“We’re here.”
For a moment, we share a smile. Then her gaze slides down to Marae’s murdered body. I’m filled with regret that even though her eyes stare unblinkingly up, she’ll never see the planet.
“I will take Marae’s body to the stars myself,” I say. “But I need you to get the remaining first-level Shippers here, on the Bridge, and start whatever process we need to begin planet-landing.”
She nods. “All the first-level Shippers are trained for this. There are simulators, and the information has been passed down since . . .”
“Since the ship left Sol-Earth.”
“We were always ready for planet-landing, even when it was centuries beyond us.”
“How much time will you need?”
Shelby stares at the control panel, thinking. “The First Shipper runs scans. . . .”
Her eyes shoot to mine. She’d forgotten. She’s First Shipper now.
“I’ll run scans. The first level is to ensure that the planet is habitable.”
“I thought we always knew the planet was habitable.”
Shelby nods. “Before the mission, the probes from Sol-Earth indicated the planet’s environment was stable and could support life, but the first stage of planet-landing is to ensure that’s actually the case. I’m, well, to be honest, I’m a little worried. If the ship’s engine has been diverted for this long because we’ve been in orbit . . . why haven’t we landed already?”
My wonder at seeing the planet has slowly been replaced by this very question. It’s possible we’ve been in orbit since the Plague—perhaps the rebellion that sparked the Eldest system came about as long ago as that. Why didn’t the ship land before?
“Before we even think about landing, I want to make sure it’s possible,” I tell Shelby.
“I’ll do the scans myself. They should take several hours. I’ll know more then.”
“First,” I say, “we have to say goodbye.”
Shelby’s eyes drop to Marae’s body, still staring at the ceiling. She nods silently.
Shelby brings me a transport—a folded-up black box lined with electromagnets that work with the controls under the metal of the ship’s floors to easily carry heavy objects. She snaps the box open. It automatically spreads out, locking into shape, a large, deep rectangle with a circuit board on the side to communicate with the grav tube. This transport has been used for some piece of machinery—it’s dirty, scratched, and smeared with mechanical grease. I try to run my sleeve over it, but all I do is spread the dirt around. I don’t want to treat Marae’s body like a piece of broken machinery to be thrown away, but I can’t bear the idea of prolonging her funeral among the stars. I rush back into the engine room and grab some machinery towels to lay out on the transport.
And then it’s time to move Marae.
I lift her body by the shoulders; Shelby picks up her feet. We have to bend Marae’s knees and curve her back so that she fits completely in the box. We end up curling her into the fetal position.
Shelby’s slight body seems massive beside the shell of Marae’s. I didn’t know life took up so much space. Shelby bends down over Marae’s body, and it reminds me of the pictures of scavenger beasts from Sol-Earth, the ones that feed on the rotting flesh of carcasses.
“I don’t know how to do this without you,” Shelby whispers to Marae. “But I’ll try.”
And she doesn’t look like a scavenger anymore; she looks like an orphan.
She bends swiftly, and I don’t know if she’s kissing Marae’s flaxen cheek or whispering in her ear, but either way, it’s not like Marae can feel it.
The Shippers gather around as we pull the transport out. For most of them, this is the first death they’ve seen. When Eldest was in charge, death was a methodical, scheduled product of the Hospital.
They stare at Marae’s body as I pass; I stare at the floor. The hard lines of the metal blur. I rub my face angrily with my hands.
I force my shoulders down, my back straight.
I look directly ahead of me and only allow my clenching jaw to show how much this hurts.
46
AMY
WITHOUT ELDER, THERE’S LITTLE POINT IN ME EXPLORING the stairs further. Instead, I go to the garden behind the Hospital. Bartie and his crowd have left, including Luthor. The smashed grass around the bench is the only remnant of the impromptu meeting. I peel the moccasins off my feet and pad through the cool grass to the water’s edge. I think about com-ing Elder, but I’m afraid of bothering him when he’s doing something important. I sit on the bank, my knees drawn up under my chin, and stare at the pond’s perfectly still surface. I try to see through its depths—the water’s clear, and not very deep, but my eyes bore past the dangling roots of lotus flowers to the green-brown murkiness that shadows my view.
I lean back, and grass tickles my neck. My feet slip down the bank until my toes touch the cool water. I slide my feet into the pond and close my eyes. The solar lamp above me beats down warmth and light, but behind my eyelids, it looks like the same bright reddish blur that the Sun looked like on Earth when I’d lie down outside.
A shadow crosses over me, and the brightness dims—like the sun covered by clouds. I open my eyes, and Elder’s face is rimmed with light as he leans down over me.
“Hey,” I say, suddenly breathless. All my thoughts of dragging him off to the stairs and exploring the ship disappear as he collapses beside me, exhaustion etched on his face.
“What’s wrong?”