ORION: I may know Eldest’s secrets, but he doesn’t know mine. He hasn’t figured out where I’m hiding or how. He’s been watching me on the wi-com system, but I’ve figured out how to trick the signal, make it look like I’m at the Hospital when I’m not.
Orion raises a hand to his left ear and gently touches — but doesn’t depress — the button there.
ORION: He doesn’t know about this place. But it’s not enough. I might have to…
Orion’s fingers seize over the wi-com, his nails scratching the skin and leaving pink welts in their wake. I glance at Amy as she touches the bracelet wi-com on her wrist with one finger, a worried frown on her lips.
ORION: But the secret… it should stay a secret. No one should know this. Not even me. It’s… too much.
Orion stands and begins pacing. His feet come off camera and on camera; his voice fades in and out.
ORION: I don’t know what’s frexing right anymore. Do I tell the truth? Or is the lie better?… And what about…?
Muffled sounds echo as Orion moves away from the camera.
ORION: I can’t cover it up. Someone may need to know — there might be a time when we have to… But the floppy network’s not safe…
I strain my ears to make out the indistinguishable sounds in the background — Orion’s muttering something, words I can’t make out over the sound of his footsteps marching back and forth in front of the camera. He picks up the camera, and a jumble of images wash over the screen. After a moment, he turns the camera back to his face, now cast in shadows.
ORION: I’m leaving this for whoever finds it. If something happens to me… if Eldest… you know. Well. If something happens to me, I figured someone ought to know.
Orion takes a deep breath, then opens his mouth to speak.
The video cuts off abruptly.
“That’s it?” Amy asks.
“No, look — there’s more.”
Scrolling words fill the screen again.
That was a long time ago, but it doesn’t make it any less true. Amy, you’ve seen the truth for yourself. You’ve seen the weapons. You know — you must know — that if we need weapons like this, then whatever’s on Centauri-Earth isn’t worth it. Lock up the armory, forget the passcode, and walk away.
32 AMY
“WELL, FREX,” ELDER SAYS, LEANING AWAY AND LOOKING AT the blank floppy in disgust.
I look up at him inquiringly.
“All that floppy did was prove that he was paranoid — and that this whole clue-chasing thing has been pointless.”
“Pointless?” I pick the floppy up and stand as well.
Elder nods. “Pointless. I was hoping to learn how to restart the engine, but all we get from this vid is some big secret that Orion decided not to share with us. He sent us on a chase all over the ship to find clues that lead to a door that he just tells us to lock again. You don’t get much more pointless than that.”
I nod, folding the floppy and slipping it into my pocket. “There is definitely something sketch about this,” I say as soon as the last words fade to black.
“Sketch?”
“You know, weird.”
A wry grin slides across Elder’s face. “Every time I think I know you, you say something so… strange.”
“Ha!” I punch him on the arm. “I thought we’ve been over this before: you’re the one who speaks sketch.”
Elder pushes the heavy submarine-like door closed, and I make sure the door does lock behind us — but I’m not going to forget the code.
“I think Orion was scared,” I say, following Elder down the hall.
“He was loons.” Elder’s voice is bitter. “That was filmed around the time Eldest tried to kill him, and it’s clear he’d already lost it. Orion was paranoid—”
“He had a right to be paranoid.” I can’t help it; I touch the smooth skin behind my left ear, remembering the way Orion had scratched his skin in the video. What did it take for him to dig deeper into his skin, to rip the wires from his own flesh? I glance at the wi-com encircling my wrist and swallow back bile at the thought of how it was those wires, dripping in gore and blood, and… ew.
“It’s weird, though.” I pause, thinking. “All the rest of the videos have been on that mem card thing. This one was already loaded on a floppy, sitting in the armory. None of the other ones had text. And none of the other ones were that old. That video was made just before Orion faked his own death. Maybe someone, I don’t know, messed with it.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Elder frowns at the video. “Look, I get that Orion made these vids for you, and you feel like you have to solve his frexing riddle. But we’re going to have to figure out how to live on this ship without whatever stupid message he left for us.” He runs his fingers through his hair. He usually does this when he’s thinking, but there’s anger in the way he does it now, as if he’s only doing it to stop himself from punching something. “We have serious problems to deal with — and this was just a frexing waste of time. The engine isn’t going to fix itself. Orion’s just distracting us from the real problems.”
I bite my lip. Orion didn’t leave a message for us; he left it for me. And it was something about getting off the ship, I know it. The key to fixing the engine, the reason for the delay — something. Something important.
Besides. How much longer can we go on like this?
“Hold on,” Elder growls, and then turns away from me, jabbing his wi-com button on the side of his neck with such force that it looks like it hurts. He speaks in a low voice for a moment, then shouts, “What?!”
“What is it?” I ask softly, putting my hand on his arm.
Elder jerks away from me. “What?” he says again into the wi-com. “I’ll be right there.” He presses the button behind his ear again and glances at me before taking off down the hallway toward the elevators. “I’ve got to go,” he says.
“Why? What’s wrong?” I have to jog to catch up. “Elder, what’s wrong?”
“Bartie’s causing more trouble.” Elder slams his fist into the elevator call button. “I can’t waste my time with this anymore,” he says.
“It’s not a waste,” I say softly.
The elevator doors open, and Elder holds his arm out to prevent them from closing without him. He searches my eyes. “I’m not angry at you,” he says, his voice sincere. “But these ‘clues’ aren’t going to fix the ship.”
Elder steps into the elevator, leaving me alone on the cold, empty cryo level. Part of me wishes he could stay, but I know he’s needed on the other levels. As I walk slowly back to the locked doors, I wonder how things would be different if Elder didn’t have to be in charge of Godspeed. I would never ask him to give up the leadership he’s longed for all his life… but maybe if he didn’t have to care about the ship first, I could believe him when he said he cared about me.
I pull the floppy we found out of my pocket. Maybe Elder is right. Maybe this is nothing but a wild-goose chase.
But… it’s all I have right now. It’s all I’ve had for three months. It’s the first spark of hope I’ve had since waking up, and I have to cling to it. I have to. I have to believe something, something will come of this.
I play the video file again, skimming over the words and straining my ears to pick up some nuance in Orion’s tone, something that will give me a clue.
Orion’s voice — so much like Elder’s — fills the hall. “Eldest doesn’t want anyone to know this secret. I don’t think he even wanted me to notice, but… the outside of the ship needed maintenance… I–I saw what he wanted me not to see.”