Across the Universe

59 AMY

ELDER STARTS TO SAY SOMETHING TO ME, BUT JUST WHEN he opens his mouth, the door to the Recorder Hall flings open.

“Elder!” Eldest��s voice, strong and cold, rings out across the empty hall.

Elder lunges for the control panels. All the forbidden images of the people and places of my home disappear. The telltale genealogical chart fades to black; the stuck image of the engine slides away.

“Don’t bother,” Eldest growls. He taps one finger behind his left ear, where the communicator is implanted. “I keep tabs on what you study on this ship. I know what you’ve used your access to open.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Elder says automatically, but I can tell he doesn’t mean it, and he regrets saying it altogether. He stands straighter and regains some of his composure. “But since when do you keep ‘tabs’ on me? And honestly, I’m surprised you even noticed. The last time I saw you, you were dru—”

My head whips around to Eldest. Drunk? Was Elder about to say Eldest was drunk?

The movement’s not lost on Eldest. He doesn’t address me, though, just Elder when he says, “A true leader is never out of control, nor drunk on anything.” Now he looks at me. “I seem to remember believing that you have the potential to disrupt my ship. Clearly, I am right.”

“I didn’t do anything!” I say. There is a hint of panic in my voice. I haven’t forgotten his original threat.

Eldest waves his hand dismissively at me. “Your presence is enough. It’s completely distracted my… student.” He says this last bit with a sneer in his voice, as if he equates a student with an annoying, yapping little Chihuahua. He returns his gaze to Elder. “It’s time to resume your studies. I’ve been busy with the Season and let you play with your little girl here, but if you have time to look up what I saw you looking up, then clearly it is time to refocus your studies to something more productive.”

He walks back to the door. Elder chews on his lip, unsure of whether to follow or not.

“Wait!”

Eldest turns at my call, but does not come back.

“I want some answers, dammit,” I say, striding toward him. “You and I both know there’s some crazy crap going on. That Season was bad enough, but now the doctor’s calling me crazy, and I’ve got to take that pill Elder takes, and this place has—”

“Enough.” Eldest cuts me off with cold authority. “I told you not to become a disturbance. You clearly did not listen.”

“I think this ship needs some disturbance!”

“The last man who thought that way no longer thinks anything at all.”

Other than Elder’s sharp intake of breath, the Recorder Hall is silent. We are facing off, Eldest near the door, me near the clay planets, and Elder in the middle, our mark in a tug-of-war game for the truth.

“Come on, Elder.” Eldest turns again for the door.

“What happened in the Plague?!” I shout at him. “What are you not telling us? You know — I know you know! Why can’t you just tell us the truth?”

At this, Eldest crosses the hall in three long strides and faces me. “This ship is built on secrets; it runs on secrets,” he says, tiny droplets of spittle flying from his mouth to my face. “And if you keep asking about them, you’ll see how far I’m willing to go to keep mine. Go to your chamber; I’ll have Doc deal with you this time. Come, Elder!” he bellows. Elder jumps and follows Eldest out the door, shooting me an apologetic look just before the doors close, leaving me in the darkened hall with the dusty models.

I don’t realize that my fists are clenched until I relax my grip, letting my fingers stretch out. I am shaking with rage. There is one thing I know for sure: I will find out whatever secret it is that Eldest is so determined to keep, and when I do, I’m going to shout it from the rooftops.