”
“Fine,” I say, pulling up the diagnostic app on my flex. “I traded assignments with Leela.”
That came out almost as casually as I wanted it to.
“Joanna—”
A long line of green lights pops up on my screen. “We’re good to go,” I say, cutting her off before she can finish her thought.
I can feel Beth studying me as I slide down to hang by my hands from the end of the wing and drop to the ground, but I ignore her not-subtle unspoken questions and duck into the flyer.
Beth follows me in.
“Why would you give up an orbital trip for survey duty?” she demands as I tether into the pilot’s chair.
“Flying is flying,” I say, trying to keep my voice light.
“That’s not even factually correct,” Beth says, “much less believable in the context of your personality and history.”
In other words, she knows me too well to believe me. Which is fair, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to answer her question. There’s no way to say I need to fall in love with this planet again that isn’t just going to sound sentimental and ridiculous. Especially to Beth.
I plant my hands on the nav app. They’re shaking. My heart is thudding in my chest.
This is ridiculous. I’ve flown into the Diamond Range dozens of times. I could do this trip in my sleep. Except all I do in my sleep these days is scream.
That’s when it hits me that I’ve barely left the shield perimeter since the Prairie appeared over Tau’s orbital horizon, three weeks ago. I’ve been to space multiple times. But not out there. I haven’t even walked through the orchid forest to River Bend. Not once.
I’m not afraid of Tau.
I’m not afraid of Tau.
I’m not afraid of Tau.
But my hands are still shaking, and I haven’t even closed the rear doors yet.
“We going or what?”
Lieutenant Shelby’s voice snaps me back into the moment. I twist to look back as she climbs through the rear hatch and collapses into a chair in the back row.
“We’re about to take off, Lieutenant Shelby,” I say, letting irritation burn away my nerves.
“Be weird of you two to hang out in here, otherwise,” she replies, tethering in.
“The lieutenant insists on accompanying me on surveying trips,” Beth tells me, like Shelby isn’t sitting right behind us. “You would think she has better things to do, but apparently not.”
Shelby smirks. “Do you really want to tiptoe through the plant monsters without a security detail?”
“Yes,” Beth says.
Shelby barks a laugh. “Well, we can’t always get what we want, Einstein.”
Beth huffs out a sigh. “I’m a botanist. Mendel is a more apt comparison.”
“I’m not known for my historical accuracy,” Shelby says. “Hit it, Junior. We’ve got places to be and attack-flora to stare at.”
I shoot a look at Beth. She shrugs.
I guess we’
re taking Shelby with us.
My brain churns as I request clearance from Ground Control. Why is Shelby really here? Beth is right. Even if we needed a security detail, Shelby has better things to do. Especially since Leela was meant to be flying this mission, not me. Leela has combat training. And there’s no way Shelby could have known I swapped assignments with her.
So what is the lieutenant actually doing here?
Mom’s voice on the comm line interrupts my thoughts. “You’re a go, Delta Flyer.”
I press my hands to the nav app and lift. A little rush of pleasure pouring through my fingertips as the flyer leaps into the air at my command. I can still feel the jittery fear underneath, but I try to focus on the joy. I’ve missed this. Flying space shuttles might be more challenging, but it isn’t as much fun.
“Three-sixty mode, please,” I ask the computer.
“Certainly, Joanna,” it replies, and the steel-gray Tau morning floods in around us. The Diamond Range looks icy in this light, the prismatic effect of its crystal cliffs dulled by the cloud cover. There’s real snow draped over the higher peaks, and the veins of green that twist through the crystal spires and cliffs are darker and browner.
“Footage in the report doesn’t do it justice, does it?” Shelby says as we soar over the rolling foothills and up among the jagged crags.
At her question, I risk a quick look back to Shelby. She’s still sprawled in her chair, but her eyes are alive with what seems to be genuine awe.
“No,” Beth says quietly. “It doesn’t.”
According to the flight plan, we’re headed for the first raptor nest my friends and I stumbled on, months ago. Beth spends a lot of time there. The raptors who learned sign language from our scouts are part of this group. They’ve been teaching the others. Their nest is our best hope for understanding the species.
The Maze Plateau rears up ahead of us. I push my hands up on the controls, gaining altitude so that we soar over it. It’s huge, and so high that you can see the sky bleeding into space from here. The plateau below is laced with narrow box canyons, many of which aren’t much bigger than crevasses. It’s hard to believe Jay flew us right through the middle of that thing and we survived.
The Survivor Page 8
