The Pioneer
Page 22
Jay and I exchange an uneasy look, but no one else seems to find that sentiment creepy. The others are nodding along as Ord continues, absorbing every word.
“This world is not always a gentle one,” he says. “But its potential is as vast as the stars that you crossed to come here. Together we will make the most of it. Together we will thrive.”
The square erupts in heartfelt applause. That speech could have been included in the GFP publicity packet, it’s so perfectly tuned to what they want to hear. Does Ord know that? Did Dr. Brown tell him what to say? Or does he just happen to want exactly the same thing we want?
That seems like too much to hope for, but I’m tired of feeling dubious and angry. Something extraordinary is happening, and for once I’m going to enjoy it.
“If we are to share this world, we must understand each other,” Ord says. “I hope that we can accomplish that this evening.” He reaches out a hand to beckon my mother forward. She steps to his side.
“Thank you, Ord,” she says. “We want nothing more than for our species to be friends. And my father always said that a good friendship starts with a good meal. So let’s eat!”
It’s amazing how quickly the party becomes ordinary after that. Doc has declared our usual rice-and-beans concoction safe for the Sorrow, and most of the Takers accept a plate of food once Ord and Tarn have eaten. When the meal is finished, Dr. Kao pulls out his guitar and gets people singing. Dad grabs Mom and pulls her into a fast reel. Soon, lots of people are dancing. I even catch one of the Takers bouncing a little to the music. The Givers are the only ones who don’t seem to be enjoying themselves. They don’t eat or drink. I haven’t even seen them move since their performance. They just stand at the edge of the square, glowing impassively.
A few pioneers drift off to their cabins as the night wears on, but most stay up, dancing and singing along with Dr. Kao. There’s a giddy edge to it all. After the stress and sadness of losing twelve pioneers on the Wagon, the excitement over the Sorrow’s arrival feels almost manic.
I’m sitting with my back against the mess hall, watching. The solar pavement is still warm enough under my legs to make the night chill pleasant instead of biting. Dr. Kao switches from a fast song to something old and soft that Grandpa used to hum while we worked in his garden.
“It’s something unpredictable, but in the end it’s right. . . .”
“So what about this song?” Jay says, sliding down the wall to sit beside me. “What does it feel like to you?”
I look back at the people singing around the fire pits as I contemplate my answer. There’s something about the bright clamor of slightly out-of-tune voices that makes the song fit into the moment like a key in a lock. This is exactly what the girl who created all those improbable planets in crayon thought being a pioneer would be like. I’ve spent so much time trying to understand the nightmares that I almost didn’t recognize the dream. The realization is startling. I have no idea how to even start to explain it to Jay.
“What does it feel like to you?” I ask instead, turning to look at him.
“It feels like home.”
The words steal my breath. He smiles, black eyes shining in the firelight. The world slows down. The music and the fire and the people all around us are reduced to individual sensations. Warmth. Light. Rhythm. Music.
I kiss Jay.
He kisses me back.
I’m not sure we would have ever stopped, but a low, pulsing harmony sloshes over my skin. Suddenly, hunger burns through my stomach, followed by a hard charge of outrage that makes me shove Jay away.
“Sorry,” I say.
“No need.” He grimaces. “I feel it, too. It’s awful.”
“What are the Givers doing?” I twist to look back at them. They haven’t moved, but the horrible song is definitely coming from them. Why are they doing this? I feel itchy all over. Like I want to hide. Or punch someone.
“Whatever this is, I hope it’s short,” Jay says, rubbing his temples. “Instant headache.”
My head is throbbing too. I try to ignore it and focus on the melody and the sensations behind it. There’s something about the song that I recognize.
“Does it sound familiar to you?” I ask Jay.
“Not really,” he says. “I think I’d remember if I’d felt something like that before.”
“Yeah . . .” I trail off, listening. He’s right. The melody is definitely familiar, but the shape of the sound is wrong. I’ve never felt this before.
“It could be the Mourning chant,” Jay says. “Maybe it just feels weird because we’re not in the caves and the acoustics are different out here.”
“Maybe . . .” I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
The Givers pivot into a single file line and walk to the fire pits. They keep singing as they circle the flames. With each step, the melody gets slower. Denser. Like they’re bending space-time around us with their voices. Then, abruptly, their tempo accelerates. They pivot again and walk straight outward from their circle, striding through the crowd of humans and Sorrow and out of the square in all directions.
A Giver walks right past Jay and me. The familiar strangeness of their song tugs at the corners of my mind, insisting that I know what’s happening here even though I don’t.
“I’ll be right back,” I whisper to Jay.
I follow the Giver.
They walk in a straight line, eyes forward, singing steadily. I follow them all the way down to the river. They slow as they pass under the floral canopy of fido trees, looking up at the brilliantly colored petals that shimmer in the lights from the recycling center. Then they keep walking, past the buildings to the riverbank. I think about calling out to warn them about the particle shield, which runs along the water’s edge. Then I realize that I can see the trees on the other side of the river clearly. The warping effect of the force field is gone.
The particle shield is down.
Sour fear curdles my confusion. This doesn’t make any sense. I know Mom brought the shield back online before she and Dad escorted Ord to Ground Control. I saw her do it. So why is it down again?
Holy crap.
I need to text Mom and warn her. But before I can, the Giver turns and pushes back their hood, revealing a familiar scarred face.
“Hello, juvenile,” Pel says, humming the words in a minor harmony that makes my guts clench, as though I’m standing on something high and wobbly. Or maybe that’s just the shock.
“I thought when you challenged Ord, it was a fight to the death,” I say.
Pel pulls her blindfold away. Her round black eyes shine with color in the artificial light, like oil slicked over water. “In his wisdom, the Followed decided that my life was best given to another purpose.”
“What purpose?” I ask. “What are you doing here?”
Instead of answering, she pulls a wide, pronged knife from under her translucent cloak. “I tried to end this madness. I failed. Now we all pay the price.”
I stumble-step backward, ready to run, as she raises the knife. But she doesn’t attack me. She plunges the knife into her own stomach instead.
All the vague familiarity of the song slams together into something concrete and terrible. I know what they’re doing. The only question left is . . .
“Why? Why are you doing this?”
“I am not Followed,” she says. “Your question is for Ord. Not me.”
She drags the knife across her belly. Pale blood and gore spill down the front of her robe. She starts to sing again as she collapses to her knees.
Pel isn’t the only Giver out here dying right now—I’m sure of it. The sonar must feel different because we’re surrounded by buildings instead of trees, but this is the hunting song. Pel and the other Givers are the bait. Ord is using them to lure phytoraptors into the Landing.
Seventeen
There are phytoraptors in the Landing.
The thought burns through my brain, but there’s no time to be shocked. I have to move. I have
to do something. But what?
For three whole seconds, I consider trying to communicate with the phytoraptors. But even if they weren’t crazed from the Sorrow’s hunting ritual, we’re way out of Bob’s hunting range. These raptors can’t possibly be from his nest. There’s no reason to think they’ve learned any sign language. If I try to approach one, it will almost certainly kill me before I can sign Hello. I need to focus on warning the other pioneers. But will that do us any good? The phytoraptors are almost invisible when they’re camouflaged. Knowing they’re out there won’t protect anyone. Unless . . .
I yank my flex off and shake it out into tablet form. I pull up the Settings menu for the Landing’s wireless network and swipe frantically until I find the wall screen settings. Then I switch the default for every screen in the Landing to “celebration”—the same rainbow strobe light that Jay’s flex was set to. Bob’s camouflage never quite worked while he was wearing that flex. Hopefully the shifting lights will have the same effect on these raptors.
Hot-pink light blooms from every wall in the Landing. It fades and then swells blue and then red and then green.
A huge shape hurtles past me. That was a phytoraptor. It’s working. I can see them. There’s another one. And another.
I bolt for the nearest cabin and duck inside. It’s a single-family unit. The floor of the common room is littered with tiny dolls woven from the gray-blue reeds that grow on the riverbank.
“Joanna?” Dr. Ito, one of our geologists, sticks her head out of the bedroom. Her two-year-old son, Kai, is perched on her hip, chewing on one of the reed dolls. “What’s happening?”
“Predators,” I say, tapping out a text to Mom that says pretty much the same thing I’m telling Dr. Ito. “The Landing is being attacked by pack predators.”
I hit Send.
“That’s impossible,” Dr. Ito protests. “There aren’t any . . .”
“I know the survey report says there aren’t any large predators on this continent,” I say, cutting her off. I don’t have time to have this conversation again right now. “But trust me, they’re out there.”
She doesn’t really believe me. I can see it in her face. No one else will either.
“Here,” I say. “Read this.” I pull up Dr. Brown’s files, which I copied for myself before I gave her flex to Mom. I compress the Chorulux phytoraptor folder, attach it to a copy of the text I just sent, and forward it to the “All E&P Team” group. There’s no more time for secrets now.
A shrill tearing sound rips down the outside of the cabin, sending adrenaline zinging through my bloodstream.
“What the hell was that?” Dr. Ito whispers.
“Claws,” I say as the sound scrapes through the cabin again. There’s a phytoraptor out there, trying to get in.
Kai whimpers, “Ma, ma, ma, ma,” pointing in the direction of the clawing sounds as Dr. Ito swipes through the files I just sent out, wide-eyed in horror.
“Stay inside, okay?” I say, starting for the back door.
“No way,” Dr. Ito says. “You’re not going out there!”
Claws shriek over the walls again. She’s right. I’m unarmed. I won’t last long out there on my own. The truth is, I’ve probably done everything I can do to protect the others.
Dr. Ito rocks Kai soothingly. He clings to her.
I want my mom so badly right now.
Another sharp phytoraptor scream punches through the Landing. Why is Ord doing this? He can’t possibly expect Mom to make an alliance with him now. Unless he’s assuming that we won’t realize the Sorrow lured the phytoraptors here. But that seems naive of him. Even if I hadn’t recognized the hunting chant, it would have been pretty obvious that someone sabotaged the shield. From there, it wouldn’t have been hard to figure out that he and Dr. Brown were responsible.
“Don’t worry, guys,” Dr. Ito says, soothing herself as much as Kai and me. “It doesn’t matter how big those things are, they won’t last long against marines with rifles. They’ll all be gone soon, and then we’ll be safe.”
Her words are like a light switch in my brain. I know why the Sorrow are doing this. Dr. Brown told Chris she was meditating on consequences when he saw her in the greenhouse. I assumed that she was talking about how we almost destroyed this planet by trying to make it our home. But Dr. Brown was already thinking about using Stage Three as a weapon when Beth told her about it, back in the caves. At the time, I thought we convinced her it was too dangerous. But now I’m pretty sure that’s not true. I’m pretty sure she told Ord that we had a weapon that could wipe out the phytoraptors. And I’m pretty sure that they’re using this attack as cover, so they can steal it.
I smack at my flex again. “Call Beth!”
“Please wait,” my flex replies. It only takes a few seconds to connect the call, but each one feels like a year.
My sister picks up, audio only.
“What, Joanna?” She sounds irritated and slightly out of breath.
“Tell me that you’ve already destroyed Stage Three,” I say.
“I’ve incinerated six of the ten petri dishes,” she says. She sucks in breath through her teeth, like she’s doing something really delicate. Then I hear the crackling hiss of a laser welder. “Make that seven.”
My anxiety explodes into relief. I should have known that if I could figure this out, Beth would too.
Beth swears. Fear snaps back through my body.
“Beth! What’s—”
“Sorrow Takers are outside the greenhouse,” she says.
“Get out of there, Beth!” I plead. “They’ll kill you!”
“Probably,” she says. “But I have three more dishes to destroy. I’m not leaving.”
“Beth! You have to—”
She hangs up.
I bolt for the door, ignoring Dr. Ito’s protests.
I run through the Landing. It’s chaos. Phytoraptors are everywhere. People are fighting back with whatever they have. I can hear gunfire in the distance. And screaming.
I take a left turn at the school, but I’m moving so fast that my feet skid out from under me and I go sprawling. Pain shreds through my knees and palms as they scrape over the solar pavement, but I ignore it and scramble back to my feet.
Gasping for breath, I look up and find myself face to fangs with a phytoraptor with a lopsided crown of thorns growing around its skull. It opens its mouth in a fanged mockery of a smile.
Then it attacks.
The milliseconds splinter into individual impressions. Swiping claws. A hissing roar. Vicious, serrated teeth. The flat crack of a gunshot. It all feels like it happens in the same heartbeat.
The phytoraptor collapses at my feet.
My frozen joints unlock so quickly that I stagger to keep from falling.
I look up to see that Jay and Leela are jogging toward me. They’re both carrying rifles.
“You okay, Hotshot?” Jay calls.
“We have to get to the greenhouse!” I say, pushing my shaky legs back into a run.
“What the hell, Jo?” Leela calls as they scramble after me.
“This is all a distraction,” I shout. “Ord and Dr. Brown are trying to steal Stage Three.”
“What?” Leela says. “Why?”
“He wants to release it,” Jay says, fitting the pieces together immediately. “He thinks he can use it as a weapon.”
“We need to tell the commander, Jo,” Leela says. “Right now. This is way, way over our heads.”
“Beth is in there,” I say. “I’m going.”
Leela swears copiously, but she stays with me. Jay does too. He’s fighting to keep up on his injured leg, but I don’t slow down. We don’t have far to go now, but every step feels like a light-year. There are bodies all over the place. Some of them are still moving. Moaning. A lot of them aren’t.
Finally, we reach the greenhouse. It looks like a bubble of sunlight floating in the night. A pair of Sorrow Takers are guarding the doors and I can see Ord inside, facing off with Beth
. She’s still alive. For now.
We creep closer, staying low and close to the buildings so the Takers won’t see us. We’re almost there when I see a lanky body with dark skin sprawled in the middle of the street.
I bite down hard on a shocked gasp. “Chris!”
“Is he dead?” Jay whispers.
“No,” I say. I can see his chest rising and falling in the light spilling from the greenhouse.
“What was he doing out here?” Leela hisses.
“He saw Dr. Brown in the greenhouses earlier,” I whisper back, “while Ord was negotiating with Mom. He told me about it. That’s how I figured out Dr. Brown and Ord were planning to steal Stage Three. He must have figured it out too.”
“And he tried to stop them,” Jay says.
I curse under my breath.
“He looks bad,” Leela says. “We have to get him out of here.”
“We’re going to have to split up,” Jay says. “Whoever grabs him is going to need cover.”
“It has to be me, doesn’t it?” Leela says.
“I think so,” I say. “Jay has a messed-up leg, and if someone has to talk Beth out of there . . .”
“It’s you,” Leela says, finishing my thought. “Fine. Okay. I’m going. But I’m coming back. I’ll bring help.”
“Hurry,” Jay says. “I think we’re going to need it.”
“I hate this,” Leela says.
“Me too,” I say.
She grabs me close in a quick, rough hug. Then she pushes me away.
“Don’t die,” she says.
With that, Leela darts into the street, levers Chris’s limp form over her shoulder—and runs.
One of the Takers bellows in Sorrow, pulls a triangular shard of crystal from their robe, and throws it with a sharp snap of their wrist. My whole body clenches as the shard spins past Leela’s head and slices straight through the cabin behind her.
She doesn’t stop.
The Taker snatches another gleaming shard from their robe, but Jay steps between them and Leela.