The Lying Planet

by Carol Riggs

  With my arms aching, I set Kenna down. I stroke the fur on her neck and breathe hard.

  “We should be safe here.” Shelly drops the packs and wipes sweat from her face with her forearm.

  “Did we just accidentally start a war?”

  “I hope not.” She digs out our canteens and hands me mine. “Daniel will blow a fuse.”

  Major understatement. I drink in huge, desperate swallows.

  “I didn’t recognize the men, so it must’ve been a team from Refuge or Fort Hope.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” I say. “After this, all three zones will try to wipe us out. They know we’ve found out their identity.”

  “We’re totally in their crosshairs.”

  “Yeah.” Slash it all. We won’t survive this unless we run for the hills, and it’s my fault for trying to save Kenna. But I had to do it.

  We rest for a minute or two while my guilt ebbs and flows.

  Shelly motions to Kenna. “After she wakes up, we’ll have to walk home. That’ll take the rest of the afternoon.”

  I smooth my fingers through Kenna’s fur. “Will she trust me, since I shot her?”

  “The dogs don’t seem to remember anything from when they go crazy.”

  That’s good. We sit in the dim pantry as the minutes tick by. No noises from outside break the quietness. After a while, Shelly speaks a message into a device on her wrist, telling Daniel we’ll be late. She doesn’t tell him why.

  “Is that a wristcomm?” I can’t believe I might be looking at one.

  “Yeah. The communication satellite is still up in orbit from before the War. Next time we go out, nab a spare wristcomm from the docking hangar.” A fierce gleam shines in her eyes. “Wait until Daniel hears we learned how to kill the aliens. We can wipe them out and free everyone in the safe zones.”

  I explain how I was first trying to keep the team member quiet when he collapsed, not kill him. “But we can’t attack. There are more than eight hundred aliens in Sanctuary alone. What are we going to do, walk up and ask them to hold still while we cover their throat vents with our hands or pour shampoo on their necks?”

  She rolls her eyes. “For close-range fighting, we could use anything that smothers their vent holes. For long-range combat, we have tranqs, two flamers, laser pistols, and laser rifles. We could target the fence guards, pick them off one at a time—”

  “Too dangerous. They also have rifles, and they might see us coming.”

  “Every plan is gonna be dangerous, bud. Would you rather everyone gets eaten?”

  “Of course not.” I slump against the wall. She sounds like Peyton. Though I hate to admit it, she’s right. We don’t have many choices. If we don’t act soon, we’ll be attacked. Living in New Paradise isn’t safe anymore. Time is running out here, as well as in Sanctuary.

  Besides that, Peyton might plow ahead with her crazy plan to try to escape with Aubrie and get themselves caught and killed for knowing too much. Like Rich. I can’t let them do that.

  Tonight, we need to hold another meeting at Daniel’s unit.

  We have a war to plan.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  By the time Shelly and I reach Daniel’s unit with Kenna walking beside us, daylight is fading and it’s way past dinnertime. My feet ache as we tromp through the front door. A sensation of heaviness follows me inside, knowing what we have to tell Daniel and the others. The lingering aroma of fried food makes my stomach growl.

  In the kitchen, Marnica spins from the sanitizer, holding a plate. “About time you guys got back! What happened?”

  “We ran into a scavenger team,” Shelly says as Kenna sinks onto the floor by the couch. “Sorry, Daniel. Another hovercart got trashed.”

  Daniel stops cleaning some foraged items and flings down his rag. “Where were you—the south section?”

  “Yeah,” Shelly says. “I didn’t think they’d come two days in a row.”

  “Your brain should function better than that, girl. Three safe zones means three teams. South New Paradise is off limits from now on.” Daniel studies us with sharp concern. “It’s a bleating miracle you two are all right.”

  Jeff and Vic come in from the back yard through the retracting door, Blake behind them.

  “Hey, delinquents,” Vic says to us, pulling a sealed container from the cooler. “You and Shel missed some really great fried worrel. But we saved you some.”

  “Thanks.” I sink into a chair. “But there’s worse news. We had a clash with the aliens.”

  Daniel’s gaze turns dark. “Tell me what happened.”

  “It wasn’t our fault,” Shelly says. “Jay was protecting Kenna in a supply center and killed one of the team.”

  “What?”

  I flinch. “Yeah. Then Shelly and I had to tranq and kill another one because he attacked us. We managed to slip out the back while the other two wrecked our cart.”

  “Wait, that’s not the stellar part.” Shelly bounces on her toes as though she doesn’t see Daniel’s explosive expression. “Jay killed the first guy accidentally. Bet you can’t guess how.”

  “I’m not playing games. Just tell me,” Daniel says.

  “Okay, fine. He killed the guy by covering his throat with one hand—and he smothered the second one by putting a blob of shampoo on the beast’s neck. The aliens breathe through vents on their necks, same as they talk. Their human noses and mouths are just part of their shape-shifted bodies. They look and feel human, but their true bodies keep working like they’re aliens.”

  “Seriously?” Marnica asks, one dark eyebrow raised.

  Daniel stares. “That’s…flippin’ weird.”

  “It’s also pointless info,” Blake says. “I’d love to kill me some aliens, but I’m not gonna prance around decorating their necks with shampoo or some other smothering goop. They’d shoot me long before I got that close.”

  “We’ve thought of that.” I smile, which I hope irritates the blazing snot out of him. “Shelly and I talked about it on the way here. There’s one important thing you’re forgetting.”

  Blake huffs. “What’s that?”

  “At night, except for the guards, the aliens sleep.”

  …

  The next morning, a blush of pink touches the sky over the eastern mountains. I sit in the back of Daniel’s hovertruck with Kenna, her body resting against my legs and her head draped over my knee.

  “Is one of them coming yet?” Daniel asks from the opened window of the cab.

  I look down the pavement to the front door. No sign of Blake or Marnica. “Nope.”

  Daniel exhales. Noisily.

  I understand. He has other things to do today besides drive us to the boat dock.

  Kenna wags her tail, thumping it against a big bucket stashed in the truck bed. This bi-weekly supply run has been turned into stage one of the war plans we hatched last night. When I meet this rendezvous person—assuming there is one—I’ll give him a message for Peyton so she can help set the date for an attack. She and Harrel can organize things in Sanctuary to mesh with our invasion.

  That is, if we can ever get going this morning.

  The unit door opens and Blake bursts out, holding a pack and followed by Marnica, who’s waving her arms and yelling.

  “I don’t care,” she says. “I’ve been doing this run for a year, and you’ve never done it. So give me that pack and let me do it right.”

  “I can steer a boat just as well as you can,” Blake says with a growl. “And I know what the dock looks like, so I’ll be able to find it.”

  “Knock off the bickering,” Daniel says. “You guys have five seconds to decide which one of you is going.”

  Before Marnica can react, Blake jumps into the cab. Marnica lets out a strangled shriek and stomps off toward the unit.

  “Guess that’s settled,” Daniel says cheerfully, and activates the lud-cells.

  I laugh under my breath.

  We travel to a small dock located on the west side of the colony.
Daniel carries the bucket of supplies to a streamlined boat about seven meters long, and Blake and I throw in our packs. Kenna leaps into the boat with us.

  “See you two insurgents this evening,” Daniel calls as we set off down the river.

  I wave. Kenna stands with her front paws on one of the seats. She swishes her tail and sniffs the breeze as the ludmium-charged motor agitates the water at the boat’s stern.

  Blake sits in the front, wearing a helioball cap and resting his fingertips on the steering disc. Marnica would’ve been better company, but at least Kenna is here with me. We float past the shore, with its underbrush thick and wild. A hawk circles a line of evergreens in a predatory arc, while black dots of fledgers soar overhead.

  About an hour downriver, Blake tosses me a quick look over his shoulder. “Hey, you wanna drive for a while?”

  I squint. Is that a trick question? “Sure!”

  We swap places.

  “It doesn’t take much steering,” Blake says. “Just watch out for rocks and half-submerged logs.”

  “I can handle that.” I pat Kenna, who has stuck her nose under my arm. Blake takes a drink from his canteen and puts his feet up.

  “Women,” he says. “Sometimes Marnica makes me want to bash my head against an outbuilding. I’ve only been here two weeks, and I’m ready to fix up a UHV and head west. She’s even annoying just as a friend.”

  I concentrate on navigating the river. “You must’ve liked her well enough before. Digging that tunnel, sneaking out twice a month, and risking getting banished for it.”

  “Yeah.” A long pause stretches out. “It didn’t take me long to figure out she wasn’t right for me. She’s too bullheaded and independent. Thinks she knows everything.”

  Steering left, I give us plenty of room to pass a big boulder. There’s nothing wrong with a female who’s independent and knows her own mind, but I bet he prefers a girl who lets him do all the thinking. I don’t know what he’s getting at by telling me all this, whether he’s venting or trying some dumb male bonding thing.

  “I hate her stinkin’ cigarettes,” Blake says. “She’s always drying bakka leaves and rolling the things. They make her hair smell like stale smoke. It’s gross.”

  I assume he’s talking about those foul-smelling little white sticks of hers.

  He clears his throat. “Speaking of ex-girlfriends, last night Shelly happened to mention you and Aubrie broke up.”

  I suppress an eye roll. So that’s why we’re having this chat. “Yeah. Last week.”

  “Your idea or hers?”

  “Hers. Although I agreed with her. It wasn’t working out anymore, and she wanted to be with someone else.”

  “Who?” Blake’s voice is tight. Like he expects me to say it’s some other guy in Sanctuary or something. The guy is a serious brainvoid.

  I look upriver and let him writhe a few more seconds. “You. I shouldn’t have asked her to do those sack races at the Harvest Equinox party two years ago.”

  “You’re stringing me along.”

  “I’m not, Zemik. I don’t even like telling you, because the whole eighteen years I’ve known you, you’ve been a total jerk with a mega-sized chip on your shoulder.”

  Blake chuckles. “Now that sounds more like the Jay Lawton I know.”

  “At least some things don’t change.” I don’t turn to see his expression, but he gives a loud, contented sigh. I’ve done the right thing. If Aubrie manages to get out of Sanctuary, she might have a chance with him.

  We travel upriver until mid-morning, when we reach a narrower section. Blake takes over and steers to a short, shabby dock. He cuts the motor and uses a rope to secure the boat to a cleat on the dock.

  “This is the place,” he says. “Let’s see if anyone has been here already, or if we have to leave a datafilm note.”

  I hope we haven’t missed the rendezvous person. We can’t wait two weeks until someone comes again, not with Niya and the three other girls ready to be Tested at any time. I help Kenna onto the dock and follow Blake across a clearing to some tall grasses by a gnarled nut tree. He pushes aside a low-hanging branch, uncovers a large sealed bin, and looks inside.

  “Empty,” he says. “We always meet the third day after each ceremony. But the new person could have morning sessions. If he shows, he’ll come through that trail over there.” He points to a narrow path visible at the edge of the woods. “Meanwhile, let’s eat lunch.”

  I retrieve our packs and eat while sitting on a log, trying to imagine Blake coming through the woods from Sanctuary on that path. Twice a month for the past year…seeing an occasional vermal and briarcat along the way. Meeting Marnica here. Bringing her rations and supplies… I glance at the red welted B on Blake’s forehead and bolt upright.

  “Wait a second,” I say. “You’ve known the truth about genomide dust for the whole past year, haven’t you? From talking to Marnica.”

  He shrugs. “Yeah. Not like I could tell anyone, since I had to keep the supply run a secret. Everyone was freaked about Mick, but I knew it was a bunch of dreck. Marnica also told me about Farrow’s game with the flamers. I warned Konrad, Xavier, and Shelly, but they weren’t worried about failing their Testing, so I didn’t bother telling anyone else. I didn’t think I’d flunk, either—I would’ve preferred to skip that part.”

  Reluctant admiration swells inside me. I remember him looking pretty stoic when the gauge showed his final score. “What were you going to do if you passed?”

  “Meet up with Marnica and everyone in New Paradise—walk there if I had to, if I didn’t score high enough to earn a UHV. I should’ve just gone with her on the boat and skipped my ceremony. But I wanted to keep giving supplies to her and Daniel, and win something at my Testing.”

  “Good thing you flunked, or you’d be powdered or floating in jars instead of sitting here.” I flip my last chunk of roasted rabbit to Kenna, and she snaps it up before it hits the ground. Blake shows me how to toss a stick for her, and she brings it back every time.

  “Smart girl,” I tell her. Yep, I like dogs. I start to throw the stick again, but Kenna pricks up her ears and sniffs, staring at the woods. A short woof escapes her muzzle.

  Blake draws his tranq. “Someone’s coming—probably not an alien, since Kenna’s not going berserk, but we’d better hide. Hurry!”

  Chapter Thirty

  I spring up and get Kenna to follow me behind the nut tree. She woofs again, then straight-out barks a few times. But she’s not growling or pawing her ears. I stroke her shoulder to quiet her. Blake crouches behind a freckleberry bush, his pistol readied. After a handful of seconds, I peer around the tree to see a petite figure wearing a green uniform come striding into view on the narrow trail. My nerves go into major haywire.

  The new rendezvous person isn’t a guy. It’s Peyton, hiking along with a pack and looking strong, compact, and efficient. Perspiration drips from her hairline and streaks her shirt. I don’t care what she told Aubrie about Blake or how angry our last words to each other were. It’s in the past. I’m just so relieved to see her I’m ready to spontaneously combust.

  I scramble out from behind the tree. “Peyton! I didn’t think you’d take on this job, since you planned to escape soon.”

  She breaks into a brilliant grin. “Jay, you’re alive! Oh wow, what a freakin’ relief. I was so afraid you’d be killed like Rich after what you did to Farrow’s unit. I didn’t think I’d see you here, either.” She freezes as she sees Kenna. “What’s that?”

  “An Earth dog,” I say. “She’s friendly. Just move slowly at first.” Kenna trots over and sniffs Peyton’s arm. Peyton gives a cautious smile as Kenna licks her hand.

  Blake stands, replaces his pistol in his utility belt, and hands Peyton his canteen. “Thanks for being the new supplier, Rainey. I know it’s not easy sneaking out of Sanctuary.”

  “Or safe.” Peyton takes a drink and wipes her mouth. “Sorry, but this is the end of it. No more swaps. I volunteered to make one last r
un, but once I help the other girls escape, the aliens will clamp down on security. They’ll add even more guards, and probably make curfews or strict schedules to keep track of everyone who’s left. I wouldn’t be able to get back in and help anyone else.”

  Blake snorts. “Konrad will be astrally fused when we stop trading. He won’t be able to make brew for his customers.”

  “He’ll live,” Peyton says. “We have more important things to worry about.”

  I make a mangled noise. “Konrad makes the brew?”

  “He and Shelly were making it together,” Peyton says. “Now he’s doing it by himself. I couldn’t tell you before, Jay, because I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone. But I swear I didn’t know about this supply run, not until after your ceremony, when Blake’s buddy, Xavier, told me and Konrad about it. How that guy Daniel has a boat and everything. I had no idea where the rest of the brew ingredients came from.”

  Trying not to bristle, I shrug. It would’ve been nice to know, but she did promise the punk she wouldn’t tell.

  “Marnica researched how to make the brew,” Blake says, his tone scornful. “Then I told Shelly and Konrad. They put in a lot of work and risk just for some jugs of happy juice.”

  “Except it probably saved Shelly’s life by getting her banished,” I say. “But none of that matters now. We’ve come up with a plan to get rid of the aliens.”

  Peyton hands the canteen and her pack to Blake. “Really? Great to hear. Tell me what’s up while we load this stuff onto the boat. I gotta get back before anyone notices I’m gone.”

  “Right.” Blake moves off toward the dock with the pack.

  “First,” I say to Peyton, “tell Harrel and everyone to quit trying to get banished, because the aliens play target practice with us, using wicked alien weapons called flamers. That’s why Blake’s arm is bandaged, and my leg doesn’t look much better. I barely escaped…and Thomas didn’t make it.”

  She swears, frowning. “Poor Thomas… He won’t even get a memorial ceremony like Rich. But if we aren’t going for banishment, what in the twelve galaxies is everyone supposed to do?”