Shades of Earth (5 page)

“Let's suit up,” my father tells Bledsoe. In shifts, the people from the cryo chambers go to the trunks on the far wall and begin dressing in the clothes they brought with them from Earth. My father and the rest of the military dress in fatigues.

Their clothes, so different from the homespun tunics and trousers made by the residents of
Godspeed
, do nothing but separate everyone even more. Synthetic fibers and bright colors pop up like blemishes among the browns and blacks worn by most of the crew from the ship.

The people from
Godspeed
are more than ten times the number of people from Earth, but they're cramped together all along one wall. The room is sticky and hot, and the air stinks of sweat and fear. And anger.

I open my mouth to call my father aside—if he can't prove that he's there to help, that he's not the threat Orion said he was, he's going to be labeled an enemy. But then he turns to Bledsoe and says, “Let's inspect the armory.”

It's bad enough that suddenly ninety-seven people from Earth have woken up and are taking charge, but adding guns to this mix will
not
end well.

The door to the armory is shut and locked, and it doesn't open when Dad punches the code into the keypad.

“What's wrong, sir?” Bledsoe asks.

Dad shakes his head and punches the code in again. It still doesn't work. And why should it? Orion reprogrammed it long ago.

“Dad, I need to talk to you,” I say, trying to emulate the authority in his voice.

“Not now, Amy.”

I've waited three months that felt like a lifetime for him to say my name, but I did not think he would preface it with those words.

“Now,” I insist.

“Amy,” Dad says, turning away from the control panel to face me, “I don't think you understand. We're on a mission. This is work. We need to ascertain the situation, confer with the shipborns' leader, and take control of the outlying area.”

“But Dad, I—”

“Amy, I would love to stop everything and talk to you. I would love to be your daddy right now. But this is a crucial situation, and what I really need to do is figure out why this code has been changed and talk to the leader of the shipborns.”

“Well,” Elder says as he pushes open the door of the armory, “then it's a good thing I'm here.”

8:
ELDER

The first thing I notice
is the doubt etched on the man's face.

“Dad,” Amy tells him, “I want you to meet the leader of
Godspeed
. Elder.” She stares at me hard, and it takes me a moment to realize that she's analyzing my wounds. I tug on the clean tunic, careful not to wince when the skin made raw from the beast's claws rubs against the rough cloth. “Elder,” Amy continues, “this is my father, Colonel Robert Martin. He's—after the deaths of the other two frozens, he's in charge of the military from Sol-Earth.” Her voice catches over her introduction of her father. I can tell that she hadn't realized he would be next in line to command the frozens.

I step forward, my mind racing, trying to remember the proper way to formally greet someone from Sol-Earth military. I shouldn't bow, should I? That seems so archaic—but then again, so is he.

Before I can do anything, though, the man turns to Amy. “I don't have time for your games,” he says. “Where's the real captain?”

Amy glares at him, her shoulders rolling back and her eyes flashing. “Elder is the leader,” she says again, a steely edge to her voice.

Colonel Robert Martin casts me one disdainful look. “He's a kid.”

“Sir,” I say, my voice dripping with derision, “I
am
the leader of
Godspeed
, and if you want to get past any of the locked doors on this shuttle, including the one to the armory you're trying to get into right now, you're going to have to show me a little more respect.”

One of the colonel's eyebrows shoots up, but he doesn't argue. “I need access to the shuttle computer,” he demands.

Of frexing course he does.

I explain the situation: how the glass windows opened up to create the ramp, how there's no protection from the massive, reptilian bird that wanted to eat my face off, how the computer is outside on the now-exposed bridge.

“I understand,” Colonel Martin says in a voice that makes it seem as if he's bored with my assessment of the monsters, “and we will be armed—but it is essential that I have access to the computer.”

I step out of the way of the armory door, letting Colonel Martin and the woman with him select weapons. Amy shoots me a questioning look. “Let me handle this,” I whisper, hoping my eyes communicate my need for her to let me meet her father on my own terms. If Colonel Martin wants to talk to a leader, I don't want him reminded that I'm younger than his daughter.

Amy doesn't look happy about this, but she nods and returns to the cryo room. When Colonel Martin and the woman finish arming themselves, I lead them down the hall to the bridge door.

Amy's father strides forward onto the bridge, one hand resting almost casually on the gun strapped around his waist. The woman with him, a tall, slender woman with darker skin than I knew was possible, follows him without even glancing at me. I close the door to the bridge, trying to ignore how vulnerable to the dangers that lurk in the skies we now are.

I can tell immediately that Colonel Martin and the woman with him are unimpressed by the world spread out before them. When the honeycombed glass dropped away from the bridge earlier, I was so overwhelmed by the boundless sense of freedom that I longed to rush into it, relishing every single thing I discovered. They are ambivalent at best. A warm breeze floats past us, and I want to close my eyes and savor the scent of plants and earth it carries, but neither of them even notices.

“It's not that different from Earth, is it?” the woman says in an undertone. Her voice has such a heavy accent that I never would have understood her if I hadn't already gotten used to Amy's.

Colonel Martin grunts. “Except for this
Lord of the Flies
shit going on.”

The woman mutters something I can't hear, then moves down to the edge of the bridge. She sets up a rifle with a small tripod and angles it above us, pointed at the skies. There are two more guns and a series of grenades within her reach. At least they listened when I told them the bird-thing was dangerous.

“So you're the leader of the shipborns,” Colonel Martin says to me.

“So you're Amy's father.”

“I am Colonel Martin, and since General Robertson and Brigadier General Kennedy are out of commission, I'm the highest-ranking officer for this mission. This is Lieutenant Colonel Emma Bledsoe.”

I take a moment to process this information. This means Orion didn't just target people in the military—he was going down the line, killing off the most important people first. I should have recognized Lieutenant Colonel Bledsoe from when I saw her under the ice, but I certainly hadn't expected Colonel Martin to be so unlike his daughter once awake. I do not see anything of Amy in his judging eyes, his stiff posture.

“I'm Elder,” I say simply.

“Elder of what?” Colonel Martin snaps.

“It's my name. Elder. And also my title. It's what we call the leader of the ship.”

Colonel Martin heaves a sigh, staring at me. From the corner of my eye, I notice Lieutenant Colonel Bledsoe's expression. She's much younger than Colonel Martin and not as good at hiding her emotions: I can see concern in her dark eyes, worry in the lines of her mouth.

“So you've been the one in charge of those people in there?” Colonel Martin asks.

“Yes.” I don't tell him that I've been the leader for only months, that my reign ended with the shuttle launch, that my kingdom was so divided that a third of the people stayed on
Godspeed
. I don't want to be talking about this at all; I'd like for him to do whatever he needs to do on the computer so we can leave. My eyes keep flicking toward the sky; my ears are half-listening for a bone-chilling screech. I don't want him to see my fear, though, so I try to focus on what he's saying.

“I don't know what situation led to someone as young as you stepping up to a leadership role,” he continues. “I don't know what's been going on that led to my daughter waking up early and becoming embroiled in this mess. But I can guess, judging from the sloppy landing I see here and the injured and dead of your kind in there, that things haven't been going well.”

“Enough,” I say, the word coming out as a growl.

A mask of compassion falls on Colonel Martin's face. “I just meant—it's clear that this has been difficult. For everyone, yes, but especially for you, as a leader called too soon.”

I stare back at him, careful to keep my emotions from showing. There's truth to everything he's saying, but it's not the whole story. Yes, it's been hard. But I accepted the responsibility knowing it would be difficult, and that's different from the picture he's trying to paint of me.

It's not like I would have given up even if I'd had another choice.

“The situation at hand is simple,” he continues. “We need to establish one leader for both the shipborns and the Earthborn people. I would like to suggest that you pass leadership over to me now so that we can begin this mission on the right foot.”

My first thought:
This man looks nothing like Eldest, he sounds nothing like him, but he thinks in just the same way
.

Colonel Martin sits down in the seat in front of the control panel—the same seat Amy sat in as we landed the shuttle. He turns the chair so it faces the other seat and pats it. “Sit down, son,” he says kindly.

And I do. I think I understand now why Amy wanted her father back so much. Colonel Martin speaks with such assurance in his voice that I almost believe he can make my problems go away merely by commanding them to do so.

Almost.

“Things are very different from how I expected them to be,” he says, the words heavy. “I wasn't supposed to be in charge.”

Neither was I.

“I'm not ready for this.”

Neither was I.

“But everything has changed now.”

I know.

Colonel Martin tips back in the chair, looking up at the sky. “Colonies have always had a difficult time surviving. When America was settled, the colonists were separated by an ocean and months of travel from any help from the home they left behind. We are separated by far more.”

I follow his gaze skyward, but I'm not thinking about Sol-Earth and how far away it is. I'm thinking about
Godspeed
. It's much closer, but just as impossible to reach.

“Many people died in the first colonies. They called America ‘the New World,' but
this
is the real deal, eh, son? Roanoke has nothing on us.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I ask. I don't care if I sound rude.

“Son, I need you to think about the situation here. I realize that things have been happening while the Earthborns like me were frozen and that you had to take charge. It can't have been easy.”

 

“No, no, no, no, no,” Shelby said. Right before I let her die.

 

“And you might not believe me,” Colonel Martin adds, “but I know how much pressure you must be under. Those people, the shipborns, it's obvious they're looking to you to solve all their problems. But you can't solve all their problems, can you?”

 

Three of my people are dead right now, just down the hall, and that
'
s my fault. Bartie and over eight hundred other people are still in orbit around Centauri-Earth, and they
'
re going to live and die in the remains of
Godspeed
, and that
'
s my fault too.

“Son,” Colonel Martin says, and I can't help it, I like the way he says that word. “I think you know what you need to do.”

 

“They will make us slaves or soldiers,” Orion said. “They plan to work us or kill us.”

 

“I'm not just going to hand my people over to you,” I say, turning away from him and toward the door that leads into the shuttle. A wind from the planet swirls through my hair, making me feel stronger.

“I'm not suggesting that, son.”

“Quit calling me
son
.” I am no man's son.

“Elder.” Colonel Martin says my name as if it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. “This is about more than you or me. We can't let egos get in the way.”

“I'm not letting my ego control me,” I say. “Don't let yours. I may be younger than you, but there are one thousand four hundred and fifty-six people inside that shuttle who stand behind me.”

Colonel Martin stands up and lets the chair whip around. “I know that,” he says, the kind edge gone from his voice. “I just thought I could reason with you—”

“You can,” I say simply. “You're right—it hasn't been easy. And I'm very well aware that I am not in the best position.” How could I not be aware of that, given the way Bartie rebelled? The way people would rather stay on the ship than follow me off it? The way three of my people have died already just because they trusted me?

“I'm not against you,” I add. “But I don't think that it needs to be just me or you. I'm willing to let you guide us, but I'm not going to tell my people to blindly obey you.”

“But you'll stand behind me? Support my orders?”

“If I find them reasonable, yes. I will stand beside you.”

If he notices my subtle change of his wording, he doesn't comment on it. “The first order of business is simple: we need to establish communication with Earth.”

“We haven't had com for gens,” I say.

“What?” Colonel Martin barks.

“It's been centuries since we've heard from Earth.”

Behind him, I see Lieutenant Colonel Bledsoe mouth the word
centuries
. But Colonel Martin lets no emotion show.

“There's this, though,” I say, moving over the computer on the bridge. The metal is hot to the touch, warmed by the twin suns. The screen blinks, awaiting the military authorization code.

Colonel Martin strides over to the computer, then hesitates. He doesn't want to do this in front of me. I let one eyebrow twitch up as I stare him down. He turns back to the computer and quickly enters the code.

The screen comes alive as I step forward to get a better look. Amy's father reluctantly moves aside to make room for me. For several minutes, all the screen shows is a twirling globe and a blinking bar labeled
PROCESSING . . . SIGNAL RECEIVED . . . PROCESSING.
Then the screen flickers, and the globe opens up, revealing an image of a satellite.
INCOMING COMMUNICATION
flits across the screen.

Colonel Martin flashes a triumphant look in my direction, but I'm focused on the screen. Is it really that easy? A ten-digit code and suddenly we're talking with Sol-Earth as if there weren't light-years between us?

A voice fills the air, and typed words on the screen transcribe the message. My breath catches in my throat. We haven't had com from Sol-Earth for gens. And yet . . . here's a voice, traveling across the universe just to speak to us.

And all we ever needed to make this happen was a frexing military authorization code.

 

Congratulations, Godspeed! You have safely arrived at your final destination, the planet circling the binary Centauri system.

 

The deep voice speaks in a slow monotone, but I'm still grateful for the transcribed words scrolling across the screen.

We know your journey's been long, but 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! As such, we've been busy on Earth, trying to find a suitable way to aid in the growth and development of the colony you are starting.

 

They want to aid the colony? Why didn't they care about aiding the
ship
? When we lost com all those years ago, why didn't Sol-Earth work to re-establish communication? I know I should feel wonder at this new com link that's opened up, but truthfully, all I feel is rage. They could have helped us land. They could have helped us
before
we landed. Why did they abandon us, stranding us in the stars, waiting for us to land on our own?