Tags:
Fiction,
General,
Science-Fiction,
adventure,
Action & Adventure,
Juvenile Fiction,
Fantasy & Magic,
Social Issues,
Survival Stories,
Love & Romance,
Interplanetary voyages,
Mysteries & Detective Stories,
Dating & Sex
small—it was the largest ship ever built when it was launched two and a half centuries ago—but it’s not so huge that we don’t all feel the weight of the metal walls crushing us. Privacy is our most valued possession and no one— no one —would dare betray privacy.
Which is why the locked door before me is so strange. Why lock a door no one would ever breach?
Not that I should be so surprised. A locked door just about sums up Eldest.
My mouth tightens. The worst part? I know that door is locked because of me. It has to be. This is the Keeper Level, and Eldest and I, as the current and future leaders of the ship, are the only ones allowed here.
“Frex!” I shout, punching the door.
Because I know—I know —on the other side of that door is my chance. When Eldest was called to the Shipper Level to inspect the engine, he rushed to his chamber for a box, went all the way to the hatch, then turned around and took the box back to his room. And locked the door before he left. Clearly, whatever is in that box is important and has something to do with the ship, something that I, as leader-in-training, should know about.
It’s just one more thing Eldest is keeping from me. Because stars forbid he’d actually train me instead of giving me more mindless lessons and reports.
If I had that box, I’d prove to him I could ... what? I don’t actually know what’s in there. But I do know that whatever it is has been making him spend a lot more time on the Shipper Level. There’s a serious problem going on, something that’s kept Eldest more preoccupied than I’ve ever seen him before.
And if they would just give me a frexing chance, maybe I could help.
I kick the door, then turn and fall against it. Three years ago, when it was time for me to start training, I didn’t care for shite about whether or not Eldest trained me as he should. I was just glad to be off the Feeder Level. Even though my name is Elder, I’m the youngest person on the ship, and I’ve always known that I, as the one born in the off years, would be the Eldest of the generation born after me. I was never comfortable living with the Feeders and their obsession with farming. Moving in with Eldest felt like a relief.
But I’m sixteen now, and I’m tired of doing nothing but lessons. It’s time for me to be a real leader, whether Eldest likes it or not.
Defeated by a locked door. No wonder Eldest doesn’t bother to train me.
I bang my head against the wall and bump it against a piece of raised square metal. The biometric scanner. I’d always assumed it operated the lights to the Great Room. Most of the biometric scanners are there to interface with the ship—to turn on lights, start electronics, or open doors .
I turn around and roll my thumb over the biometric scanner bar. “Eldest/Elder access granted,” the computer chirps in a cheerful female voice. As Elder, I always have the same security access as Eldest.
“Command?” the computer asks.
Huh. That’s odd. Usually, a door opens automatically once access is granted. What other command does a door need?
“Um, open?”
Eldest’s chamber door doesn’t zip open like I expect it to. Instead, the ceiling moves. I spin around, my heart banging around inside my chest. Above me, the metal ceiling splits into two pieces and drops down slowly, exposing—
Exposing a window.
That shows the outside.
And the stars .
There are hatches in the ship, I know there are, but Eldest has never let me see them, just like he hasn’t let me see the massive engine that fuels the ship, or some of the records of the ship before the Plague. I didn’t even know the metal ceiling over the Great Room covered a window to the uni.
I’ve never seen stars before.
And I never knew they were so beautiful.
The entire uni stretches out before me. So big, so frexing big. My eyes fill with starshine. There are so, so many of them. The stars are abbreviated white dashes in the sky with streaks of faint