shuttle, going stir-crazy, trying not to think about the ever-shortening pile of rations in the cargo hold. Where could a stowaway have hidden all that time?
She should have searched that shuttle, torn it apart, looked under every maintenance panel, crawled through every conduit. She couldn’t believe she let this happen!
Now Kieran and everyone else on the ship had one more reason to hate her.
Waverly threw down her work gloves, ignoring the angry glares coming from the others—angry pubescent kids looking for someone to hate. She took off at a dead run. She tore through the wheat field, kicking her knees up, pounding through the ankle-deep soil until she reached the port-side elevators. She slammed the call button with the heel of her hand and then angrily punched the wall, once, twice, until something in her wrist popped.
The elevator opened to an empty corridor. Waverly hardly felt her feet touch the floor as she ran between the ghostly rows of OneMen to the shuttle she’d brought here. She’d never wanted to see it again, but now she ran up the ramp and into the cargo hold.
It smelled terrible. She remembered again their terrifying journey back home from their captivity on the New Horizon. The shuttle was meant to be occupied by ground crews on New Earth during the early days of the terraforming projects, so they were equipped with water and air recirculation, as well as rations, but they were ill suited to deep-space travel. They had only rudimentary systems for coping with zero gravity, which made proper waste management and food consumption nearly impossible. The cargo hold was a disgusting mess.
She climbed the stairs to the passenger area, which was even worse. Discarded ration containers littered the floor, and the seats were in various stages of recline. She remembered the crying, the pleading, the endless questions: “How much longer? The Empyrean is out there still, isn’t it, Waverly?” And the worst questions of all, repeated endlessly by practically everyone: “Why couldn’t you save my mommy? My dad? My uncle? Why did you leave them behind?”
She could show them the bullet wound on her shoulder all she wanted, but she could never make them understand what it had been like.
An image of a man dying as blood blossomed red on his shirt. Dying because of her.
“I don’t think about that anymore,” she said aloud.
“Hello?!” A male voice, one she didn’t recognize.
Waverly jumped. Someone was in the cockpit. Her heart kicked into overdrive and she took one step backward, but then Arthur Dietrich looked out the small doorway and smiled. “I thought you might come. When you heard the announcement, I mean.”
Waverly said nothing. She watched Arthur. Waited for him to say something, because she couldn’t.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Arthur said. He turned back to the cockpit and beckoned to her with one hand over his shoulder. “Any ideas where he could have hidden?”
Waverly slowly walked toward the cockpit to find Arthur sitting in the copilot chair. That’s where Sarah sits, she thought irrationally, but held her tongue. The screen in the center of the control panel flickered, making shadows over his round face. He was watching a video recording of the few minutes before the shuttle took off from the New Horizon.
“I didn’t even know there was a camera on board,” Waverly said.
“It turns on when the engines warm up, and records shuttle takeoffs and landings. In case there’s an accident.”
“Oh right.”
“I can’t see when the stowaway got on,” Arthur said. “Could it have happened before you got to the shuttle bay?”
“Sarah brought the girls. I came last.”
“Oh yeah, there you are.” Arthur pointed at the screen, and Waverly saw an image of herself—a skinny, desperate girl limping through a crowd of benign-looking women. She was wild-eyed, her hair a nest of snarls, blood dripping down her arm. She moved like a wounded animal, pointing her gun
She should have searched that shuttle, torn it apart, looked under every maintenance panel, crawled through every conduit. She couldn’t believe she let this happen!
Now Kieran and everyone else on the ship had one more reason to hate her.
Waverly threw down her work gloves, ignoring the angry glares coming from the others—angry pubescent kids looking for someone to hate. She took off at a dead run. She tore through the wheat field, kicking her knees up, pounding through the ankle-deep soil until she reached the port-side elevators. She slammed the call button with the heel of her hand and then angrily punched the wall, once, twice, until something in her wrist popped.
The elevator opened to an empty corridor. Waverly hardly felt her feet touch the floor as she ran between the ghostly rows of OneMen to the shuttle she’d brought here. She’d never wanted to see it again, but now she ran up the ramp and into the cargo hold.
It smelled terrible. She remembered again their terrifying journey back home from their captivity on the New Horizon. The shuttle was meant to be occupied by ground crews on New Earth during the early days of the terraforming projects, so they were equipped with water and air recirculation, as well as rations, but they were ill suited to deep-space travel. They had only rudimentary systems for coping with zero gravity, which made proper waste management and food consumption nearly impossible. The cargo hold was a disgusting mess.
She climbed the stairs to the passenger area, which was even worse. Discarded ration containers littered the floor, and the seats were in various stages of recline. She remembered the crying, the pleading, the endless questions: “How much longer? The Empyrean is out there still, isn’t it, Waverly?” And the worst questions of all, repeated endlessly by practically everyone: “Why couldn’t you save my mommy? My dad? My uncle? Why did you leave them behind?”
She could show them the bullet wound on her shoulder all she wanted, but she could never make them understand what it had been like.
An image of a man dying as blood blossomed red on his shirt. Dying because of her.
“I don’t think about that anymore,” she said aloud.
“Hello?!” A male voice, one she didn’t recognize.
Waverly jumped. Someone was in the cockpit. Her heart kicked into overdrive and she took one step backward, but then Arthur Dietrich looked out the small doorway and smiled. “I thought you might come. When you heard the announcement, I mean.”
Waverly said nothing. She watched Arthur. Waited for him to say something, because she couldn’t.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Arthur said. He turned back to the cockpit and beckoned to her with one hand over his shoulder. “Any ideas where he could have hidden?”
Waverly slowly walked toward the cockpit to find Arthur sitting in the copilot chair. That’s where Sarah sits, she thought irrationally, but held her tongue. The screen in the center of the control panel flickered, making shadows over his round face. He was watching a video recording of the few minutes before the shuttle took off from the New Horizon.
“I didn’t even know there was a camera on board,” Waverly said.
“It turns on when the engines warm up, and records shuttle takeoffs and landings. In case there’s an accident.”
“Oh right.”
“I can’t see when the stowaway got on,” Arthur said. “Could it have happened before you got to the shuttle bay?”
“Sarah brought the girls. I came last.”
“Oh yeah, there you are.” Arthur pointed at the screen, and Waverly saw an image of herself—a skinny, desperate girl limping through a crowd of benign-looking women. She was wild-eyed, her hair a nest of snarls, blood dripping down her arm. She moved like a wounded animal, pointing her gun
Similar Books
