Shades of Earth

I grip the edge of the communication bay. I want to ask, “How?” But I cannot seem to form that simple word. Nevertheless, Colonel Martin answers.

“We found these recordings. Or, Chris here found them.” He nods to Chris, and I’m surprised to see sympathy in his look.

Colonel Martin turns on the touch screen in the communication bay, but rather than scrolling through the menus like Amy and I did, he opens a cabinet to the right of the control panel and withdraws a thin, black piece of plastic about the same length as my thumb. It reminds me eerily of the black med patches Bartie has on Godspeed, and the thought twists my stomach. Colonel Martin presses the plastic into a slot near the touch screen, and it’s only then that I realize the material is similar to the mem cards we had on Godspeed, used to store information.

“This is what we know,” Amy’s father says, punching up the screen. An image of a glass cube similar to the one Emma gave Amy appears. “Something in the soil means that any glass made here, using a specific process, will be able to easily and effectively store solar energy. The first colony discovered this, and for several years, they manufactured solar glass and shipped it back to Earth. The compound we’re currently standing in was used as a transportation center. They’d ship the glass from here to an automated space station in orbit around the planet and from there to Earth.”

“A space station!” I exclaim. “We didn’t see anything like that when we landed.”

Colonel Martin arches an eyebrow at me. “This world is rather big, you know.” He swipes the screen, and it fades to black.

“What happened to them?” I ask. “The first colony? You said they’re all dead?”

Colonel Martin looks at Chris. I get the feeling that they’re both trying to decide how much to tell me. I’m very nearly at the point of demanding answers when Colonel Martin moves over to the other side of the control panel, where the audio communication is. He turns a dial labeled ANSIBLE, and static fills the air.

But—not static. Not just. Words break through, words I can almost not understand.

“ . . . the danger too great . . . have received indication . . . human life once more on . . . Godspeed . . . survive the . . . help coming . . . ”

I strain to make out the words. Through the static and the accent of the speaker it’s hard to understand.

“It’s on a loop,” Colonel Martin says as the message starts over again.

“Sol-Earth?” I ask.

Colonel Martin nods. “It’s not the same as true communication, but it’s an indication that they know we’ve landed. And they’re sending help.”

I snort. “We can’t wait another three hundred years for help to get here.”

“We won’t have to, not if we can amplify the signal enough to get a response from Earth.” Colonel Martin turns back to the touch screen and swipes his fingers over it. “I don’t fully understand the technology being used, but Chris here has been able to explain it to me enough that I get the basic idea. Tesseracts and wormholes and some such. Means travel is so much faster now, way beyond what we had when Godspeed was built.”

“How much faster?” I ask, barely daring to breathe. We might just have a chance after all.

“A week, or maybe less. Once we manage to get a message back, I’d expect help to arrive at the station—it’s currently unmanned—within just a few days, and they’ll be able to travel to the planet from there.”

“And then we begin evacuation,” Chris says. I’ve fallen so deep into my own thoughts that I nearly forgot he was in the room with us.

Colonel Martin taps his fingers against the edge of the communication bay. I get the impression that if the room wasn’t so small, he’d start pacing. After a moment, he looks at Chris darkly. “No,” he says. “Then we wage war.”

“What?” I say. My eyes dart to Chris—he’s just as surprised as I am.

“Whatever alien being wiped out the first humans on this planet, they are, as Elder says, sentient. They are singling out my people and attacking. This isn’t random assault—they’re not defending their home or trying to find a peaceful answer to our presence. They are murdering my people. And yours, Elder.”

I think about Lorin, about Kit’s dead, empty eyes, the gaping hole in her chest where her heart should be.

“Whatever is killing my people, I will kill it first,” Colonel Martin says fiercely. He looks right at Chris. “I will avenge humanity.” His words are a threat and a promise, all wrapped in one.

41: AMY

Mom and I work in silence most of the day, too wrapped up in our sadness to focus on anything else. If I could just figure out where the Phydus is coming from, maybe that would tell us how it ended up in Dr. Gupta, Lorin, Juliana Robertson . . . and Emma.

Long after supper, there’s a knock on the gen lab door. Before I can stand up, Elder opens it.

I take one look at his face and say, “What’s wrong?”

His eyes are skittish, bouncing from me to the floor to my mom and back again. “I . . . I need to talk to you,” he mutters.

“Now?” Mom’s voice cuts across the lab. “Amy, we’re not done with our work—”

“It can wait,” I say. I drop the test tube I’d been holding onto the tray and race to the door. My mom starts to protest again, but the door zips shut, silencing her.

“What happened?” I ask Elder urgently, but he just shakes his head. There are too many people here in the shuttle. Despite the late hour, the geologists—who’ve set up a lab where the cryo chambers used to be—are busily and excitedly talking about something, little mounds of soil samples piled up on the trays around them.

Elder doesn’t talk until we’re on the path toward the colony. His steps slow as he turns to me, a wild sort of desperation in his eyes.

“Amy . . . ” He rakes his fingers through his hair. “Amy, this planet isn’t what it’s frexing supposed to be at all.”

I step closer to him, longing to take the anguish from his eyes. “I know,” I say.

His eyes snap to mine. “Why?” he asks sharply. “What did you find in the bodies?”

“No—tell me what’s troubling you first.”

Elder shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have taken you from your work.”

“It’s not that,” I say, touching his arm until he meets my eyes again. “It’s just . . . ” I roll my shoulders, the muscles stiff. “Nothing Mom and I are finding in the lab really makes sense.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mom’s been analyzing the DNA of the pteros. She thinks they’re a mix of DNA from Sol-Earth, Centauri-Earth, and gen mod material.”

“From Sol-Earth?” Elder asks, so loudly that a small red bird bursts from the underbrush, chattering at us angrily as it flies away.

“It’s like something from Jurassic Park,” I say. I wait for Elder to give his normal little half grin of confusion whenever I reference something from Earth, but he’s too troubled to notice. His jaw is hard, and his Adam’s apple bobs up and down.

I trail my fingers up along his arm, attempting to bring him out of whatever dark thoughts are troubling him. “What did you discover today?”

“Not here,” he replies. He takes another frantic look around and grabs my hand, pulling me along so quickly that we’re practically running toward the colony.

But when we approach the buildings, he stops short. I follow his gaze. Dad stands in the doorway of the first building, his hand shading his eyes, waiting for Mom and me to return. My heart’s pounding—I can’t be with him now, not since discovering how he’s kept the compound hidden. When Dad’s gaze turns to us, Elder pulls me into dark shadows that envelop us.

Elder puts a finger to his lips. We wait until we hear Dad go back inside.

Thank you, I mouth silently at him. I know I’ll have to face Dad eventually, but I’m not ready yet. Elder leads me behind the houses, up the stairs to his building. And I realize: he didn’t do that just for me. He doesn’t want to see Dad either.

“What happened after you left the shuttle?” I ask again, worry twisting my stomach.

He doesn’t speak until we’re inside his building. “Your father showed me the compound.”

“He did?” Relief floods my senses. If he’s being up-front about the compound, if he’s left the secrets behind . . .

Elder’s eyes flash. “Oh, yes, he told me all about it. And that the people who made all this”—Elder throws his arms up, indicating the dusty stone building—“they all died. The whole first colony. Wiped out by some alien force.”

I swallow. For some reason, tears spring to my eyes. We’d guessed as much before, but to have Elder say it like that . . .

“And your dad . . . ” Elder says this as if the mere thought of him fills him with disgust. “He’s . . . he’s bent on revenge. His first thought—the first frexing thing he thought of—was to kill off the aliens. Just slaughter them.”

My mind’s swimming with the possibility of aliens. Not just monsters like the pteros. Something sentient. Something that watches us and leaves behind weird footprints. Something covered in hard, crystalline scales like the one Elder found.

Something that wants to kill us merely because we’re here.

“It’s Eldest all over again!” Elder storms, his voice rising. “Eldest’s first solution to anything that caused him a problem was to kill it! Orion asking too many questions? Better have Doc kill him. You show up, looking different from my people? He wanted to throw you out the hatch!”

“Dad isn’t Eldest,” I say immediately.

“The frex he’s not! You can’t just kill your problems away, but frex if he isn’t going to try!” He whirls on me, and I feel the full force of his anger. “He’ll use my people on the frontlines so they’re the first to die. ‘Slaves or soldiers,’ just like Orion warned.”

I flinch. “He won’t,” I say, hurtling the words in front of me like a shield.

Elder’s face is contorted with rage, and I wonder how long he’s been quietly stewing over these thoughts, unable to confront Dad but not able to tell anyone else. If he confided in his people, they’d panic and rebel, just like they did with Bartie. And Kit’s gone now. He’s been saving all this worry and fury for me, and all the while, it’s been building inside him, like an overflowing cup.

“Dad isn’t Eldest,” I repeat as forcefully as possible. “We won’t let him be.”

This stops Elder.

“He’s military. And he’s always been stubborn. But he’s good, Elder, I promise you.”

I can tell he doesn’t believe me. And maybe he’s right—I’m not objective, not when it comes to my own father. But I also know that my dad is better than Elder thinks he is.

“Besides,” I continue, “Dad’s not the real problem here.”