“Anyone else?” Lan asks.
Belle tells a story about how I helped her with calculus and Cyril describes our epic space battle that we’d fought for so long the Q-net called it a tie and shut us both out of the game cluster for three days.
When they finish, Lan resumes her role. “Lyra Tian Daniels, may you rest in peace,” she says in a heavy tone. There’s a moment of silence. “Now for the reading of her will.” Lan sits down.
I pick up my bag and stand. “For Belle, who often commented on the beauty of the ancient Warriors despite being covered in red dust daily…” Digging into the bag, I pull out a terracotta vase about fifteen centimeters tall that I constructed with a variety of discarded pieces and then sealed so it wouldn’t leak. “I leave this vase.” I set it in her hands.
“This is beautiful! Thank you.” She cradles it with reverence.
“For Cyril, who is the King of Mutant Zombies from Planet Nine , I leave a file describing all my best moves and a list of cheats that I’ve discovered.”
“Sweet,” he says.
“For Jarren, who is the most likely to wind up in detention again—”
“Hey!” he protests.
I wait.
Then his cocky grin returns. “Probably right.”
“I leave the passcode to the soch-files.”
For once Jarren is speechless. The passcode will allow him to access his disciplinary records and erase demerits. Took me at least thirty days to worm around all the safeguards, but worth it to surprise him.
I whisper the code into his ear. “I suggest you be subtle and only delete one or two at a time.”
He hugs me. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
Only one thing left. “And for Lan, a kindred soul who is the sweetest person in the Galaxy. I leave…” I take out a glossy colored photograph printed on precious paper. I planned to give it to her at her surprise sixteenth birthday on 2472:022—a mere twenty-seven days away. “Diamond Rockler. He’s all yours.”
She shrieks when she sees her name and his autograph scrawled over his bare muscular chest. “How did you get this? You shouldn’t have—this is too much. I love it!” Her words tumble over each other.
It set me back a few…er…a hundred credits, but I did get paid for my hours helping in the archaeology lab. Besides, I would have spent more just to witness her reaction.
With that last gift, my funeral officially ends. There is no good-bye or we’ll be in touch. I hug Lan and leave the room with only my memories and a couple photographs to add to my collection.
Emotionally drained, I head back to our housing unit. Each step an effort of will. By the time I reach my bedroom, I make a promise.
No more friends. Ever.
CHAPTER
3
2471:361
Launch day isn’t as exciting as it sounds.
Last to be shuttled up to the ship are the scientists who are voluntarily relocating to Yulin. The port occupies about a third of the research base and is filled with people saying good-bye. The port’s roof is retracted all the way open to allow the shuttle access. The entire base can be pressurized with breathable air if necessary, but, so far, all the Warrior planets have air similar to Earth’s. I weave through the groups, avoiding eye contact. The various surface vehicles the scientists use when doing field work have been pushed to the sides along with piles of equipment, in order to leave room for the passenger shuttle.
Before embarking, I gaze at the light purple sky of Xinji and the massive forest that keeps trying to reclaim the land the base occupies. The native trees are so determined, Dr. Natab’s team has to clean saplings off the roof every fourteen days. Breathing in the thick moist aroma of living green mixed with a spicy coffee odor, I try to hold in Xinji’s particular scent. The same one I complained to my parents about when we first arrived. Now I’d bottle it and take it with me if I could. Instead, I step into the long oblong of the shuttle’s main compartment and find my seat. All without having to talk to anyone. Bonus.
It takes forever for everyone to board. I scan the passengers. About a dozen kids—most under twelve A-years old—are going to Yulin. They appear as miserable as I feel, but a quartet of fourteen A-year-old girls are sitting close together and excitedly chatting. Lucky them.
My father is doing a final check as my mother settles next to me. She squeezes my hand. “Sorry your friends didn’t come see you off.”
I shrug. “We said good-bye yesterday.”
“I know, I just thought—”
“Am I going to have my own room on board the ship?” I ask. I’m not in the mood to discuss my feelings.
“Yes. And since your father and I are in charge at Yulin, our housing unit will be four times the size of the one here.”
Wait. “You’re in charge of all the research teams?”
“Yes, DES asked us to be the lead scientists after we discovered the alien octagon. Your father will oversee the base’s operations and I’ll be directing personnel.”
That’s cool for them. “Does that mean you can use all the 3D digitizers on the broken pieces instead of cataloging the Warriors with them?” It’ll be so much faster than a group of people trying to glue the shards together. “You might find another alien artifact.”
“That would be ideal, but we still have to assess the entire planet, not just the Warriors.” Mom’s expression pinches tight.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Not everyone believes the octagon is alien.”
I’m not surprised. Other than the strange markings, there’s no other evidence it was made by an extraterrestrial instead of one of the craftsmen on Earth. That’s one of the theories about the Warriors—made on Earth, transported to the stars by...something. “Maybe it’s like one of those practice boards. You know, so they can learn how to do it right before they carve the symbol on a Warrior.” Some of those glyphs have complex designs.
Mom huffs with amusement, but then sobers. “A few people think it’s a hoax.”
“Why would they think that?”
“It’s been a couple centuries of Earth time since we discovered the Warriors on other planets and, in all that time, we don’t have any credible theories on why they are there.” Mom presses her lips together in frustration. “A number of naysayers think we planted the alien artifact so DES continues funding our research.”
Oh. “Are they going to shut down the Warrior Project?” An interesting thought. “We could return to Earth and catch up with Phoenix!”
I regret my outburst when my mom flinches and gazes down at her hands. They’re now clutched together in her lap.
“Phoenix made his choice, Lyra,” she says, so quiet I have to lean closer. Then she glances at me. “DES will still fund the project, but they might reduce the budget. We’re already understaffed and have only a few people to analyze the data so the likelihood of discovering any new clues will diminish.”
Unwilling to hurt my mom’s feelings again, I refrain from reminding her that the archaeology teams haven’t discovered why the Warriors are on other planets since explorers found the first group on Planet Xi’an. At that time, they marveled over the sheer number of Warriors—about ninety-three thousand—the alien symbols on the armor, and the fact that the Warriors were modeled after the Chinese like the original find on Earth back in 1974. But each new Warrior planet, so far, matched Planet Xi’an, which was named after the city in China where the original Terracotta Army was discovered. Ever since, the Warrior planets have been named after cities in China, unlike the colony planets that are named using the Greek alphabet.