At the time of your landing, a signal was relayed directly to the Financial Resource Exchange. Rest assured that even now, the FRX is preparing a shuttle filled with aid and supplies for your colony. Advanced technology means that this shuttle should reach your location very soon.
I gape at the computer screen. Soon? What does that mean? It took three centuries for Godspeed to reach the planet.
I glance at Colonel Martin. His hands twitch near the controls. He’s torn—do we interrupt and ask for clarification or wait for the end of the speech?
The voice turns grave as it continues.
Additionally, it’s essential that we inform you of what dangers exist on the planet. First we would like to remind you that both the escape shuttle and Godspeed proper are equipped with lock-down capabilities, and should the need arise, do not hesitate to seal yourselves inside until our aid reaches you.
Static interrupts the message momentarily. Colonel Martin scans the controls but isn’t sure what to touch.
It is essential that you resume communication with us via the probe as soon as possible so that we may more accurately relay the information we have gathered about the current population of threatening—
There’s a pop! and some more crackling sounds, and then suddenly the voice cuts out, drowned out by static. A high-pitched whistling sound rings in my ears as the screen goes black. The air is eerily silent, our communication with Sol-Earth severed once again.
“What happened?” I ask as Colonel Martin bends over the computer.
“I’m not sure. . . . ” He types on the screen, but it goes black. “Maybe the communication systems were damaged when you almost crashed my shuttle.”
Before I can comment on his claiming ownership of my shuttle, gunshots boom behind us, so unexpected that I jump. Bledsoe crouches on the floor of the bridge, using the wall to steady her arm as she takes careful aim. I follow her gaze and see the—the thing—soaring above us, its talons outstretched, already eager to rip us to shreds. Another gunshot cracks out, followed by a piercing cry. The bird-thing changes direction but isn’t hit.
“What the hell is that?” Colonel Martin says. His own gun is already in his hand, his knuckles white around the grip.
“That’s the same kind of creature I saw earlier,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm. “Amy said that it looked like a”—I try to remember the word she used—“like a dinosaur, a, um . . . a terro . . . ?”
“I know what it looks like, damn it, but what is it?”
I hide my smirk. So we’ve finally encountered something that’s capable of breaking Colonel Martin’s cool exterior. “Before we landed, we were warned about . . . ” I pause. It sounds silly to say, but there’s no other word for it. “Monsters.”
Colonel Martin squints up at the creature soaring overhead. It’s huge—even this far away, it blots out some of the suns’ light.
Bledsoe takes one last shot, but it’s clear the monster has flown too far away.
“Maybe I did crash-land the shuttle,” I say, “but I think maybe one of those things knocked us off course.”
“Don’t waste ammunition,” Colonel Martin barks at Bledsoe. She doesn’t lower her gun, but I see her finger slide off the trigger. “We should get inside; it isn’t safe here. I want to find out more about this damn ‘population of threatening’ whatever,” he continues, turning to me. “Bledsoe and I will go out with a group of eight more men. If we find one of the probes, we should be able to establish a secure, consistent communication link with Earth and get a better idea of what we’re facing.”
Colonel Martin heads to the door. Bledsoe backs up slowly, her hand still on the gun. “Elder, I need you to keep your people calm.” Colonel Martin says this as a command, not a request.
“I’m going with you,” I say.
Colonel Martin pauses, his hand on the door. “No civilians.”
“My people need to see that we’re equal. They need to know that I’m involved, and I have a right to know what you say to Earth.”
“Of course,” Colonel Martin agrees. “But in this moment, the important thing is for them to have someone to turn to. You need to be the strong core, the rock they can depend on.”
“I—”
Colonel Martin opens the door and herds me inside, Emma Bledsoe close behind. She slams the door shut and locks it. The air inside the shuttle tastes bitter and metallic compared to the warm, fresh breeze we’ve just left behind.
“I need you here, Elder,” Colonel Martin says. “I need someone I can trust to protect the shuttle.”
“But—”
“I’m leaving you with precious cargo: our people. Your people. Are you up to the task?”
“Yes,” I say, “but—”
“Good, good, glad to see you agree,” he says before heading to the armory.
I can’t help but think I’ve just become the pawn Orion feared I was all along.
9: AMY
I slam into Emma as I round the hallway. “What happened?” I gasp. When I heard the gunshots and the cry of another one of those pterodactyl things, I broke away from my mother and raced to the bridge.
She looks surprised. “Nothing,” she says. She walks past me and starts barking orders at the military men and women gathered by the cryo chambers.
I don’t think my heart starts beating again until I see Elder and Dad in the armory, safe. Dad is focused entirely on selecting weapons. Elder looks resigned, almost petulant, but he shoots me a smile that makes my heart stutter all over again.
“What’s going on?” I ask, still breathless. I notice that the door to the bridge is locked.
“Amy, everything’s fine. Go back to your mother,” Dad says.
I ignore him and turn to Elder.
“We saw one of the m—” Elder starts to say “monsters,” but cuts himself off. “We saw another creature. But it didn’t come close to us.”
I eye the .44 in Dad’s hand. “Are you going to hunt it?”
Dad looks surprised. “We’re just protecting ourselves. Ten of us are going to find the probe and attempt to re-establish communication with Earth.”
“Wait, re-establish?” I whip around to Elder. His eyes tell me everything I need to know. “You talked with Earth?!” I squeal. “That’s—whoa! That’s amazing! What did they say? What’s Earth like now? What are they going to do?”
“The com link died,” Elder says. “But they’re going to send help. They think . . . ” He frowns. “They think they can get help to us.”
My mouth drops open. “Really?!”
Elder nods, but he’s nowhere near as excited as I am. Earth! After all this time, Earth is talking to us again!
“Amy, I need to work. Go back to your mother.” Dad holsters the .44 and starts going through the supply of grenades and bombs on another shelf.
“I’m coming with you!” I say, stepping farther into the armory. Elder shoots me a dark look, but I ignore him. “Dad, let me come too! I need to go outside. The planet is right there and I haven’t even seen it yet, not really!”
“No,” Dad says without looking up.
I flinch as if his single word was a slap across my face. “Dad,” I say urgently. “Let me come with you. I won’t be in the way. I’ll take a gun—I can help. Just let me come.”
Dad looks up at me, and for a moment all he does is stare into my pleading eyes. “No,” he says finally.
“But—!”
“No. Go back to your mother.”
“Dad!”
Elder gives a tiny shake of his head, telling me to drop it. My eyes narrow. I can tell Dad’s forbidden him from going too—but he just went out. He’s seen the world. He didn’t even want it, but he’s seen it.
I spin on my heel and leave the armory. I know I’m being childish. I know I’m being unreasonable and immature and ridiculous. But I can’t help it. Before I was just focused on saving Elder, but now I want to see Centauri-Earth for myself.
I need to.
I pause at the doorway to the cryo room and take a deep breath. I force myself to really see what’s going on. The cryo room is crowded, but unevenly divided. The nearly fifteen hundred people from the ship gather against one wall, as far away from the cryo chambers as possible. The people from Earth are occupying themselves with menial tasks—unpacking their storage crates, setting up scientific equipment on tables made from their cryo trays, talking with each other. There is nervous energy from both sides of the room, but fear too. There is always fear for the unknown.
Emma strides past me with eight other members of the military, each with a serious expression on his or her face. The soldiers are fully uniformed now and armed to the teeth. I remember the screeching cry of the flying creatures, and an unbidden shiver races up my spine. Centauri-Earth isn’t there for my amusement. I know my father was right to forbid me going with him, no matter how much I dislike it.
Still, when I unfroze him, I didn’t think he’d keep me locked up in the shuttle. The cryo chambers are all empty now, like forgotten shells washed up on a beach.
All except one. Orion’s.
My eyes drift to the door to the genetics laboratory on the far side of the cryo room. I slip easily through the crowd of formerly frozen people as I drift toward the gen lab. As soon as I reach the door, I type in the entry code and roll my thumb over the biometric scanner. Few people have access to this room, but Elder made sure that I could enter whenever I wanted.
Once I’m inside, the door zips shut behind me.
I am alone now with my thoughts and relative silence.
And Orion.
I stride forward, to his cryo chamber. Unlike the ones my parents woke from, this chamber is a self-contained unit. It stands upright, and a little circular window shows the man inside the ice.
My steps slow as I grow closer to him.
I don’t want to admit it, but I am starting to see Orion in Elder’s features. My gaze flicks to the large cylinder on the other side of the room, where dozens of tiny fetuses could be plucked from golden goo and turned into another clone of Elder.
Not another Elder . . . just another person with the same body. Elder’s mind is nothing like Orion’s.
I could never love Orion.
When Elder pulled me from my cryo chamber, he didn’t realize that he would wake me up and I’d never be able to be frozen again. But Orion knew. And he knew when he pulled Robertson and Kennedy out of their chambers that they would die choking on the tubes and cryo liquid in their throats, their eyes bulging and their hands clawing at the glass.
He knew.
I glance down at the timer under Orion’s face. 05:23:34 . . . 33 . . . 32 . . . 31 . . .
I bend over and quickly punch in the numbers to bring the timer back up to 24:00:00.
Twenty-four more hours of being frozen. Elder was able to program it to count down more time, but the timer is finicky. I check it every day now.
I force myself to stare into his frozen face, his iced-over eyes. I don’t want him to be here at all, separated from the new planet by nothing but ice.
