Free Shades of Earth by Beth Revis Page B

I don’t even know why it matters. Maybe I do sound like them. Who cares?
    â€œWhat else can you tell me?” Dad stares at me. “What have you learned while you were awake?”
    I learned that life is so, so fragile. I learned that you can know someone for just days and never forget the impression he left on you. I learned that art can be beautiful and sad at the same time. I learned that if someone loves you, he’ll wait for you to love him back. I learned that how much you want something doesn’t determine whether you get it or not, that “no” might not be enough, that life isn’t fair, that my parents can’t save me, that maybe no one can.
    â€œNothing much,” I mutter.
    â€œCome on, now.” Dad pauses, facing me. “Any detail, no matter how small, might help me to understand these shipborns.”
    I don’t like the way he calls them “shipborns,” as if by being born on the ship, they’re somehow less human than the people born on Earth.
    â€œWhat you really want to know,” I say, “is how to make sure we all don’t just rip each other apart, right?” The fight earlier is way too fresh in our minds. We are a powder keg; just a spark will blow us apart.
    Dad nods, waiting for me to continue.
    â€œLet us go outside,” I say in a rush, my voice already pleading. “Let everyone see the planet. Let them know what’s beyond the walls. These people—they’ve
never
had anything but a steel cage. If you open the door, if you let them see the world, they will love it, and they will do whatever it takes to make this mission work. They’ll do whatever it takes to build themselves a new home.”
    â€œIt’s not safe—” Dad starts, but I cut him off.
    â€œThe most dangerous thing you can do right now is keep that door locked. Open it, or they’ll tear through the walls themselves.”
    Â 
    Dad sends people out in groups of a hundred or so, with one armed military person for every ten people. As he organizes the groups, I shoot Elder a triumphant smile. Elder looks away, scowling.
    â€œWhat’s your problem?” I ask him in a low voice as Dad starts organizing the first groups to leave.
    â€œNothing.” Elder doesn’t meet my eyes.
    â€œNo,” I say, so forcefully that Elder turns to look at me in surprise. “You don’t get to sulk and just not tell me what’s wrong. What’s bothering you?”
    â€œDoesn’t it seem a bit . . . manipulative?” he asks.
    â€œWhat does?”
    Elder glances at the doorway, where Dad stands, giving orders to the military personnel standing at attention in front of him.
    â€œDad?”
I ask incredulously. “You think he’s manipulating everyone?”
    â€œIt’s something Eldest would do,” Elder says, again avoiding my eyes. “Give the people something big to distract them from what’s really important.”
    â€œAnd just what do you think Dad’s trying to distract everyone from? The planet? Because that’s exactly what he’s giving them. And that was
my
idea, not his.”
    Elder doesn’t answer at first. “I’m sorry,” he finally says, although I’m not sure I believe him. He turns to face me. “I’m sorry,” he says again, this time sincere. “I don’t really think your dad’s like Eldest.”
    I offer him a wan smile, but we both know where Elder’s thoughts on this have really come from. Orion. Even frozen, we can’t escape him.
    Dad’s careful to make it obvious that the first people who get to go are those from the ship, despite the protests of the scientists like my mother who are itching to start researching and exploring the planet. Elder is at least grateful for this, I think, and I know most of the people from
Godspeed
are glad for the opportunity.
    Not that they all take it. Just over half the