Dad turns back to Emma and continues talking.
I trace the outline of the stone wall with my finger. Now that I’m right in front of it, I can tell that the buildings are actually made of large, handmade slabs of brick the same color as the soil. There was intention in the creation of these buildings, but they are empty now and so long-abandoned that there’s nothing but echoes of life clinging to the stark stone.
My hand trails to the window, my fingers dipping into a depression in the stone windowsill. It’s perfectly square, each line straight and carefully carved in the stone.
“We don’t know what that’s for,” Mom says, looking at the depression in the sill, “but there’s a square in every window in every building. ”
Dr. Watase steps forward. “Whatever built these buildings obviously had sentience,” she says. “The popular theory among the scientists is that the original residents of these buildings had some sort of idol that they put here. Perhaps their gods are linked to the suns; the windows all face the light. ”
Emma leaves, and Dad watches her go. I step around Dr. Watase and head straight to him, wrapping my arms around him like I used to do when I believed he could solve any problem. The hardness in his face softens. “I’m glad you’re okay, Amy,” he says. He drops a kiss on the top of my head.
“Of course I’m okay. ” I shoot him as big a smile as I can muster.
He hugs me tighter. “This . . . none of this was what I expected it to be. ”
“Don’t forget, Dad,” I say gently. “This was my choice. I was the one who decided to come on the mission. ”
He opens his mouth, but I already know what he’s going to say: that it wasn’t supposed to be a choice at all, and I shouldn’t have come.
I don’t give him the chance.
“I’m here now,” I say. “And I’m happy. I’m with you and Mom. ”
He squeezes me one more time, then lets me go.
“What were you talking with Emma about?” I ask.
“We have a couple problems we’re working on. ”
“Tell me. ”
He looks down at me, and I know he’s seeing me only as his daughter, his child. “Tell me,” I say again. “Maybe I can help. ”
To his credit, he holds back his skeptical look. “Well, first of all, we’re having trouble with the probe. We haven’t been able to communicate with Earth. ”
My heart stops. “You mean you weren’t able to communicate with Earth again, right? You communicated with them just after we landed, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Dad says, and then, almost as if he’s talking to himself: “Yes, of course. ” After a moment he adds, “But the shuttle’s communication system is completely broken now, and we couldn’t get the one on the probe to work. ”
“What’s wrong with it?” I bite my lip, waiting for Dad’s answer.
“We were able to establish a communication link—but we’re not hearing anything from the other end. ” The look he gives me doesn’t bring me any comfort.
“Is something wrong?” I ask, leaning forward, already guessing the answer.
Dad shrugs. “I think we just need to work on it more. It is old, Amy. ” He looks away from me. “But that’s only one of our problems. ”
“What are our other problems?”
“One of the shipborns is missing—and Dr. Gupta. We think the shipborn wandered off and Dr. Gupta went after her, but . . . ”
“When did they go missing?”
“Sometime in the storm. ” Dad’s eyes are distant. I know he’s concerned, but his concern doesn’t have the same acidic taste of the dread rising up in my belly.
They’ve been gone for nearly a whole day.
“What shipborn?” I ask. Dad said “her”—so it’s not Elder that’s missing, but maybe Kit. . . .