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“So, I just push this button,” I say, pointing to the big black one, “and we land?”
“Technically. But it’s not as simple as that,” Shelby explains. “You’d need that throttle to help direct where the ship goes after re-entry. And there’s always the chance that the re-entry doesn’t go smoothly; then you need—” She indicates the rest of the Bridge. “But don’t worry. Me and the other Shippers know how. And the controls work. Our records indicate that we’ve had to use the Bridge controls at least six times throughout the flight—we crossed an asteroid belt many gens ago, and our ancestors before the Plague had to adjust the flight plan. ”
She meets my eyes and, despite herself, a grin spreads across her face. “We’re going to land this thing, aren’t we?”
“Oh, yes,” I say. “But before we do that, I’m going to show everyone what they almost lost. ”
52
AMY
WHEN I CLOSE MY PARENTS BACK UP IN THE CRYO CHAMBER, I think about everything I wish I could tell them, but all I say is: “Soon. ”
I think about returning to my room—my grumbling stomach would appreciate it if I got something to eat—but I doubt there’s any wall food at the Hospital, and I can’t reach Elder on my wi-com.
Part of me wishes that instead of coming here by the elevator, I’d explored the stairs I’d found with Orion’s clues. I’m desperately curious about where they lead—surely they go to the last locked door—but even though no one but me knows about the stairs, I’m half afraid to go down them without Elder.
Instead, I go to the hatch that leads to the stars. Maybe I can see the planet through the bubble-glass window if I look just right.
That’s odd.
The code for the door is Godspeed, or, on the numbered pad, 46377333. But the little window over the keypad already shows numbers: 46377334. The numbers fade to an error message: INCORRECT CODE. As the message changes back to the wrong numbers, I look inside the hatch.
Someone’s lying facedown on the floor.
My eyes widen. I clear out the incorrect code and type in the right one, opening the hatch door.
My heart drops. I know who this is. My hand flies immediately to my wi-com, and I try first for Elder, but the stupid thing just beeps uselessly. I stare at the body on the floor, my stomach churning. I can’t seem to catch my breath.
“Luthor?” I ask tentatively.
I try to com Doc too, but I can already tell from the stench that it’s too late.
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I roll the body over. Green patches line his arms from wrist to elbow.
I look for the message Elder told me had been written across some of the victims, follow the leader. But there’s nothing here. Just patches and death.
His eyes are open, glassy. They stare straight ahead.
His body is stiff. Cold. He’s been dead awhile.
He died down here, probably before Elder gave his announcement about planet-landing. He died without knowing hope. He died cold and alone, blocked from the light of the stars, on a hard metal floor, surrounded by walls.
There’s nothing I can do. He’s dead.
I glance back at the keypad by the door. Whoever dumped his body in the hatch meant to type the code and open the outer door, sending the body out into the vacuum of space. They messed the code up on the last number and left the body by accident.
I bite my lip, trying to think who would do this—and what I should do if I figure it out. Does Luthor’s murderer deserve punishment? He tried to rape me, he did rape Victria, and he would do it again, given the chance. He’s been pushing for a rebellion not because he believes in any ideal of democracy, but because he thrills in causing chaos. He never showed any remorse. He didn’t make a mistake—he was evil, and he knew, and he relished in it.
I remember the rage in Elder’s eyes when I told him what Luthor had done, and how he went away for so long after.
No. No.
I force my mind to think of the future.
Planet-landing.
