“If I open the hatch for you, will you spend the night down here and make sure no one messes with the frozens?”
Amy’s smile is more than enough reason to ignore the voice in my head warning me that Eldest won’t like me leaving Harley here, alone.
“Sure,” Harley says.
I tell Harley the location of the hatch and the access code as I retrieve the floppy he’d tossed away. Tapping quickly, I set up access approval for both him and Amy so they can come and leave the cryo level as they please, and I add in access for Amy to use floppies. Harley runs straight to the hatch as soon as I scan his thumbprint, not bothering to hide his eagerness. Amy’s still laughing at him when I press her thumb into the scanner on the floppy. When she stops laughing, I realize I’ve been holding her thumb down for a full minute.
“Sorry,” I say, snatching my hand back.
Amy smiles at me.
“Wannagogardenwime?” I ask all in one breath. My eyes grow wide. What came over me? Why would I blurt that out like that?
“What?” Amy asks, her smile widening. She leans against the metal table behind her.
“Want to see the garden?” I ask, speaking much slower than my heart is pounding. “With me?”
She bites her lips, and although she doesn’t look away from me, her gaze grows distant and unfocused. Her hands grip the edge of the table, and she looks as if she’s afraid I’m going to drag her from this cold, dark place against her will. It’s not hard to guess why. She wants to stay close to her parents. Her eyes flick to the right, where Harley ran off. She wants to see the stars, too.
My heart sinks. How can I compete with that?
Then her eyes focus on me again, and she smiles. “Sure,” she says.
And in her smile I see something more beautiful than stars.
31
AMY
ELDER TAKES ME TO A SPRAWLING GARDEN BEHIND THE Hospital, the one I ran through this morning during my jog. I hadn’t noticed its beauty—before, I’d only ever seen the walls surrounding it. But really, it’s lovely. It has a chaotic feel to it, like it has grown wild, but there are paths and clusters of plants and no weeds, all indications that a true gardener has had his hand in the development of this contained beautiful mess.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“A statue of the Eldest during the Plague.”
“So everyone who’s leader around here is called Eldest?” He nods. “That’s a stupid way of doing it. It gets confusing who’s who. How many Eldests have there been, anyway?”
“I... er... I don’t know.”
I look up at the face of the statue. It’s not carved from stone. I think it was made of concrete, or something very similar to it. Makes sense. Where would they get stone? It’s not like they could just dig into the ground to extract some.
A drop of water splashes on my head. I glance up, expecting for one crazy moment to see rain clouds. I have always loved rain, but, looking up at the plain metal ceiling, I think I will not like this ship’s version of rain. It reminds me, once again, of how false Godspeed is. There are no rain clouds, no dark sky punctuated by lightning. Here on Godspeed, when it rains, water just falls from the sprinkler system attached to the ceiling. I taste a drop of it on my tongue. It’s cool, like real rain, but there’s a slightly stale, recycled taste to it, and it smells very faintly of oil.
The “rain” is not heavy now, though, just a few drops sprinkling down, so I continue down the path, closer to the statue.
“I’m surprised you have rain,” I say.
Elder smiles at me, a sort of half-smile that looks like a smirk.
“What?”
“You talk funny,” he says, which is ironic since his words sound like “ya tal-funnae” to me.
“Ha! You’re the one with the weird accent!”
“Wee-urd axe-scent,” he mocks. I stick my tongue out at him, but I’m laughing, too.
A few raindrops fall on the statue’s head, and they snake down his face like tears, leaving behind dark trails. I squint. The face is not as detailed as I’d expect. In fact, it looks weatherworn.
“How long ago was the Plague?” I ask.
“I’m not sure,” Elder says, strolling away from the statue. “I’d have to look it up. Why were you surprised we have rain?”
“Well...” I drawl the word out, emphasizing the accent Elder says I have. His smile broadens. “It’s just that—it’s not rain. Why make it look like it? You could just water the plants yourselves with sprinklers.”
Elder shrugs. “It’s in the ship’s original design.” He pauses, then mutters to himself, “Biological Research...”
“What?”
“I saw some old plans of the ship at the Recorder Hall. Originally, the Feeder Level was labeled ‘Biological Research.’ I didn’t think of it at the time, but... Eldest engineers the weather patterns. To emulate different conditions that Centauri-Earth may have. He changes the pattern every five or so years. Last time... last time the rain was scheduled to fall only once a month. The scientists had to help the farmers develop different irrigation methods. And... ” He’s thinking now; he’s practically forgotten I’m there, listening. “When I was a kid, it used to rain a lot. I helped dig a drainage ditch. The sheep pastures kept flooding. Eldest has us change the soil sometimes, too, adding or taking away different minerals.”
He looks up at me now, but he doesn’t really see me. “The Feeder Level really is biological research—researching conditions of what Centauri-Earth might be like. There are records in the Recorder Hall of all the different methods we’ve come up with out of necessity. No... not necessity. It’s what Eldest does. It’s part of Eldest’s job....”
“That means it’s part of your job, too, right?” I say. “You’re the next Eldest.” I want to ask, Why didn’t he teach you all this? But it doesn’t seem like the kind of thing I should say aloud. Elder can see the question in my face, though. He turns down the path toward the pond, but I can tell he doesn’t have an answer for my unspoken question. He’s just got more questions, too.
I follow him down the path. Hydrangeas with big, blossoming heads spill out onto the walkway.