When I disconnect the link, I stand up. Amy looks as if she’d like to push me back into the bed, but I ignore her.
“Amy. ” I try to put the words I cannot say into the look I give her. “We need to talk later. About the thing. ”
She nods.
“But I’ve got to go now,” I say.
Amy grabs me by my elbow before I make it out of the room. “What is it?” she asks, and even though she’s only said three words, the tone of her voice begs me to stay with her.
But I can’t.
“Marae’s dead. ”
42
AMY
THE ROOM FEELS HOLLOW WHEN ELDER LEAVES. I TRY TO remember Marae—I knew she was the First Shipper, a title something like being second in command to Elder. She was tall and all business, with a severe haircut and piercing eyes, but I don’t really know anything about her other than her appearance.
And now it’s too late.
And too late for her to see the new planet too.
Guilt tugs at my navel. I shouldn’t be so happy, not when someone else has been killed. But—we’re here! The ship is going to actually land! As I pass by the common room in the Ward, I stop to stare out of the huge windows. In my mind, I replace the perfectly even rolling hills and boxed-up trailers of the distant City with forests and oceans and sky.
We’re here.
I grin in satisfaction as I drift back to my room. I may hate Orion for all he did to me after I woke up, but I can’t deny that his clues led Elder and me straight to Centauri-Earth.
And nearly killed him, I think.
My hands raise of their own volition, and I touch my lips with my fingers. That kiss . . . I hadn’t thought about what I was doing, I just did it. And now I can’t forget the way his lips felt against mine. Had I meant what I said, that the new planet would be pointless without him?
Yes.
But . . . if—no, when—the ship lands, everything will be different.
That is just as true as our kiss.
I shake my head. I can’t think about this now.
I lock my bedroom door and pull out the Shakespearean sonnet I found in the room with the space suits. Part of me wants to go back to get the copy of The Little Prince that was down there as well, but I can’t bear the thought of going back to the cryo level just yet. I can’t think about the hatch without also seeing Elder’s crumpled body on the floor. I remember that brief moment when I thought it was already too late.
I run my finger along the smooth edge of the page. I doubt Orion cut it from the book of Shakespeare’s sonnets. Someone’s tampering with the clues, I’m sure of it. I toss the sonnet on my desk as I start pacing around my room. If Orion’s big secret was the planet, we don’t even need this clue. Isn’t the planet the answer to the mystery?
He said there was a choice, though. He said I would have to make the decision. There must be something else—something bigger even than the planet.
I feel a bit like a puppet, with Orion pulling the strings to make me move. Some of the strings, though, are getting tangled.
And some cut.
I take a deep breath and try to forget the lifelessness in Elder’s lips as I tried to breathe life into him again.
Was Elder’s accident even an accident? If someone’s tampering with the clues, how hard would it have been for them to puncture the suit’s air tubes? If I were to go to the cryo level right now and check all the suits, would I find that they were all damaged in some tiny, unnoticeable way?
I collapse into my desk chair and open up the folded sonnet. I’m going to keep playing Orion’s game. Even if someone is trying to stop me.
This sonnet, just like all the others in the book, makes no sense at all. But unlike the other sonnets, this one’s marked up.