28

Suresh was right; the storm is weaker than before.

Still.

They stay within sight of one another, not that they have a choice. Ethan has linked them all together on another orange cord like the one that used to stretch from the hab to the lander. Turns out it’s from Kate’s mountain climbing equipment, in her personals. She had hoped to try for an ascent here.

“Cool, so we all get lost together,” Suresh muttered, when they’d passed the cord from one to another, threading it through one of the fabric tool loops on the side of their suits.

“Better all of us together than one in every direction,” Kate pointed out. “I can only rescue so many people in time.”

Once, Ophelia would have bristled at the assumption that Kate would be doing the rescuing, or that any of them would require such efforts, but now she’s just glad someone’s thinking about it, putting a contingency plan in place.

Suresh is at the front, followed by Liana, with Kate keeping even with her, though Liana seems to be doing just fine. If anything, she is moving with more certainty and speed than the rest of them, as if she can hear a signal the rest of them can’t.

Ophelia doesn’t think Liana’s seeing anything. At least not with her eyes. What is left of them.

Oh, God, please let this work.

Ophelia is behind Kate, who has the portable sample unit, with Ethan bringing up the tail. She’s grateful to be in the middle. Fighting the wind and the snow and the slightly uphill climb isn’t easy, even in the lighter gravity.

Ahead of them, the towers are sleek black blades sticking out of the ground, growing larger the closer they get.

Looking at them now, she’s not sure how they—or anyone else—thought they belonged here. They’re taller than anything else around, other than the mountains in the distance. The humped remains of the city beneath the snow are significantly lower, smaller.

The Lyrians were considered an intelligent species because they clearly used tools and they were, at least somewhat, spacefaring. But Pinnacle found no old satellites, no space docks, no colonies except that one lone Lyrian on the next planet over in the system. But how much of human technology would be detectable after ten thousand years? Maybe Pinnacle and Montrose assumed that the Lyrians were backward when the opposite was true. The Lyrians might have been more advanced, but because humans don’t view advancement in the same way, they missed it.

The snow doesn’t even seem to stick to the towers above the ground level; they’re like arrows driven into the snowy surface. Ophelia wonders if they’re somehow warmer than the surrounding air. Or if they’re emitting some kind of field that keeps the moisture away.

Another possibility—these things arrived here after the snow started, after the Lyrians were gone.

That seems to stretch the imagination. Humans have found only a dozen or so other planets with signs of former alien civilizations, and this planet has two?

Three, actually, if you count us. Ophelia shakes her head. If Pinnacle and Montrose found something of value here, isn’t it equally likely that some other species might have as well?

Humans have been operating like they have the universe to themselves just because they haven’t found any other living civilizations. Doesn’t mean they aren’t out there.

Our arrogance might well come back to bite us in the ass when or if one of those other sentient species decides they’re done with our bullshit. Ophelia winces, imagining the moment a corporation claims the exact wrong planet as “theirs.”

Ahead of Ophelia, Liana is drawing even with Suresh in her eagerness to reach the towers. Is it her eagerness, though, or the stuff inside her, inside all of them?

Ophelia’s not getting any closer to answers, but working through the possibilities keeps her from fixating on their fate. This extremely unlikely-to-work plan is their best bet, and it seems far more probable that they will all end up like Liana. Best-case scenario.

Ophelia bites her lip. If she doesn’t have control, she doesn’t know what she’ll do. Even her grandmother, when she lost all sense of where she was, even of who she was, resorted to biting and punching anyone who came too close.

And you still don’t know what happened to the rest of the Kellerson pack.

The rest of the surgical instruments, the different-sized scalpels, specifically, are still missing.

Ophelia takes a deep breath. Nothing she can do about that now. She needs to let it go. Just focus on the towers. Maybe this will all work, and the worrying will be for nothing.

The thought cheers her more than she expects it to. Oddly, it feels harder to hang on to her fears at this point, like trying to stop sand from slipping through the cracks between her fingers.

Almost like this is inevitable and they’re finally reaching the end.

The end and we’ll be together, it’ll be so much better and—

“Hey, Doc,” Kate says over the comms, startling her.

“Yes?” Ophelia tries not to sound too out of breath. What was she just thinking about? It’s gone, vanished like a puff of steam in the air. She’s lost not just her train of thought but also the entire station.

“I was thinking about it,” Kate says, a little too casually. “If Pinnacle did what you think, if they covered up what happened here so they could sell the rights, then doesn’t that mean they know how to treat this … whatever this is?”

Ophelia frowns. “What makes you think that?”

“Well, they had to know about it somehow. We only found one suit, one body. Maybe the rest of them made it back.”

Ophelia hesitates. “It’s possible, I suppose.” Equally possible that there are more bodies tucked right next to Delacroix—and now Birch—that they just haven’t found yet. “I don’t think Pinnacle would have sold the rights, though, if they could figure out how to deal with it.” Plus, knowing her family and how they operate, she thinks it’s far more likely that Kate’s earlier speculation about Montrose is probably true for Pinnacle as well. The team reported in, and now the remains of said team are floating in tiny exploded pieces in space somewhere.

“It doesn’t matter, Katey,” Suresh cuts in. “Even if they know, they’re not going to share it with Montrose.”

“Except we have the Pinnacle crown princess with us,” Kate says.

Ophelia gives a choked laugh, something much closer to a strangled noise. “Crown princess?” That would imply that she’s set to take over. Imagining the look on her uncle’s face at that suggestion, the vein in his scalp that would pulse at the idea, is almost enough to make her genuinely laugh. “Like I told you before, my family and I aren’t close.”

“Not close enough to want to save your life?” Kate persists.

“No,” Ophelia says flatly. “If anything, they would be relieved to be rid of me.” She is the proverbial thorn in the side, the loose thread, the piano dangling overhead on a fraying rope.

“Oh.”

Yeah. How does one follow up the blunt nonhyperbolic assessment that someone’s family would prefer them dead?

They trudge onward in silence for several more minutes.

“Slow down, Liana,” Suresh protests. There are dark shadows ahead of Ophelia, but growing clearer as they approach the towers. The towers are huge, providing a dark background against which it’s easier to see, especially when compared to the endless gray of sky and snow.

A high-pitched whine starts in Ophelia’s ears. She turns down the volume on her comms, but it continues. She grimaces, automatically reaching for her ears to rub them, forgetting that her helmet is in the way.

Cells dying in the ear. It happens, more frequently with age. But unlike that experience, this doesn’t fade after a few seconds.

A ping sounds, faint and barely audible. Someone summoning her on a private channel. “Do you feel it?” Ethan asks, after she accepts and turns up the volume.

For a moment, Ophelia’s not sure what he means, too focused on the buzz in her ears, but when she takes stock, she realizes the perpetual tightness in her chest, the grinding dread, is gone.

“It feels better.” His voice doesn’t have that dreamy edge that she noticed from Liana, Suresh, and even Birch before he died. But it’s softer than she’s ever heard from him before.

“It does,” Ophelia says, struggling against the urge to settle into the sensation, like sinking into a warm bath and surrendering to the heat. “But it’s…” She pauses to try to find the right words to describe the feeling. Soothing, but with an edge of tension, a spring coiled beneath a smooth surface, a shark fin in the bathtub. “Too good to be true,” she finishes.

“Like a predator luring in prey,” he says after a moment.

“Yeah,” she says, nodding. “That’s it. Should we go back?”

“I don’t think we can. Not without trying it. We just need to be careful.”

Isn’t that what we’ve been doing? she wants to ask, but that’s not helpful. And she doesn’t have any better suggestions.

When they reach the base of the towers, Ophelia has to immediately discard her previous assessment of the height and girth. Each of them is easily half a city block—or would be, if they were fully upright and rectangular instead of at an angle. It’s as if skyscrapers had suddenly pitched themselves from above, into the ground. Staring up at them from this proximity, she can no longer see the top of them.

They are identical to one another, from what she can see. Smooth, black, mostly opaque, but with a sheen that gives them that crystal-like appearance. No obvious openings, cracks, edges. Each looks to be a singular, whole piece of … something.

She tears her gaze away from the towers—they are strangely enticing, for reasons she doesn’t understand, like staring at the ground over the edge of a tall building and feeling that irrational fear that you might accidentally jump, but also a thrill at the same time.

“Stop, Suresh. That’s close enough,” Ethan says on the comm channel, drawing her attention back to the front of the line.

Suresh and Liana are moving quickly, too quickly, to the nearest tower. Neither of them responds to him.

“Stop!” Ethan charges past Ophelia, pushing the end of the rope into her hands as he passes.

Kate jolts as he rushes by her, seeming to shake herself awake. “Suresh! Stop!” She leaps forward, and Ophelia’s forced to hurry along after her or lose her grip on the cord.

“What?” Suresh rocks to a reluctant halt at Ethan’s hand on his shoulder. Only the tension on the orange cord between Suresh and Liana keeps Liana from proceeding without him. She’s already straining forward, trying to close the final distance. Two, maybe three meters from the base of the tower.

“Didn’t you hear us?” Kate demands.

The tower looms over them like one of those gods of old mythology, waiting to determine their fate. Except …

Home. Safety. Peace.

The impulse pulls at Ophelia, stronger now. That same promise of relief washes over her, enticing her to come closer.

Let go, Little Bird. Come join us. You’ll feel so much better.

The lure is a lot easier to ignore when the voice in her head sounds like her father. A shiver ripples over her skin. This … whatever it is, in her head, it knows her. But it doesn’t seem to comprehend that she might find his voice less than compelling.

“Hear what?” Suresh twists around, looking at them. He blinks slowly, looking drowsy. “What’s wrong?” The words are slushy and slurred.

It’s hard to read body language in suits and helmets, but the way Ethan stiffens, pulling himself upright, tells Ophelia that he’s hearing it the same way.

“We need to keep our distance,” Ethan says. “Come on. Back up.” He takes the cord from Suresh’s hands, pulling the slack into his grasp.

That seems to rouse Suresh from his daze. “No way! We came out here to fix this, and I am not—”

“Because it wants us closer,” Ophelia blurts. “It wants us to give in and—”

The mental image appears in her head without bidding. Ophelia, pressed against the front of the tower, arms out in the parody of a hug, embraced by a bright white light. Fear, terror, worry, all just gone. Like they never existed.

In the visual, her shoulders droop with relaxation and the expression of utter peace glows in the white light. In that moment, she would be okay. She would be fixed. Whole in a way that she hasn’t been since she was eleven.

Her eyes sting with the promise of it, and she has to blink to keep from letting the tears roll free.

“—be part of it,” she finishes thickly. It’s a thoroughly inadequate description. But she can’t find the words to describe the sensation, the completeness the tower seems to be offering.

“That’s good enough reason for me,” Ethan says. He tugs on the cord and pulls Suresh and Liana back, Kate and Ophelia along with them, closer to the old perimeter line.

The emotional effect lessens as they move away. Not a lot, but it’s noticeable.

“The samples,” Suresh says, jerking his head as if to clear it. “We need to give them back. That was the plan.”

“I’ll do it,” Ethan says. He holds the cord out to Kate, gesturing with his free hand for the small sample case she transferred the vials to.

“No,” Kate says sharply, pulling the case tighter against herself as if he might lunge at her and attempt to take it by force. “You’re our only pilot. We can’t get out of here without you.”

“I’ll do it,” Suresh offers.

“Please,” Kate scoffs. “You were already trying to throw yourself into the metaphorical fire.” She takes a deep breath, and Ophelia knows what she’s about to say.

“It should be me,” Ophelia says. A surprising calmness fills her, just at the decision being made. It feels like she’s been waiting for this moment her whole life.

Kate’s brows arch in surprise, and Ethan’s shaking his head.

“No. Absolutely not,” he says. “You did not sign up for this.”

“I did, actually. I signed up for this assignment, whatever it entailed,” she reminds him, using his words against him.

He flinches. “That’s not—”

“Kate is your engineer. You might need her. If we don’t all end up dead, you’re going home. You don’t need me to do that,” Ophelia points out. “Let me do this.”

Ethan steps closer to her, a mimicry of privacy only, because they’re still on the open comm channel. His dark eyes scan her face, searching, the intensity reminding her of that moment in the airlock, when he stood so close, making her wonder exactly what he was feeling. “If this is about sacrificing yourself out of some sense of—”

“It’s not,” she says quickly. “It’s just logical.”

Mostly. I think. Wouldn’t it be nice to save lives instead of taking them or worrying about taking them? The thought of never having to question her own motives ever again makes her feel like she’s been cramped inside a tiny storage crate for decades and someone has just taken the lid off and offered to let her out to stretch her legs.

And the possibility of another taste of that peace, the bright white light … it’s not not a motivation.

It’ll kill you. The tiny portion of herself still dedicated to self-preservation raises its voice to be heard above the noise.

Maybe. Does she care? She’s not sure that she does. Or maybe it’s the alien sludge in her head influencing her, subtly nudging her toward the outcome it/they want. Does it matter?

She’s tired of hiding, tired of running.

“She’s right, Ethan,” Kate says after a moment.

Ethan’s mouth thins to an unhappy line. “Fine. But I’m going with you.”

“No, that’s not—” Ophelia starts to protest.

“I’ll stay back, but I’m going,” he says. “That’s final.” He turns to Kate. “You’ll—

“Keep an eye on the brain-dead duo?” Kate asks. “Yeah. I got it.”

He hands Kate his end of the cord, and Ophelia does the same with hers.

“That’s really not necessary,” Suresh says with a sniff, as Kate grips the lengths of cord tightly in her hand. “I’m not a fucking child.”

“Sure,” Kate says. “That’s why you were running toward it like it was a fucking mirror with your name in blinking lights.”

“That is incredibly offensive,” Suresh says. “You know I don’t ever rely on inconsistent lighting.”

Kate kneels and opens the sample case, pulling one of the vials free. She holds it out to Ophelia. “Start with this, and we’ll see what happens.”

For a fraction of a second, Ophelia sees herself from a distance, as if from a camera far above her. Not like the glowing, peace-filled version of a few moments ago but just her. Standing there, above Kate kneeling down and holding the vial out for her to take.

Am I really going to take it? Am I really going to walk up to this enormous alien edifice and offer it the chunks of itself that we took? It’s such a bizarre idea that looking at it from an outside perspective triggers the momentary urge to laugh.

How the hell did she end up here?

Ophelia steps forward and takes the sample vial from Kate, taking care to grasp it firmly enough not to drop it in the snow.

She can’t see any obvious place where the pieces came from, not from back here. So she just heads for dead center on the wide side closest to them.

Dead center. Great, Phe.

Ethan goes with her, maintaining his distance but swinging in a wide arc to stay in a straight line with her.

A private channel request pings. Ethan. She ignores it.

He won’t try to pull her off course, either, because he knows there’s no other option.

Once Ophelia reaches the center, or close enough, she stops. The tower looms over her, making her feel even smaller and more insignificant.

Tightening her grip on the vial, she breaks the seal, feeling the snap through her gloves rather than hearing it.

Then she edges forward.