“Not yet,” I say. I slip the tube under my nose off my face.
“Don’t do that,” Amy says. “It’s oxygen.”
“I’ve got enough now, see?” I take a big, obvious breath and disentangle myself from the tube.
Her brows furrow, but she allows me to pull her down so she’s sitting on the edge of the bed. I bite my lip, then release it — my lips are sore and feel bruised. I can taste copper along the soft flesh.
“I thought I was going to lose you,” Amy whispers. Her fingers trail down the side of my cheek, lightly brushing the place where my face is still bruised from Stevy’s punch a few days ago. Her fingers are cool, her touch so soft I barely feel it.
“I’m fine.” I smile wryly. “Better than fine.”
“Are you really okay?” she asks, moving a piece of hair off my face.
“Amy,” I say, taking a deep breath and relishing the taste of air. “Amy, we’re here. We’re at the planet. We’ve made it.”
Her brow crinkles.
“That’s what I saw when I went outside. I saw Centauri-Earth.”
She shakes her head, as if making my words rattle around inside her skull.
“We’re going to land. Soon.”
Something snaps. Her eyes go out of focus. “We’ll be able to wake my parents up,” she says slowly. “I won’t have to spend my whole life on this ship. I’ll be able to go outside again. I’ll see the sun.”
“Suns,” I correct. “Centauri-Earth has two suns.”
“Suns. Suns.” And the light in her eyes reminds me of the two shining orbs hanging over the planet.
“Now aren’t you glad I went outside?” I ask, grinning at her. “All I had to do was die a little, and you get a new planet!”
I expected her to laugh, or at least smile. I did not expect her to slap my arm. “You stupid idiot!” she says, smacking me again. “I don’t want the new planet without you!”
Her eyes round as she realizes what she just said. Anytime we’d gotten this close to talking about us before, Amy has shied away from the topic. But now, instead of drawing away from me, she leans closer. Her hair spills over her shoulders, brushing my chest as she leans down. Her fiery joy at learning about the planet is replaced with something else, something warmer, like a slow-burning but steady flame.
“It wouldn’t be worth it without you,” she says, her voice low.
My arm snakes out, wrapping around her waist and pulling her closer so that she’s practically lying on top of me. I can feel every inch of her; her heartbeat is crashing about so hard that I’m surprised it’s not making the bed shake.
She looks terrified, but she doesn’t pull away.
Her kiss is soft and gentle, barely pressing against my bruised lips. There is sweetness in it, and innocence, and a promise.
Doc clears his throat.
I get one glimpse of Amy’s surprised face, and then she scurries back to the chair against the wall, her face bright red.
“How are you feeling, Elder?” Doc asks as he approaches the bed. He frowns at the discarded oxygen tube. He checks my pulse, waves a light in front of my eyes.
“I’m fine,” I insist.
Finally, he seems to agree with me and sits down in the chair next to Amy. “Now,” he says, an edge to his usually even voice, “would you like to tell me just what the frex you were thinking?”
I open my mouth, but no answer comes out. My eyes dart to Amy’s — how much does Doc know? — and she shakes her head subtly.
“Don’t try to hide things from me,” Doc says, his voice going up a notch. “It’s obvious what you two were doing.”
“It… is?”
Doc glares at me. “I know what that suit was. It was for going outside the ship. Orion did it once, when the ship needed an external repair. And you two found the suits and thought, ‘Oh, let’s just go outside in space and play!’”
“It’s not like—” I start, but Amy widens her eyes at me, silencing me.
“Elder, I understand, I do,” Doc says, his voice dipping back down to a low monotone, the same sort of voice he’d use when asking how I was, just before offering me a med patch to calm down. “You wanted to see what it was like out there. But you should have realized. Those suits are ancient. I doubt any of them are truly safe.” He pauses, not meeting my eyes. “Elder — you’re too valuable. With Orion frozen and the ship off Phydus — we can’t take any chances. Not with you.”
Doc covers his face with his hands, and I’m surprised — I’ve never seen him overcome with emotion like this before.
Beep, beep-beep.
I move to silence the wi-com.
“Are you getting a com?” Doc asks. “You better take it.” He glares at me, his worry replaced with anger. “Just because you do something loons doesn’t excuse you from your duties.”
“I know,” I say, wounded. I press my wi-com.
Doc’s scowl softens, and he looks like he’s about to apologize to me, but I put one finger up, listening to the com.
When I disconnect the link, I stand up. Amy looks as if she’d like to push me back into the bed, but I ignore her.
“Amy.” I try to put the words I cannot say into the look I give her. “We need to talk later. About the thing.”
She nods.
“But I’ve got to go now,” I say.
Amy grabs me by my elbow before I make it out of the room. “What is it?” she asks, and even though she’s only said three words, the tone of her voice begs me to stay with her.
But I can’t.
“Marae’s dead.”
42 AMY
THE ROOM FEELS HOLLOW WHEN ELDER LEAVES. I TRY TO remember Marae — I knew she was the First Shipper, a title something like being second in command to Elder. She was tall and all business, with a severe haircut and piercing eyes, but I don’t really know anything about her other than her appearance.
And now it’s too late.
And too late for her to see the new planet too.
Guilt tugs at my navel. I shouldn’t be so happy, not when someone else has been killed. But — we’re here! The ship is going to actually land! As I pass by the common room in the Ward, I stop to stare out of the huge windows. In my mind, I replace the perfectly even rolling hills and boxed-up trailers of the distant City with forests and oceans and sky.
We’re here.
I grin in satisfaction as I drift back to my room. I may hate Orion for all he did to me after I woke up, but I can’t deny that his clues led Elder and me straight to Centauri-Earth.
And nearly killed him, I think.
My hands raise of their own volition, and I touch my lips with my fingers. That kiss… I hadn’t thought about what I was doing, I just did it. And now I can’t forget the way his lips felt against mine. Had I meant what I said, that the new planet would be pointless without him?
Yes.
But… if — no, when—the ship lands, everything will be different.
That is just as true as our kiss.
I shake my head. I can’t think about this now.
I lock my bedroom door and pull out the Shakespearean sonnet I found in the room with the space suits. Part of me wants to go back to get the copy of The Little Prince that was down there as well, but I can’t bear the thought of going back to the cryo level just yet. I can’t think about the hatch without also seeing Elder’s crumpled body on the floor. I remember that brief moment when I thought it was already too late.
I run my finger along the smooth edge of the page. I doubt Orion cut it from the book of Shakespeare’s sonnets. Someone’s tampering with the clues, I’m sure of it. I toss the sonnet on my desk as I start pacing around my room. If Orion’s big secret was the planet, we don’t even need this clue. Isn’t the planet the answer to the mystery?