“Sir?”
“Don’t get proud. You do what you have to do, whether you like it or not. There’s nothing to be proud of, not as Eldest. There’s never a right answer. Just keep them alive. Doesn’t matter how. Just keep the frexing ship alive. ”
He picks up his practically full bottle and locks himself in his dark room. The metal screen covers the false stars, and I’m left in darkness too.
An hour later, it’s time for the day to begin. Eldest emerges from his chamber. His clothes are pristine, his eyes are clear, and his breath is fresh. I guess the bottle’s still full. The conversation beneath the lying stars feels like a dream.
Eldest walks to the hatch that leads to the Shipper Level. The clatter of his steps across the metal floor—uneven from his limp—is the only sound filling the silence.
“You spent all yesterday with that Sol-Earth girl,” he says finally, lifting the hatch door.
I shrug.
“I don’t have time for lessons right now. The ship comes first. But you’ve completely ignored my assignment, haven’t you? To discover the third cause of discord?”
My head sinks. I had forgotten. It seems so long ago. When I glance up, Eldest is looking over his shoulder, not meeting my eyes. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, but I doubt it could be good.
“Fine,” he says finally.
“Fine?”
r /> “Spend your time with her,” Eldest says. “You will see firsthand what sort of trouble she can cause. ”
Then he descends down the hatch, leaving me with questions I know he won’t answer.
I head straight for the grav tube and the Feeder Level. If Elder’s giving me permission to abandon his assignment and spend time with Amy, who am I to question it? Orion’s on the Recorder Hall porch (leaning with his back obscuring the portrait of Eldest, which makes me grin), and I wave as I pass.
The garden is more crowded than I’ve ever seen it before. The only sounds drifting through it are the pants and grunts of the people mating, rutting behind the bushes, at the base of the trees, at the foot of the statue, right in the middle of the path. I have to step over squirming, sweaty bodies to enter the Hospital.
The elevator, thankfully, is empty. But it doesn’t smell as if it’s been empty for long.
In the Ward, there is some semblance of sanity. Yes, Victria and Bartie are kissing in the corner, and several of the acting troupe are pressed against the glass wall, but most of them are mostly clothed.
I half expect Amy to be like the rest of them when I knock on her door—I half hope it—but she’s not. She’s dressed, looking out the window.
“Why are they doing that? In public, everywhere. . . ” she whispers as I walk into her room.
“It’s the Season. ”
“This. . . isn’t normal. People don’t act like this. This is. . . mating, it’s not love. ”
I shrug. “Of course it’s mating. That’s the point. To make a new gen. ”
“Everyone? All at once? Everyone decides to have sex now?”
I nod. Maybe her parents never told her about the Season, but surely she was old enough to know. All animals go into heat. People have a Season just like the cows, the sheep, the goats.
Amy snorts. “Must be something in the water,” she says with a weak laugh, as if it were a joke. Her face grows dark again, though, and she says in a low whisper, mostly to herself, “But it’s not natural. ”
I don’t answer. I’m too busy thinking about how when we’re twenty, we’ll be in Season. Together. Just us.
She’s said something. I shake my head to clear it from the thoughts invading my brain.
“Will you?” she asks.
“Will I what?”
“Will you go with me to see my parents?”