Across the Universe (10 page)

“There’s no one on the ship older than fifty-six?” I ask.

“A few grays still exist, all sixty or so, but they won’t last much longer.”

“Why not?”

“Old people die. It’s what they do.”

This doesn’t seem right to me. I mean, yeah, sixty is way old... but it’s not like people reach a certain age and just die. Lots of people are older than sixty. My great-grandma was ninety-four before she died.

“What about that boy?”

“What boy?” Eldest asks.

“She’s talking about Elder.”

Eldest grunts.

“Amy,” the doctor says, “Elder was born between the generations. He is sixteen years old. When the Season starts and the young generation begin to mate, the children born from that will be the generation that Elder rules after Eldest passes to the stars. The boy you met is the next Eldest.”

“Where’s the other one?” I ask.

“Other what?” The doctor weighs his round paperweight in his hands and carefully puts it back where it was before Eldest picked it up.

“Other Eldey-thingy. There’s you,” I say to Eldest. “You’re in charge of the doctor’s generation. And the boy I met will be in charge of the new generation. But what about all those twenty-year-olds? Who’s in charge of them?”

The doctor and Eldest exchange a look.

“That Elder died,” Eldest says. His face is dark, set. I glance up at the doctor. His face is downcast, the folds of his crow’s feet crinkling deeper.

I wonder just how that Elder died.

“Clearly,” Eldest says, a tone of finality in his voice, “you are different. Freakish appearance, abnormally young.”

“So?”

“I do not like differences. Differences cause trouble.”

The doctor twitches nervously. He starts rearranging his desktop again.

“Gee, I’m real sorry about all that. But, you know, it’s not like I wanted to be here.”

“Regardless. The easiest thing to do would be to deposit you among the stars.”

“Eldest!” The doctor steps forward, a look of shock and concern on his face.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“We have release hatches.” Eldest speaks slowly, as if talking to someone stupid. “They open up to the outside.”

The meaning of his words sinks slowly into my skin until I have absorbed it with all that I am.

“You want to just dump me in space?” My voice is low, but not for long. “It’s not like I’ve done anything wrong! I didn’t wake myself up, you know!”

Eldest shrugs. “It would be by far the simplest solution. You are, after all, nonessential.”

“We can’t do that,” the doctor says, and I totally forgive him for being creepy and threatening me with drugs. At least he doesn’t want to let me implode in space.

“No, Doc,” Eldest says. “It’s very important that you understand, that
she
understands that yes, we could just dump her in space. We could,” he repeats, gazing at me.

“But we
won’t
,” the doctor says firmly. “She can stay here in the Ward. That will keep her away from the general population. She won’t cause as much of a disturbance if she stays here.”

“You think so?” Eldest says, his voice soft but doubtful.

“I’m sure of it. Besides, the Season will begin soon. That will distract the others.”

Eldest narrows his eyes at the doctor. Something the doctor said there has struck the wrong chord with him, that much’s for sure. He opens his mouth, notices me watching him avidly, and glares at me. “Come outside with me, Doc,” Eldest commands.

The doctor looks nervous. Guilty.

“Oh, don’t go on my account,” I say, leaning back in the chair. “Go ahead and say whatever it is you want to say in front of me.”

Eldest turns to the door. “Doc,” he orders.

The doctor scampers up and follows Eldest out.

As soon as the door zips shut behind them, I leap from my chair and press my ear against the metal. Nothing. I go back to the doctor’s desk, dump out his pencils, and put the cup against the door, like they do in those old Disney movies. More nothing.

“—last time!” Eldest roars so loudly that I almost drop the cup. I cram my ear against the metal door, straining for sound.

“It’s
not
like last time,” the doctor hisses. He must be standing closer to the door—his voice is softer, but I can hear him better. I wonder if he’s moved closer just for my benefit.

Eldest, meanwhile, has lowered his voice, and I only catch snatches of what he says. “
Really
?—The Season starting... someone unplugged—again—and you...”

“You know it can’t be
him
again,” the doctor says. There’s some mumbling, a deep rumble of a voice, but I can’t discern it. I catch one word: “Impossible.”

“Whabout
you
?” Their strange accent isn’t helping my eavesdropping, either.

“Me?” the doctor says.

“You.” I catch the sneer in Eldest’s voice, even through the metal door. “You were sympathetic to him last time, don’t try to deny it.”

“—posterous,” the doctor mumbles, “... could as easily say it was
you
.”

Another low grumbling. It sounds almost like Eldest is actually growling.

“Well?” the doctor exclaims. “Elder told me you were teaching him about discord. How am I to know this isn’t all some sick trial you’ve devised to test the boy!”
Something, something
—stupid door makes it impossible to hear properly—“like last time.”

Eldest’s voice deepens and grows gravelly. There’s some sort of scuffling, and before I have time to move, the door zips open. The doctor bumps right into me, and I do drop the cup this time. It rolls across the floor, the only sound as the three of us stare at one another.

Eldest’s face is hard, harsh. “I’ll be keeping a close eye on this... situation,” he says, but he’s looking at Doc, not me. He straightens his tunic-like shirt and turns to leave. Then he pauses and looks back at me. “Don’t leave the Hospital grounds. I haven’t decided what to do with you yet.”

“I’m not some sort of prisoner!” I shout at him.

“On this ship, we all are,” he says, and then he’s gone.

“Don’t worry about him,” the doctor says, reaching over to pat my shoulder. I shrug him away. “He won’t put you in a release hatch.”

“Humph.” I didn’t quite believe that.

“I have set you up in a room with all the appropriate necessities. You will be living here, at least for now. Do you have any questions?”

Is he really going to pretend like nothing happened? Like I couldn’t hear what they were arguing about? All right, I
didn’t
hear most of it, but I heard enough.

“What happened last time?” I ask.

“What do you mean?” the doctor says, sitting down at his desk. He waves graciously at the chair across from him, and I slump down in it.

I give him a look, but he ignores it. “Come on. Really?”

The doctor starts straightening the pencils I dumped on his desk. He’s seriously OCD. But... I wonder how much of him is real. He’s as expressionless with me as he is with Eldest. I doubt he likes me—but he did stand up for me when Eldest threatened to throw me out the hatch. As for how the doctor feels about Eldest... I thought he respected him, maybe even feared him, but he seemed to move closer to the door when I was trying to listen in on his conversation with Eldest. Did he do that on purpose? Now—is he trying to get me to ask the right questions? Or am I just playing mind games with myself?

“Last Season,” the doctor says, “we had some trouble. But it has nothing to do with this.”

“It might. How do you know?”

“Because the person who caused trouble last Season is dead,” the doctor says. “Anything else?”

He’s getting angry, maybe already regretting that he promised not to throw me off the ship. He likes things organized, and I’ve already proven more than once just in this little office that he can’t organize me like he can his pencils.

“Yeah,” I say, unable to keep the aggression from my voice. “Why was I woken up early? What happened?”

The doctor frowns. “I’m not sure,” he says finally. “But it appears as if someone... disconnected you.”

“Disconnected me?”

“The cryostasis chambers are attached to a very simple electrical device that monitors temperatures and life support systems. You were simply... disconnected from the power unit. Turned off. Unplugged.”

“Who unplugged me?!” I demand, rising. The doctor’s hand twitches, inching closer to the med patch on his desk. I sit back down, but my heart is racing, my breathing shallow. Between that conversation in the hall and this revelation, it’s clear that something’s going on. And I’m stuck in the middle of it.

“We are not sure. But we will find out.” Then, so low I almost don’t hear it, he adds, “But it had to have been someone with access.” His eyes shoot to the door behind me, and I know he’s thinking of Eldest. Which is stupid: Eldest didn’t want me dead until I was unfrozen. But... why would
anyone
unplug me? To kill me? But why me? I am, as the doctor so kindly pointed out, nonessential.

And then another question, one much more important, rises above everything else. “What about my parents? Is whoever unplugged me going to unplug my parents?” I remember choking on cryo liquid; I remember believing that I would drown in that box. I don’t want my parents to feel the same thing. I don’t want to run the risk of losing them forever if their boxes are opened too late after the ice melts.

“Go back to your chamber to rest. Try not to think these disturbing thoughts. You can rest assured that your parents—and all the rest of the frozens—are protected. Eldest will see to that.”

I narrow my eyes. I doubt very much that old man will do anything to help anyone else. He’d probably think setting guards around the cryo chambers would be too much of a “disturbance.” And with his callousness, I wouldn’t be too surprised to find out that he unplugged me just to see if it would kill me.

But I cannot think here. I cannot figure out what to do. Even though I don’t want to rest, I do need to be somewhere alone with my thoughts. So, I leave.

A pile of crushed flowers rests beside my door. I bend and pick them up. The blooms remind me of tiger lilies, but they are bigger and brighter than any tiger lilies I remember from Earth. Even though they’re ruined, a part of me wants to set them in a bowl of water—they’re beautiful and their fragrance is sweet. In the end, though, I stand up and leave the broken flowers in the hall. They remind me too much of me.

18

ELDER

“OH, HERE YOU ARE,” ELDEST SAYS CASUALLY AS HE CLIMBS UP the hatch that connects the Keeper Level to the Shipper Level.

I lie on the cool metal floor below the metal screen hiding the fake stars. My head is pounding from Eldest’s little noise trick. I have never in all my life had a headache this bad before. Every time I let my head roll on the floor, it feels as if a ton of weight is crashing around, slamming against my skull, flattening my brain into useless mush. I try to stay still.

“That was a frexing dirty thing to do,” I mutter, pressing the palms of my hands into my forehead.

“What? Oh, the tonal thing. Well, next time don’t ignore my com.”

“I can if I want to!” I know it sounds childish, but I can barely frexing
see
with this headache. I stare up at the dull metal ceiling, grateful the star screen is blocked from view. Just thinking about the tiny pin-pricks of the lightbulb stars makes my head ache more.

Eldest walks across the Great Room to his chamber, goes inside, and returns a few moments later with something in his hand. He tosses it at me. A lavender-colored med patch. I rip it open and apply it directly to my forehead, the tiny needles catching on my skin like hook-and-loop tape. I breathe deeply, willing the medicine to take effect and ease my pulsing, throbbing head.

“Let this be a lesson,” Eldest says. His voice rings out across the Great Room. There’s no need for him to shout—it’s only us in here. I wonder if he’s speaking so loudly just to aggravate my headache more. “The job of the Eldest is to prevent discord. Through the centuries, we have perfected the prevention of the first main cause of discord by eliminating differences.”

“I know,” I moan, rubbing the med-patch on my forehead deeper into my skin. Did I really need a lesson
now
?

Eldest starts to squat down next to me, but his knees creak, so he stands up and hobbles around instead, pacing. “Don’t you see?” he finally says, exasperated. “That girl could not
be
more different!”

“So?”

Eldest throws up his hands. “Chaos! Discord! Fighting! She is nothing but trouble!”

I cock my eyebrow, grateful that the med patch is already making me feel normal again. “Being a bit dramatic, aren’t you?”

Eldest drops his hands and glares at me. “She could ruin this ship.”

“She’s just a girl.”

Eldest growls.

“Wait...” I say, leaning up and staring at him. “That’s it, isn’t it? She’s a girl, and she’s my age. You’re afraid we’ll...” My face burns at the thought. If Eldest is afraid of what Amy and I could do together, well, to be honest, that’s a possibility I’m rather hoping for.

“Don’t be such a chutz.” Eldest laughs, and my face grows even hotter. “I’m not worried about that at all.”

I splutter as I jump up. Does he think that I couldn’t? I know I’m not old enough for my Season yet, but I also know that I’m more than capable. When I look at Amy... I know what I’d like to do with her, and I know that I could. How dare he think I couldn’t! I am not the child he thinks I am!

“You’re losing focus,” Eldest says, snapping his fingers in front of my face. “This is all beside the point. The point is, that girl is going to cause trouble.”

“Well, what are you going to do about it?” I ask, sinking back to the floor.

Eldest appraises me. “You’ll be the next Eldest. What would
you
do about it?”

“Nothing.” I tilt my chin up at him. “She’s not hurting anything. She’ll be fine.”

“An Eldest can never do ‘nothing.’ ” Eldest is wearing this smug little smile on his face that makes me want to just punch him. Before I can think of anything snappy to say back to him, Eldest holds a finger up to me and turns away, pressing his wi-com button.

“Mm-hm,” he says to whoever has linked to him. “I see. Yes, of course.”

He turns back to me. “I’m going to the Shipper Level. Stay here and read more about the leaders of Sol-Earth. I’ve left a floppy for you in the Learning Center.”

“But—” Eldest is on the Shipper Level these days far more than he used to be. “Is everything okay?”

Eldest gives me an appraising look. Weighing whether or not I’m worthy of hearing his thoughts, sharing his problems. And I see it there, in the hunch of his shoulders, the uneasy way he carries his leg, the one he limps on. He can feel the weight of the ship on him, just like I can. No—he feels it more. He’s carried the weight longer than me, and he’s carried it not just for himself, but the Elder before me who died and couldn’t take over.

For just a moment, I see Amy through his eyes: as a problem.

“We need to have a talk when we get back.” Eldest’s tone now is serious, uncomfortable. He shifts on his feet, but does not head toward the hatch.

“What about?”

“The Season is coming soon....”

“Oh.” I knew about the Season already. While I was living on the Feeder Level, it was easy to learn about what happened between a male and a female. I saw it with the cows when I lived on the ranch; with the goats on the farm; with the sheep near the fields. I’d have been stupid not to notice what the animals did. Several of the women who kept me during my time on the Feeder Level explained reproduction to me. At the time, it seemed a bit uncomfortable and gross, but they all assured me that when my Season came, I’d be ready, and a woman from Harley’s gen would have a second Season with me. Since meeting Amy, I think I know what they mean about being ready.

“During the Season, you will see, er...” Eldest voice trails off.

“I know what the Season is,” I say. I am as uncomfortable as he. It was bad enough to learn about mating from a matronly farmer, worse yet to hear about it from Eldest.

“Still, we should talk—” This time, Eldest is interrupted by his wi-com. He presses the button and says something softly, so I don’t hear it.

“Hey,” I say. “HEY.”

He raises one finger, telling me to give him a second, and mumbles more into his wi-com.

“Quit ignoring me,” I say loudly.

Eldest sighs and disconnects the wi-com. “I’ve got to go.”

“Aren’t you going to tell me what that was all about?”

Eldest heaves a sigh, as if I’m a child pestering him.

“Look,” I say, “I’m getting sick of secrets.”

“Fine,” Eldest says, already walking to the hatch with his uneven gait. “You study; we’ll talk when I get back.” Before I can protest, he’s gone.

The med patch has worked its wonders: My headache is mostly gone. I don’t like the idea of how easy it would be for Eldest to do that again, though. Maybe I should keep some med patches with me.

My first thought is to go to the Hospital, where all the meds for the ship are stored. Doc keeps them locked up, but if Orion can get extra mental meds, it shouldn’t be that hard for me to get some med patches. But, then again, that’s what got me in trouble in the first place. Then I think about Eldest’s chamber. I know he stores extra med supplies there.

But to do that would mean sneaking into Eldest’s room, breaking the unspoken law of privacy.

I may have tested the door handles on the fourth floor of the Hospital (okay, fine, I broke in), but I’ve never gone into someone’s private space without permission first.

But then I remember Orion’s advice. With Eldest, to get what I want, I’ll
have
to be sneaky.

I tell myself as I stand and walk toward Eldest’s chamber that I am only going to turn the knob, not even push the door open, but even as I mentally relay these words, I recognize that I am lying to myself so I don’t lose my courage.

My hand trembles as I reach for the knob.

“Com link: Harley,” chirps the pleasant female voice of my wi-com.

“Hey, Harley,” I say, hoping the quaver on my voice doesn’t carry through the wi-coms.

“What was wrong with you earlier?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

“Who’s the new girl? Where’d she come from? I thought Doc already ID’d all the loons.”

“I’m busy, Harley.”

Harley crows with laughter. “Busy! Ha! You just want to keep her to yourself!”

That’s too close to the truth, so I disconnect the link.

Eldest’s door stands in front of me, mockingly.

This time, my hand doesn’t shake. The door swings open. Although there’s an old-fashioned Sol-Earth lock built into the door, Eldest has—luckily—forgotten to lock it.

I look around. This is not what I expected. Eldest is something of a slob. Like me. I smile. Stepping over a pile of dirty clothes, I make my way to the neatest area of the room—the desk. There are only three things on the top: a small, dark plastic bottle like the kind Doc uses for meds, a large glass bottle filled with clear liquid, and a box. A box that I recognize: the one that Eldest came to fetch the other day, just before I opened the ceiling and revealed a canopy of false stars. This is the box I was trying to look at then—this is the box that I had thought held all the answers to my leadership.

I rip the top of the box off expecting... something brilly at least. But all that’s inside is a scale model made of resin that resembles an engine, but it’s more cylindrical than the ones the tractors use on the Feeder Level. The replica is fascinating in its level of detail. When I push a button on the side, the engine breaks in half, exposing its insides. I poke at the pieces. From my studies, I’d guess this is a lead-cooled fast reactor, the same kind of engine
Godspeed
uses. But if so, this is the closest I’ve ever been to the heart of the ship I will one day lead.

I snap the engine closed, perhaps more forcefully than I should have.

This is just one more secret Eldest is keeping from me.

I examine the bottles on the desk. The big one is filled with liquid that smells like fumes—the drink some of the Shippers make. Eldest has never let me taste it. When I sip it, though, I nearly spew the stuff all over Eldest’s unmade bed. The back of my throat burns, and all the little hairs in my nose shrivel. When it hits my stomach, I gag.

The small bottle contains twenty or so mental meds.

Well, now I know why Doc and Eldest didn’t let me step down from being Elder after I started taking the Inhibitor pills. Eldest is as crazy as I am! I crush the bottle against my hand. Eldest knew how upset I was when Doc made me stay in the Ward for the year. I used to fight so hard against taking the pills.

Why wouldn’t he just admit that he was on mental meds, too?

I
hate
his secrets and lies.

I slam the door behind me and head to my own room for a drink of water—an old Feeder wives’ remedy for nerves.

Good thing, too—a moment later, Eldest bursts through the hatch, calling for me.

“Come with me,” he says. “We’ve got a situation.”