“What do you think?” Ethan asked. He was smiling wide, bright. He had enough enthusiasm about this whole enterprise for both of us. For the whole shuttle.
I shook my head and didn’t answer. He was used to looking out view ports and seeing Jupiter. That was big enough that nothing else would ever impress him, probably. He could afford to be happy.
Me, on the other hand—I was sure I was going to be in over my head as soon as the shuttle touched down.
5
We landed at a rural shuttle port on the night side of the planet. Again, we didn’t have time to look around; Stanton herded us from the shuttle to a waiting ground bus. We hardly spent any time outside. I might never have left the station. I could have been back on at the colony, sealed up in another metal can.
Except for how tired I was.
Not that I would ever admit it, or show it, or do anything that might hint that I was weak, or scared, even though my heart raced with the work of simply moving my limbs. At least the days here were about the same length they were on Mars. That was something. Maybe I’d actually be able to sleep a normal night’s sleep.
I stuck close to Charles. “How are you doing?” I asked him.
“Fine,” he said.
“Really? Aren’t you feeling it at all?”
He looked at me. “Save your energy. Stop talking.”
Well, then. Nice to see he was coping.
I fell asleep on the bus ride to the school. Kind of embarrassing. I was supposed to stay awake, waiting for the ambush. When the vehicle came to a stop, I startled awake, rubbed my face, and pretended I’d been awake the whole time, but I shouldn’t have worried. Everyone else was waking up, too. Except Charles, who was gazing around, cool and collected, like he was in charge.
The bus had parked in a spacious garage, and from there a corridor led straight to the dorms. The lights were dimmed, but I had stopped wishing for a better look around. I just wanted to sleep. A good look could wait for morning.
At an intersection in the hallway, a pair of officials in slick gray uniforms just like Stanton’s met us. These were residence hall supervisors, and they broke us up into groups to guide us to our rooms spread throughout the residential wing. Charles was in a different group from me. It hadn’t occurred to me that Charles and I would be separated. But of course we would, we weren’t at home anymore. When his adviser, along with Stanton and the others, walked on without me, I stood rooted in place, staring back at Charles. He glanced over his shoulder, lips pursed, but if he was trying to tell me something, I couldn’t guess what. If twins were really supposed to have some kind of psychic link, this proved we weren’t real twins. Just a couple of kids who’d happened to be born at the same time.
“Ms. Newton, this way, please,” the second adviser called to me.
I slogged after the others toward our corridor.
* * *
I learned that this building housed only first-year students. Second-and third-years had their own buildings. We’d spend all three years with the same group of students, so we’d better learn to get along was the implication.
Our rooms on Colony One were small, but they were ours. Here, I’d be sharing with two others, based on the number of beds. Beside each bed was a nightstand and a closet. We had a bathroom with actual running water—the adviser had to show us how to use everything, because we were all from off-Earth. I wondered if all the rooms were split up Earth kids and non-Earth kids? The far wall had windows, but coverings were drawn over them. I still hadn’t really seen what Earth’s sky looked like. The nightstands had reading lamps, turned on and focused on the beds, and small terminal screens for announcements and wake-up calls. At least I basically recognized everything. Except for the running water. On Mars and on the ship we used dry soap and vacuums.
The terminal screens were all lit up with the overly smiling face of a middle-aged man with brown skin and salt-and-pepper hair in yet another gray uniform. He was standing in a garden in front of a row of very neatly trimmed shrubs. It was like the garden in the Colony One atrium times a thousand. A label called the man Vincent Juno Edgars, the president of the school, and he looked like he was hiding something. When we touched the screens, a message scrolled up welcoming us to Galileo Academy, the finest school in the universe, where we would embark on “the great adventure that will be the rest of your lives.”
The closets had our names on them, and the correct luggage was set on the floor next to them. Everything was just so, all in order. It made me itch, thinking of the way everything had been all planned out.
So, here we were. The adviser for this wing, a woman named Janson with blond hair tied back in a bun, told us to get to bed and get some sleep, because we had an early start in the morning.
“How early?” I’d asked.
She glared. “You’ll be awakened.”
That sounded ominous.
She left the three of us staring at each other, the sparsely furnished room, and the door, which Janson had shut behind her. These two had been on the shuttle with us from Ride Station. We hadn’t had a chance to talk, between traveling and sleeping and Stanton riding herd on us.
“So,” I muttered at the others. “Some party. Um. I’m Polly. And you’re…” Charles would have remembered their names right off. He’d probably hacked a copy of the files of everybody at the school weeks ago.
“Marie,” said the one with her hair in a braid, who kept her gaze down. She was already unpacking.
“Ladhi,” said the shorter girl with glossy black hair cut shoulder length. “Are you really from Mars?”