A Million Suns atu-2

by Beth Revis

  Propped up on top of the autopilot button is a floppy, already loaded with a mem card.

  “The last vid,” Amy says.

  “What is it?” Bartie asks, picking up the floppy.

  I snatch it from his hands. My eyes question Amy — should we show them?

  “All in,” she whispers, and even though I’m not sure what that phrase is about, the meaning is clear.

  Everyone crowds around me as I swipe my fingers across the screen. I glance up once at the honeycombed glass window showing the planet, and the video begins.

  <>

  “What is this?” Bartie asks, drawing closer.

  Victria gasps. Amy puts her arm around her shoulders and squeezes as Orion’s face fills the screen.

  He sits on a chair in front of the bridge. I glance up, looking at the real chair, the one in the middle. That’s where Orion sat as he filmed this, the planet cresting over his left shoulder, so bright that it cast Orion in silhouette.

  ORION: Oh, Amy. I wish I didn’t have to show you this. I really do. Because… now that you’ve seen the planet, how can I ask that you turn away?

  Orion glances behind him at the planet and sighs. Victria sighs too.

  ORION: Because that’s what I have to ask you to do. If at all possible — I need you to turn away, lock this door, and never come back.

  Amy’s mouth drops open, but no sound comes out.

  ORION: Did you think the big secret was that we were here? That the planet is just on the other side of that window?

  Orion shakes his head. I notice that Victria, her eyes glued to Orion’s face, shakes her head just barely too, the movement hardly noticeable.

  ORION: That’s not the secret.

  Orion reaches behind him and pulls out a sheaf of papers.

  “This is what he has,” Bartie says, picking up a sheaf of papers from where they were resting on the control panel. The edges are curled and the pages are dusty, but these are the same papers Orion holds on the screen.

  Orion clears his throat, then reads, holding the papers up so the camera can show the report.

  We all lean over the sheaf of papers Bartie holds, reading along with Orion’s gravelly voice.

  Date: 328460

  Ship Status: Arrival

  Ship Record: Godspeed has arrived at Centauri-Earth 248 days prior to expected planet-landing. Preliminary scans indicate that the planet is life-supporting, with appropriate gravity, air quality with sufficient oxygen levels, and liquid water. However, additional scans have proven that the planet is already inhabited. Not by any creatures we can tell are sentient, but the life-forms seem… aggressive.

  Date: 328464

  Ship Status: Orbital

  Ship Record: We have continued to scan the planet. The life-forms on the surface have been confirmed. Visual probes indicate that the planet is habitable but inhospitable. Our current weapons do not seem a sufficient enough defense against the creatures on the surface.

  Date: 328467

  Ship Status: Orbital

  Ship Record: Crew is restless. It is the opinion of our top statisticians and scientists that we should not fulfill our mission for planet-landing at this point. The surface is too dangerous. Communication with Earth has been severed. We cannot expect aid from other sources, and we cannot defend ourselves outside the ship. We will conduct a vote with the crew, explaining the situation. It is my recommendation that the crew remains on board the ship where it is safe. Our needs are provided for, and the ship’s external engines can be redirected to internal maintenance.

  Date: 328518

  Ship Status: Orbital

  Ship Record: Mutiny. The ship’s crew did not see the logic of staying aboard, despite my protests. There has been significant loss of life. My scientists, however, have developed a method of influencing them to obedience.

  Amy and I look up at each other. “This is the Plague, isn’t it?” she asks. “This is where Phydus came from. This — this ‘captain’—he’s the first Eldest.”

  I nod.

  “Shh,” Bartie snaps.

  Date: 328603

  Ship Status: Orbital

  Ship Record: A way of life has resumed with increasing stability. The crew is once more submissive. We will work on rebuilding our numbers. In the event that communication can be resumed with Earth or aid otherwise received, we can still commence with planet-landing. Until that point, with conservation and careful production, the internal functions of the ship should subsist for countless generations.

  Orion sets the papers down on the control panel at the front of the bridge in the exact same spot Bartie found them.

  ORION: So, that’s why we can’t land. I’m not a frexing chutz; I get what’s going on here. The Plague Eldest was right to keep us on board the ship. I’ve seen the armory — you’ve seen it too. There are weapons there…

  Orion shakes his head in disbelief. My eyes are on Victria.

  ORION: Amy, surely you know that those weapons aren’t normal… If the Plague Eldest says that there are monsters on Centauri-Earth that those weapons can’t kill…

  He shakes his head again.

  ORION: And besides, think about it. Think about those weapons.

  Orion leans forward, closer to the camera. All four of us lean in closer too.

  ORION: You think those frozens in the cryo chambers are going to use ’em? Frex, no. That’s what we’re here for.

  Orion stands up, walks to the window, stares a minute, comes back.

  ORION: See this?

  Orion picks up the camera and angles it to show ten empty circles on the floor. As one, all four of us look up, over to the far wall and the ten hollow depressions in the floor.

  ORION: That’s where the probes were. After all the ones the Plague Eldest sent, every Eldest after that sent down another probe. They’ve all come back with warnings, that we can’t live on Centauri-Earth without a fight. A fight we’ll probably lose. A fight the frozens will make us fight.

  “That’s when he decided to kill them,” Amy says. “All the frozens, after I woke up — that’s why he unplugged them. You were getting close to the truth, even if you didn’t realize it, and he was afraid of what they’d do.”

  I meet her eyes. “That’s what he told us. That’s what he told us all along. He wasn’t lying.”

  Amy scowls. “He was lying about some of it. I don’t care what he says, my father wouldn’t—”

  “Shh!” Bartie shoots us angry looks.

  ORION: We ran out of probes a couple of gens ago. I don’t know how long the engines will last now, how long we can stay here, in Godspeed. This is the contingency plan.

  He raises both hands, indicating the cryo level’s bridge.

  ORION: If the engines fail, if life support falters, if Godspeed can’t protect us anymore, then — and only then — we can leave the ship.

  Orion’s eyes stare directly out of the screen.

  ORION: Amy, I could tell from the start: the thing you cared most about was the truth. When I first met you, you were crying at the wall, remember, and I told you everything was going to be okay, and I could tell — you weren’t going to just accept what I said. You were willing to face the truth, even if it hurt.

  I glance up at Amy; she’s even paler than usual.

  ORION: Well, this is the truth. What you do with it is up to you. I don’t know what choice should be made — Eldest thought I knew too much; he was scared of what I would do — and I was scared too. Still am. That leaves you. Now that you know the truth, Amy, you have to decide.

  Orion takes a deep breath. Amy holds hers.

  ORION: Is the ship so bad that you have to face the monsters below? Is it worth the risk of your life — of everyone’s lives? If the answer is yes, then begin the planet-landing. Use this shuttle if you have to. But. But if Godspeed can still be your home, if it’s possible to stay on board — do so.

  Amy lets out a long, shaking breath. Almost as if he heard her, Orion glares d
own. She bites her lip, her whole body focused on Orion’s next words.

  ORION: This is the last resort.

  The screen fades to black.

  <>

  64 AMY

  I LET THE FLOPPY SLIDE FROM MY FINGERS AND WATCH AS IT wafts to the floor.

  “Does this mean,” Victria says slowly, “that we get to stay on the ship? Forever?” Her eyes flick to the windows behind us, the planet on the other side.

  “No,” I say, shaking my head. “No.”

  “The only part of the ship that’s damaged is the Bridge. We could stay… here… ” Elder’s voice trails off under my flashing glare.

  “The monsters? You’re worried about the monsters, or whatever it is that’s on the planet?” I roll my eyes. “Look, I’ve seen the armory. I’m not worried one bit. That captain? He was just scared. Or he didn’t want to let go of his power. Look at him — he just assumed it would be bad and then hid all the evidence about the planet and set himself up as king of the ship. What kind of nepotistic megalomaniac does that? He didn’t care about landing, about escaping, as long as he kept his power. And he’s had every single person on this ship convinced of the same thing, including you!”

  I’m so worked up by this point that I’m heaving as I finish, but I won’t back down. “I am getting off this damn ship. I don’t care if the boogeyman jumps up as soon as the door opens and swallows me whole so long as I can step outside just once.”

  “No!” Elder snaps. “I’m sorry, but no. This is ridiculous. I don’t care how impatient you are; this is something worth taking our time on. It’s worth it to know if we’re going to die the minute we step off this shuttle!”

  Ringing silence fills the bridge when he’s done shouting. My face burns; I can almost hear the others repeating Elder’s words in their minds. Bartie stares at Elder with a sort of intense, furious wonder. I am being a spoiled little brat, throwing a temper tantrum.

  But they can’t show me a planet and then snatch it away.

  “Can you really go on living in Godspeed after having seen this?” I ask in almost a whisper, sweeping my arm toward the window.

  Elder doesn’t look to the planet. His gaze doesn’t leave my eyes. “No,” he says. “No, I couldn’t.”

  Bartie clears his throat. I can’t tell if he’s scared or if he’s angry — he glares at Elder, but he shifts uncomfortably on his feet. “I say we take a vote. If people don’t want to go…”

  “They stay?” I ask incredulously. “Really?”

  “We have a better chance of survival on the planet now anyway, monsters or not,” Elder says. Bartie turns to him. “The food stores are gone.”

  “We can grow more—” Bartie starts, but he’s interrupted by a loud boom!

  “What was that?” Victria says.

  It wasn’t the same explosive thunder the bombs made; this sounded more like something heavy crashing to the floor in the distance.

  But we’re alone on this level.

  We’re supposed to be alone on this level.

  We creep to the door leading out of the bridge — the last locked door on the cryo level. It opens from this side, but Elder’s smart enough to cram a chair in the door so it doesn’t lock again.

  The hallway’s empty, the other doors all closed and locked. My stomach lurches — what if someone’s down here messing with the cryo boxes? What about my parents? I force myself to think despite my rising panic. My heartbeat is thrumming in my ears, urging me to race down the hall. But no — I take a deep breath. The chambers would make a glass-on-metal cracking sound, not that thunderous boom of metal-on-metal.

  The cryo area is empty — except for the far wall. Black dirt and debris from the explosion litter the floor near the elevator. The doors have been blown off; they lie like fallen soldiers on the floor. But the elevator shaft is blocked off with another set of heavy, seal-locked doors.

  “The gen lab door is open,” Elder whispers.

  I nod. The four of us creep forward slowly. Elder steps around in front of me when I reach the door. I want to yank him back — I don’t need him to play the hero — but he stops dead in the doorway. I crash into his back.

  “Doc?” he asks. His voice is surprised, but I notice the way his neck tenses and his fists clench.

  Doc turns around slowly as Victria, Bartie, and I pile into the room behind Elder.

  Behind Doc is the source of the crashing sound we heard earlier — Doc opened up the cryo tube Orion was frozen in, and the metal frame smashed against the floor.

  “What are you doing?” Elder asks. I try to move around Elder so I can get a clearer view, but he throws his arm out, keeping me behind him.

  “I knew you were here,” Doc says, tossing a floppy at Elder. Elder scans it and hands it back to me; Victria and Bartie look over my shoulder. The screen shows the wi-com locator map. Blinking dots indicate each of us on the level — Doc, Bartie, Victria, Elder… and Orion.

  My mouth feels dry and tasteless. Orion. That’s my wi-com. Doc gave it to me just so he could keep track of where I was going.

  “What are you doing, Doc?” Elder asks again. His tone is even, unnaturally calm.

  Doc turns back to the cryo chamber. The glass window in the cryo tube is foggy with condensation, but I can still see the red veins popping in Orion’s eyes. I imagine myself mirrored in his pupils. His hand is pressed against the window in front of his face. This cryo tube was developed after the glass boxes my parents and I were frozen in. It’s metal, insulated like a thermos, and operates much more simply. It’s like a shower instead of a bath — instead of lying in a glass coffin, all you have to do is step inside, let the cryo liquid dump on you, and then initiate the freezing process: one big red button on the front. I stare at it now, remembering when Elder pushed the button.

  “Doc,” Elder says, his voice a warning.

  Finally, Doc turns to Elder. “This ship needs a leader. And the only one we have left is Orion.”

  “We have a leader,” I say, stepping in front of Elder.

  Doc smiles at me in a sad, ironic sort of way. “He could have been a leader. Given a few more years and a lot less of you.” I sputter in anger, but Doc just shakes his head. “We have to have control. We need a real leader.”

  I laugh, a harsh sound I don’t even recognize coming from my own throat. “We have a leader, I told you. And Elder will never let you go back to the way things were.”

  Doc laughs now, a soft, low chuckle. “Oh, Amy,” he says, “you’re so slow. And so wrong.”

  I turn around to tell Elder to shoot Doc’s idea down.

  He stares blankly, emptily, back at me.

  “Elder?” I say, fear making my voice crack.

  Victria steps out from behind both boys. “I’m sorry,” she says, letting the pale green wrappers drop to the floor. “I just want Orion back.”

  In her hands is a gun, a small revolver with large-caliber bullets. “How did you…?” I ask.

  “Doc gave it to me. He knew — he knew I wanted protection. And when he told me that he could get Orion back… I made sure I could help him.”

  My mouth drops open. I’ve come to know so many sides of Victria — the unrequited lover, the victim, the forgotten friend. I never thought I’d see her as a traitor.

  She moves to stand between Doc and the cryo chamber holding Orion’s frozen body. And she never once lowers the gun.

  Elder and Bartie stare straight ahead. A single square green patch clings to each of their necks.

  65 ELDER

  “NO, NO, NO,” AMY WHISPERS.

  Her words remind me… of… something.

  But everything’s so… slow.

  “Stay back,” Doc says.

  I struggle to hold on to the situation… to understand…

  “Are you okay?” Amy says.

  Why wouldn’t I be?

  Doc. Holding something that looks like an orange cut in half. Mustard yellow.

  “I’ll blow us all up,
” Doc says. “If that’s what it takes. We have to protect the ship. Or I could just have Victria shoot you. Yes. We’ll do that. It would leave less of a mess.”

  “I… I don’t know how,” she says softly.

  “It’s very easy, dear,” Doc says. “Just point and squeeze the trigger. At this distance, you won’t miss her.”

  His words mean something. I’m sure of it.

  But… what?

  Amy’s crying. Just one tear, on the edge of her right eye, but I notice it.

  Can’t do anything.

  Words float around me. Loud. Angry. Pleading.

  “If he’s that much of a distraction,” Doc says, “maybe we should kill him now.”

  “Not Elder!” Amy shouts, pushing me behind her.

  I feel gray.

  Fuzzy.

  “Elder!” Doc commands loudly. “Show me what’s in your pocket!”

  I do.

  Wires.

  Pretty wires.

  Red.

  Yellow.

  Black.

  Wires.

  “Put them back in the Phydus machine,” Doc orders. “You know you want to.”

  I do.

  I do want to.

  I shuffle toward the Phydus machine.

  Something stops me.

  Something pulls me back.

  I try to keep walking.

  I go nowhere.

  “Amy,” Doc warns. “Don’t try to stop him.”

  “Elder,” Amy’s voice whispers in my ear. “Elder, fight it. Fight it. You don’t want to start the Phydus machine again. You don’t have to rule with drugs. You’re good enough the way you are. Fight it. Be yourself.”

  “Amy,” Doc warns. “You know I’ll kill you. Or him. You know I will.”

  My legs move up and down, and I move forward again.

  To the Phydus machine.

  To put back in the wires.

  Like I always knew I’d have to.