Page 15 of Rok's Captive
I shake my head. It can’t have been that. I refuse to believe. Closing my eyes, I try to keep my rising panic at bay. “Okay. Okay. Let’s think this through. They wouldn’t just abandon us completely.”
“Maybe they’re watching us. Who the fuck knows?” Jacqui throws her hands up.
“That would mean they planned for us to be here.” Mikaela crouches, pushing a few of the items in the case before us.
Jacqui scoffs. “Are you kidding? You think they meant to crash-land us in a desert with a sun that’s got a raging boner? This wasn’t planned.”
“Actually…” Tina adjusts her glasses, still studying the manual. “The pamphlet does mention ‘simulated emergency scenarios’ as part of the adaptation testing. It says, ‘Participants will encounter various survival situations designed to test human adaptability in Xyma-compatible environments.’”
Some of the women exchange hopeful glances.
“See?” Pam claps her hands together, her optimism returning. “This is all part of the test! We’resupposedto be here!”
“Then why did that automated voice say the payload was compromised?” Jacqui crosses her arms. “Why say the engine was failing? That sounded like a real emergency to me, not a simulation.”
“I didn’t hear that,” someone else speaks up.
“I did.” Erika stands. “And that crash wasn’t controlled. People are seriously hurt.”
“Maybe it’s more extreme than we expected,” one woman suggests. “You know, like those hardcore reality shows where they drop people in the wilderness?”
Erika shakes her head. “No reality show would risk killing contestants. That woman with the head injury could have died.”
“Maybe the Xyma don’t see it that way,” Tina says quietly. She flips another page in the manual.
“What do you mean?” I ask, a chill running down my spine despite the oppressive heat.
Tina shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know. They’re aliens. Maybe the Xyma view risk differently than we do. They have longer lifespans, more advanced medicine. Maybe what seems dangerous to us is just…data collection to them.”
“And that’s exactly what we signed up for.” Mikaela’s shoulders rise and fall with a heavy sigh.
“Data collection.” Jacqui gestures at the barren landscape. “There’s nothing out here but sand and rocks.”
“Which means we should stay with the transport,” I stand, gaze shifting over the interior of the bus. “If this is a test, they’ll be monitoring us, right? And if it’s not—if something really did go wrong—then staying with the wreckage makes it easier for rescue to find us.”
“If anybody’s coming to rescue us,” Mikaela mutters.
“The container still has shade,” Erika points out. “And we don’t know what’s out there or how far we’d need to go to find shelter.”
Several nods of agreement follow her words.
“We should check if there’s a beacon or communication device in these cases,” Jacqui says, returning to the supplies. “Something to contact the EXA, find out what’s happening.”
As we continue searching through the cases, a heated debate breaks out among the group. Some women, led by Pam, insist this is all part of the test—that we’re exactly where we’re supposed to be, and our response is being evaluated. Others, like Erika and Mikaela, are convinced we’ve been abandoned and need to focus solely on survival.
“Look at it logically,” Tina says, pushing her glasses up her nose. “If this is a test, staying with the transport and using the supplies methodically makes sense. If it’s a real emergency and we were jettisoned, then we still need to conserve energy and resources until we can signal for help.”
“She’s right,” Erika says. “Either way, our first priority is to organize what we have and establish some kind of shelter.”
I nod, grateful for their level-headedness. “We also need to take inventory of the supplies and ration them. We don’t know how long we’ll be here.”
“What about that beacon?” Jacqui’s voice rises a tad and I know that internally, she’s absolutely freaking the hell out. “Shouldn’t there be some kind of emergency signal we can activate?”
We all turn back to the cases with renewed purpose, unpacking each one and cataloging the contents. The heat is oppressive. It’s like the sun out there is alive and is focusing solely on us. Even inside the bus, it feels like I’m being cooked.
After nearly an hour of searching, Mikaela holds up a small device from one of the cases. “I think I found something!”
We gather around as she shows us a flat, rectangular object about the size of a paperback book. It has a screen on one side and several buttons marked with unfamiliar symbols.
