“There was a time when we humans had no choice but to step into danger. You’re not a child anymore, Lia. You’re one of us. One of the few who can blend with every group, every faction.”
“No one listens to me,” I argue weakly.
“They don’t need to listen,” Calista says. “You only need them to ignore you.”
“Comforting,” I mutter.
Jolie squeezes my shoulder.
“You don’t have to accept. We can send someone else.”
But the thought of someone else dying because I hesitated makes bile rise in my throat. I look at the sick hunters. Think of the dying plants. Of the aching tension in the camp pulling us apart like seams about to rip. Tajss has been through enough. We all have.
“Tell me what I need to find,” I say.
Relief breaks across Calista’s face. Jolie’s eyes soften, warm with pride.
“First,” Calista says, gesturing to the vine sample in my basket, “we analyze this. Then we pack you provisions. You’ll need at least three days’ worth.”
Jolie adds, “Stay near shaded formations. Avoid the deeper valleys. And… Lia?—”
I meet her gaze.
“Stay alive.”
A lump forms in my throat, thick and heavy. “I intend to.”
Brook lingers behind, looking uncomfortable. “You really think it’s that bad out there?”
“It’s Tajss,” I say. “It’s always that bad.”
Brook snorts, but Calista nods.
“It is always best to be cautious. Nothing is ever as it seems—or at the end. There are?—”
Jolie grabs her shoulder. It’s subtle, and I don’t think Brook notices, but I do, because Calista doesn’t finish the thought. Calista never leaves a thought unfinished. Ever. I look between the two of them, curious.
“Many dangers in the desert,” Calista finishes, but there is no doubt in my mind that is not what she was going to say.
“I did bring back a sample,” I say, nodding to the bag at my hip.
“Good, let’s examine that,” Jolie says. “Maybe this trip won’t even be necessary.”
We leave the infirmary and return to the tent where they’ve put together what serves as a makeshift laboratory. It takes half the day to study the plant properly. By the time Calista and Jolie finish, the suns are dipping low. Evening shadows stretch long across the dunes, and crimson bleeds into the sky.
The sick Urr’ki are worse. One is unconscious, the other barely responsive. Around the camp, Zmaj warriors pace like caged beasts, anxious and furious. Humans gather in small groups, whispering fears. The Urr’ki retreat into their own groups. Tensions rise, and it is only a matter of time before violence breaks out between the factions. Contamination equals starvation equals death.
Calista calls me to her worktable inside the botany tent.
“We ran chemical scans and can say with certainty that whatever’s causing this is not natural.”
“What is it?” I ask.
She hesitates. “We think… a leak.”
“A leak from what?”
Jolie’s voice is soft but firm. “A ship.”
