He hesitates, and I run to him, throwing my arms around his neck. I don’t care about our disagreements, I don’t care about our fight—not for this one moment. Elder wraps me in a hug that lifts me up, then sets me gently back on the ground. “I’m scared as shite,” he whispers into my hair.
“Me too,” I whisper back.
He searches my eyes. “What’s wrong?”
I don’t answer him, and after a moment, he looks away. He knows what’s wrong.
“I have to take him,” Elder says.
“You really don’t. ”
Instead of answering me, Elder pushes his wi-com. “We will begin launch in a few minutes,” Elder says. “We’re relying on autopilot. I have had some training on the operation of the shuttle, but . . . ”
He doesn’t say that his training was little more than Shelby showing him the controls. Still, that’s more knowledge than anyone else has; only the top-ranking Shippers—the ones killed in the explosion on the Bridge—had any real experience with these controls.
“You should stabilize your belongings and find a secure place during launch,” Elder adds before disconnecting his wi-com.
We can hear the shuffle of movement from here. Elder closes the bridge door.
His face is hard, his shoulders squared.
He looks like a general about to go into battle, but without any armor or weapons.
He motions for me to follow him—we go to the control panel under the window.
“It’s worth it, right?” he asks, staring at the planet.
I lean over the control panel, trying to see as much of the planet as I can. It’s bright and blue and green, with swirls of stringy white clouds. I can make out lakes and mountains, a yellow-brown stretch that must be desert, a ribbon of green dots that are islands. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
But then I glance at Elder’s face.
His worry infects me, and now as I look at the surface of Centauri-Earth, I wonder: what’s down there?
Victria’s staring eyes fill my memory.
Death is easy, and sudden, and can’t be stopped. Maybe Centauri-Earth is just beginning to evolve, and dinosaurs will crush us. Or Centauri-Earth may be light-years ahead of Earth, my Earth, and the aliens there will laugh at our weapons as they kill us. It’s obvious that plants grow on the planet—there is so much green amid the blue—but what if all the plants are poison? What if all the blue water is salt?
“It’s worth it. ” I move to touch him, but he grabs my hand first, squeezes my fingers, then lets me go.
“What was it you said to Doc?” Elder asks. “About faith?”
“I don’t remember,” I say with a dry laugh. “I was too busy trying not to get killed. ”
“Well, whatever it was—you were right. ” His hand rests over the autopilot launch button.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Ready. ”