Across the Universe

42 ELDER

ORION TOLD ME THAT THE ONLY WAY TO GET AROUND ELDEST was to be sneaky. I have never had a reason to be sneaky before now.

But it’s not like I don’t know how.

As soon as the elevator doors close, taking Amy, Harley, and Doc back to the Hospital, I turn the floppy over in my hand.

First I check the biometric scan logs. The elevator opened to Harley’s biometric scan last night, and he spent all night here on this floor. Doc was down here and back up again early in the day, just before the solar lamp turned on, and he was only here for a few minutes. But another name is logged between his name and mine.

ELDEST/ELDER, 0724 HOURS

I wasn’t down here at 7:24 a.m. That just leaves Eldest.

Now to find out where he is.

It’s a simple enough thing to do. Override the access with my thumb scan and upload the wi-com receiver locations.

I zoom in on the screen. There’s Doc, in his office. Bartie and Victria are in the Ward common room, close together. Harley’s going down the path toward the fields — from his speed, I guess he’s running. Wonder why. Amy’s not on the screen — she doesn’t have a wi-com.

“Find Eldest,” I command. One of the dots starts blinking blue.

He’s here. On this level. Past the aisles of frozens, behind the door on the far wall. Doc’s “other” lab.

The door is closed, and I’m not sure Eldest would let me in if I knocked. Orion had told me that the rules don’t apply to Eldest, that he doesn’t follow the rules. So why should I?

A sterile disinfectant smell greets me as I enter the cramped room. Rows and rows of refrigeration tubes line one side of the wall. Inside the clear tubes, I see more cryo liquid with bubbles of goo and solid masses floating inside. Although I know I should be looking for Eldest, I cannot help but get a closer look at the gelatinous material. The chunky stuff inside each of the bubbles looks like curled up, malformed beans.

“They’re embryos.”

Eldest has found me. But he isn’t glowering at me. He actually looks a bit pleased to see me. If anything, that just puts me more on edge.

“When we land, we’ll artificially birth them.”

“Embryos of what?” I ask. I slip the floppy into my pocket. No reason for Eldest to know I was looking for him, not when he found me first.

“Animals. You’re looking at the cat tube. Cougars, I think, maybe bob-cats. I’d have to look it up.”

I struggle to remember what a cougar is. I think it’s something like a lion, but the pictures I’ve seen on the floppies in the Recorder Hall all run together.

“What are they here for?”

“When we land. We don’t know what animals from Sol-Earth we’ll need. There may be animals on the planet that are detrimental, and we’ll need predators to eliminate them. We’ll introduce ones from Sol-Earth. Or there may be animals that are good, but require new traits to make them useful to us. We’ll attempt crossbreeding or genetic splicing.”

I’m not interested in big lion-cats. I want to know why Eldest was the last one in the cryo chamber room, just before another frozen person drowned.

Before I can speak, Eldest strides past me to a table on the other side of the room. There is only one glass tube on this side, halfway empty. The embryos float in the cryo liquid like bubbles in gel, scattered throughout the tube. I lean in closer to look at one, examining the little bean-shaped fetus inside the amniotic sac. When I look up, I see Eldest watching me intently, a furrow of concern creasing his brow. His gaze doesn’t waiver when our eyes meet.

“What have you come here for?” he asks finally. “I didn’t think you even knew about this lab. Did Doc tell you?”

I shrug, unwilling to scamp out either Doc or myself.

“It doesn’t matter. I should have brought you here sooner. You’ll only have this one Season to prepare, then you’ll have to teach the Elder after you what to do.”

“What to do?” I ask.

Eldest picks up a big needle from the table beside the refrigeration tube. The actual metal part of the needle is nearly a foot long, and there’s at least twenty ounces of liquid inside the cylinder.

“You know that one of the biggest concerns on a generation ship is incest.” Eldest puts the needle down in a basket, picks up another one, and places it in the basket next to the first. “It is inevitable that, with a limited population of people, eventually the bloodlines will become too intermingled.”

He selects a needle from another stack this time. There is a tiny black-and-yellow label near the plunger of each needle. The one in Eldest’s hand now states simply “visual art.”

“I know all this,” I say. “It’s why the Plague Eldest developed the Season. So that you — we — could monitor reproduction.”

“Yes, that’s part of it.” Eldest is distracted as he selects more needles to put into the basket. “But another problem isn’t just preventing mental and physical handicaps from incest. Another problem is that this ship’s mission is so important, we cannot afford a generation that has no genius or talent.”

Now the needles he’s selecting are from another stack, one labeled “mathematics.” He takes five of these needles for the basket.

“The founders of the ship never intended us to be just idle farmers while we waited to land. We need inventors, artists, scientists. We need people who can think and process and develop whole new things for the ship and the new world.”

Three “audio arts” go into the basket, followed by ten “science: biological.”

“We have gained so much during our centuries of travel. Wi-coms were developed here. So were floppies. We modified the gravtube when I was younger than you.”

Eldest grabs a handful of “science: physical,” and puts five or six into the basket. He thinks for a moment, then takes two out of the basket and places them back on the table with the rest of the stack.

“Okay, so we need smart people on the ship. What’s that got to do with anything?” I ask.

Eldest holds up a needle labeled “analytical.”

“In each of these needles,” he says, waggling the one he’s holding at my face, “there is a special compound that combines DNA and RNA, a chimera. It makes a bond with the DNA of the fetus in an impregnated woman and ensures that the child born has certain desirable characteristics.”

I open my mouth to speak, but Eldest interrupts. “When you are Eldest, you must analyze the needs of your ship. Does your generation lack scientists? Make more. Do you need more artists? Ensure that more are born. It is your responsibility to make the people of this ship not only survive, but thrive.”

My stomach squirms. I’m not sure if I agree with Eldest or not — I don’t like to think of a ship full of inbred idiots, but I also don’t like how Eldest thinks he can just engineer genius.

Eldest places the last needle in the basket and looks up at me. His face is very serious, but he looks tired, too, as if he is made of wax and slowly melting. “I don’t say this enough. But I believe in you. I think you’ll be a good leader. One day.”

I want to smile and thank him — I don’t even remember the last time Eldest complimented me like this — but at the same time, I cannot help but wonder if the reason Eldest is so sure I’ll be an okay leader is because I was injected with some “leadership” goo before I was born.

And if I have been, I wonder if it was enough.