THE ELDERS

 

Waverly passed the days in suspended animation, trying to read, trying to weave, trying to bake … willing time to pass more quickly. Every day was filled with plodding conversations with her mother, trying to make her see how desperate their situation was, getting nothing in return but comments like, “Everyone seems so nice … I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think…” Waverly finally gave up and let her mother remain in her muffled, safe world. Doing so made the day-to-day existence peaceful, but it made Waverly feel even more alone, and more worried she might never get her real mother back. What if the doctor couldn’t find a way to fix her? What then?

And where was Seth? If he really cared, how could he have left her alone like this. When Kieran was her boyfriend, he would never have left her side if he thought she was in danger. But she’d made certain he’d never be there for her again, hadn’t she? She’d practically become his enemy, showing him nothing but doubt and mistrust and criticism ever since she got back from the New Horizon. And why? Because he’d used religion to give solace to the bereft children on the Empyrean? Was that so terrible? Kieran was a good person, one of the best she’d ever known. She’d treated him like dirt, and now she had no one.

She couldn’t even dream of the past, or of Seth. Instead of comfort, sleep brought her nightmares of blood and revenge. She’d killed Anne Mather so many ways, so horribly, that she woke in the night, her feelings a mixture of horror and a disturbing joy that made her wonder if she was losing her mind.

She spent more and more time in her room, in a twilight state, still and quiet under her blankets. That’s where she was when she heard a knock on the front door. She went into the living room to see who had come and found Dr. Carver’s handsome assistant making small talk with her mother.

“Remember me?” he asked as he stepped neatly into the living room.

“Hi, Jared,” she said, wondering why he made her feel timid.

“Want to go for a walk?” He swept his arm toward the door.

He smiled as she wordlessly reached for her black cardigan that she kept hanging next to the door. The flabby, snide guard who stood perpetually outside her doorway looked at Jared with apprehension but made no motion to stop him from taking Waverly.

“Why is he letting me leave?” Waverly asked when they were out of earshot.

“He can’t interfere with the church elders,” Jared said.

“Where are we going?”

“The doctor has been laying groundwork. Now he wants you to meet his colleagues.” The elevator doors opened, and Waverly stepped on with him, careful to leave plenty of distance between them. He smelled earthy, like rich soil and sage, a masculine, primitive fragrance.

“Do you know anything about my friends? The ones who were taken away from the Empyrean reunion? Are they okay?”

“I’ll see what I can find out,” he said conspiratorially. “All right?”

“Thanks,” Waverly said.

The elevator doors opened onto the administrative level of the ship, and Jared led her down the hallway to the Central Council chamber. The room looked just like the council chamber on the Empyrean, though it was filled with religious icons. Most of them were Christian, but Waverly recognized a Muslim crescent and star, a laughing Buddha on the ledge below the large dome of windows, and a Shiva sitting on the credenza by the door, cross-legged, many arms stretched like a fan around his head.

“Waverly!” called Dr. Carver, waving from his place at the head of the table, around which sat five other people who looked almost as elderly as he did. She nodded, uneasy to suddenly be in front of an audience. “Everyone,” Dr. Carver said, “please introduce yourselves.”

A tiny, withered woman held her chin high as though she expected to be admired and said, “Miranda Koch.” She fingered a necklace of white beads around her neck. Beside her was another woman, much larger and plumper, with lots of rouge rubbed into her swollen cheeks. She smiled at Waverly and held up a hand, disturbing dozens of gold bracelets around her wrist. “I’m Selma Walton. Welcome.” Across the table from the women sat two men, identical from their unnaturally brown hair to their crooked noses, and angular shoulder bones poking up through gray cardigan sweaters. Twins, Waverly realized. She’d heard of twins, though she’d never before seen any. They looked at her steadily, and she blushed, embarrassed to be caught staring. One of them lazily lifted a finger and said, “Wilbur Murdoch,” and his brother muttered, “Raymond.” Next to them, Waverly recognized Deacon Maddox, the stooped figure who always sat on stage with Anne Mather during services. Now he was sitting perfectly still, eyes closed. Waverly thought he must be sleeping, for he made no move to introduce himself.

“On the Empyrean there are seven council members,” Waverly mumbled to the room.

“I’m number seven,” Jared said, smiling with good humor. “Don’t I look dignified?”

Waverly returned his smile, and suddenly she didn’t feel so alone.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” said Dr. Carver with ceremony, “I present the key to bringing down Anne Mather. After that, we can put anyone we like in the Captain’s chair. Jared, for instance.”

Jared humbly bowed his head.

“Isn’t the Captain chosen democratically?” Waverly asked, small voiced.

“He will be,” the doctor said, looking around the room, garnering support. “Most people want a leader to make them feel safe, offer them a vision, make them proud of who they are. I can show Jared how to achieve that, the same way I showed Anne. The crew will love him, and for that, they’ll choose him. That’s how democracy works, after all.”

“That’s just artifice,” Waverly said, aware she was challenging him, a little afraid of what he’d do. “It wouldn’t be real.”

“A little artifice is necessary,” Dr. Carver countered. “People need leaders.”

“Maybe it’s the leaders who need followers,” Waverly said.

The doctor laughed, but it didn’t feel sincere to her. The rest of the elders watched him; none of them seemed to be in on the joke.

“Leaders and followers need each other,” he finally said as he dabbed at the corner of an eye with his sleeve. “But first things first. We need your testimony.”

Waverly took a deep breath. The mere mention of the word sent her heart fluttering, and her fingertips trembled as she pressed them together under the table.

The doctor studied her. “Don’t tell me your resolve is weakening.”

“I don’t blame her for hesitating,” Selma said, drawing the doctor’s glare away from Waverly. “You want to use this girl to deal the final blow to Anne.”

“It has to be her. No one else has the moral authority Waverly has,” said the doctor.

“I’ll do it,” Waverly said quietly. “I’d kill Mather myself if I could.”

Seven sets of eyes turned to her.

Dr. Carver thoughtfully stroked his upper lip. “If we call Anne Mather’s transgressions crimes against humanity, Anne would be subject to impeachment.”

The table was silent as the council considered this.

“What does that mean?” Waverly asked.

“It means that the church elders would become her jury,” Selma said quietly. She was looking at the doctor now, her face unreadable. “We wouldn’t need the Justice of the Peace to be involved.”

The doctor raised his eyebrows as he looked around the table.

“Wesley,” said little Miranda as she rattled her beaded necklace. “Are you proposing that we fix this trial?”

“Fix it?” He pounded his cane on the floor. “We know she’s guilty!”

“There were mitigating circumstances…,” began Deacon Maddox, opening his eyes lazily. “You know that, Wesley.”

“She has botched everything, Maddox!” The doctor raised his voice so loudly it reverberated against the glass dome over their heads. “Let us fool ourselves no longer! The woman has become a monster and she needs to be deposed!”

The table went silent, so still that Waverly could hear the rattle in the twins’ throats as they breathed.

“It’s dangerous,” Selma said warningly, and Waverly realized the plump woman was addressing her. “You understand that, don’t you?”

“You saw the way she turned the congregation against Anne the day of her escape,” Dr. Carver insisted. “This girl is formidable.”

“Are you prepared for this, little girl?” For the first time Deacon Maddox looked totally present and awake. “Are you ready to take on Anne Mather?”

Waverly glared at him so that he could see she was anything but a little girl. He looked away, raising his eyebrows, hiding one veiny hand under the other. Then she stood. “Destroying Anne Mather is the only thing that will make life on this ship tolerable for me.”

“Huh.” The sound came from Selma, something between a bemused chuckle and an exclamation of surprise.

“Thank you, dear,” said Dr. Carver, and he patted Waverly’s wrist. She stared at him until she understood she was being dismissed. Jared had stood, too, and nodded at her in a deferential way, extending a hand to usher her out of the room.

Once the door to the Council chamber closed behind them, he turned to her with a smile. “Want to go for a walk?” he said.

“Don’t you have to stay for the meeting?”

“Dr. Carver will fill me in. And he wants you to get some exercise.” He raised a finger in the air and stooped over. “‘She needs exercise and mental distance from her captivity,’” he said in a nearly perfect imitation of the old man.

Waverly laughed in spite of herself.

He rested his eyes on her, those dark blue eyes that were so unsettling, then took hold of her elbow and led her gently. She pulled away. Each time he touched her, or looked at her, she wanted Seth, missed him more. Where was he?

I should forget about him. He’s obviously forgotten me. And so has Kieran.

“Where would you like to go?” Jared asked her.

“I don’t care,” she told him honestly. He held out a palm, indicating for her to choose the direction, so she continued down the hallway. She walked slowly, unsure whether she was matching his pace or he was matching hers. She didn’t look at him, but she was intensely aware of his presence and his scent. Soil, sage, and something more—cardamom and garlic, maybe.

They entered the stairwell and descended several flights in silence. When he opened the door for her, she found he’d taken her to the family gardens, a fabulously lush and beautifully kept acreage. They walked between rows of huge cabbages, overgrown squash plants, pumpkins so large she could have sat on them, tomato plants hanging heavy with rich red fruits. He turned left, passing perfectly straight rows of uniform corn plants, then stopped at a large arched trellis bursting with purple clematis and sweet pink honeysuckle. A small path led from the trellis to a petite stone bench upon which he sat. He patted the seat next to him, and Waverly took it, leaning away because the heat coming from his body made her uneasy.

“Do you like it?” he asked her, waving his hand over the herbs and flowers growing in patches all around them. The colors were perfectly arranged: fragrant lavender next to pale green sage, golden saffron framed by white chamomile.

“Did you plant this garden?” she asked him.

“I’ve been working on it my whole life.”

“It’s…” She tried to find the right word, one that wasn’t too generous. “Nice.”

“Nice?” he said, comically outraged. “Decades of my life boil down to nice?”

“What do you want me to say?”.

“It’s a work of art!” He threw up his hands theatrically. “Are you blind?”

“Okay, Jared,” she said condescendingly. “It’s a work of art.”

“Better,” he said, squinting at her with mock anger. He was funny, she had to give him that.

“You grow a lot of herbs. Do you take them to the processing plant?”

“Oh no. These are for me. I dry them at home. I don’t share.”

“Never? Not even a tiny bit of thyme?”

“I have no thyme to spare.”

She looked at the huge patch of the herb growing in a tangled knot. “You must eat a lot of soup.”

“I do. I eat a lot of soup.” He looked at her sideways with mock suspicion. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

She was laughing again. How did he do that? She was trapped, miserable, and she’d lost everything, but this strange man was cheering her up. She hated herself for relaxing, but she couldn’t help it. I can’t be miserable all of the time, or I’ll die.

Maybe he knows that, she thought. She snuck a glance at him. His nose was narrow and straight except for the end, which bulged out slightly, but it was a nice nose, a friendly nose. His skin was very smooth for someone who must be in his forties, and she wanted to ask his age, but she held her tongue. His hair was still thick, though it was salted here and there with specks of gray. He turned toward her, but she looked away quickly.

“You must have questions,” Jared said. “About the doctor?”

“Why do you work for him?” Waverly asked.

“He’s my father, kind of.” Jared swung his feet casually, his attitude completely different from the rigid discipline he showed around Dr. Carver. “He took me in when I was just a kid. My mom … she didn’t deal well after the launch. Being cut off from Earth, never to return. It kind of made her…” He twirled a finger near his temple. “A lot of people were affected that way at first. Most of them got better. Some of them, like my mom, didn’t.” He was silent for a moment, as though caught up in a memory. “Dr. Carver said he liked the way I played with the other kids. I guess something about me seemed smart. Or self-sufficient. So he took responsibility for me.”

“He raised you?” Waverly asked. She couldn’t imagine that wily old man loving anyone, not even a child.

“Not in a traditional way. He brought me into his household. He saw to my education. He hired women to care for me. I was kind of raised by a bunch of people.”

“That sounds … difficult,” Waverly said, remembering her own mother and how she used to be—totally reliable, always on Waverly’s side, and absolutely loving. If Waverly had gone without that kind of love as a child, she didn’t know how she might have turned out.

But Jared shook his head. “I got lots of attention, from all kinds of people.”

“And that’s because of Dr. Carver?”

“Yes. And I’ll be forever grateful.”

She dug her heel into the soft garden soil, enjoying the fragrant smell of loam and tender roots. “Do you remember Earth?” she asked as an indirect way of learning his age.

“No. My mother was pregnant with me when she boarded the New Horizon. I was born a few months into the mission. So I’m not so old,” he said with a knowing smile.

“Well…” Waverly grinned while she calculated. “You’re over twice my age.”

“Thanks for the reminder.” He laughed.

“My pleasure.” She thought she should remind herself, too, because she felt guilty talking to this handsome man, laughing at his jokes when she had no idea where Seth was, or if he was safe.

Why should she feel guilty? Was some part of her being loyal to Seth? Why should she be loyal after the way he’d abandoned her?

But even if she wanted to forget about Seth, she couldn’t. Despite her anger, deep down she knew he was staying away so that, when she needed help, he’d be able to do something. If he were under Anne Mather’s control, or Dr. Carver’s, Seth would be as helpless as she was. And Seth did care. She knew he did. The way he’d kissed her, like he needed her so much, communicating everything that he felt with an openness that couldn’t be mistaken. Not even Kieran had ever kissed her that way.

But she kept these thoughts trapped deep, in the back of her mind, because if she let herself feel Seth’s caring, if she felt her own caring for him, she’d have to miss him.

She’d have to worry about him. She’d be sick with worry.

Her hand moved over her stomach and she swallowed down her queasiness. Please please please let him be okay.

If he’s not …

“Your mother is probably wondering what happened to you,” Jared finally said. He stood and extended a hand to help her up.

Waverly picked her way between rows of basil and sage, searching her mind for a topic of conversation. A tobacco plant ahead gave off its heady aroma, reminding her of the corncob pipe Captain Jones often held between his teeth. “Dr. Carver told me Captain Jones is alive.”

“Don’t worry. He’s well treated,” Jared said, but he put a hand to his forehead, embarrassed. “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot you wouldn’t exactly be his biggest fan.” He opened the door for her with a great show of courtesy. “I’m sure you don’t want to talk about all that.”

“All what?” she asked, pausing on the landing.

He touched her shoulder lightly as they started up the stairs. “The business with your father, and…” He paused. “How he died.”

“How do you know about my father?” she asked sharply.

He stopped climbing the stairs and looked at her, surprised. “The doctor mentioned it to me yesterday.”

“What did he say?” Her voice echoed down the endless metal stairwell. “Tell me the precise words he used.”

“He said your father had been executed—”

She grabbed his wrist. “What?”

He blinked, surprised. His eyes looked black in the dim light of the stairwell. It was as though he had two faces, one blue-eyed and friendly, and one black-eyed and mysterious. “You didn’t know?” he said.

“By who? Why?” she shrieked.

“Captain Jones,” Jared said, hands held up to calm her down. “Are you telling me you didn’t know about this?”

“They called it an accident,” Waverly said.

Jared shook his head, dropping his hands to his sides. “It wasn’t an accident.”

“So my father was murdered.” She made a fist.

“He was executed,” Jared said, looking confused. “For what he did.”

Waverly’s pulse thudded inside her ears as she whispered, “What?”

He stared at her for a long moment before saying, “Your father was the one who sent the bastardized formula to the medical team here. Him and two others.”

Her legs gave way, and she lowered herself to sit on the stairs.

“Galen Marshall was the architect of the whole thing,” Jared said gently, his hand on her shoulder. “He created the poison that sterilized our women.”

Waverly’s vision blurred. She lowered her head between her knees, panting. She felt two strong hands on her shoulders, and his warm breath as he said into her ear, each word laced with regret, “I’m so sorry. I thought you knew.”