The Pioneer

by BRIDGET TYLER

  I pull the navigation app up on the wall screen in front of me. I have green lights on all systems. The flyer is ready.

  I plant my fingers on the piloting app and push up.

  The flyer rises. The ground falls away below me. My heart thuds steadily in my chest.

  I’m flying. I’m actually flying.

  I feel invincible for the first seven minutes. Then I hit the choppy mountain air and my confidence evaporates. Unfamiliar Tau winds batter the flyer, tossing me dangerously close to the ragged peaks and cliff. To make matters worse, they’ve updated the nav app since the last time I flew, so the controls feel awkward and unfamiliar.

  The rotors scream in protest as I inadvertently sideswipe a cliff.

  I switch to autopilot.

  The flyer slows immediately. I look to the east, where the sun is already peeking over the horizon. At this speed, I might not make it to the nest in time. But I haven’t flown in almost two years, and crashing into a mountain and dying isn’t going to help anyone.

  What possessed me to I think I could do this?

  A memory flickers through my head. My own voice whispering from another time, another impossible moment.

  I can do this. We’re going to make it. You believe me, right?

  Teddy’s voice whispers back . . .

  Always.

  I wish Teddy were here. He always believed in me.

  Maybe he still does.

  Einstein said that all points of time exist at once. It’s only our limited human brains that need to think of the past, the present, and the future as different things. If that’s true, then somewhere, some when, Teddy is still out there. Believing in me.

  If I’m going to do this, I might as well do it right. I press my fingers into the nav app.

  “Computer, switch to manual, please.”

  I can feel the flyer slide back into my control as the computer responds, “Yes, Joanna.”

  Always.

  The word rings in my ears as I press my hands against the nav app and the flyer hurtles forward once more.

  A few minutes later, I see a web of focused light arcing over the trees up ahead. It makes the air shimmer and shift, distorting my view of the phytoraptors planted in the ravine.

  A flyer with Vulcan markings is perched on the cliffs. Sorrow Takers and Givers are buzzing around it.

  I swing my flyer high around the rim of the ravine, putting the sun at my back, where light-sensitive Sorrow eyes won’t look for me. As I try to figure out what to do next, nine pale-robed Givers arrange themselves in a line, facing the nest. They kneel. Ord’s sunglasses spark and flare in the sunlight as he walks up the line, pressing something to each of their lips in turn.

  It’s the petri dish of Stage Three. It has to be.

  They’re going to sacrifice themselves in the nest. Once the phytoraptors feed on them, they’ll be infected. Then Ord can tell his people that “the Beasts” destroyed themselves with their own voracious hunger.

  This is going to make him a living legend. The Sorrow will follow him for the rest of his life.

  Unless I stop him.

  The Givers push to their feet as one. They about-face and slowly proceed along the edge of the cliff. They’re heading for the same cascade of fallen rocks we used to get into the nest. There’s no time for a plan. I have to do something now.

  I push my hands forward, swinging the flyer out over the ravine. Ord’s head snaps up as I start my descent. He makes a sweeping gesture to his Takers, and then he spins and hurries up the ramp into his flyer.

  “Particle shield on high,” I tell the computer as my flyer dips into the web of light. The force field shimmers into place and the woven light explodes around me, scattering itself off the shields in a cascade of rainbows.

  The phytoraptors begin to stir immediately.

  Of course! The light is what puts them into a trance. Disrupting it wakes them up.

  The web of light shimmers back into place above the flyer’s shield as I drop below it. I quickly reverse the engine’s thrust.

  The flyer rises.

  Rainbows bounce all around me as the carefully focused sunbeams shatter once more.

  The phytoraptors start to move around, slowly. Too slowly. I rev the flyer’s engines.

  “Come on! Run!”

  But the phytoraptors aren’t afraid of the flyer. They’re fascinated. Even worse, they’re starting to notice the Givers, who are moving slowly and deliberately between them.

  A flat boom rattles the flyer. I have to yank at the controls to keep it from slamming into a cliff.

  Boom! Boom!

  What is that? I can’t take my hands off the navigation app, so I pull it across the wall screens with me as I pivot my chair to look behind me.

  Ord is standing on the cliffs, shooting at me with his huge gun.

  Boom!

  The flyer jerks hard as another spray of bullets explodes against the shield. It’s designed to protect the flyer from debris and radiation, not combat. It won’t last long against that gun.

  Boom!

  I start to lift the flyer out of range, but just then a phytoraptor hurdles the cliff in front of me and races for the trees. Half a dozen more follow. I twist, looking down into the ravine where phytoraptors are fleeing in all directions. They’re bounding up the cliffs and swimming upriver, totally ignoring the Givers.

  Ord’s gunfire is scaring the phytoraptors away. All I have to do is stay here and let him keep firing at me until the raptors get clear. I just hope I survive that long.

  Boom!

  He fires again, and again, and again. My hands fly over the navigation app, fighting to compensate for the shock waves that reverberate through the shields.

  Boom!

  The wall screens flash red.

  “Shields at critical, Joanna,” the computer says. “Brace for failure in five . . . four . . . three . . .”

  Boom! The flyer shudders around me again as the computer keeps counting down. I need to get out of range. Now.

  I slide both hands upward, ordering the flyer to rise. Ord follows it up, spraying bullets from his huge gun.

  “Two . . . one . . .”

  My shields fail.

  Crack! Crack! Crack!

  The flyer jumps and sags under my hands as a bullet shatters one of the rotors. I try to compensate, but the flyer is out of control. It spins, hurtling sideways. I yank upward on the controls and rev the engine, pouring on speed so that the flyer hits the edge of the cliff and bounces, skidding upside down into the thick tangle of solace trees on the other side of the ravine.

  I hang from my harness for a moment, blood pounding in my temples, trying to catch my breath.

  I can’t believe that worked.

  I twist in my seat, grabbing the armrest before I untether myself and let my legs swing down to what used to be the ceiling. Then I unlock the rear doors. The ramp only unfolds halfway before it gets stuck, but there’s enough room to crawl out.

  My head is pounding, and my neck is so stiff it feels brittle. I think I’ve got whiplash, and possibly a concussion. But I’m alive. I’m on solid ground. And the phytoraptors made it out of their nest.

  I did what I came here to do.

  A Sorrow roar crashes against my skin seconds before Ord’s staff slams into the backs of my knees, sweeping my feet out from under me. My chin cracks against a tree root, pain exploding through my head as flashing white lights momentarily blind me.

  My vision swims back into focus as I force my numb legs to move. I make it to my hands and knees, but then Ord kicks me in the ribs. The impact knocks the air from my lungs and spins me onto my back.

  He leans in and spits a series of harsh Sorrow words in my face, his sonar battering me with his fury.

  “Foolish juvenile,” he snarls, switching to English. “You have just given your life for nothing.”

  “No,” I gasp. “I gave it to stop you.”

  “You didn’t stop me.” My heart sinks as he pul
ls the silver canister of Stage Three from his robe. “Perhaps not today, but soon the Beasts will crumble and rot. And I will live to see it.”

  I don’t stop to think. I launch myself at him, grasping wildly for the canister. My fingers close around the cool metal oval, and I rip it from his hands.

  I’m so surprised that I don’t bother to try to check my forward momentum as I careen past him, stumble over the solace tree roots, and go sprawling.

  Ord roars a furious sonar blast that feels like the burning cold of space. He charges me, knife out. I scramble forward, but he grabs my hips and yanks me back, spinning me under him as he drives his knife down toward my chest.

  I grab his wrist and push up as hard as I can. It isn’t enough. I scream, throwing everything left in my body into stopping the knife. He growls, filling the air with sonic vibrations that make me feel like his anger and hatred are drilling through my pores.

  The knife’s fang-like points press against the weave of my utility harness, digging in. Pushing through.

  Wham! Something big and green slams into Ord.

  A high-pitched phytoraptor call shatters the air. I lurch up on one elbow to see Ord locked in combat with a raptor. Ord kicks into their chest, sending them sliding away. The phytoraptor rolls to their feet and shrieks again. The raptor’s smooth, bald head shifts from brown to green to violet as they circle Ord through the trees.

  Bob just saved my life.

  The fight is brutal and fast. Ord and Bob attack and fall back in a violent tangle that is weirdly beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

  Every cell of my body hurts, but I drag myself to my feet. I have to get the Stage Three away from Bob. But I only make it a few meters before Tarn and a trio of armed Takers race out of the woods, heading straight toward me. I try to move faster, but my head is swimming, and every step jolts pain through my neck.

  In seconds, I’m surrounded.

  “Please,” I call to Tarn. “Just let me go.”

  “Give me the Stage Three,” he counters. “I don’t wish to hurt you.”

  “Then don’t,” I say. “Don’t do this. Even if Beth can protect the Sorrow and the solace trees, there’s no way to know what you’ll lose. Tau will never be the same. It might seem like it’s worth it, to destroy the phytoraptors, but it isn’t. Trust me. We did this to our world. We changed stuff, and we destroyed stuff, so that we could have more of what we wanted. We kept doing it until it was too late. I never knew our home world the way it was, before we started ripping it apart in the name of improvement. And now . . .” I stop, gulping in air. “And now we have to leave Earth behind in order to save it. We’ll never get back what we’ve lost.”

  “Neither will we, Joanna,” Tarn says. “The world I knew is gone. It ended the moment Lucille landed her spacecraft on our soil. Your presence on this planet will change everything for us, no matter what we do. Ord is simply harnessing that transformation for our benefit. Now I’m going to take the Stage Three. Please don’t resist.”

  I can’t. Even if I wanted to, I’m too badly hurt to fight.

  So maybe it’s time to stop.

  “What if we left?” I say.

  Tarn rumbles something in Sorrow that feels like the stab of a hypodermic needle. Sharp and authoritative.

  The Takers holding my arms step back.

  “You would do this for the Beasts?” Tarn says. “You would give up a whole world for the sake of vicious predators who have slaughtered your own people?”

  “No,” I say. “But I would do it for you. I would do it for Tau. I loved this planet before I saw it. I loved it before I even knew it existed. I was born too late to protect Earth, but it’s not too late for Tau. I can’t promise you my mother will listen to me, or that our people will listen to her. But I’ll try. The Sorrow deserve a chance to do better than us. So if you let me take the Stage Three and destroy it, I will do my best to make my people leave Tau.”

  Before Tarn can react to the offer, a trijointed hand grabs my arm and yanks it upward. I feel the bone pop free of my shoulder socket. The canister slides from my suddenly numb fingers.

  Ord hisses a blast of burning sonar as he drops me in a heap and sweeps up the canister.

  “Stupid. Useless.” He sputters, snarling at Tarn in Sorrow again before veering back into English. “You can’t stop me.” He throws his arms wide, pointing to where Bob is staggering toward us. “And neither can your Beast. This ends now!”

  He starts toward Bob with the canister.

  Tarn gets in his way.

  “Wait, pouch mate. Consider the possibility that Joanna is right. Even if Stage Three can be controlled, there will be consequences. They may be grave. I know we can protect the Solace, but what of the rest of our world?”

  “What of it?” Ord snarls. “If sacrifices must be made, so be it. I have chosen. And I am Followed!” He drops into his own language. Growling something cold and furious.

  Tarn looks past his brother to meet my eyes. Then he turns back to Ord. “You’ve made the wrong choice, pouch mate. I can no longer follow you.”

  Ord roars in his brother’s face and punches him hard in the chest. Tarn doubles over. Ord steps over him, snatching up Tarn’s unadorned staff as he strides toward Bob.

  Bob swipes at Ord, but the Sorrow ducks his claws and slams the end of the staff up into Bob’s chest. Bob flies backward, thudding to the ground meters away. He rolls onto his side, keening in pain.

  Ord unscrews the lid of the canister and pulls out the sealed petri dish.

  He’s going to infect Bob.

  The thought burns through my veins like rocket fuel, propelling me forward. I throw myself at Ord, knocking the petri dish from his fingers. He shrieks in rage, tossing me away. I try to scramble for the Stage Three, but Ord leaps onto my back, driving me to the ground.

  He grabs my bad shoulder and twists. Something tears deep inside the joint, and pain whites out my vision as he rolls me over.

  When I can see again, Ord’s pronged knife is in his hand. He swings it up, ready to drive it down into my chest. I try to twist away, but the whole side of my body is numb. I can’t move.

  I’m going to die.

  The knife falls from Ord’s suddenly nerveless fingers. Thick, silver blood bubbles from his transparent lips. He looks down in shock at the tip of Tarn’s knife, protruding from his chest.

  Tarn’s wail scrapes over my skin and tears at my soul. He drops to one knee beside his brother, reaching out to catch Ord as he falls. Dead.

  The Takers rush forward, knives out. For a moment, I think they’re attacking, but instead they fall to their knees in front of Tarn. They flip their knives and hold them out, hilts first.

  That’s when I realize what Tarn has done. By killing his brother, he’s just become the leader of the Sorrow.

  Tarn rumbles something quiet that I can barely feel, and the Takers sheath their knives.

  Tarn looks up at me.

  “I did what I had to do to keep my promise. Now it’s time for you to do the same.”

  With that, Tarn heaves his brother’s body into his arms. He stands and calls the Takers. They fall into a single line behind him as he walks away.

  I stare after them, numb with shock and pain.

  What have I done?

  I hear footsteps behind me.

  I whirl to find Bob looming over me. His claws are still glistening with Ord’s blood.

  Fear skates up my spine, but Bob flexes his hands and the thick talons retract into his fingertips. He points one long finger at me and then forms a thumbs-up and circles it.

  Okay?

  My heart gives a single hard thud in my chest as relief hammers through me.

  Bob repeats the gesture. Okay?

  I manage to lift my good arm and squeeze my thumb and index finger together. The okay sign. Then I press my fingers to my lips and lift them again.

  Thank you.

  With that, Bob lopes away into the trees. As he moves, his skin ripple
s into camouflage mode, and he fades from sight.

  Nineteen

  I wake up in medical.

  It’s quiet. The ward is mostly empty. I see Chris sleeping a few beds down. The vitals monitor beside him glows with comfortingly green lights.

  “Finally decided to join us, huh?”

  I bolt upright in bed at the sound of Jay’s voice. Then I groan a curse as an aftershock of pain ripples out from my shoulder.

  “And so happy about it, too,” Jay says, smirking at me from his scanner bed on the other side of the room.

  “Listen, pal,” I say. The ergofoam bed molds itself around me, supporting my weight as I gingerly ease to my feet. “I know someone told you that you were funny, once.” I try standing up. My legs don’t collapse under me, so I limp across the room to his bed. “But they lied.”

  Those are the last words I manage to get out before Jay grabs the front of my hospital gown and pulls me close. Then he’s kissing me, and there are no more words. The pain and the grief and the worry all evaporate. There’s nothing but the way his hands feel tangled in my hair. The way his lips feel, cracked and dry and warm and subtly doing something to my tongue that feels like fireworks charging through my nervous system.

  He pulls back, letting himself collapse against the ergofoam of his scanner bed.

  “Hey, where do you think you’re going?”

  His face splits in a goofy grin.

  “Some of us need oxygen.”

  “Oxygen is overrated,” I say, leaning in to kiss him again. He kisses me back, but he doesn’t pull himself up off the bed. I can feel his heart pounding, and I don’t think it’s just because I’m such a good kisser.

  “Are you okay?” I say, dropping into the visitor’s chair beside him.

  He shrugs, leaning back into the ergofoam. “I’m not dying or anything, but Ord nicked a few important nerve endings when he stabbed me in the back. Might be temporary. Might end up in braces or even a chair.” He says it like it’s no big deal, but there’s doubt crawling under his voice as he adds, “You mind?”

  “I always wanted a cybernetic boyfriend.”