‘Turn it off,’ I say. ‘Please.’
The monitors go dark.
The bridge is silent for the space of two swells. The Varuna surges and plunges as we forge through the storm, leaving my heart at the crest of each wave. Looking out of the bridge’s windows, I can see the crew staggering around in rain gear, lines on, making sure our water collectors are open to harvest the downpour.
I look at Tia. ‘The others don’t need to see this footage right now. Everyone is already upset enough. I’m not saying we hide the information, but seeing those images …’
Tia nods. ‘It’s just … None of the reports mention our field trip. That means everybody probably assumes we’re dead. Our parents. Friends. Relatives.’
I know she’s thinking of her own family back in Michigan. She goes by Tia because she has three baby nephews and two nieces she adores. Her mom and dad, her aunts and uncles, her brothers and sisters … they all will be going out of their minds.
‘I get it,’ I say, though that’s kind of a lie. I have no one back home waiting for me, worrying about me. ‘The thing is, Land Institute knows we’re alive. The Aronnax is hunting us. If we break radio silence –’
‘We might be dead,’ Dru says.
A typical point-and-shoot Shark comment, but he’s right.
Virgil rubs his chin. ‘Bernie, our bus driver – he knows we’re alive, right? And those guards from the docks in San Alejandro. They’ll tell everybody we weren’t on campus when it collapsed, won’t they?’
‘If they’re still alive,’ Dru offers.
I remember Hewett’s orders to the guards. Buy us time.
‘For now,’ I say, ‘we keep going. We just have to hope …’
I’m not sure how to finish that thought. There are too many things we have to hope for. Right now, our supply of hope feels as limited as our food and water.
Top bumps against Ester’s leg. He makes a little whimper, looking up at her with his mournful Pet me eyes. That’s when I realize Ester has been silently crying. Top is really earning his dog biscuits.
‘Hey,’ I tell Ester. ‘We’ll get through this –’
She makes a noise somewhere between a sniffle and a hiccup. Then she rushes out of the bridge, Top right behind her.
‘I’ll go after her,’ Nelinha offers.
‘No, I’ll do it,’ I say. ‘Nelinha, show Tia your LOCUS thingy. If it works, I want it installed right away.’
‘LOCUS thingy?’ Tia asks.
Nelinha holds up her metal tennis ball/Slinky catastrophe.
‘Cool,’ Tia says. As I’m turning to leave, she calls, ‘Ana, I want to try one more thing with Hewett’s control pad. When his drones flew over the campus, they would’ve tried to sync with the school’s intranet.’
I suppress a shiver. ‘But the school had already been destroyed.’
Tia hesitates. ‘The computer systems were designed to withstand a lot. Like the black boxes on aeroplanes. It’s possible the drones retrieved some data before the intranet died completely.’
I don’t feel confident about this plan. More data will mean more pain, more reminders of what we’ve lost, but I manage a nod. ‘Sounds fine. Keep up the good work.’
Then I jog after Ester and Top.
I find Ester in the ship’s library.
On past trips, it’s been one of our favourite spots. The walls are lined floor-to-ceiling with books: everything from physics manuals to recent bestsellers. Wooden crossbars secure the shelves to keep volumes from flying around when the ship moves. The mahogany study table has armchairs for six. Against the back wall is a comfy old corduroy sofa that we always fight over when we have free time. When we had free time. There won’t be much of that for the foreseeable future. Ester is curled up at one end, clutching a leather-bound book in her lap. Top lies next to her, wagging his tail.
‘Hey …’ I sit cross-legged on the rug at Ester’s feet. This gets me a sloppy wet kiss from Top.
‘It’s my fault.’ Ester sniffles. ‘I needed to … They have to let me rebuild. They will, won’t they? I didn’t bring extra index cards. I’m so stupid. It’s all my fault.’
I don’t follow everything she’s saying. Sometimes when Ester talks, you just have to go along for the ride and enjoy the scenery. But one thing I do understand.
‘None of this is your fault, Ester.’
‘It is. I’m a Harding.’