by Kate Blair
Vega turns, and I see the hate in her eyes. She jabs a finger toward me. “I want Ursa to face a trial. To face justice for what she did.”
“I didn’t do anything,” I say. But I’m too quiet.
“We need to complete an investigation before putting anyone on trial,” Mom says.
Yuri shakes his head. “Even before Cassius died, you were trying to push the investigation in another direction. If you’re in charge, you’ll make sure Ursa never faces trial.”
My breath is stuck in my throat.
“I am following evidence, Yuri,” Mom says. “DNA evidence. Footprints. The fur. You know this.”
“All of which makes no sense. It must have been made in the genelab and planted.”
A prickle runs up my back. I was thinking the same thing.
The muttering in the crowd is growing louder. Some people are getting to their feet.
Merope steps closer to Yuri. “Is that why you were skulking around in our carriage earlier, peering in the rooms? Checking up on us?”
Yuri towers over her. “Someone has to.”
Mom pinches the bridge of her nose. “Why on Beta would anyone plant impossible DNA?”
Vega again. “To cover up Ursa’s killings. To protect your family.”
“Your family always stands together,” Yuri says.
My pulse is pounding in my ears. I push myself up. All eyes turn to me. It takes a moment to find my voice. “I had nothing to do with their deaths. I swear.”
“You hated my husband.” Vega’s voice cuts through me. “Dad was investigating you, an investigation that was ended by his death. You found Orion’s body. You were the last person to see Dad alive.”
“Cassius was fine when I last saw him! He went to investigate the creature!”
“This is insane, look at her!” It’s Jovan’s voice, from off to the side. I turn around. He’s on his feet too, on the other side of the aisle, waving a hand at me. “Orion and Cassius were much bigger than she is. How do you suggest she overpowered them?”
He’s as outraged as I am. My heart swells with gratitude.
“She’s an engineer,” Yuri says. “Someone was seen smuggling equipment out of the engineering shed and into the forest. Ursa could have made a weapon. She was seen cleaning landclearer blades. Probably to hide evidence.”
“I was sharpening them!” I say. Then I realize that doesn’t sound any better. I drop back down into my seat. This is ludicrous.
Yuri pulls himself up to his full height. “Captain Cygnus believed in killing crew members to make a point. His daughter is following in his footsteps.”
So that’s what this is all about: revenge for Yuri’s father. Astra grabs my hand again and clutches it tight. I turn to her and see my own anger mirrored in her eyes.
Mom’s wide nose flares. “This is news to me — engineering equipment being smuggled into the forest.” She turns to Antares. “Is there anything missing from the engineering hut?”
“I … don’t think so. I’ll check the inventories.”
“Make it a priority,” Mom says. “Yuri, I need that witness to testify in the investigation. If you have any more information you are hiding, you must let the executive know.”
But Jovan is still standing. “You can’t seriously think Ursa built something. What about the genetic evidence? What about the fur?”
“I know you’re on her side,” Yuri says. “I’ve seen you heading into the forest together, gazing into each other’s eyes.”
I suck in a breath, horrified and embarrassed.
“What do you mean, on her side?” Merope says. “Jovan is not the only geneticist working on this. Are you accusing the whole genetics section of being part of a cover-up?”
“If this continues, I will have to disband the meeting,” Mom says.
Yuri stares at Merope. “If the cap fits. None of you liked Cassius or Orion, or the fact that the agricology section was finally getting the respect it deserved.”
“We are professional and unbiased, Yuri,” Merope says.
There’s mocking laughter from the agricologists at the back.
To my surprise, Pisces, Head of Education, speaks. “Some … some of my section have reported hearing howling on the planet at night.”
A prickle works its way up my spine.
“It’s called the wind,” Yuri shouts. “And you’d better get used to it!”
More laughter.
“No,” Pisces says. “I don’t think …” but he’s too timid.
Mom shakes her head. “Is there anything that will convince you, Yuri?”
“Nothing that comes through you or the genelab.”
“Then how am I meant to investigate?”
Yuri shrugs. “Not my problem. As you were so keen to point out, you’re in charge of investigations now.” Then he turns and starts walking away, down the aisle of the council chamber. “I’m the only person who will look out for people down on the planet. You just want to protect your own family.”
“That’s not true!” Mom says, but her voice is lost in the clamor of the room.
“I’m going back to the surface. There’s a lot of work to do there.” Yuri opens his arms wide and shouts, his voice cutting through the commotion. “Come with me if you want to live on the planet in the wide open spaces of our future. Or you can hide up here, listening to lies crammed in with this killer.” He points at me. “It’s your choice.”
“But I —” My voice is drowned in the noise of people standing. A lot of them.
Yuri strides toward the doors, Vega following, the two of them pulling people behind them like they’re caught in a gravitational field. Agricologists, mainly, and the Head of Construction and half of her team. Celeste stays seated, but her eyes follow her colleagues.
“Wait,” Mom says. “We need to vote on the Head of Pro-tection —”
Sabik is one of the last to get to his feet, and on his way out he pulls out his linkcom and types. A message buzzes on mine as he’s walking through the door.
Don’t worry. I’ll speak to Yuri, it says.
He looks back and gives me a little wave. He’s still leaving with them, though. I doubt he’ll be able to make a difference.
Yuri has made up his mind, and the ship is tearing itself in two.
Mom dissolves the meeting, but calls an emergency discussion of the executive to be held in a side room. Astra hugs me tightly as the audience files out, muttering among themselves, some peering at us with naked suspicion, some giving us sympathetic smiles. I hide in her arms until Mom comes over and stands next to us. She pats my shoulder, awkwardly.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Mom says. “I wanted to stand up for you more. Actually, I wanted to scream. But they already think I’m biased. It would have made it worse.”
I clutch my hands together.
“Don’t worry. We’re sticking to the truth, and as more evidence comes to light, I know it’ll clear you.”
Astra speaks for me. “But what do we do until then?”
“Keep investigating,” Mom says. “And I’ll send down the chickens today as planned, and continue with the release schedule. We’ll prove we care about the people on the planet. Then we’ll have a better chance of uniting the ship.”
“I don’t know how, if Yuri keeps spreading his hateful lies,” Astra mutters. “He’s shattering this crew into factions.”
“Have some sympathy for Yuri. You know what he lost.”
Astra breathes in through her nose. “He lost a selfish father. Charon knew the law on stealing food.”
“He did it for his son.”
“He was stealing food for Yuri?” I didn’t know that.
Astra nods, puts a hand on my shoulder. “It was sad, but an example had to be made.”
“Let’s not
go over this again,” Mom says.
But Astra ignores her. “We were hanging on by a thread. Every-one’s children were hungry. More theft would have endangered us all. Cygnus had to make an example of someone. Sacrifices have to be made to save the ship.”
Mom sighs. “I have to focus on the present. Astra, I’m appointing you Acting Head of Protection. I need someone I can trust.”
Astra’s mouth opens. “But there hasn’t been an election.”
“And there can’t be, until we can get the crew back together. You’ll only be Acting Head until then. Okay?”
Astra pauses for a moment before she nods. “Whatever you need.”
Mom turns back to me. “You should take the morning off. You’ve been put through a lot in the last few days.”
“Okay,” I manage.
“I have to join the rest of the executive.” Mom sways, and I notice the dark circles under her eyes. “Look,” she says. “I know this is a tough time, but I’m here for you, and Astra’s here for you. Okay?”
She’s staring at me intently.
“Okay.”
“I love you, Ursa. Ping me if you need me.”
“Love you too.” Then she’s gone.
Astra turns to me. “I have a little time. Do you want to talk about what just happened?”
“You’re Head of Protection. You can work on the investiga-tion, right? That’s what’s going to help the most.”
Astra nods, and I wonder if she’s been thinking the same thing. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
Astra wraps her arms around me. Squeezes tightly. “I love you, Little Bear. So much.” And she leaves, filing out with the last of the stragglers from the meeting.
I’m soon all alone in the echoing metal room. I have to get to the bottom of this. Who is trying to frame me?
Vega hates me. But would she kill her own husband and father?
Yuri clearly thought he’d become captain after Cassius’s death. He and his team know the planet better than anyone. They’d know exactly how to get away with it. I want to see what’s down that path Sabik was hiding. He’s close with Yuri. Although it’s hard to believe he’d try to frame me.
But I never thought he’d lie to me, either.
I push the thought away. That investigation will have to wait until I’m next on the planet. I have an unexpected morning free, and I can get to the genelab. See if there’s anything amiss there. There’s a twinge of guilt that I’m looking there first. It’s Yuri and the agricologists I should be investigating, but there’s no way I can go down to the planet now.
I can’t just wander into the genelab either, of course. It’s a clean zone. No one is allowed in unless they have work there, and even the geneticists have to wear full protection to prevent a skin cell falling into their test tubes and petri dishes.
That’s not a problem for me, though. This is my ship, and nowhere was off limits for Maia and me. I just need my screwdriver, the remote control Maia and I made, and a quiet spot near the genelab.
i grab my gear bag and the remote hidden in my clothes closet, then take the elevator up to the engine room. I tell Aldrin, the engineer on duty, that I’m checking on the air circulation feed data. Once I’ve made a show of doing that and he’s distracted, I kick off the wall, float across the space, and take the elevator down to the genelab carriage.
I slip down the corridor and into the carriage’s washrooms. I wait in one of the metal cubicles — it stinks, but it’s quiet. I climb up on the toilet, reach up to the vent above me, and unscrew the cover, praying that no one comes in.
This is the first time I’ve done this alone, and it’s hard without a lookout. Maia should be here, giggling as she keeps an eye on the corridor, whispering at me to hurry. It’s so wrong she isn’t. I pause and wipe my eyes on my sleeve.
Then the screws are undone. The only sounds are the toilets flushing in another cubicle and the air circulators spinning. I flip the cover off and heave my torso up and into the vents, scraping my hip against the metal edges as I wiggle in. Once I’m up there, I turn around and position the grille behind me so that, at a glance, it looks like it’s closed.
I twist myself onto my hands and knees, careful not to bash the metal panels either side, and start crawling. Stale air blows in my face. It’s gray and dark, the only light glimmering through the grilles spaced along the left side, a few meters between each of them. As I crawl by each one, the light casts stripes on my arms and side.
This is how Maia and I used to explore the ship: eavesdropping on the habitation cabins, hiding in the ecocarriages. The vents are big enough for a large person to move through. When we were little, Maia and I could crawl side by side, although in the last few years, we had to go single file. When I took the lead, Maia would always complain I was too slow, pinching at my ankles to make me go faster.
The loneliness closes in on me like the thick alloy sides of the vents.
As I approach the first fan, I pull out the remote Maia and I made. It’s a simple white box, the size of a linkcom, but it looks gray in the dark of the vents. I slide the black switch. That hijacks the signal from the engine room, the one we use to shut down the fans when we’re doing maintenance. I hit the red button and wait. Slowly, the fan stops spinning.
Once it’s come to a halt, I squeeze between the blades, onto the other side, and continue crawling down the vent. When I’m a couple of meters away, I hit the green button. The fan behind me restarts, slowly at first, then picking up speed, blowing air at my feet and legs.
“We were a great team,” I whisper, then pause. “I miss you.”
I took Sabik into the vents, too. He stole some seeds from the agricology stores and set up a planter in here. But I guess there wasn’t enough light. The plants never became more than shoots. Little green blades that slowly turned brown.
I keep crawling through the fans, stopping and starting each one as I go.
Air blows in my face from the next grille. I must be at the lab itself. It has a positive pressure system, pushing air out from the lab to prevent contaminants coming in. It’s noisy here too. There’s screeching, scraping, and cawing, and someone is shouting that they can’t find the spare accelerated cell division unit and demanding to know who used it last.
I peer through the grille. The genelab is huge, brightly lit and crowded with people hidden behind matching white lab coats and masks. Most of them are bent over microscopes and centrifuges, working with pipettes and petri dishes, but some attend to a huge bank of cages, sealed off from the rest of the room with a glass wall.
The cages are full of animals, from small rodents to rabbits and larger birds. I guess that’s where the bad smell is coming from. It reminds me of the water recycler when the pipes get backed up. There are no chickens there, so they’re probably already in the cargo bay waiting for the next shuttle down to the planet.
I hear a humming below me where the womb units are. It’s warm, even from a few meters away. Dozens of red spheres hang from the wall, like huge red bubbles, tubes feeding into them, all glowing to indicate they’re in use. They pulse as the artificial circulation feeds nutrients and oxygen to the growing creatures. They can grow populations in less than a third of the natural gestation times, and we only lose about fifteen percent to genetic replication errors. It’s an acceptable level for animals, but not for humans, which is why we stick with implantation for our reproduction, even after the Great Virus. Each of the wombs is small now, but they can stretch to accommodate any animal. There will be cows and horses one day.
For one mad moment, I wonder if the creature could be real, could have been grown here, but there’s no way to hide something that big in the crowded genelab. It would be too obvious as it grew far bigger than any of the other creatures in the artificial wombs. And how would they get it down to the planet? Everyone would have notic
ed a monster on the shuttle.
The rest of the carriage, to my right, is the Genebank. Part freezer, part ark. Most of it is animal genetic material, everything that we need to introduce to the planet to create thriving ecosystems. Hundreds of columns filled with tiny rows of drawers, each with hundreds of samples of DNA. Thousands of each species, to ensure genetic diversity.
The far section is the human DNA bank. Over sixty thousand people are represented there, all anonymous. Selected from Alpha Earth for their health, intelligence, and lack of family history of disease. And over the voyage, the Genebank has been expanded with the genetic material of four hundred years’ worth of the crew. When I’m of age, they’ll save some of my eggs, too.
Our history is also our future.
Each of us is randomly created from two donors to keep the gene pool wide. I’ve studied myself in the mirror for clues about my genetic parents. Checked images from Alpha Earth. I’m guessing one of them was from Africa, ancestrally at least. Sabik looks like both his genetic donors might be from Asia, and Maia was as pale as the Europeans in the vidstreams. But most of us are harder to place.
In the lab, no one is working on any fur that I can see. And other than that, I don’t know what I’m looking for. There’s too much going on in here: the creation of antibiotics, modified yeasts for the fermentation vats, vaccines and bacteria that deal with any dangerous organisms that develop on board, and solutions for autoimmune reactions to our new environment. Although now they’re mostly focused on the animal program.
How would I identify the staff who are investigating the deaths, and how could I tell if they were doing it wrong? It was dumb of me to come here. What did I expect? A workstation with a “How to frame Ursa” flowchart on a display screen above it?
I sit back on my haunches in the vent.
This has been a wasted trip. And a lonely one, without Maia.
I stare for a moment at the bustle of the genelab. The white-coated people move around each other, impossible to identify in their masks and suits. A pair of them stare at a microscope together. Two others are chatting. One leans back, puts a gloved hand on their stomach. Their eyes crinkle with laughter.