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She hesitates before she nods.
She looks so fragile in this moment that it breaks my heart. We both know that I won’t be able to protect her from everything.
But I’ll do all I can, no matter what the cost.
“Amy,” I say, searching her eyes. “I lo—”
She slams her lips against mine, cutting my words off. I try to put the words she won’t let me say into my kiss. Her arms snake around my neck, pulling me closer to her. There’s a sort of desperation to our kiss, a hunger, one that neither of us may ever be able to satiate.
I’m not stupid.
Even as my thoughts evaporate in the flames of our kiss, I am aware that she wouldn’t let me say the words I meant to say and that she has yet to say them in return.
But I don’t care.
Because we can say them or not; it doesn’t matter. What is in our hearts is real whether we name it or let it exist only in darkness and silence.
* * *
A long time later, we break apart. Color has returned to Amy’s cheeks, and her hands aren’t trembling anymore.
“We’re going to make it,” I say, hoping my words reaffirm the idea within her.
She clenches her jaw and nods.
I inspect the control panel under the plaque with the double-winged symbol of the FRX. “This is definitely a communication bay,” I say. “It isn’t that different from the com links we used on Godspeed. ”
Of course it isn’t. They were both developed by the FRX.
Amy follows my gaze. “Do you think we could contact the ship? Maybe we can get someone to help us figure out the Little Prince clue. ”
I shake my head. Even if there were a way to hail Godspeed, I’d have to tap directly into the wi-coms—any other type of communication system was destroyed with the Bridge. I glance at Amy. Her eyes are shiny, as if reaching the ship is her last hope. I turn back to the com bay; it isn’t that different from the ship’s . . . it wouldn’t hurt to try.
I pull up a hard, straight-backed chair standing against the wall and sit in front of the control panel, trying to figure out what the controls are and how they’re used. I recognize some—this dial searches for a signal, this one adjusts the output. But there are others—a knob labeled ANSIBLE, a gauge with a rapidly moving needle—that mean nothing to me.
Amy sits down beside me. A touch screen lights up in front of her, displaying a menu of options. Maybe the old technology is mixed with the new. Amy slides her finger over the screen, then pauses, hovering over one word.
Intercepted.
She glances at me. This doesn’t bode well.
Amy presses the word, and the screen goes black with only a small red line labeled frequency visualizer on the top and a yellow line labeled volume visualizer on the bottom. As sound fills the communication room, the lines bounce up and down in a graphic sequencing of the words. In the center, typed words transcribe the audio message.
Congratulations, Godspeed! You have safely arrived at your final destination, the planet circling the binary Centauri system.
“I know what this is,” I say, my stomach sinking.
“We’re communicating with Earth!” Amy cries, excited, leaning forward as the message continues.
We are excited to inform you that the probes sent prior to the ship’s landing have indicated not only a habitable world, but profitable environmental resources as well!
Amy turns to me, eyes gleaming with excitement.
Until she sees the look on my face.
At the time of your landing, a signal was relayed directly to the Financial Resource Exchange. Rest assured that even now, the FRX is preparing a shuttle filled with aid and supplies for your colony.
“Earth is coming!” Amy insists, still clinging to her newfound hope. “Earth will come help us out!”
