A Million Suns

shadows under her hood or if it’s because she’s hiding her fear. Whatever it is she’s not telling me, though, she’s determined to meet it herself.

Amy starts down the path toward the Recorder Hall, leaving me to go left, to search for rabbit holes when we both know Orion’s next clue is probably in whatever book she’s thinking of. She looks so… defeated, with her hood pulled up, her shoulders hunched, and her eyes on the ground.

“No.” I stride forward and in a few steps am by her side. I grab her by the elbow.

“No?” she asks.

“I know you’re still mad at me,” I start.

“No, not really—”

“You are, and that’s okay, I deserve it. And I know you’re trying to show how strong you are, to prove that you don’t need me, but there’s no reason for us to split up. You’re being stubborn. And listen.” I falter, and my voice drops. “I also know you’re not telling me something. And it’s fine — keep your secrets. But whatever it is that you’re not telling me scares you, and I’m not going to let you be scared and alone. So you’re sticking with me, and I’m sticking with you.”

Amy opens her mouth to protest.

“No arguments,” I say.

And for the first time in a long time, her smile reaches her eyes.

We visit the rabbit field first, even though I’m fairly sure Amy thinks we’ll find the answers in the Recorder Hall. We don’t talk after my outburst, but somewhere between the soy and the peanuts, we ease into a kind of mutual, friendly silence. It’s not awkward or weird or anything — we’re just strolling along the path next to each other.

The path narrows just before turning off to the rabbit field, and we both move toward the center at the same time. The back of my hand brushes hers. I snatch it away too quickly and shove it into my pocket, to make sure I don’t accidentally touch her again. When I glance down at Amy to see if she noticed, she glances up at me at the same time. She smiles, and I smile, and she bumps into my shoulder, and I bump into her shoulder, and we both sort of laugh without making a sound.

Then we see a rabbit hop across our path.

“That’s odd,” I say. “How did this one get loose?”

“The fence has been ripped down,” Amy says, pointing to where the flimsy chicken wire has been ripped from a post and trampled, leaving a gap in the fence wide enough for a man to just stroll through.

“Do you think something’s happened?” Amy whispers.

I don’t answer her. I don’t have to. The body sprawled out in the middle of the field is answer enough.

18 AMY

THE RABBIT FARM WAS WHERE I FIRST FELT HORROR. NOT fear — I’ve been scared many times in my life, both on this ship and on Earth. But I didn’t know horror until I looked into the eyes of the girl on the rabbit farm and realized that she was empty inside.

Now, when Elder rolls the body in the field over so we can see the face, I can see that, once again, the girl at the rabbit farm has empty eyes.

I drop to my knees beside her. Elder has his hand on his neck; he’s comming Doc and his police force, but it’s already too late. Much too late.

My mind takes note of the details in a detached way, even though the revulsion is bubbling up inside of me. The girl’s arms are spread wide, with deep purple bruises at her wrists. Finger marks encircle her throat. Her skirt has been pulled up. Her eyes are wide and stare unblinkingly at the metal sky. A large rabbit nuzzles her bare foot. The bottoms of her feet are grass-stained, her knees muddy, as if she ran and fell more than once.

I gently pull down the hem of her skirt so that it rests straight against her knees, almost covering the mud, and then I push her eyelids closed.

“Who would do this?” Elder asks.

We can do anything we want, Luthor said.

I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. I try to force them from me, but all that comes out is an almost inaudible sound of fear.

“What happened?” Doc calls as he rushes forward through the field. His assistant Kit follows him.

Doc starts to examine the body. I’m in the way, I know it, but I can’t seem to move until Kit puts her hand on my elbow and pulls me up. She draws me away from the body and faces me toward the walls, away from death.

“Here,” she says, offering me something. A small green med patch.

“No,” I say automatically. I never trust any of the medicines made on this ship.

“It will calm you,” Kit insists.

“No.”

I turn back to the body. Elder and Doc are both kneeling beside the girl, talking in urgent tones. Arguing.

“Elder!” A voice calls from the other side of the field. I see a female Shipper — tall and slender with immaculately cut hair — running toward us.

Elder stands. “Marae, thank you for coming.”

“You told me to come,” she says simply.

The three of them stand over the body without a second glance at me. Elder and Doc discuss an autopsy as Marae taps on a floppy rapidly, her fingers dancing across the screen. Kit runs off at Doc’s order to begin preparing an examination room. Soon other people come — each wearing the crisp, dark clothing that the top-ranking Shippers wear. They consult with both Elder and Marae before moving off to obey orders — one goes to gather the rabbits that got loose, another fixes the fence, another brings an electric cart and starts to load the girl’s body.

The whole time, I stand to one side. I can’t help but stare at the girl’s face, at her closed eyes, and remember how once she cried and didn’t know why.

Elder moves with swift efficiency. He’s the youngest person on the whole ship, younger even than me by almost a year, but every time he gives a command, the people rush off to obey. Even though I’ve been so sure that Elder’s the leader Godspeed needs, I’ve never actually seen him take charge. Not like this. And while this only proves that he can lead this entire ship like I always said he could, it also makes me feel even more detached. I don’t know him. Or — I know him, but only one him. I know the Elder who’s kind and almost like a puppy dog in his devotion, but I don’t know this Elder who commands people older than him, who issues orders that are immediately obeyed. This Elder has never been more alien to me.

“I will try to collect as much DNA as I can during the autopsy,” Doc says as two Shippers lift the body onto the electric cart.

I want to say: I think I know who did this.

“Do you think there will be enough to identify the murderer?” Elder asks. “I’ll grant you access to the biometric scanner database.”

Doc starts to follow the cart. “There might be something under her fingernails I can use. If not, I believe there will be seminal fluid present in this case. It may take a couple of days to process and run it through all the records.”

I want to say: I only met her once, but I feel like I knew her better than any of you.

As Doc leaves, Elder gathers the Shippers together. “Shelby, see if there’s any kind of vid feed of this area from when the girl was attacked. Buck, I’d like you to track down any Feeders in the area and question them; maybe there were witnesses to what happened here.”

I open my mouth. I want to say: I’m breaking, and I need someone to hold me together.

But no sound comes out. I feel the hands around my throat, crushing my windpipe. I swallow dryly. He’s not here. Not anymore. He killed her and left.

I try to speak again. I should speak, I have to speak.

But I can’t.