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“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. . . .
