by Beth Revis
66 AMY
ELDER STANDS NEXT TO THE PHYDUS MACHINE, THE WIRES in his hand, but he doesn’t seem able to hook them up. He’s motionless, staring at the console. I wonder how long he’s carried those wires in his pocket. He must put them there every day when he dresses, the same way I put on my necklace or wrap my hair. Has he carried them around with him all this time because he wanted to remember the way things were and should never be again… or because he wanted to remind himself that he had the same power to control people that Eldest had, if he chose to use it?
Doc stares into the glass at Orion. “He entrusted me with everything. I let him live. I helped him escape. He kept himself hidden from me for a long time — I didn’t know he was the Recorder; I didn’t know he was right beside me all those years. But before you froze him, he gave me his secrets. And I will not betray his trust the way you betrayed him.”
Doc moves over to stand by Elder. I start to lunge after him, but Victria steps in my way. Her hand is shaking; she’s not used to the weight of the gun, and the grip sits uncomfortably in her palm. Not that it matters… all it would take is one squeeze of her trigger finger, and I’d be gone.
I eye her warily, taking in the fear in her face, the sweat trickling down her neck. She doesn’t want to do this, she doesn’t want to hurt me, but she’s like a caged animal, and a caged animal will do anything if threatened. I stay still.
“Oh, Elder, I tried to warn you, I did,” Doc says, gently plucking the wires from Elder’s hands. “I told you each time — follow the leader.”
“You’re insane,” I shout. “Elder is the leader!”
Doc turns and looks at me, as if he’s evaluating my worth and finding that I come up just short. “I did hope he could become Eldest. I gave him three months. But as more and more people started to question him, it became clear he was hopeless. And then there was Bartie.” He sneers the name.
My eyes flick to Bartie, the green patch on his neck.
“Bartie thought he could start a revolution.” Doc rolls his eyes. “His attempts were clever — hacking into the floppies and the wi-coms was smart — but in the end he’s such a feeble sort of person. He would never really have what it takes to lead a true revolution. And besides,” Doc adds, “I wasn’t going to let dissent evolve into rebellion. Once we have a real leader again, any question of a revolt will disappear.”
I don’t like the way he says “disappear” in a voice that holds so much finality.
Doc’s gaze shifts to me. “I tried to help. I made the patches, and when Elder didn’t use them, I did. He could have used those deaths to instill the proper amount of fear required to demand obedience. But did you?” he asks, turning to Elder’s emotionless face. “No.” He shoves Elder’s body. Elder doesn’t resist, and he crashes against the Phydus machine. “As time went on,” Doc continues, “it became more and more obvious that what we needed was for him to step down. He was the one who needed to follow the leader. The warnings were for him.” He pokes a finger in Elder’s chest. Elder stares straight ahead, his body slack.
“And Marae?” I ask.
“I tried to talk to her. Of everyone on the ship, she should have been on Orion’s side. But no. She was for Elder.”
Doc places the wires on top of the Phydus pump. The drug is not his main concern. He strolls across the room, back to Orion’s cryo chamber.
“It’s too late anyway, Amy.” Doc sighs, a sound filled with disappointment. “Whatever kind of leader Bartie thought he could be or Elder may one day become, Orion already is. His only mistake was in trusting you to make the choice about the shuttle. I let you find Orion’s vids, but I should have destroyed them all.”
My mind races. “Why did you even give me Orion’s wi-com?” I ask. “You must have known it would lead us to the clues he left!”
Doc glances up at me. “I did it,” he says, “because Orion asked me to.”
And it really is as simple as that. Call him anything you want, but Doc’s loyal. Not to Eldest, not even to Orion, and certainly not to Elder. He’s loyal to the system. According to the system, Orion should be the next leader, and, therefore, the person Doc will blindly obey — even when he disagrees.
But — this doesn’t make sense. “If you’re the one who gave me the first clue, then who tampered with the sonnet book and the clue in the armory?”
“I did.” Doc checks a dial on Orion’s cryo chamber.
“You? But—why?”
He looks at me as if he can’t quite believe how slow I am. “I didn’t do it for me. This ship — everyone on board — we could all die if we land on Centauri-Earth. Die. But,” he adds, “I’m not unreasonable. I’ll let the Eldest make the final decision. If he says the shuttle should be launched, well, I will step aside. I just didn’t think he was right in choosing you as his decision maker.”
I finally understand — he altered the clue in the armory and cut out the page in the sonnet book because he didn’t want me to succeed. But he still left the book so I could find it. He didn’t want me to find the clue, but he couldn’t disobey Orion all the way.
“Did you mess with the space suits?” I ask.
“I figured if you got in there, one of you would use them.”
“And you didn’t care which one of us died?”
“If it helps,” Doc says, turning back to the dials on Orion’s cryo chamber, “I’d hoped it would have been you.”
It doesn’t help, actually.
“You never did realize the thing I needed you to understand,” Doc continues, adjusting another dial. “You got so obsessed with what Orion was showing you that you never saw what I was showing you.”
“Yeah?” I say. “And what was that?”
“That the important thing wasn’t getting off the ship. We can’t get off the ship, Amy, we can’t. Orion hoped that one day, far in the future, it would be possible, but no. The armory, the probes — it’s too dangerous. We have to stay here. We have to maintain the same order we’ve always had since the Plague Eldest.”
I can’t help myself — I snort in disgust.
“I know you disagree, Amy,” Doc says idly, as if we’re having a casual conversation between friends. “But the Eldest system works.”
“Eldest was twisted, sick,” I say. “You saw him at the end. He was too desperate for power.”
“Yes, yes,” Doc says dismissively. “There are aberrations in every Elder and Eldest, that is well documented, and Eldest should have stepped down when Orion came of age. And Orion — not Elder — should have become Eldest.”
“Orion was a psycho!” I shout. I start to move forward, knocking into Bartie’s shoulder as I do. He stares blankly ahead.
This was the wrong thing to do. The gun tightens in Victria’s hand — she loves Orion, after all — and Doc moves closer to the cryo chamber.
“He is neither a ‘psycho,’ nor is he Orion,” Doc says, turning a dial on the chamber door. “He is Eldest.” He looks back at Elder, still standing motionless by the Phydus machine. “You never wanted to be Eldest, did you? You always wanted to be just Elder. That’s why you wouldn’t change your name. You knew, didn’t you, that you weren’t good enough to be Eldest. You’re still just a child, preoccupied more with your silly infatuation than responsibility.”
Elder — patched and silent — nods in agreement.
“Don’t talk about Elder like that!” I roar. “Orion was a coward who killed helpless people!”
Doc turns toward me. “Don’t forget, it was Orion who gave you your precious planet, not Elder. Even when he was nothing but a block of ice, he still controlled you as you searched the whole ship for his clues. That’s the power of a real leader.”
He’s so calm, so even and measured — just like he always is. Even in this — in murdering people in Orion’s name, in staging a coup to overthrow Elder — even now, there’s no fire in Doc’s eyes. He’s just quietly and steadfastly moving forward with what he thinks is so obviously right. He’s pu
tting us all in our assigned places. Orion as Eldest. Elder as Elder. And me — I’m still, as usual, the one he can’t categorize. And that’s the real reason why he’s got Victria pointing a gun in my face.
And I know for sure now, I know it deep down inside me — I’m not going to get out of this. I don’t fit in with Doc’s plan because I don’t fit in on Godspeed, and Doc can’t stand to have something — someone — stick out. He needs everyone to be perfectly the same, perfectly calm, and perfectly obedient to the proper Eldest, and I never, ever, will be.
I am so certain that Doc won’t let me out of this room alive that I half expect Victria to pull the trigger and end it all now. Instead, Doc punches a code into Orion’s cryo chamber.
Doc turns back around. “Amy, I’m no leader. I know that. I only want to do what I’ve been trying to tell everyone else to do.”
“Follow the leader,” I say softly.
“Exactly. There’s no hope anymore,” Doc says. “We can’t land on the new planet. And we can’t survive up here without Orion. Don’t you see? We need a real leader. Not Bartie, not Elder. We need our Eldest. It’s our only hope.”
Victria looks up at Doc, but he isn’t looking at her; he’s looking at me. “I just want Orion back,” she says, but he doesn’t pay any attention to her.
“We’re not talking about hope,” I tell Doc, but my eyes are on Victria. “We’re talking about faith. Faith that the new world will be better than this. And faith that even if it’s not, it will be worth the risk to go down there and see.”
Orion’s cryo chamber beeps, a loud echoing sound.
“There,” Doc says, “the regeneration process is beginning.”
“What?” I snap.
“Really?” Victria says, turning.
And that’s my chance. Elder’s not the only one who’s been carrying things in his pocket — I still have Phydus patches of my own. In one swift motion, I rip one from its packaging, slap it on Victria’s arm, and snatch the gun away from her unresisting fingers.
Doc eyes me, trying to determine if I’ll shoot him.
“It’s too late,” he says, almost casually. “I’ve already begun the regeneration process.” The light above Orion’s face stays green. “Even if you shoot me, he’ll still wake up.”
I move slowly to my right, near Bartie, but even if I could rip the patch off him, the Phydus would still be in his system. No help there.
“Amy, you’re being ridiculous,” Doc says in the same sort of voice he used when we first met, when he threatened to drug me for the rest of my life. “You’re not thinking straight.”
“I am,” I say. “I don’t want Orion ruling this ship.”
“There’s a chance Elder won’t use the escape shuttle, you know.”
And he’s right. I do know it. I saw the reluctance in his eyes, the way he protested my immediate reaction to land the ship.
“I have faith in him,” I say. And much more than that, I think.
Doc shakes his head as if I’m a student who can’t answer the homework question correctly.
“You don’t think I put all my faith in Victria, do you?” he asks, sneering over the word. And he pulls out his own gun. It sits weirdly in his hand. Like Victria, he’s unsure of how to hold it. Still, it’s not like a gun is hard to figure out. The killing end’s pointed at me, and that’s enough.
I widen my stance, making my feet even with my shoulders. I was raised with guns like a proper military brat; my father made sure I knew how to protect myself, to treat weapons as tools, not toys. I’ve never been more grateful for the Saturdays at the target range than I am now. I breathe out and feel the cool metal of the trigger under my finger.
“You can’t kill me,” Doc says.
“You’re right,” I say, and pull the trigger.
67 ELDER
I SEE IT ALL IN SLOW MOTION, WITH EVERYTHING FUZZY around the edges. The bang from the gun bursts out; a cloud of acrid smoke evaporates quickly, leaving behind only the smell of copper and burning. Doc crumples, an explosion of red erupting from his leg. Amy dives forward, soaring through the air, smacking a pale green patch on Doc’s arm.
Another bang. Another gun. Doc’s gun.
Another burst of smoke and blood.
Amy crashes down, clutching her arm. Dark red blood seeps through her fingers.
She pulls her hand away, presses her wi-com. Shouts.
She staggers to Victria. Drops to her knees beside the body.
I see it all but can’t move, can’t react. Everything’s so heavy and slow. I just stare as Amy screams, choking on her own sobs. Amy presses both hands into the blossoming red stain across the front of Victria’s tunic. Blood leaks out of Amy’s own sleeve, but she ignores it, intent on putting pressure on Victria’s wound.
I move my head and stare impassively at Doc. His dull eyes meet mine. The green patch on his arm ensures that he just lies there, ignoring the bullet in his leg.
I turn back to Amy and Victria.
“NO!” Amy says.
Victria’s hand reaches toward Doc. No. Toward Orion.
“NO!” Amy screams again.
She throws her weight against Victria. Blood pumps between her fingers, spurting out in bubbles of crimson.
“No,” Amy whispers.
Victria’s hand goes slack.
My face is wet. I raise my hand and touch my cheek. The tears drip from my fingers like the blood dripping from Amy’s.
68 AMY
MY HANDS ARE SOAKED IN BLOOD. IT’S STILL WARM, JUST LIKE Victria’s body. I move to shut Victria’s staring eyes, and some of her blood — or my blood, I can’t tell which — drips on her face and slides down her cheek. I don’t close her eyes. Let her stare at Orion.
I stand, wiping Victria’s blood on my pants. I pull down the neck of my tunic, staring at the bleeding wound in my left arm, just below my shoulder. Doc fired the gun as he fell. The bullet grazed me — and killed Victria.
I shut my eyes, trying to block out the image before me, but all I can smell is gunpowder and blood. I push my wi-com again. Kit answers immediately. “I found the hatch,” she says, breathless. “I’ll be there soon.”
I rip the green patch off Bartie, who is standing closer to me, but I don’t wait for the light to return to his eyes. Avoiding Victria’s body, I cross the genetics lab to reach Elder. When I peel the med patch from his neck, I leave a line of red on his skin.
I bury my head into the soft spot between Elder’s chest and arm. My blood seeps through his shirt, but I don’t care. I just stand there, willing myself to be as emotionless as he is, even if it’s just because there are still trace amounts of Phydus in his system.
When I feel his arms raise and wrap around me, I break. I sob into his chest, wild, loud, uncontrollable sobs that leave me breathless but still aren’t enough.
“What the frex happened?!” Kit shouts from the doorway. Her eyes are wide and shocked, jumping from Bartie to us to Doc and finally to Victria.
She drops to her knees beside Victria, ignoring the blood that seeps into her trousers.
“It’s too late,” I say.
Her eyes rove across the room, and at first I’m worried that she’s too shocked to do any good. I realize, though, that she’s evaluating all that’s happened and all that needs to be done. She closes Victria’s eyes. I’ve heard people say that dead bodies look like they’re sleeping. But not Victria. She had peace and serenity when her eyes were focused on Orion, but now that they’re shut, she looks well and truly dead.
Kit reaches into her pocket and tosses me two pale yellow patches. “Antidotes for Phydus,” she says, moving immediately to Doc.
“Don’t give him one,” I warn. Kit opens her mouth to protest, but when she sees my look, she nods.
“Perhaps it would be best for him to stay on Phydus,” she says in a worried voice. “He must be in a lot of pain, and the Phydus will dull it.”
“I don’t care about that,” I say, my voice cold and
hard. “But keep that patch on him.”
Kit’s hand hovers over Doc’s wound, and she searches my eyes. Finally, she nods slowly, understanding my meaning. She cuts off Doc’s pant leg and bends to examine the wound — right where I aimed, just below his knee. Blood pulses from the bullet hole.
I rip open one of the yellow patches and rub it into Elder’s skin until I see him wince in pain. He blinks, his eyes clearer.
“Back again?” I whisper.
He nods, a grim expression filling his face. He eyes linger on Victria’s body, and I wonder how much he saw and understood while under the influence of the Phydus patch.
“You shot him,” he says, his eyes darting from Doc to me again.
I did. But if I hadn’t — maybe he wouldn’t have fired his gun either. Maybe Victria would still be alive.
“I had to shoot him,” I say, hoping to convince myself of the fact too.
He nods again. I can’t tell if he doubts me or not. Does he blame me for Victria’s death?
“How bad is it?” he finally asks, jerking his head toward my arm.
“Are you hurt too?” Kit says, looking up from Doc as she sprays foam on his wound. The foam bubbles up and turns pink as it disinfects the wound. Kit starts to wrap Doc’s leg in a large bandage.
“I’ll be fine,” I say.
“She’s shot,” Elder says. “In the arm.”
He takes the other yellow patch from me and moves over to Bartie. Bartie’s eyes are glued on Victria’s body the whole time as he shifts from drugged to aware, and once the Phydus has truly left his system, he tries to say something but chokes on the words. He lunges toward Victria, but Elder catches him, and the two stand there, their arms wrapped around each other, all rivalry forgotten in the death of one of their last childhood friends.
“Here,” Kit says.
I jump, surprised — I hadn’t noticed that she’d finished with Doc. Kit cuts away the sleeve of my tunic and cleans the wound with the disinfecting foam.
