I turn to the others gathered outside. Shock is written across every face. Some are crying silently. Others look completely numb.

“Maybe we should wait inside until the Xyma come to pick us up.” I swallow hard, pushing back my heart which has been steadily rising up my throat. “No use waiting out here in the heat. I’m sure this…orientation caught us all off guard and they’ll be here to explain everything soon.”

That doesn’t even sound convincing to my ears. I catch Jacqui’s single raised eyebrow and give her a look that says, “yea I know, but what else am I supposed to say?”

Luckily for me, these women actually listen and most begin filing back into the bus muttering about this being really messed up and out of the blue. The moment I step back inside, my shoulders sag with the relief from the shade. Some women who still have places to sit do so, but I head toward the front where there’s a small huddled group.

As I get closer, I see the woman who said she was a nurse—Alex—working on the woman who’d hit her head. The woman isn’t moving, and for a moment, my breath stills in my chest.

“Is she…”

Alex glances my way. “I’m pretty sure she has a concussion.” Her chest rises and falls, her hands moving with practiced ease as she checks the woman’s pupils with her phone’s flashlight, before feeling for the pulse at her neck. “She’s responsive to pain stimuli but not fully conscious. I need something to stabilize her neck, and something to monitor her vitals. Does anyone have a first aid kit? Or at least some clean cloth we can use as bandages?”

Beside her, the med student is working on the other injured woman, who definitely has a broken arm.

I have to do something to help them. “First aid kit,” I say. “I’ll find you one.”

Alex looks up and meets my gaze. She gives me an appreciative nod before placing her attention on the unconscious woman again.

Turning, I face the length of the not-really-a-bus again. I’m moving before I even give it proper thought, gaze scanning the gray interior.

“A first-aid kit?” I hear Jacqui hiss behind me. “Where the hell are you going to find that?”

I don’t know. The walls of this thing are completely smooth. But when it was just a bus, the manuals and earbuds had come out of the walls themselves. Reaching between a woman who is leaning on the edge of a seat, I pound my fist against the side of the bus. Nothing. I continue moving down, doing the same thing.

“Anyone have any sort of first aid kit?” I say loudly as I make my way down. Behind me, Jacqui sighs and begins bracing herself up to reach the seats above us. She pounds on the other side of the bus, doing the same checks I am.

“Not first aid, but I have some wet wipes!” someone shouts.

“Great, anything can help. Bring it to Alex at the front, please.” I’m almost at the back of what was our bus before I hit a panel with my fist and wince.

“Let me try,” Mikaela says from behind me. Before I can react, she steps forward and slams her fist into the panel with enough force to knock a bitch out. There’s a mechanical click and the panel slides open, revealing a compartment filled with emergency supplies.

I startle, eyes widening.

“Muay Thai,” she smirks, shaking out her hand. “And that panel had a different sound when you knocked on it.”

The panel falls to the floor with a dull clang.

“Damn—Nice punch,” I tell Mikaela as I crouch.

She shrugs, but I catch the slight upturn of her lips. “Finally, something from my resume that’s actually useful.”

As if on cue, a mechanical whirring sound comes from the now-open section of the bus wall. A thin layer slides back, revealing several identical metal cases.

Jacqui crouches beside me, gaze flicking to mine. One metal case is about the size of a large suitcase, with the EXA logo emblazoned on top. With Jacqui’s help, I tug the heavy thing out, placing it on the floor between us. My fingers hover over the latch.

“Should we open it?”

“What choice do we have?” Jacqui says. “Maybe it’s emergency supplies. Better yet, a beacon.”

With a deep breath, I kneel beside the case and flip the latches. The lid springs open automatically, revealing neatly packed contents: several sealed packets labeled “HYDRATION” in English beneath an alien script. There’s also some clothing items in vacuum-sealed bags and what appears to be a small toolset.

“We should open the others. Take inventory,” Erika says, already pulling out another one. “Maybe there’s enough for all of us.”

Some of the other women look on, peering but not seemingly interested in what we’re doing. Others have drifted back outside, marveling at the landscape we’ve managed to find ourselves on.

That leaves just the four of us checking the cases—me, Jacqui, Mikaela and Erika.

“You’re right,” I tell her, already opening another one. “We need to take inventory. This one contains similar items, but also includes a small medical kit.”

I hand the first aid kit to Mikaela, who grabs it and hurries back down the aisle to the nurse and the little infirmary at the front of the bus.

“Hydration packets, food packets, emergency blankets…” Erika trails off. “They planned for us to be here.”

I stop searching the case before me to look at her. “Well…maybe not here exactly.” I keep my voice low, not wanting to alarm the other women around us. “I think something went wrong.”

Erika’s throat moves, but she doesn’t reply. The look in her eyes, though, it tells me I’m dead on.

“Search the cases,” Jacqui whispers. “We need to find a beacon.” Her gaze slides to mine and I can read the anxiety but also that quiet strength I’ve always admired in my sister. The same strength that kept me going after our mother died and Jacqui didn’t speak a word out loud for months. I give her a silent nod, neither us nor Erika saying anything more on the subject until Tina appears, face buried in the manual. She almost falls over Jacqui in her intense concentration.

“Oof! Sorry!” She rights herself. “It says here that all research locations are equipped with ‘basic human survival necessities, accessible once found.’ Whatever that means.” Her gaze then falls to the cases before us. “Oh. Guess…guess you found them. There’s something else I found too.”

Something curdles in my chest. “What?”

“It’s—it’s here. In the fine print.” She points to a section of text so small I have to squint to see it.

“‘The Earth-Xyma Alliance Environmental Adaptation Research Program includes off-world testing in controlled biospheres replicating Xyma habitation zones,’” she reads. “‘Participants may be relocated via standard Xyma transportation protocols to other world testing sites for the duration of the research period.’”

“‘Other world’ testing sites?” Jacqui repeats. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Tina, let me see that,” Erika says, taking the manual. She skims the text, her expression growing darker. “Oh my God. There’s more. ‘Relocation may include standard cryogenic suspension for interplanetary transit. All medical side effects of such procedures are covered under the EXA health protocol.’”

“We signed up for this?” The cheery lady, Pam, suddenly appears. Her smile seems frozen on her face; her perpetual optimism finally cracking. “I don’t remember agreeing to leave Earth.”

“That’s because they buried it in the fine print,” Mikaela returns, gaze shifting to the cases before us. “Classic corporate bullshit. Except instead of stealing our data, they stole our whole fucking bodies.”

I run my hands through my hair—my bun is all but dislodged anyway. Turning from the group, my gaze travels over the vast expanse of sand I can see through the crack in the metal before us.

“But why? Why would they take us to…wherever this is? And then just drop us here?” someone else asks.

“Survival program, lady.” Someone else says. “They never said how and as far as I see it, this is exactly what we signed up for.”