ORION: I’ve been preparing for a while. Ever since I first saw the icy hell in the cryo level. Ever since I learned about the cloning. I know I can be replaced. It won’t take much for Eldest to follow through with his threats.
The camera pans back to Orion, who looks defiant. He looks, I think, like me.
ORION: I may know Eldest’s secrets, but he doesn’t know mine. He hasn’t figured out where I’m hiding or how. He’s been watching me on the wi-com system, but I’ve figured out how to trick the signal, make it look like I’m at the Hospital when I’m not.
Orion raises a hand to his left ear and gently touches—but doesn’t depress—the button there.
ORION: He doesn’t know about this place. But it’s not enough. I might have to . . .
Orion’s fingers seize over the wi-com, his nails scratching the skin and leaving pink welts in their wake. I glance at Amy as she touches the bracelet wi-com on her wrist with one finger, a worried frown on her lips.
ORION: But the secret . . . it should stay a secret. No one should know this. Not even me. It’s . . . too much.
Orion stands and begins pacing. His feet come off camera and on camera; his voice fades in and out.
ORION: I don’t know what’s frexing right anymore. Do I tell the truth? Or is the lie better? . . . And what about . . . ?
Muffled sounds echo as Orion moves away from the camera.
ORION: I can’t cover it up. Someone may need to know—there might be a time when we have to . . . But the floppy network’s not safe . . .
I strain my ears to make out the indistinguishable sounds in the background—Orion’s muttering something, words I can’t make out over the sound of his footsteps marching back and forth in front of the camera. He picks up the camera, and a jumble of images wash over the screen. After a moment, he turns the camera back to his face, now cast in shadows.
ORION: I’m leaving this for whoever finds it. If something happens to me . . . if Eldest . . . you know. Well. If something happens to me, I figured someone ought to know.
Orion takes a deep breath, then opens his mouth to speak.
The video cuts off abruptly.
“That’s it?” Amy asks.
“No, look—there’s more. ”
Scrolling words fill the screen again.
That was a long time ago, but it doesn’t make it any less true. Amy, you’ve seen the truth for yourself. You’ve seen the weapons. You know—you must know—that if we need weapons like this, then whatever’s on Centauri-Earth isn’t worth it. Lock up the armory, forget the passcode, and walk away.
32
AMY
“WELL, FREX,” ELDER SAYS, LEANING AWAY AND LOOKING AT the blank floppy in disgust.
I look up at him inquiringly.
“All that floppy did was prove that he was paranoid—and that this whole clue-chasing thing has been pointless. ”
“Pointless?” I pick the floppy up and stand as well.
Elder nods. “Pointless. I was hoping to learn how to restart the engine, but all we get from this vid is some big secret that Orion decided not to share with us. He sent us on a chase all over the ship to find clues that lead to a door that he just tells us to lock again. You don’t get much more pointless than that. ”
I nod, folding the floppy and slipping it into my pocket. “There is definitel
y something sketch about this,” I say as soon as the last words fade to black.
“Sketch?”
“You know, weird. ”