Robertson—same last name as one of the frozens Orion unplugged.
“My husband!” Juliana screeches, one hand pressed against the closed door to cryo chamber 100.
Then her hand turns into a fist. She whirls around, grabbing Amy by her tunic and yanking her close. “What happened?” she says fiercely. “Tell me what son of a bitch killed my husband!”
Amy’s eyes are wide with fear. “It was—” She pauses. I know she was going to say “it was an accident,” but she can’t speak the lie.
“Who?!” Juliana Robertson roars in Amy’s face. Amy flinches, and I push Juliana aside, pulling Amy close. She loses interest in us and whips around to face the crowd of people from the ship gathering around her. “Which one of you freaks did it?” she screams, and I am momentarily caught up in the irony that she thinks we are freaks for looking similar when that’s the same word people used to apply to Amy for being different. “What coward killed my poor husband while he slept? Show yourself!” She is all fury, all raging hate.
My people don’t know how to respond to her. To them, the frozens are dangerous. Many of them agree with Orion and his actions. And Juliana wears the same green-and-brown clothes as the rest of the military—she is a soldier, even more dangerous for her training.
Their eyes turn to me—I am the one who is supposed to protect them.
Juliana follows their gaze to me, but she doesn’t see what it means. She thinks their look is accusatory, akin to a confession of her husband’s murder.
She lunges at me, screaming, and before I have a chance to react, her fist connects with my left cheekbone, making my head snap back. I stagger away, raising both my hands in defense.
“Don’t touch Elder!” one of the shipborns—a man named Heller, a former rancher on the Feeder Level—shouts as she jumps forward, grabbing Juliana’s arm as she rears it back to swing at me again.
“No, wait—” I try to say.
“Don’t hurt her!” another of the former frozens shouts as she jumps into the fray.
And just like that: chaos.
The people from Earth may be fiercer, but my people outnumber them fifteen to one. As the fighting escalates, the pack of frozens retreats until their backs are against the cryo chambers. Screams and shouts drown out every other sound. A woman who I take to be Amy’s mother—they have the same green eyes—grabs her wrist, dragging her away from the growing mob. I swallow a lump in my throat. It’s my fault the shuttle’s degrading into fighting, just like Godspeed did. It’s me who can’t keep Amy safe. I jab my finger against my wi-com—uselessly; it doesn’t work here.
I climb up on the nearest table, shouting, “Stop! STOP!”
But it does no good.
This is a fight born of rage and fear.
Fists slam against flesh; blood pours from new wounds. A chair is thrown into the crowd, then swung against a cryo chamber with a deafening crash. Juliana Robertson, her wild hair flying, screams as she lunges toward me but is caught by one of my people slamming her against a cryo chamber. I scramble off the table, throwing myself between fighting bodies and being beaten for my effort.
“ENOUGH!” Colonel Martin roars from the doorway. The people nearest him pause, but the fight rages. “I SAID ENOUGH!” he shouts again, walking straight through the middle of the mob. “STAND DOWN!”
And they do.
The military people who’d been left inside with us stop fighting. Even Juliana Robertson. Blood streams down both nostrils and her eyes are red, but her fists uncurl, and she steps back silently.
“What the hell is going on?” Colonel Martin rages. His eyes bounce between me and Juliana and back again. Behind him, the ten men and women he took with him to the probe spread out as the fighting dies.
“My husband,” Juliana says through clenched teeth. “He was killed, sir. ”
Colonel Martin dips his head. “I know. ”
Juliana’s eyes flash.
“You are dismissed. Go to the storage area and cool down. ”
“Sir, he was my husband. ”
“I know,” Colonel Martin says. “And my friend. You are dismissed. ”
“They killed him. ”
“Dismissed. ” Colonel Martin’s voice bodes no allowance, and Juliana spins on her heel, storming to the room where the trunks had been stored. Several other members of the military follow.