“Where are my parents?” I repeat.
“They’re. . . below. ”
“I want to see my parents. I want to talk to my parents. ”
“They . . . ”
“What happened to my parents?”
“They haven’t been reanimated yet. They’re still frozen. Everyone else down there is still frozen but you. ”
“When will they wake up? When do I get to see them?”
The boy edges to the door. “Maybe I should get Eldest to come explain?”
“Eldest who? Explain what?” I am shouting, but I don’t care. The blanket has slipped from my legs. My brain is racing, falling into place, crashing against the words I think the boy will say, the words I dread hearing, the words I must hear him speak aloud before I will believe them to be true.
“Er. . . well, uh. . . They’re not going to be woken up until we get there. ”
“Fifty years from now,” I say hollowly.
The boy nods. “Forty-nine years and 266 days from now. ”
I have been frozen in ice for centuries. And yet, I have never felt more alone than I do right now, at this moment, when I realize that I am alive and aware and awake, and they are not.
16
ELDER
SHE STARTS CRYING. NOT SOFT, SAD TEARS, BUT THE ANGRY sort, like she hates the whole world, or at least the ship that’s now her world. So, I do what any reasonable person would do when faced with a crying girl.
I get the frex out of there.
A familiar beep, beep-beep fills my left ear. “Com link: Eldest,” says the soft female voice of my wi-com.
“Ignore. ”
Eldest had left the Hospital as soon as Doc had begun administering post-regenerative meds to Amy. He hadn’t helped set up the IV bags or watched as they slowly dripped three full bags of nutrition and fluid into her. He wasn’t there to help us lift her onto the new bed in the Ward that Doc made up for her. He wasn’t there when she woke up, having stayed by her side for more than seven hours just so she wouldn’t have to wake up alone.
I don’t really care what he has to say right now.
What I care about is Amy. Maybe if she sees more of Godspeed, she won’t cry so much. If I can bring her a piece of her home, something that reminds her of Sol-Earth, maybe she’ll. . .
I head straight to the garden just behind the Hospital. The garden is full of blooms right now, but I know what I want—the large yellow and orange flowers growing near the pond, the ones with streaks of color almost as brilly as Amy’s hair.
It takes me a moment to find them; there’re only a few blooms left, their big heads drooping toward the pond water. I kneel, ignoring the muddy st
ains seeping into my trousers, and break the stems of half a dozen flowers. The petals are as long as my fingers, curling at the ends, and their honey-like scent drifts lazily to my nose.
“Elder. ”
Shite. I turn to face Eldest, my fingers tightening around the stems.
“You ignored my com. ” His voice is low, monotone.
“I was busy. ”
His cold eyes drop to the flowers in my hand. “Clearly. ”