I stretch out, slowly, and my fingertips brush the edge of the glass. I can’t quite reach.
Beckett’s voice comes sharp. “How can you look at it any different? We have a huge find back there. Maybe the most important historic site that’s ever been found, and now there’s another city, too. My career, or whatever you call it, is here, and Dad will be the one in charge of that, not the Commander.”
So Earth plans to be here a long time. Why? What do they want? As strange as they are, Beckett and Jillian don’t strike me as a first choice to lead an invasion.
“Beckett, listen to me.” Jill’s voice is so quiet I have to be still to hear it. “I know that you … ” She stops, tries again. “I know you love this, and you want to do well at it. And that this girl … ”
I close my eyes. In case she looks my way.
“… that she’s fascinating to you, professionally. But you’ve already broken orders once. You have to follow these new ones. To the letter. Do you understand?” She waits. “I can’t keep on saving you from yourself.”
“I don’t need you to save me from anything,” he snaps.
I open an eye. Jillian is completely focused on Beckett. I move my arm, and reach one more time for the magnifiers. Beckett sighs.
“Look, Jill, this isn’t just a project, even if that’s the way the Commander and the investors and the rest of the crew think of it. It’s bigger than that. If they called the whole thing off tomorrow and said go home … Now that I’m here, I don’t think I’d … ”
I hook a finger around the edge of the glass. And a scream shoots through the air, piercing, high-pitched. False. A sharp whine of warning. I jerk back my hand, sit up as Beckett spins around. Jillian’s blue eyes are wide. The noise cycles and it is so unnatural. Wrong.
And it’s coming from the magnifiers.
During our psych evaluations, Dr. Kataria asked me what I thought about leadership. Should protocol be followed to the letter, or adapted to each situation?
I said, “Both.”
It seems like a good answer to a lot of questions.
FROM THE LOG BOOK OF BECKETT RODRIGUEZ
Day 151, Year 1
The Lost Canaan Project
The perimeter alarm is going off, and like an idiot, I’ve left the glasses on the packs beside Samara. She’s awake, sitting up, clutching my blanket to her chest, her amber eyes staring. I cram the glasses onto my face, and the noise stops as soon as they touch my skin, though I can see the warning light still pulsing across the lenses. I don’t know how I’m going to explain this to Samara. She already thinks I’m a liar, thanks to Jill. And there’s no time anyway, because the glasses are showing me five humans. And they are above us.
I find Jill’s gaze, hold up five fingers, and point. She nods, scoots out the entrance on her back, and when I turn to Samara, her eyes drop straight to the floor. Like she’s scared of me. Great.
Jill slides back inside. “They’re coming along the top of the cliff,” she whispers. “I think just passing through. They’re moving fast.”
Some of the fear slips out of me. The few descendants of Canaan I caught a glimpse of in the ruins didn’t look all that scary. A little soft, and with no real weapons that I could see. But Samara’s face and hands might say different, and she said they were out to kill her. But are we really going to play hide-and-seek with these people all the way to her city? And what exactly is going to happen when we get there?
I want to go, want it like air. But I’m not stupid. Or I don’t think I am.
“Keep an eye out?” I ask Jillian. She nods, and slides back out again.
Samara’s mask is smooth and in place. She won’t look at me. But it’s hard to stop looking at her. She’s still wrapped in my blanket, her hair wild with sleep, and I’m on edge, trying to think how to get the information I need without messing up everything. I wish I knew what she was running from. I wish she would spill every single thought inside her head.
I wish she wasn’t so important, so I could say anything I wanted to her.
“You slept” is what I settle for, and it’s not good. Her eyes stay glued to the rock and dirt floor. I try again. “I don’t think anyone can get down here. Or not fast, anyway. The walls are too steep. So we’re good for now. Do you need to eat? We can share.”
Nothing.
“The ankle set well.”
I get a tiny response, a glance at my foot, and I wish I hadn’t brought it up. In her world, I probably shouldn’t be walking on this leg at all. It’s no wonder she’s afraid. I don’t want her to be afraid of me. I squat down in front of her.
“Samara, listen, if we’re going to be traveling together, we need to help each other out. Why are these people looking for you so hard?”
Still nothing.
“Will we be safe underground?”
Not even a blink.
“Look,” I say, a little exasperated, “you said you’re trying to help us. Giving us a place to stay while the sun is gone. But I need to know if your city is dangerous. It’s only fair to tell me that much.”
Her dark smudges of lash don’t even move. She doesn’t trust me. How could she? But then why offer to take us with her? What does she need? Protection?
I glance at the entrance to the cavern, and the glasses tell me Jill is in place, on her back, watching the top of the cliff. Forget protocol. But I need to forget it fast, while Jill isn’t here.
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll make a deal with you. You ask me anything you need to know, and I’ll tell you. I won’t lie to you.” I cock my head toward the entrance, toward Jill. “She won’t like it. But she’s in a new place and she’s worried about breaking the rules. I’m not so worried. So if you want to know, you ask, I tell you the truth, and then, when you’re ready, you can do the same. Deal?”
I wait, still squatted down, where I can see her face, and then she lifts those eyes and looks directly into mine. She doesn’t do that very often. I wish I wasn’t wearing the glasses. That there wasn’t a barrier, even if it’s a clear one.
And then Samara says, in her interestingly musical version of English, “Have you Forgotten?”
A challenge. I feel myself smile, a little rueful, and shake my head. “No. Or, I mean, I’m sure I’ve forgotten a lot of things, but the word seems to mean something different to you. So when you say it”—I shrug—“I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
I’m watching her close in the weird light of the jar, looking for the tiny cracks in her mask. And I catch one. Surprise. Just a flash. But I don’t think her surprise was because I haven’t forgotten, whatever that is. It was because she already knew I hadn’t and thought I would lie about it. Like Jill did.
I don’t know if I’ve done the right thing. It feels like the right thing. And anyway, the record function is off.