Beth Revis - A Million Suns

“Don’t be a chutz,” Doc says. He peels something sticky off Stevy’s arm. A small pale green med patch. Our eyes meet briefly. This is a Phydus patch — one of the patches Doc developed recently.

“What kind of med patch is that?” Bartie demands. Behind us, I can feel the others’ gazes. Marae, as efficient as ever, has organized her Shippers into a sort of barrier around us, keeping the crowd largely at bay. But it won’t last.

“It’s a specialized patch,” Doc answers Bartie. He looks at it closer, forgetting about Bartie and everyone else as he mutters to me, “Someone’s written something on it.”

He holds the patch out. Bartie tries to snatch it, but I beat him to it. “Follow,” I read aloud. In heavy black ink, just that one word: follow .

“But how did this patch kill Stevy?” I ask.

“This one didn’t,” Doc says. He pushes up Stevy’s sleeve, exposing the patches hidden under his clothing. “One patch is harmless. But two more is an overdose.” He peels the remaining patches off Stevy’s arm.

I frown: med patches are supposed to be fast-acting, but the concentration of Phydus in these med patches seems too strong if just three will instantaneously kill a man.

“What’s written on those patches?” Luthor calls out, trying to shove Marae aside so he can get closer.

Doc starts to hand the patches to me, but Bartie snatches them from his outstretched hands. “The,” he reads off the first one, loudly so the whole crowd can hear. “Leader.” He looks up at me, and there is real fear in his eyes. He thinks I’ve done this. “Follow the leader. These patches — the special patches that killed Stevy — are a command. A warning. To follow the leader. ”

Before I can explain that none of this is my fault, that I didn’t write those words or put the patches on Stevy, Bartie turns to the crowd. “This is what happens when you don’t follow the leader.” He spits out the words and throws the used patches on Stevy’s cold body.

“This is what happens!” Luthor cries out, picking up the charge from Bartie. His words ring across the City. “This is the price you pay if you don’t follow the leader! Don’t follow Elder — and he has you killed!”

“Wait a minute,” I shout, jumping up. “No I didn’t! No I don’t!”

But it’s too late. Bartie’s and Luthor’s words have spread like poison. I can see the fear and revulsion in people’s eyes as they break past the human barrier created by Marae and the other Shippers. They spill out, sweeping past me — knocking me down and shoving aside Doc as they scoop up Stevy’s lifeless body. They chant— follow the leader— but it’s a sneering, angry sort of chant. It’s mocking me.

It’s a battle cry.

More and more people — those who’d been waiting on the sidelines — join the shouting crowd. Stevy’s body becomes a banner of revolt. His lifeless form is passed around, raised over the crowd, roiling over the hands of the people like waves.

“Enough,” I say.

“They can’t hear you.” Doc’s eyes are flashing, but his face is stony.

I press my wi-com. “ENOUGH!” I roar, and this time, every single frexing person on the ship hears me.

“The ship is now on curfew. Go to your homes. Do not leave them. The Shippers will be enforcing this curfew tonight. Everyone— everyone— is to leave the City streets, leave work, and retire to their own homes.” If Eldest were giving this sort of order, he would have spoken with cold authority. But not me. I’m so mad I’m shaking, and I can’t keep the quiver of anger from my voice. I turn my attention now to the mob in front of me, even though this com is going out to every single person on board the ship, “Look at what you’re doing. Look at how you’re treating the body of one of your own. This is disgusting. Leave him here so Doc can send him to the stars.”

Silence.

“Go. Now,” I say, and my voice sounds exactly the way Eldest’s voice used to.

They go.

They grumble, and they scowl, and they mutter curses… but they go.

Marae moves silently beside me. “They still fear you,” she says.

“They fear the past. They still remember Eldest.”

“It’s enough. It worked, didn’t it?”

But I don’t know if it did. Because I might have just enough authority in my voice to send them all home, but now what will they talk about behind their closed doors?

WHEN I GET TO THE ELEVATOR AT THE HOSPITAL, MY HAND hovers over the 3 button, but at the last second, I press 4 instead. I don’t want to hide in my room. If something is wrong, if I need to be somewhere safe… I’d rather be with my parents. Besides, the cryo level is one of the safest places for me on the ship. Although Elder told everyone about the level after he took the ship off Phydus, few of them cared to see it, and fewer still can access it with their biometric scan. On the fourth floor, I race down the hall and roll my thumb over the scanner. As the elevator to the cryo level opens, my wi-com beeps.

Even though his voice has to travel all the way from my wrist, I can hear Elder’s roar of “ENOUGH!” through my wi-com. I raise the communicator to my ear, but the sinking feeling in my stomach has more to do with Elder’s message than the descending elevator. Someone has died.

Someone else. First the girl in the rabbit fields. And now, whoever was killed in the City.

I have to figure out what Orion’s clues mean. He hasn’t told me what choice I’ll have to make or what he’s ultimately leading me to, but it can’t be worse than the rage and fear and anger that’s going to keep growing until the people pull the ship apart — especially once they learn the ship’s not even moving.

I bite my lip, thinking. Orion knew this would happen. He had this planned from the start, from the moment he pulled me back out of the cryo chamber. Whatever secret he’s kept, he knew we’d need it now.

So why the hell did he give me such a confusing clue? Go home? What does he mean by that? Doesn’t he realize that I don’t have a home anymore?

The elevator doors slide open, and I go straight to cryo chambers 40 and 41, just as I have every morning for the last three months. Then I pull out my parents and sit down on the ground. It’s not like they can give me answers, but if I focus my eyes on their frozen faces, maybe I can focus my mind on Orion’s puzzle. Just as I start to sift through my muddled thoughts, though, the elevator dings.

My heart drops.

Someone’s coming.

My first thought: Elder. But no. He’s in the City.

My second thought: My parents. I jump up and slam them back into their cryo chambers, my heart racing. The doors to their chambers click closed just as the elevator doors slide open.

Victria.

“What are you doing here?” I snarl. I shouldn’t — there’s no reason for me to act like that — but I’m on edge.

Victria doesn’t bother answering me — she gives me one quelling look, then strides straight across the room to the genetics lab.

When she reaches the door, I call out, “It’s locked.”

Victria doesn’t bother turning around. She just runs her thumb over the biometric scanner, types in the password, and walks straight into the lab.

“Hey!” I say, jumping from the table. “How did you do that?”

I jog over to the lab door. Victria leans against the workbench where Eldest and Doc used to store DNA/RNA replicators.

“How did you know the password?” I ask. “And how did you get past the biometric scanners? The only ones who can unlock this door are Elder, Doc, and some of the Shippers.”