Shades of Earth (14 page)

23:
AMY

Who are the monsters.
Not
what
. Who.

Elder sighs and slams the book shut.

“What's wrong?” I ask.

“It doesn't tell us anything.” He looks at the book with disgust. “It's just another frexing clue. And wherever this would have led us? It's out of reach.”

“We don't know that,” I reply, even though deep down I suspect he's right.

Elder touches the side of his neck, where his useless wi-com is. “Amy, it's hopeless. The answer is orbiting the planet, somewhere on
Godspeed
.”

“It's not hopeless,” I say, even though I can't really see how it's anything but.

Elder doesn't answer me. When I look up at him, his eyes have grown serious and concerned.

“What is it?” I ask, fiddling with my hair. His intense look makes me nervous.

“You know I didn't want to leave you,” he says, his gaze never wavering.

“What?”

“When you passed out. I didn't want to leave you. I wanted to stay. But your parents—”

“Elder . . . ” I feel stupid for ever having brought it up. I don't need him by my side every second of the day to know that he wants to be there. I guess the only thing his absence this morning really proved was that I want—
need
—him around too.

“Speaking of your parents, we should get back,” Elder says, defeat in his voice. “Your father will want to know that the shuttle is open now.”

I nod—he's right. I tuck
The Little Prince
under my arm and follow him back outside the shuttle. Even though we have the thing we came for—the clue that might give us the answers we need—it feels as if we've been defeated. On the bridge, Elder pauses, looking down at Orion's body. Elder's long hair obscures his face and his shadow casts Orion in darkness, making it seem almost as if Elder is peering into his own reflection. I clutch the book against my chest, trying to dispel the image.

“Amy?” a surprised male voice calls out. Elder steps in front of me, as if to protect me from an enemy, but any enemy on this planet wouldn't know my name.

Chris walks out of the shadows of the trees.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, surprised and perhaps a little suspicious.

“I have every right to be in
my
shuttle,” Elder says loudly. “What are
you
doing here?”

“Colonel Martin sent me to check to see if the shuttle's lockdown was over,” Chris says. “What's that?”

He points to Orion's body.

Elder explains—partially. He tells Chris that Orion was a shipborn who'd been frozen for crimes he committed on
Godspeed
, but he doesn't tell him about the clues.

“You two should get back to the ruins,” Chris says when Elder is done. “Colonel Martin is having a colony-wide meeting. He's only waiting for me to return with the voice amplifier.” He runs up the ramp and to the bridge, carefully avoiding contact with the metal table and Orion's body. After withdrawing something—a voice amplifier, apparently—from a panel built into the shuttle, he tosses it down to Elder, and Elder passes it to me. I hold it next to the copy of
The Little Prince
.
Chris glances at the book but doesn't bother asking questions.

“What about—” Elder says, pausing. What about Orion's body.

“I'll take care of it,” Chris says gently. “I'm helping with the others.”

Juliana Robertson and Lorin.

So many.

Too many.

And we don't even know what happened.

“Do we know more about how they died?” Elder asks, obviously on the same train of thought as me.

“The pteros.” At our blank stares, Chris elaborates. “That's what they're calling those bird monsters. Pteros—short for pterodactyl or pterosaur or something. Because they look so much like dinosaurs.”

I imagine what Lorin and Juliana's last moments must have looked like—all claws and saw-like teeth. My lip curls involuntarily in disgust, and I force myself not to think about that.

“You should go,” Chris adds. “Your father hasn't noticed you're missing, Amy, but he will soon. . . . ”

I nod—my dad is going to be furious if he finds out I made my way back to the shuttle, especially after yesterday's fiasco with the purple flowers. Wrapping my hand around Elder's, I gently drag him away, back in the direction of the ruins, while Chris heads up the ramp.

“What's he going to do with him?” Elder asks, looking back at the shuttle and nearly tripping on an exposed root.

“Who?”

“Orion.”

“Bury him, I guess,” I say. “That's what they did with the others, the ones who died during landing.”

Elder frowns. He stops and starts back to the shuttle, then stops again and continues on the trail to the ruins. “I don't like that,” he says in an undertone.

“What—what did your people do with the dead?” I ask, tripping over the question. I know that there was no religion on the ship, but I was never really clear on what happened to those who passed away. Harley's death left no body, and I never saw what happened to the others. When I met Steela, an old woman who was killed merely for her age, Doc hinted that the bodies were recycled, but no one, not even Elder, knew about that, I think. And that was the closest I came to discovering the truth.

“We send them to the stars,” Elder says. “I've read about old religions and rituals. We didn't make a display of it—no ‘prayers' or anything. We might not believe in gods, but we all could see the beauty of an eternity floating free, away from the confines of the ship, drifting across the universe.”

He swallows, and I notice that his eyes are very red.

“What are we supposed to do with the dead now that they can no longer fly away?” he asks. “Burying them is the exact opposite of setting them free in the universe.”

“My mother told me once that a famous physicist said we're all made of star stuff,” I say slowly, trying to remember the exact words of the quote. “That the particles inside us are the same that are in stars. Maybe it doesn't matter if someone's buried or floating in space; maybe they're sent to the stars either way.”

“They're still dead,” Elder says bitterly.

“We all die someday.” Maybe the only thing that makes that fact bearable is the idea that death is the only way we can return to the stars.

 

When we get to the edge of the forest, the people are already gathering into a crowd in the meadow that stretches between the trees and the ruins. They all mutter among themselves, the sounds loud but too indistinct for me to make out specific words. I don't need words, though, to know what it is they're feeling. Fear. I start to skirt the edge of the crowd, heading toward the buildings, but Elder grabs my hand and squeezes it. With a look, I know what he intends to do—stay here, where he is needed most. I nod silently and head off, dodging around clusters of worried, anxious people until I reach the buildings on the edge of the ruins.

“There you are!” Mom calls, relief in her voice. “Where have you
been
? Off with that Elder boy? You had me scared stiff! If you're going to do something like that, at least take Chris or one of the other military with you.”

“I was just—um—” I start, trying to come up with a lie. Mom hasn't even noticed the tattered copy of
The Little Prince
or the voice amplifier I'm carrying. “Chris gave this to me to give to Dad,” I finally say, holding out the voice amplifier while slipping the book behind my back.

Mom bustles me into the first building.

I stop short.

Two bodies are laid out on the dusty floor. One body is covered—mostly. I can still see the shock of bushy hair sticking out from under the jacket that covers half of Juliana Robertson's face, but that's about the only thing that identifies her. She's mangled and bloody in a carnivorous sort of way, and I have no doubt that it was a “ptero” that killed her.

Lorin looks as if she might be sleeping.

But she's not.

“Where's Dr. Gupta?” I ask.

Mom sighs. “We're not sure, but . . . it doesn't look hopeful. There were . . . pieces . . . of poor Juliana scattered around. We thought at first that Dr. Gupta was, er, among the pieces. But it seems as if he's missing.” I look up at her, hopeful, but the look on her face makes my hope die. “Or it could just be that there was nothing of him left . . . I mean . . . Amy, maybe he was . . . ”

“Eaten?”
I gasp.

Mom looks grim.

“Amy! I was looking for you,” Dad booms, descending the steps of the building. “Have you seen Chris? Everyone's waiting for my speech.”

That's all what he wants to know? Seriously? I step around the covered bodies. “Here,” I say, handing him the voice amplifier. I feel sick. “Oh, and also? Elder's got the shuttle open now.”

“Does he?” Dad actually looks pleased at this. “Well, that's good. I'm glad something's finally working in our favor.”

Dad goes back upstairs, and by the time I turn around, Mom is gone too. Probably outside, to listen to Dad's speech.

It's just me and the bodies—one ripped apart, the other untouched. Juliana has only one eye left, and it watches me as I run from the room.

24:
ELDER

Colonel Martin stands on the roof
of the closest building, the voice amplifier in his hand. Around me, my people shift nervously. In the shuttle, there was an invisible line dividing the people born on Earth from those born on the ship. Now the scientists stand closest to the buildings, and the military stands closest to the forest, trapping my people in the middle.

“Attention, all members of our colony,” Colonel Martin says. My lips quirk up in a bitter smile. Smart of him, calling us one colony. As if we're united.

“It is my duty first to inform you of a sad circumstance. Last night, two members of the group—an Earthborn
and
a shipborn—were discovered dead.”

Colonel Martin's words cause a flurry of chatter to rise up until he raises his hand, asking for silence. News of Lorin's disappearance had spread quickly among my people, but to hear that she's dead—that's another thing entirely.

“Their deaths remind us that this planet is full of unknown dangers. Something as simple as sniffing a flower could make you sick; wandering from the group could leave you the victim of savage beasts.”

I look around me. True terror is painted on every face. I wonder if Colonel Martin knows what he's done. Fear of the unknown is the greatest sort of fear there is, and he's just ensured that
everything
on this planet is an unknown danger to my people.

“My military will be enforcing rules,” Colonel Martin continues, “a curfew, guidelines for who can go where, et cetera—for your safety.”

I realize that I'm holding my breath. Perhaps it's my years with Eldest that make me wary of Colonel Martin's speech, or perhaps it's the fight with Bartie in those last days, or perhaps it's that I know what Orion would say if he were here now. But I can't shake the unease coiling around my stomach.

“We've been able to get the shuttle open again, but if the evacuation taught us anything, it's that it's unwise to have the entire colony living within such a contained area. All our eggs in one basket, so to say. Therefore, from this point forward, the shuttle will be used for storage and scientific research. Everyone—Earthborn and shipborn alike—is to relocate into the buildings here. Although we will all have to share our space, it will afford us much more privacy than if we were all living in the shuttle's cramped quarters.”

I agree with him here; that first night was miserable.

“The first part of the morning will be spent relocating. Bring whatever supplies you need for day-to-day life with you back to the building that will be your new home. My people will distribute food rations at midday, and with them, work assignments.”

I narrow my eyes.

“Every single person will have to contribute. We need basic things for our survival, and we must all work together to ensure that this happens.”

I have no doubt that what he's saying is true.

But I also have no doubt that this is the first step of Orion's prophecy.

Soldiers,
he warned.
Or slaves.

 

As the military guides people to the shuttle, I make my way back to the ruins and Colonel Martin. I catch him as he's leaving the building. “Elder, there you are,” he says. “I tried to talk to you before the meeting but couldn't find you.”

I get right to the point. “How are you dividing up the labor?” I ask.

Colonel Martin holds out his hand, and Emma, who is behind him, hands him a notepad. “I've talked with your medic, Cat—”

“Kit,” I correct him automatically.

“Kit.” Colonel Martin nods. “She made a list that she was kind enough to share with me, indicating the labor skills of your people. I'd like to get the farmers working right away—I believe we might have landed in this planet's summer, but it might not be too late to start some crops.”

“That sounds good,” I say, surprised by Colonel Martin's approach.

“The other labor is menial but necessary,” Colonel Martin continues. “A cleared path between the ruins and the shuttle. Toilets—toilets are a top priority. We have a pump and some water pipe as well, and I'd like to get that started so we can bring water from the lake to here.”

I nod. “I can help distribute the labor among my people,” I say. “But I want to know what your people will be doing.”

“The FRX's primary mission with our colony was to discover new resources, so I'd like some of the geologists to be present when the latrines are dug,” Colonel Martin says. “The other scientists will be performing their individual missions, and the military will be spread evenly throughout the area to protect everyone.”

“From those things you're calling ‘pteros'?”

“Precisely.” Colonel Martin leans back, inviting me to continue, and I cannot help but feel that somehow he's using his words in the same way a spider uses a web.

“But you're not concerned about protecting us from whatever built the ruins we're now living in?” I ask.

“I'll remind you that it was your idea to settle in these ruins,” Colonel Martin says genially. “And it was a good idea. But as of now we have no reason to suspect that the life-forms that built the structures we're currently residing in mean us any harm or, in fact, are even still currently on this planet.”

I stare at him, waiting for him to continue. He doesn't.

“You're not even curious about them?” I ask, unable to keep the disbelief from my voice. “They're human size, they made buildings that fit our needs perfectly, and there's not a single trace of them. You don't even
care
?”

“I care,” Colonel Martin says, his voice grave, “about our colony's future. Not this planet's history.”

“So you want toilets and dirt samples,” I growl. “And I'm guessing I can't expect any of your people to do any digging.”

Colonel Martin stops. “We can provide tools, but we don't have the manpower to—”

I cut him off with a wave of my hand. I should have known. Orion's warnings ring in my ears. “So my people are the ones doing all the work?”

Colonel Martin shifts. “There are only one hundred of us—actually, only ninety-eight—”

“And all ninety-eight of you will be pissing in the toilets,” I snap.

“We will help. I'll have some of my men help lay down the water pipe, and as I said, the geologists will be hands-on to gather the soil samples for evaluation. We have to work together, Elder.” Colonel Martin doesn't sound patronizing; there's real concern in his voice, and the sincere look on his face is the same one Amy wore every time she made me a promise. He really means what he's saying.

I sigh. Would I have been so antagonistic if I didn't have Orion's words ringing in my head? If I hadn't seen him die less than an hour ago?

“I know,” I say. “I understand. We're in this together.”

I just wish saying that didn't make the situation feel so ominous.

 

Amy catches me as I'm helping to pass out our lunch rations—a single serving of dehydrated wall food that is both dry and tasteless. My people accept the packets of food gratefully, and they eat them huddled together and standing up in the bones of the buildings we'll be living in from now on.

She has
The Little Prince
in her hands.

“Let's talk to Kit,” she says in an excited undertone. “She worked with the wi-coms with Doc; maybe she knows a way to amplify yours so you can reach the ship. If we can just talk to Bartie or someone still on
Godspeed
, maybe we can figure out where Orion's next clue is—”

“No,” I say heavily. I hoist the bag of food rations higher up my shoulder and make my way to the next stone building. Amy follows.

“Why not?” she says. “It's worth a try.”

“Maybe it is,” I say. I start handing out the packets to the next group of people. “But there's work that has to be done first. I can't let my people starve.”

“Elder!” Amy looks shocked. “You can't let them be food for pteros either.”

I don't have the energy to argue. I just keep passing out food rations, and she leaves me in a huff, taking the book with her.

After lunch, I follow the group heading out to work on digging toilets first. It would be wrong of me to ask my people to work without working myself. I grab a pickax and spend the next several hours digging trenches, throwing every ounce of frustration at the hurt look Amy gave me into the task at hand. At first, my people freeze at each unknown noise and shadow, but as the day progresses and they realize that most of the commotion is caused by the geologists who are there to collect soil samples, they cease jumping and concentrate instead on finishing up the job ahead of them as quickly as possible, despite the intense heat.

I, for one, rip my shirt off. It's sweltering here, the air heavy like it was just before the storm. Sweat pours off me as I swing my pickax down into the yellowish sandy soil for the umpteenth time.

But this time the ax doesn't stop. It plunges through the dirt, and suddenly the ground around it breaks away, sending me and the ten or so others digging nearby crashing through the crumbling ground, falling into the darkness. For a moment I feel as if gravity has disappeared like when the shuttle was landing, but then I slam into the cold, hard earth below, dust billowing around me, clinging to my sweaty skin as the wind is knocked out of me.

“The frex?” Tiernan, one of the workers who'd been helping me, says. We both peer up—and then around. The hole we'd been digging for latrines has given way to an eerily large tunnel.

“Elder?” several of the Feeders call, peering down into the collapsed tunnel.

“Is everyone okay?” the Earthborn engineer shouts. “Someone get the medics!”

I quickly assess the damage. Three of the Feeders were injured in the fall—one's shoulder was sliced by a shovel blade, one is limping, and another has a knot on his head. We're streaked in mud, but the air down here is blessedly cooler and the drop was less than seven meters.

The others all turn to me, the whites of their eyes starkly visible in the dim light. “We're all going to be okay,” I say. I glance up, and they follow my gaze. Already, the people above us are securing a rope and organizing a rescue.

My eyes turn to the tunnel. “Where the frex are we?” I mutter.

Tiernan touches the wall of the tunnel. He turns to me, eyes wide in the darkness. “I don't think this is supposed to be here,” he says.

I run my hands over the hard-packed earth along the wall. It's smooth and cool to the touch. Above me, everyone is yelling and shouting—for ropes, for doctors, for the military. But the tunnel goes on and on, into the darkness and the unknown. “What made this?” I whisper.

I step forward. It's so dark—as if the inky blackness is eating the light. The tunnel's ceiling arches, but the floor is flat, with thick grooves cut along the bottom. Because the tunnel is almost three meters wide, all I can think about is that whatever creature made it must have been
huge
. My mind fills with images of worms twice as tall as me or long-nosed, sharp-clawed, overgrown moles that could eat me with a snap of their pointy jaws.

“Elder!” The voice cuts through the darkness and chaos, and I squint up at Colonel Martin, peering over the edge of the collapsed hole. “Any injuries?” he barks.

“Some!” I call.

“We're coming down!”

Before I have a chance to do more than step back out of the way, a dozen ropes are thrown into the tunnel and camouflaged military men rappel down. They go first to the three injured men, but there's no doubt about it—they're hustling to get us out of the tunnel as quickly as possible. For the very first time, I see real fear in the military men's faces. Their eyes dart nervously as they wrap the ropes around my people and start hauling them up.

I ignore the soldier trying to get me to come closer so I can be dragged back up to the surface of the planet and instead squat down, looking at the grooves along the ground. They are cut deep and straight, almost as if wheels made the marks, but when I touch the dirt, I feel something abnormally smooth. I dig my fingers into the dirt and remove . . . something.

It's about the size of my palm, thin, and clear as glass. I hold it up to the light and see a golden sheen to the surface.

A scale?
I think. At least that's what it looks like. My mental image of a massive worm burrowing into the tunnel is replaced by a monstrous snake with crystalline scales.

The scale is plucked from my open hand. I'm about to protest when one of the soldiers yanks me up—Chris. “It's not safe down here!” he shouts. He loops the rope under my arms and tugs on it to signal the people on the ground to start pulling me back up.

As I reach the surface, I blink in the bright light of the suns. I'm shuffled from Earthborn doctors to Kit, who scans me quickly for injuries. I ignore her worried fretting and keep my eyes on the collapsed tunnel. As soon as Chris is pulled back up, he goes to Colonel Martin. They talk briefly, but I notice the flash of light as the scale I found passes from Chris's hands to Colonel Martin's.

“I'm very happy to report that there are no serious injuries!” Colonel Martin booms, and the crowd around me cheers. “We're closing the dig site for the rest of the day, however, to give the military a chance to inspect this . . . unusual . . . land formation. I don't believe it's dangerous, but your safety is our top concern, and we'll make sure that there is no threat before we continue.”

My people are all to happy to disperse at this—digging the latrines was hard work, and it's unbearably hot—but I keep watching Colonel Martin. The scale-like thing is gone, hidden in one of his pockets, and he's making no attempt to hide the military involvement as he orders groups of men back down into the tunnels to inspect what's there.