Across the Universe (22 page)

50

ELDER

I POUND ON AMY’S DOOR HARDER THAN I’D INTENDED TO, MY mind stuck on Orion’s words.

Harley opens the door.

“Where’s Amy?” I push past him into her room.

She’s on her bed. I wonder what the two of them have been talking about. Alone. In her room. On her bed.

“What do you want?” Amy asks, and even though she doesn’t sound impatient, in my mind I wonder whether she’s trying to get rid of me in order to be alone again with Harley.

Harley steps into the bathroom and returns with a glass of water.

“Why are you upset?” I ask.

“It’s nothing.” Amy gulps down the water.

I sit down in the desk chair. Harley sits beside Amy on the bed. I wish I had left the chair open for Harley. “Why would anyone want to kill the frozens?” I ask. Harley and Amy seem surprised by the abruptness of my question, but I’ve had enough beating around the bush with Orion. “Two are dead now.
Dead
. For no reason at all.”

“What did Eldest say when you found him?” Harley asks.

I leave the question hanging long enough for the two of them to realize there’s something wrong. It’s not like I’m trying to be mysterious. It’s just that I don’t know what to say. That I don’t think I can trust Eldest? Harley’s only ever seen the grandfatherly-kind version of Eldest; to him, Eldest is his wise leader. How am I supposed to tell him that out of everyone on the ship, the one I most suspect of murder is Eldest?

“I think we’ve got to figure out
why
the frozens are being attacked,” I say finally. “That’s the key; that’s what we need to focus on. Meanwhile, I have an idea.” Taking the floppy from Amy’s desk, I tap in my access and bring up the wi-com locator map. “This is the cryo level,” I say, handing the map to Amy. Our fingers brush together, and I can feel the heat of her touch on my hand long after she moves away.

“What’s this?” Amy points to the glowing blue dot.

“Tap it.”

When she does, a name pops up on the screen. “Eldest/Elder? But you’re here.”

I nod. “That means Eldest is down there. We’ve got the same access to everything, so the computer always labels us alike, remember?”

Amy’s fingers clench, crushing the edge of the floppy.

“I know what you’re thinking,” I say. “But he’s in the lab. The cryo chambers are over here.”

Amy doesn’t look comforted.

“Look.” Harley points as Eldest’s dot moves across the map and disappears.

“What happened?” Amy asks, surprised.

“That’s where the elevator is. He’ll show up on the Feeder Level now. But I thought you’d like to keep this. I set it up to work with your fingerprint when I scanned you in earlier. Then you can watch who’s coming and going.”

“Thank you,” Amy says. “But ... that’s not good enough. We need to be down there. All the time. We should go now.” She stands up, but looks lost. “Right now. If we’re not there to protect them—that’s why people are being murdered! Because we aren’t protecting them!”

“No.” My voice is calm and sure. “People are getting murdered because there’s a murderer.”

Amy opens her mouth, probably to insist on going to the cryo level, but Harley thrusts another cup of water in her hands. I’d been so intent on Amy that I’d not noticed him get up and get water from the bathroom tap. Amy snatches it from his hand.

“Go easy on the water,” I say, thinking about the second water pump Eldest has hidden on the cyro level. Amy chugs the entire glass, though, and when she sets it on the table, her skin’s no longer red-and-white splotchy, and her breathing’s back to normal. Harley hesitantly sits down at the very edge of the bed, ready to leap up and run for more water at a moment’s notice.

“I’ll still keep guard when I can,” Harley tells Amy, a distant look in his eyes. I wonder if he’s only offering so he can be close to the hatch that leads outside to the stars. I wonder how many times he’s opened it, just so he can get one more glimpse.

A shadow crosses my mind. Harley was down there all that night. He could have slid open Mr. Kennedy’s tray and let him melt. I can see it in my mind’s eye: Harley standing over a melting man, watching him die. He
could
have done it.

But why?

Another shadow whispers to me, reminds me of Harley’s dark moods, of the extra meds Doc feeds him, of how he’s probably missed a week’s worth of those meds in all this chaos.

I take a deep breath to clear my mind.

Harley’s no killer.

Right?

No—
no.
Harley would never—

“And—” Amy starts.

Beep, beep-beep
.

My hand jumps to my wi-com button just as Harley’s does. We glance at each other. It’s rare to get a com-link at the same time as someone else.

“What is it?” Amy asks, her eyes darting nervously between us.

Then that deep, aged voice fills my ear.

“Attention all residents of
Godspeed
. I have a very important announcement.”

51

AMY

“WHAT IS IT?” I ASK AGAIN. BOTH BOYS HAVE THEIR HEADS cocked to the side, listening. I’m reminded of the last time an all-call went out, the time when the people in the common room all turned on me. My stomach drops, and I feel my muscles tense. What if Elder and Harley turn on me after this? They’re all I’ve got.

“What is it?” I ask again, more urgently. Elder waves at me like I’m a bothersome fly. I turn to Harley, but he’s got his face all scrunched up in concentration, as if he’s hearing something direly important. I grab his elbow, but he shakes me off. Elder glares at me.

I can’t let them hate me now. I don’t know what they’re hearing, but I can tell it’s bad. They look very serious. And now Elder’s staring at me, with this darkness in his eyes. I can’t let them hate me. I won’t let them hate me.

I grab Amber from the desk and squeeze her into me. I taste copper before I realize that I’m biting my lip.

I snatch the empty glass of water, run to the bathroom, and refill it.

I drain it in five seconds flat. Fill it up again. Then gulp it all at once.

There’s something to Harley’s mothering; the water does actually calm me down a bit. It’s like taking a deep breath just before lining up for a race.

I go back into the bedroom.

Elder and Harley’s heads straighten. They both look at me.

I knew it. They hate me.

Whatever that ear button said, it said to hate me. And now they hate me, and they’re going to turn on me just like the other people in the Ward. The space between my eyes at the bridge of my nose feels tight. I can’t breathe.

“What is it?” I say, unable to bear it any longer.

“It’s not good,” is all Elder says.

“You don’t know that,” Harley says.

Elder turns to him. “It can’t be good.”

“What is it?!”

“Eldest did an all-call announcement. Another one. We’re all supposed to go to the Keeper Level.” Elder’s mouth turns down, crinkling the skin into a deep, concerned frown.

“I’m kind of excited.” Harley jumps up and starts heading to the door. “I’ve always wondered about the Keeper Level.” I remember then that most people are restricted to this level—it’s bad enough to be trapped on the ship, but to not even be allowed to go to different parts of it seems ridiculous.

Harley pushes the button to open my door and bounces out. I start to follow him, but when Elder doesn’t move, I stop.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Elder says.

“Come on!” Harley calls.

Eldest and Harley argue with each other as they lead me down the path behind the Hospital, past the Recorder Hall, and to the metal wall that surrounds the Feeder Level.

“She can’t ride the grav tube; she doesn’t have a wi-com,” Harley says.

“Then how can she get to the Keeper Level?” Elder asks.

“I guess you could leave me here,” I say. Maybe that would be best. My head
aches
. My skull feels as if it’s stuffed with cotton. Something about what Harley said, about the wi-coms, is nagging at me, but I can’t think through this fuzziness.

“No way.” Elder’s hand twitches, like he’s going to reach out for me but at the last second changes his mind.

“She could ride with you,” Harley says, doubt drawing out the words.

“Ride?” I ask.

Harley grins. “You just have to hold on to Elder, and he’ll carry you up the grav tube.”

“But—” Elder’s face is flushed.

“Here.” Harley grabs me by the wrist and pulls me close to Elder. “Wrap your arms around him—like this. Good. Get in close. Closer. And Elder, you need to hold her around the waist. No, you’ll have to actually touch her. Here.” Harley pushes Elder’s hovering arm against my waist. We’re close. I can smell earth and grass on Elder’s skin. It’s nice.

“Are you okay?” Elder asks.

I smile weakly at him. I can’t tell if it’s nerves or something else that’s making me feel as if I’ve got a bucket of water sloshing around in my stomach. Heck, I probably
do
have a bucket of water in there, considering how many glasses I drank earlier.

“Give the grav tube order,” Harley says in a matter-of-fact way.

Elder’s hand shakes as he pushes the button behind his ear. “Keeper Level,” he says. “You’ll have to take the grav tube in the City; you don’t have access for this one. Eldest must have opened up the hatch in the Great Room for everyone else,” he adds. Harley just nods impatiently, waving for us to go on.

“And off you go!” Harley says. He pushes us straight under the big clear tube.

I have one second to look up at the swirling winds inside, feel it lift my hair, and breathe the compressed air—and then we start to rise.

Elder’s arm clenches, and he instinctively pulls me closer. I close my eyes and let him hold me, trusting him, feeling safe in his strong grip. For a moment, we hover on the winds blowing around us, bobbing like buoys in the ocean, as if the whirlwind swirling around us is testing our weight. I should be scared, but I glance at Elder’s smiling eyes and can’t help but smile back.

The winds grow stronger. My stomach lurches as we’re pulled up, headfirst, speeding faster and faster, zipping through the clear tube, the wind plastering our hair against our scalps.

“What’s happening?” I scream, struggling to raise my head from Elder’s shoulders and look at him properly.

“Don’t worry!” Elder calls down. His words flit past my ears like hummingbirds.

The wind is so quick and loud that it would be pointless for him to say anything else. His arms tighten around me, and I press my face against his chest.

And through it all—the rushing winds, my hair whipping around me, the flap of our clothes—I can hear his heartbeat.

The tube curves against the wall and we rise, a single arrow soaring through the heart of a hurricane. I can see the blur of green pastures below. I struggle to pull my head up, my neck muscles straining against the pressure, and as I do so, I can see the dotted colors of trailers falling away from us, far on the other side of the level.

And then with a jerk that leaves me nauseated and light-headed, the tube angles up sharply. There is darkness for a few seconds as we shoot through an opening in the floor of the level above us. Finally, we stop.

My eyes are bleary, watering. I feel strange, like I’m sick. I try to swallow the odd feeling down. I’m dizzy, but I can’t tell if it’s from the grav tube ride or something else. I feel slow and tired.

“Welcome to the Keeper Level,” Elder says. “This is where I live.”

52

ELDER

HER COOL FINGERS WRAP AROUND MY HAND. SHE IS HOLDING me so hard that my fingertips, already cold from the grav tube, are now numb, but I don’t mind. I don’t mind at all. She is breathless and smiling, and I wish that we could stay alone in the Learning Center, and that I could tuck that stray strand of hair behind her ear, and that I could kiss those laughing lips. But I can already hear people’s voices on the other side of the door as everyone else enters through the hatch from the Shipper Level.

When I meet her eyes, there’s a glazed film over them, as if she’s just woken up. But when I smile, she smiles back. We hold hands as we cross the Learning Center and enter the Great Room. I’m surprised—I didn’t think she’d let me hold on to her that long—but she’s just smiling away, almost as if she’s forgotten that I am holding her hand.

People pile into the Great Room. I never realized it was so big—but everyone’s here, and still more people climb up from the hatch. I see Harley finally arrive, followed by Bartie and Victria. He stands with them, near the hatch, but he winks at me when he sees how Amy’s trailing me. Her eyes are wide, taking in all the new faces she’s seeing. The Feeders cluster together, clucking like chickens. The Shippers all stand stoically around the edges of the room. I wonder what they know. Eldest surely wouldn’t have revealed his intentions to them, but the way they’re standing, huddled together, makes me think they know something I don’t.

Maybe Doc knows. I scan the crowd, but I don’t see him.

Nearly all the people have their faces upturned. The “stars” from the metal screen shine and twinkle. The red dot that indicates our ship blinks. Just 49 years and 264 days away from the still light that represents Centauri-Earth. Home.

“Look at the stars,” I hear a farmer from the Feeder Level say to a woman standing next to him. They move a little closer, their shoulders touching as they gaze upward. The woman snakes her arm around her belly, splaying her fingers over her abdomen. The two whisper to each other, still staring at the burning lightbulbs they think are stars.

It feels like every person in the Great Room is pairing off into couples, and more than one woman has her hands over her belly. I lean in closer to Amy, let our arms touch, but she doesn’t pick my hand back up.

The ebb of people rising from the hatch slows, then stops. We’re all here. Waiting.

A few Shippers gather near Eldest’s chamber door. Their backs are straight; they shoot furtive looks at the crowd. The people from the Ward cluster together, their voices rising over the crowd. When I glance back at them, though, I see that Harley is silent. He stares up, and I guess he’s figured out that these stars aren’t real. How could anyone who had seen the real stars be deceived by this light show?

I open my mouth to ask Amy what she thinks about the false stars, but before I can speak, Eldest’s chamber door opens.

He steps out wearing his official Eldest garb, a heavy woolen set of robes embroidered with silent, still stars on the shoulders and bountiful green crops on the hem—the hopes of everyone on board the ship.

“Friends,” Eldest says in his very best grandfather voice, “nay,
family
.”

The Feeders around me sigh, and the women rub their bellies and smile at their men.

“I have invited you all up here for a very specific reason. First, I wanted to show you the stars.” He sweeps his hand up high and every face follows it, every eye turning to the brightly burning “stars.”

“Do you see the trails that follow the stars?” As Eldest continues, the Feeders nod their heads. “They show how fast our ship is traveling as we soar through space to our new home.”

I glance at Amy, but she’s just staring blankly up at them. I don’t think she’s realized yet that these stars aren’t real. I turn to Harley. Across the room, he’s staring right at me, a deep frown creasing his forehead. He knows this isn’t right.

“As you know, you young ones are the generation that is to land on the surface of Centauri-Earth.” Eldest pauses, gives a dramatically deep sigh. “But, alas, that is not to be.”

Murmurs rise from the crowd. The little red light that indicates
Godspeed
moves backward on the track, away from Centauri-Earth.

“The engines of our dear
Godspeed
are tired, friends, and the ship can only go so fast. We were due to land in fifty years.”

“In 49 years, 264 days,” a voice shouts, interrupting him. As one, we all turn to face Harley, who stares at Eldest. His face is pale, the bruise under his eye dark in contrast.

Eldest smiles graciously. “As you say. And within your lifetime, friends. But, I fear, this may not be the case. Planet-landing is beyond the reach of fifty years.”

“When?” Harley says, his voice now softer, scared.

“We must hope, friends, that science lies, and that Centauri-Earth is closer than we’d believed.”

“
When?
”

“Seventy-five years before we land,” Eldest says simply. “Twenty-five more than we thought.”

Silence permeates the Keeper Level. Twenty-five
additional
years? I will not be an old man at planet-landing—I’ll be dead. I clutch Amy’s hand without realizing it. She presses against my fingers so lightly that I can barely feel her touch.

“
Twenty-five
more
years?!
” Harley shouts, pushing people apart to go through the crowd toward Eldest. “Twenty-five
more?!
”

Bartie and Victria hold Harley back. He swallows, hard, like he’s going to be sick right there in front of us. I can hear him muttering: “74, 264... 74, 264 ...”

“Twenty-five more.” Eldest speaks over Harley. “I’m sorry, but I cannot help it. It will be too late for you to see land ... but your children ...”

Around me, all the women’s hands curl around their bellies. “Our children,” the woman closest to me says to the man beside her. “Our children will see land.”

The words spread like fire, and all the Feeder women are murmuring to the babies inside them. Whispering words of hope, words of comfort. They don’t care about themselves. They care about the children forming inside them, about the future.

“To have miscalculated a centuries-long voyage by only twenty-five years is not so great a thing, friends,” Eldest says, and already I can see some of the Feeders nodding in agreement.

“It is!” Harley roars. He breaks free from Bartie and Victria’s grasp. “You promised us land, you promised us a home, you promised us
real
stars, and now you say we’ll die before we have a chance to taste air that’s not been recycled for so many frexing centuries?!”

“But our children,” one of the Feeder women says. “Our children will have the Earth. That is enough.”

“It is
not enough
!” Harley shouts. He’s almost at the front now; he’s almost at Eldest. “It will never be enough, not until I can feel real dirt beneath my feet!”

Eldest steps forward, and then he’s in front of Harley. He crooks his finger, and Harley, despite his rage, leans down to hear what Eldest whispers in his ear. Harley’s face becomes ghostlike, and his eyes fill with sorrow and death. When Eldest is done whispering, Harley straightens, looks out at the crowd of us, and runs from the Great Room. He clambers down the hatch. We are all silent, listening to his pounding footsteps below, until the sound fades to nothing.

I glance at Amy, expecting her face to be filled with similar rage. She was certainly angry enough when I told her she’d have to wait fifty years before landing—how does she feel now that it’ll be seventy-five years before we take our first steps onto our new planet? My heart thuds. When her parents are finally reanimated, their daughter will probably be dead. And Amy will never have gotten to say goodbye.

Amy’s face is pale, but there is no flash of anger in her eyes, no defiance in the tilt of her head.

“Amy?” I say under my breath. She turns toward me. “What do you think of this?”

Pause. “It is sad,” she says, but there is no sadness in her voice. “I regret that it must happen. But I guess it will be okay.” Her tone is even, flat.

“What’s wrong with you?” I ask.

“Nothing is wrong with me,” Amy says. She blinks; her eyes are unfocused. “The stars are pretty,” she adds.

“They’re not real stars!” I hiss into her ear. “Can’t you see that?”

“I like how they have little tails, like comets.”

I lean in closer. “You have seen
real
stars! You know these aren’t real! They just added the tails to make it look like we’re going fast!”

“Oh, we
are
going fast,” Amy says. She points to Eldest. “He told us we are.”

I step back and inspect her. Her body slumps a little. Her shoulders sag. Even her hair looks limp. “What is wrong with you?” I ask again.

She blinks. “Shh,” she says. “Our Eldest is speaking.”

I gape at her. Our Eldest?
Our
Eldest?!

“Friends,” Eldest says, “I know this is hard news to bear. But I wanted to bring you here, to see the stars, so that you can tell your children, when they are born, about the sky that awaits them! About the world that will be their home!”

And the people cheer. They actually cheer.

Even Amy.