Syn stepped back instinctively, putting as much distance as she could naturally between her and Taji.
The girl hoisted a massive, stuffed backpack on her shoulders and had several knives strapped to her legs. She wore thick, black gloves and tall boots. A cord of rope, wound up, hung from her belt. The girl looked like she was going to war.
“Are we just getting apples?” Syn asked.
Taji planted a hand in Syn’s chest, pushing her backwards. “You’re getting apples. I have real work.” Without looking back, Taji dropped into the hole, grabbing hold of the railing as she plummeted, slowing her descent and slamming her feet against the metal rungs.
“Well, I guess, after her,” Kerwen said, slinging her own pack across her back and stepping down into the hole, careful to grip both sides of the ladder. “Just keep going down and don’t think about it.”
Syn looked around her. There was no one here. For a moment, a thought flashed, I could make a run for it. But where to? Ultimately, she was still on Olorun. She was still without Blip. These were still the only other humans on board. Perhaps she could bring them over to her side. Maybe. Maybe it would work out. Maybe all they need is to be safe. Syn grabbed the railing and followed after. I could provide that.
The descent down dragged on for a long time. Step after step, Syn tried to count at first but soon lost count after a hundred and thirty. She glanced back up and was shocked to see that the gray sky from above was barely visible. If someone dropped the hatch closed, they would be trapped in an inky darkness. Perhaps Kerwen had her flashlight on and could see where they were going.
“How much further?” Syn said.
Kerwen’s answer came from much farther away than Syn anticipated. “Just keep climbing down.” She had thought Kerwen was only a few feet below her. Syn had been careful to step lightly to avoid stepping on Kerwen’s hands. Knowing the girl was further down rustled Syn’s anxiety, and she stepped faster, hoping to close the distance.
The minutes stretched on, dragged apart by monotony and silence. The air was thick and pockets of smells greeted them as they descended: the acidic pall of passing fire, the rich, gagging freshness of old soil below, a light lilac bloom that wafted and disappeared far too quickly.
From below, Kerwen’s flashlight splashed light against the edge of the stairs. Kerwen shouted, “I’ve touched down. You’re almost there.”
Syn made the last few stairs and felt the thick, spongy dirt of the farm’s ground below her feet. No more climbing, at least until they had the apples. Syn searched around in the darkness. There were patches of light far away—Syn assumed they were from the lightstrips above the rows of vegetation and fruit. There was no sign of Taji. “Where’d she go?”
Syn pointed the light at a second hatch a few meters away. “She’s going further down.”
“How far?”
“To the body farms.”
Syn shuddered. She hated those.
Kerwen raised an eyebrow. “You know of the body farms?”
Syn nodded and then stuttered as she stretched a truth into a fabricated lie to cover her mistake. “I saw a video about them in the white room.”
Kerwen nodded. “Ya. I hate them too. Only been there twice and have no desire to go down there again. Taji seems to be our body farm expert, so Neci sends her. She was one of the few that made it back from an earlier expedition, and she’s always made it back alive. Let’s get moving—we have a walk. Oh, turn on your torch.” Kerwen pointed at Syn’s flashlight.
The trek to the apples felt longer than the descent down the metal ladder did. Kerwen’s refusal to talk only made it worse.
“How much—” Syn started.
Kerwen hushed with a sharp “Shhh!”
“But—”
“No. Seriously. There are so many ways down into the farms. Things are always rooting around here—the presence of food only makes it far more desirable. Just shut up so I can listen.”
So they walked in silence. There would be no getting to know Kerwen better on this trip.
The far-off light became several lights as they drew near. Some were the bright light of the miniature sunstrips that hung above the plants. Above them, several bays of light drooped—nearly close enough to touch. There was no light from them as the bays had all been shattered. Syn aimed her flashlight upwards to examine them.
Kerwen muttered, “We think the passengers did that. Not sure why. Most of what they did doesn’t make sense.”
“They went insane.”
“Ya, or maybe they were always that way and getting far enough from Earth let them lose control. Taji thinks it was a disease, but if so, then why haven’t we been infected?”
The lights ahead were inside windowed buildings that looked like greenhouses. They had been walking through what Syn was sure was a cornfield. There were broken stalks along the way. No ears of corn remained—whatever had survived had been picked clean from the field. Syn had always wondered what corn tasted like. Even on her Disc, the corn was all gone. None of those fields had survived. Most of the other crops had, but not corn, and she wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was too important, and so everyone had to get what they could before they lost their chance.
Above them, the light bay flickered on. It strobed a few times and then gave a short pop before dimming off. Syn froze. Had her presence turned it on? No, it had to be a short in the wiring. Just bad timing. Had to be.
Syn was still staring up, fearful another would turn on, when they reached the edge of the first greenhouse, the light from inside spilling out onto the ground. Kerwen pulled a knife from her belt and said, “Be ready.”
Syn brought the point of her spear low, aiming it forward.
Kerwen pushed lightly at the door, and it creaked as it pivoted open. “Shhh!” Kerwen said, although Syn knew she had not made a noise and the door was not going to obey a command to be silent.
Softly, hunched low, the girl stepped inside. Syn could see how she had snuck up on them in the desert. Kerwen was as stealth as a cat. She wasn’t sure which one was stealthier: Pigeon or Kerwen. No, Pigeon was a ghost—the girl moved around as if the world held no pull upon her.
Kerwen’s light moved in a slow arc across the room revealing a bank of tables that short stalks grew upon. Beyond those, in another series of rows, stood circular metal wire frames around lush, leafy growth. Bright red tomatoes hung from the vines. Beyond those, several trees craned up, their red fruit as bright as the tomatoes. They stepped closer and Syn counted nine trees. Nine apple trees heavy with fruit.
“Keep an eye out.”
“For what?” Syn said.
Kerwen started to answer but was interrupted as Syn entered the greenhouse and stepped over the threshold. The track lighting across the ground turned on, bathing everything in an iridescent green light. The bulbs flickered first across the floor, then the ones up each metallic strut, and then finally the remainder of lights overhead—every light except the already lit sunstrips turned on. Between the two sources, the room glowed like a sunny day on Syn’s Disc—she hadn’t seen so much light since she first crossed over.
Kerwen gasped, “What the—?”
Syn made a critical error—in her surprise, she failed to act shocked. She was startled but not afraid. The lights, while unexpected, were not alarming.
And Kerwen noticed. “What just happened?” Her eyes were narrow, and she expected an answer.
Syn stuttered, stepping back, feigning a glance around. “I—I don’t know.” Yet, as she falsely examined her surroundings, the red apples caught her eye. The condensation upon their surface in the late morning reflected the multitude of lights. Syn let go a quiet, “Woah,” briefly ignoring Kerwen.