If we could do that, then . . . what? Bartie could wait to distribute the black patches for another few years? They’re trapped, and just like Amy warned when we left them there, there’s nothing for the people of Godspeed to do but wait for death.
I have to save them.
Amy leads me to the lab aboard the shuttle. As we pass the armory, I consider pausing and selecting a gun for myself, but I keep walking. I’d rather have answers than weapons.
“Mom’s been having me help her with her experiments,” Amy explains as she picks up a long-stemmed cotton swab and walks over to the Phydus pump. Its wires are still exposed and broken from my hasty dismantling of the pump so long ago. Amy lifts the panel that covers the spout where Eldest used to deposit Phydus. Some of the sticky, viscous liquid is still inside, and although it’s dried into stains on the edge of the valve, Amy jabs the cotton swab deep into the pump and extracts it, covered with the dark syrup.
Amy moves quickly to make sure the Phydus doesn’t drip off the swab until she can scrape the liquid into a cup. Then she places the cup into a machine.
“Analyte generator,” Amy says as the machine works. “It basically just makes a test so that we can see if something has Phydus in it. ”
The machine dings.
“Done,” Amy says. “Now we need a sample to test. ” She opens a small refrigerator door and pulls out sample cups of blood. I read the labels one by one: RAJ GUPTA, JULIANA ROBERTSON, SHIPBORN FEMALE, SHIPBORN DOCTOR.
“They didn’t even bother with Lorin and Kit’s names,” I say bitterly.
Amy ducks her head. “I’m sorry,” she says.
She tests Lorin’s blood first. “We know she was wearing a med patch, so it’d make sense for the results to test positive for Phydus,” she says. We wait for the machine to finish analyzing her blood, then read the results together.
“That’s a lot of Phydus,” I say, staring at the report. “One med patch wouldn’t make her have that much. ”
Amy frowns. “That much Phydus would . . . ”
“It would kill her,” I say.
“Lorin’s body wasn’t marked by attack. ” Amy looks at me, realization dawning. “I saw her, before they buried her. She looked like she was sleeping. ” Amy’s eyes fill with a mix of horror and disgust. “She looked the same way Steela did, the woman Doc overdosed with Phydus. ”
“Test the rest of the blood,” I say.
Dr. Gupta’s is positive for Phydus—not as much in his blood as in Lorin’s, but enough to have made him silently accept being eaten alive by a ptero. There’s Phydus in Juliana Robertson’s blood too. I wonder if it was the Phydus that killed her or if it was the ptero attack that did it. Maybe she had the same fate as Dr. Gupta, without a bullet in her brain to end it quickly and mercifully.
“None in Kit’s blood,” Amy says.
“Then it was the bullets—or the sun glass, or whatever it is these aliens use—that killed her. ” But that was just Kit. The others— “Amy, how did this planet get Phydus? It was developed on the ship. The ship that never landed here. ”
“Is there a chance the Plague Eldest landed? Maybe he landed and then went back up?”
I shake my head. “Godspeed was never meant to do more than reach Centauri-Earth. If it landed, there’s no way it could have gone back into orbit. There’s enough fuel reserved for deorbit, no more. And before you ask—the shuttle, once it’s detached from the ship, can’t be reattached. You heard the way the metal broke. And there’s no more fuel for that in the shuttle either. Godspeed always had only a one-way landing process. ”
“Then . . . how?” Amy asks.
Neither of us has an answer.
37: AMY
The glass cube is completely dark by the time we leave the shuttle. We’re both lost in our thoughts and on edge. Every noise in the forest makes us jump, every shadow makes us flinch.
Which is why I nearly scream when we get to the edge of the colony and someone says, “Amy!”
“Chris!” I say, clutching my heart as he steps out of the shadows. Elder rolls his eyes.
“What are you two doing out here?” Chris asks, looking at us both.
“None of your business. ” Elder steps in front of me as if he’s going to protect me.
Chris ignores him. “Let me walk you back,” he offers, readjusting the rifle strapped to his shoulder.