“What’s wrong?”
“Our records indicate that there are supposed to be a set of deeper-level probes on the Bridge,” she says. “We’ve looked everywhere and can’t find them.”
“Why do we need probes if the scans are clear?”
“We don’t
“The what?”
“There was a system set up to communicate with Sol-Earth. In our records, we have diagrams and manuals for operation and how to fix them if they break… but they’re not there. It’s not just that we lost communication with Sol-Earth — it’s that our only method of communicating with them is entirely gone.”
The other first-level Shippers all look nervous behind Shelby; they’re worried too. Something’s not right.
“Whatever the reason,” I say, “it doesn’t matter now. Now we’re at a point where we need to land. And we can. So we will.”
Shelby nods.
“Are you all prepared for planet-landing?” I ask.
Shelby straightens her shoulders. “I’ve gone over several sims with the first-level Shippers. We are good to go.”
I glance at the elaborate control panels at the front of the Bridge. “It looks complicated.”
“It’s not. Actually, there’s an autopilot—” Shelby finally leans up and points to the center of the long control panel, where there are only a few controls. “The ship is designed to land itself when directed. The rest of the controls are for if something goes wrong. This?” She points to a large black button. “Initiates the planet-landing launch.”
“But you said the engine’s thrusters weren’t working.”
Shelby laughs, and there’s relief in the sound of it. “They’re not — but we don’t need those. There’s a different set of thrusters with a separate fuel system for planet-landing — short, high-powered burst thrusters just for breaking orbit. It doesn’t matter at all that the main thrusters are out. We’ll… never need them.” There’s wonder in her voice. She’s only just realizing just how much has changed with the introduction of this planet.
“So, I just push this button,” I say, pointing to the big black one, “and we land?”
“Technically. But it’s not as simple as that,” Shelby explains. “You’d need that throttle to help direct where the ship goes after re-entry. And there’s always the chance that the re-entry doesn’t go smoothly; then you need—” She indicates the rest of the Bridge. “But don’t worry. Me and the other Shippers know how. And the controls work. Our records indicate that we’ve had to use the Bridge controls at least six times throughout the flight — we crossed an asteroid belt many gens ago, and our ancestors before the Plague had to adjust the flight plan.”
She meets my eyes and, despite herself, a grin spreads across her face. “We’re going to land this thing, aren’t we?”
“Oh, yes,” I say. “But before we do that, I’m going to show everyone what they almost lost.”
52 AMY
WHEN I CLOSE MY PARENTS BACK UP IN THE CRYO CHAMBER, I think about everything I wish I could tell them, but all I say is: “Soon.”
I think about returning to my room — my grumbling stomach would appreciate it if I got something to eat — but I doubt there’s any wall food at the Hospital, and I can’t reach Elder on my wi-com.
Part of me wishes that instead of coming here by the elevator, I’d explored the stairs I’d found with Orion’s clues. I’m desperately curious about where they lead — surely they go to the last locked door — but even though no one but me knows about the stairs, I’m half afraid to go down them without Elder.
Instead, I go to the hatch that leads to the stars. Maybe I can see the planet through the bubble-glass window if I look just right.
The code for the door is
Someone’s lying facedown on the floor.
My eyes widen. I clear out the incorrect code and type in the right one, opening the hatch door.
My heart drops. I know who this is. My hand flies immediately to my wi-com, and I try first for Elder, but the stupid thing just beeps uselessly. I stare at the body on the floor, my stomach churning. I can’t seem to catch my breath.
“Luthor?” I ask tentatively.
I try to com Doc too, but I can already tell from the stench that it’s too late.
I roll the body over. Green patches line his arms from wrist to elbow.
I look for the message Elder told me had been written across some of the victims,
His eyes are open, glassy. They stare straight ahead.
His body is stiff. Cold. He’s been dead awhile.
He died down here, probably before Elder gave his announcement about planet-landing. He died without knowing hope. He died cold and alone, blocked from the light of the stars, on a hard metal floor, surrounded by walls.
There’s nothing I can do. He’s dead.
I glance back at the keypad by the door. Whoever dumped his body in the hatch meant to type the code and open the outer door, sending the body out into the vacuum of space. They messed the code up on the last number and left the body by accident.
I bite my lip, trying to think who would do this — and what I should do if I figure it out. Does Luthor’s murderer deserve punishment? He tried to rape me, he
I remember the rage in Elder’s eyes when I told him what Luthor had done, and how he went away for so long after.
No.
I force my mind to think of the future.
Planet-landing.
Fresh air.
My parents, awake and with me.
No more walls.
I turn my back very deliberately on the body and walk to the hatch door. I shut it, trying as hard as possible not to catch sight of the body through the bubble window.
I start to type the correct code into the control panel by the door.
I pause.
Under my tunic, the gold cross necklace weighs heavily against my neck, as if it would like to pull me down, down. I feel the disapproving gaze of my parents, frozen and locked away in their cryo chambers. This — this is covering up a murder.
But a man, nonetheless.
