Chris pauses without lifting his fingers from the screens. “Oh, it’s not that complicated,” he says. Soon he steps back. “Okay, I’ve got it! You should have no trouble getting the auto-shuttle to Godspeed. ”
I take a deep breath. “Good. Let’s do this. ”
Amy looks anxious. “That’s it? You’re going right now?”
Chris looks at the two of us. Even though he’s just triumphantly programmed the auto-shuttle and is helping us to find a way to stop the aliens without relying on some mysterious FRX bombs, he looks defeated. “I’ll go prep the shuttle,” he says, leaving us behind in the control room.
Amy grabs both of my hands tightly. “You come back to me,” she says, the words fierce. “You do whatever it takes; you come back to me. ”
“I will,” I say.
“I mean it. ” Amy says forcefully. “I’ve lost nearly everything else I love; I can’t lose you too. ”
“I’ll always come back to you,” I say, pulling her close.
She kisses me, and just as I’m about to lose myself in it, I taste salt. I step away from her and see that she’s crying again. I wipe away one tear with the pad of my thumb, and she swipes her arm over her face, embarrassed.
We walk to the shuttle, Amy a few paces behind me. I can hear her sniffling, trying to cover up the tears she can’t keep from falling.
Chris pushes a button on the controls embedded into the asphalt by the auto-shuttle, and the transport boxes disappear, metal panels automatically enclosing them with a reverberating slam. Next, he motions for me to follow him to the front of the shuttle, where a small metal ladder extends up into the bridge. “It looks like you’re right; everything should be automatic,” he explains. He says this as if there’s no doubt in his mind that I’ll be able to fly myself into orbit around Centauri-Earth, but there are worry lines at his eyes and every muscle is tense. “There are simple flight controls in the bridge and a manual override if things go wrong. ”
I nod, trying to look confident. Landing the shuttle from Godspeed was automatic too, and three people died.
“When I was looking at the bridge, I discovered this,” Chris says, drawing me around the corner of the ship. “An emergency distress rocket. It’s designed as an escape for one person, in the event something malfunctions with the ship. It only has two settings—to go to the space station for aid or to go back here. If something goes wrong, just get in the distress rocket and come back. ”
I look up at the escape rocket. It’s claustrophobically small, a paper airplane in comparison with the auto-shuttle. It looks like nothing more than a ridged bump under the bridge of the auto-shuttle, and I somehow doubt it could ever survive detaching from the auto-shuttle, much less a journey through space.
Chris steps back, giving Amy and me privacy again.
“Promise,” Amy says, wrapping her pinky finger around mine. “Promise to come back. ”
I look her right in the eyes. “I promise. ”
53: AMY
As I watch the transport shuttle roar to life and shoot away, an ominous feeling sickens my stomach. I am hollow inside. I try to shake off my worries, but all I can think is, That was the last time I’ll ever see Elder.
“Colonel Martin will be here soon,” Chris says. “He can’t have missed that. ”
“Let him come,” I say. It’s too late. Elder’s already gone. I move to the communication bay, waiting for Elder to start talking to us over the radio. Chris stands by the window, waiting for Dad.
Sooner than I’d expected, Chris says, “There’s Colonel Martin. ”
I squint through the glass but can’t make anything out.
“There. ” Chris points, but it’s just darkness and shadows to me.
I turn back to the control panel. A warning flashes over the communication link with the auto-shuttle: Launch in Process. I don’t want to distract Elder when he needs his attention on the controls.
I glance back to the window, and I finally see what Chris is pointing at. Dad, and about ten other men, all with guns, running toward us.
“Great,” I mutter.
A moment later, I hear Dad’s voice booming, so loud that it’s like the glass and walls aren’t between us. “Come out now!” he orders. “The building’s surrounded. ”
“He doesn’t know it’s us,” Chris says. There’s real fear in his voice. The glass cube is still illuminating the room, but the shadows it’s casting must have made it impossible for Dad to see inside. I go over to the door and throw it open. For a split second, I can only hear the metallic rattle of nearly a dozen guns aimed at me.
“Dad, will you put the guns away and be quiet?” I say impatiently.