The Travels of Scout Shannon Books 1-3

Chapter 5

5

The rover rocked gently as the auto driver maneuvered over the prairie, wheels dipping in and out of ruts and over exposed stones. Scout let her body fall into a rhythm, rolling with the hypnotic motion. Ebba tidied up the table and benches, gathering all the bits of machinery and tools into totes and stacking them in the back of the rover in the bottom of the two bunks. Scout’s brain sleepily observed that this bottom bunk was just a bare mattress. Her eyes traveled up to the top bunk, neatly made up with a faded patchwork quilt spread over it, two pillows under matching quilted covers across the head of the bed.

She looked at Ebba, settling the last of the totes in the bottom bunk. She and Ottilie were both wearing nondescript jumpsuits of faded gray. They probably dated as far back as the rover and the shielded suits, back to the first colonization. The original colonists had come with a large supply of the garments, and given that the fabric was so resistant to damage and even staining, most of them were still in use among Planet Dwellers and Space Farers both. Scout didn’t have one, but both of her parents had worn them nearly every day.

Ebba wore hers fastened up to her throat and down to her wrists but had added a shimmering scarf draped loosely around her shoulders, and Scout guessed by the paleness of her skin that she wore it to cover her head and face before going out into the sun. She’d seen other pale people with similar garments and knew the fabric had UV protective properties.

But everyone she’d ever seen with one had been a Space Farer. Everyone she’d ever seen with skin so milky pale had been a Space Farer.

Scout looked over at Ottilie. Her skin was as dark as burnt bread, creased and leathery and flecked all over with darker freckles and moles. She was definitely not a Space Farer. The sleeves of her jumpsuit were cut off at the shoulder, leaving her lean arms bare. There was a military insignia tattooed on her left bicep—not one Scout had ever seen before, but given that the design centered around a big gun, she guessed Ottilie had served on the crew of one of the massive guns that had fired on the Space Farer satellites and stations during the war.

Scout roused out of her half doze when a dog’s nails raked over her thigh. She bent down and scooped up Shadow, settling him on her lap. He was just a little too big to cuddle easily anymore, but he had not left the need behind when he ceased being a puppy. She got him situated how he was most comfortable: nose buried in her right armpit, her left arm under his back end to keep him from spilling off her lap. He snuffed out a breath and closed his eyes.

Girl was still flopped on the floor in front of the doorway, four paws all tucked and tangled together. Such huge paws; how could she ever grow into them?

“Slide over,” Ottilie said to Scout.

Shadow protested as she moved down the bench, following the right angle to sit with her back against the outer wall of the rover. The plastic under her thighs was cold. Ottilie slid to sit across from Warrior in the spot Scout had just warmed. She folded her hands together and watched Warrior. Warrior had a device shaped like a tablet in her hands, tapping away with her thumbs as if writing a message, but there was no screen of text, no buttons under her thumbs that she could see. But perhaps Warrior could, projected on the inside of those lenses?

Ottilie leaned forward to look at the object in Warrior’s hands, the flat featurelessness of it, as if she were holding a thin slab of stone. Ottilie glanced over at Scout and Scout lifted her dog-free shoulder in a shrug.

“Here,” Ebba said, setting a basket of hardtack biscuits on the table. “It’s not much for flavor but it will fill your belly, and we have plenty of it.”

She reached farther across the table to set a cloth napkin in front of Scout, the cuff of her gray jumpsuit pulling back from her wrist as she stretched. She had a tiny tattoo on her wrist just at the base of her thumb, a simple insignia Scout knew well. The Space Farer military had no separate units or quads or corps with their own branding, just one stylized upside-down V shape meant to suggest the head of a rocket.

“You were both in the military,” Scout said.

Ebba turned her hand over, saw her exposed tattoo, and stood back up, smoothing the cuff down over it. “Yes,” she said. “A long time ago.”

“On different sides,” Scout added.

“Like she said, it was a long time ago,” Ottilie said.

“What are the two of you doing out here, roaming around together in a rover?” Scout asked.

“Living,” Ottilie said as if that one word ended the conversation.

Warrior paused in her typing—perhaps looking up at Ottilie, Scout couldn’t tell—then resumed typing without saying a word.

“Together?” Scout persisted.

Ottilie leaned toward Scout, eyes blazing as she started to open her mouth, but shut it again and sat back at the touch of Ebba’s hand on her shoulder.

“The war has been over for years now,” Ebba said to Scout. “We’ve earned this peace, and if we choose to enjoy it together, well, we’ve earned that too.”

“But why out here?” Scout asked. “Are you looking for something?”

“Quite the opposite,” Ebba said with a soft smile. “We like the solitude.”

Scout frowned and reached for a biscuit, setting it on the napkin before crumbling off a bite-sized piece to sneak into her mouth without the napping dog in her lap noticing.

An ancient rover taking them to an equally ancient beacon. Enemies of a decades-long conflict roaming together through the wilds that were Scout’s personal domain. It seemed like a lot of coincidences to Scout, and extremely unlikely ones at that.

She had been waiting for the rebels to come for her for years now, but perhaps she had been waiting for the wrong signs. If only her father had told her what to look for when he had sent her away.

She put another bit of biscuit in her mouth, letting it soften on her tongue despite the growling of her awakened stomach.

She closed her eyes and brought that day back to mind, as she often did. If the memory were an object, it would be worn and faded from so much handling. She remembered the sky, the usual washed-out bluish white a deep indigo even seen through the shimmering dome. When her father had stepped out into the courtyard to bring her the lunch her mother had packed for her, he had hesitated in the doorway, eyes up on that sky. What had been that look on his face? Had he been caught in a momentary sense of wonderment, at the rare beauty their home planet’s atmosphere so rarely provided for them? Or had he sensed something sinister in it? A warning?

Scout hadn’t really noticed any of it at the time, and he had really only paused for the briefest of moments. But every time she returned to the memory she was more and more sure. He had hesitated, had seen the dark blue of the sky and known it meant something, but he had carefully schooled his features, putting the smile back on his face before handing the still-warm bundle of food to his oldest child.

She didn’t know how impending doom could change the color of the sky, but her father must’ve known something. There must’ve been a reason he had sent her away, just her and Shadow on her bike with the package for one of her mother’s friends in the next city tied neatly to the rack over the back wheel of the bike, the lunch in the basket hanging from the handlebars for when she got halfway across the prairie. It would be nightfall before she reached the city, but her mother’s friends would have dinner waiting for her, and a bed for the night, and another lunch for the trip back the next day. She had her father’s favorite hat and one of his shirts to protect her from the bright sunlight and she wore them like a young warrior in a fairy tale wore their father’s armor on their first quest.

But at midmorning, the sky still that impossible blue, Scout had been blown from her bike by the blast of dirt and debris, Shadow tumbling after her. They had been cut all over, shallow wounds, as it turned out, but the memory of seeing herself bleeding all over, Shadow’s white fur streaked with blood as well. . . that image still was enough to make her breath catch and her eyes wince.

It was only when the dust had settled that she realized what had cut them: the shattered remains of the dome that protected her home city. The dome was gone from the horizon, the buildings too.

Scout had found her bike and put the shivering Shadow into the basket that no longer held her mother’s fresh-baked bread, cold meatloaf from the night before, an apple from the tree in the courtyard. All that was gone, lost in the shock wave.

And all that remained of her city was a crater. Her father, her mother, and her little brother had all disappeared.

She had never seen the rock that fell from the sky that day. The asteroid the Space Farers had snagged and hurled down to the surface. The debris-turned-weapon that had changed her life forever.

Her father, he had known. Somehow, he had known and had sent her away.

But why? What was she supposed to be doing? Joining the rebellion, she had always thought, and she had waited years for that to happen.

Scout opened her eyes and reached for another piece of biscuit. Shadow grunted at the movement, but Scout ran a hand down his back and he settled back into his nap.

Warrior was still tapping on the blank tablet, Ottilie still watching her closely. Scout could see her eyes darting back and forth as Warrior’s thumbs moved, as if trying to mentally construct a keyboard and read the letters being touched despite them being both upside-down and invisible. Judging by the scowl lines around her eyebrows, she wasn’t having any luck.

Ebba set a full glass of water in front of Scout and gave her another smile. She seemed very friendly. And Scout couldn’t shake the feeling that meeting her now wasn’t just a coincidence.

“Did you know my parents?” Scout asked.

“Your parents?” Ebba repeated, her smile twisting into a look of confusion.

The panel on the wall next to the door to the cockpit began to flash and beep softly. Warrior’s thumbs finally stilled as they all looked at the flashing light.

“What is it?” Ottilie asked, turning to look back over her shoulder.

“I’ll see,” Ebba said. “Stay here.” She spun the wheel in the hatch and swung the door open, scrambling up the stairs to the cockpit.

Despite her words, both Ottilie and Warrior followed her, leaving Scout once more to linger at the bottom of the steps, unable to get closer to see what was going on, having to try to interpret everything by the way the three of them reacted.

Two of them, actually. Warrior’s face never revealed a thing beyond that little quirk of the corner of her mouth when she was amused. And whatever was going on now, it wasn’t amusing.

Shadow squirmed and Scout set him on the floor. Girl lifted her head to look at both of them, then flopped back down to continue her nap.

“Do you see it?” Ebba asked.

“See what?” Scout asked. Ottilie was in the other seat now, looking over the panels on her side of the cockpit. Warrior was on the top step, raising herself up on tiptoes to look through the narrow band of windows.

“There,” she said, pointing. Ebba and Ottilie both stood to peer out the window in the direction Warrior was indicating.

“What is it?” Scout asked with rising impatience.

“Wow,” Ottilie said. “That’s new. Quite flash.”

“Is it?” Warrior asked, sounding less impressed.

Scout was going to go mad.

“It looks like they jumped that rock there,” Ebba said, pointing. “See the gouges on the surface? They must’ve damaged their vehicle, that’s why it’s parked here.”

“There’s someone inside,” Warrior said.

“I don’t see—” Ottilie began, squinting.

“Two someones. A woman and a child,” Warrior said.

“I see them now,” Ebba said. “The woman is waving at us.”

“You must be right, they broke down here,” Ottilie said.

“We have room enough for two more. We should stop,” Warrior said.

“And open the door again?” Ottilie demanded.

“Briefly,” Warrior said.

“We have the suits,” Scout said.

“Not necessary. Ebba, pull up right next to them. They can jump from their town car to the rover; it will only take a second.”

Scout took hold of the hem of Warrior’s shirt. It felt just as filmy soft as it looked, sliding through her fingers like a dream. She pulled it to one side to get a look at the one gadget on Warrior’s belt she knew the purpose of: the solar flare detector.

They were well within the red zone.

Warrior felt Scout’s hand on her shirt and turned to fix those reflective lenses on her. “Only a second. It will be all right.”

“It’s weird. Two more people out here in the middle of nowhere.”

“It’s just a coincidence, kid,” Warrior said.

Ebba disabled the auto driver and took over the controls, hands on the steering yoke and feet working over pedals that controlled the wheels. There was a brief grinding of metal on metal that made Ottilie wince, then they were stopped.

“They aren’t responding to radio,” Ottilie said. “I guess you open the door, wave them over, and hope they’re quick about it.”

“Scout, get your dogs and tuck up in that bunk out of the way,” Warrior said, picking up Girl as easily as Scout scooped up Shadow and nestling her in the back of the bottom bunk on the cold, bare mattress amid the totes of half-tampered-with equipment.

“Ready,” Scout said when she was settled with Girl against her side, Shadow between her legs, and a hand on each of their collars in case they got it in their heads to try to run outside into the sun.

Warrior slapped her hand on the door’s control panel and it pushed out away from the wall, unsealing itself before swinging out into the overly bright world.

The sun blazing through the door was blinding, as if the whiteness of it had physical form. Warrior’s top half was lost in it; Scout could only make out her legs, widely spaced as she braced herself. She rocked on her heels a bit as something collided with her, then pivoted to set a girl of about ten behind her.

Scout’s fingers tightened on the dog’s collars as they both started growling. The girl stumbled when Warrior released her but quickly got her footing, one hand on the top of the mini-fridge as she straightened to look into the depths of the bunk. Long, lanky, dirty blonde hair fell back from her face in neat sheets when she raised her head and icy blue eyes passed over Shadow and Girl before resting on Scout. If she was experiencing any momentary blindness after leaving the dazzling intensity of the outside world, she didn’t show it. She didn’t show any feeling at all, just calmly blinked as the dogs continued to growl at her presence.

Her stern face was a horrible mismatch to the bright pink outfit she was wearing, a long T-shirt with a sassy girl character from some comic winking at the world and leggings covered with hearts. Scout wondered who had dressed her, and how they had gotten this girl to allow herself to be so dressed. She didn’t look like the threat of violence would move her. But what could she be bribed with?

The door slammed closed and Scout could hear the whir of motors as it pulled itself back into its recess. Warrior was holding a young woman by the arm as the woman slowly lowered her hand from her eyes to look at the interior of the rover around her. She looked familiar but Scout couldn’t quite place her. Someone from the capital, certainly, because although her flowing white blouse and loose-fitting black trousers were of a simple cut and an unadorned design, the material was of the highest quality. Highest Planet Dweller quality, that is; not so fine as what Warrior was wearing.

Shoulder-length hair of rich brown with strands of gold that flashed even in the dark interior of the rover, dark green eyes, skin a healthy tan but with no signs of past sunburns or other damage. Who was she? She seemed so familiar, and yet Scout was certain this face was much changed from the memory she was trying to match it to. She looked like she had been ill or still was ill with something chronic. Her flesh had a sickly tinge under the glow of the tan, and she looked unnaturally thin, her cheeks hollow and her eyes watery and red.

“Ah,” Ottilie said in sudden insight. “You’re the governor’s daughter.”

Scout added an “ah” of her own. That’s where she’d seen this woman before, in news videos.

“Is that a fact?” Warrior asked.

The young woman hesitated, but in the end just nodded.

“Ruth Sawyer,” Ottilie said with a low whistle. “Imagine finding the likes of you out here where we less social types lurk.”

“Yes,” Warrior said. “What an interesting coincidence.”