Tangled Planet Page 4

  Protector Sirius is at the witness stand, but he’s fallen silent, looking at me. He only became a full protector a month ago. He’s a year older than me, and he looks too small in his uniform, sitting as straight-backed as he can.

  The place is about half full, people lined up on the narrow rows of benches. They look around, to watch me enter. It’s probably the first time in my life that I’ve turned heads, and it’s for all the wrong reasons.

  Celeste is on the front bench, next to the wall; Astra’s next to her, arm around her shoulder, holding her close. Mom and I head up the aisle and sit on the cold metal next to them. There’s an air circulation vent above Celeste. Her hair trembles in the breeze, but the rest of her is completely still.

  “You’re certain about the tracks?” Cassius’s reedy voice echoes off the patched metal walls. “The weather monitors indicate it was raining at the time.”

  “I … yes, only one set of landbike tracks.” Sirius pauses. “But there were signs of a struggle.”

  “A struggle?”

  “Slip marks in the mud. And couple of handprints, too small to be Orion’s. You can see them in the images we took of the scene.”

  Ah, yes. Those will be my handprints.

  The door at the back of the room opens, and in walks Vega. She half sits, half collapses into a chair at the back. The hiss of whispers fills the air.

  “Quiet, please!” Cassius turns back to Sirius. “Is there anything we should know about the condition of the body that isn’t clear from the images?”

  He looks pale. “It was still warm. Time of death was likely only minutes before we reached him.”

  When he says it like that, it doesn’t sound good.

  “Thank you, Protector Sirius. Your service is appreciated at this difficult time.” He gives Sirius a thin smile. “Please feel free to return to your seat.”

  Sirius avoids my eyes as he stands up and marches past.

  Cassius consults his display screen. “Protector Vega.”

  They usually call the protectors first. But I can’t help but wonder if Cassius is giving his daughter preferential treatment.

  Vega stumbles down the aisle, eyes unfocused. Her hair is coming out of her normally neat ponytail. I’m not sure she even sees me.

  Cassius reaches a hand toward her. “Are you able to testify? Do you need more time?”

  “I want to do this.”

  He takes a deep breath. “Okay, but let me know if it gets too difficult.”

  She nods.

  “Can you tell me what happened on the night of the thirty-second of fifth month, year one?” He could have said “last night,” but that’s Cassius for you. More concerned about the historical record than being understood.

  Vega sways in her seat, but when she speaks her voice is clear and sharp.

  “I was the protector on duty in the shuttle camp. Due to the recreational campfire, we were on a skeleton rotation. Just myself and Medic Guion.” She’s being official, I see. She gets that from her father. Unlike him, she used to know when to switch it off.

  “I was waiting for my husband, who had indicated that he was looking forward to joining me that evening.”

  Next to me, Astra takes Celeste’s hand.

  “Suddenly, I heard a strange noise. I left my hut and encountered Junior Engineer Ursa, who was shouting and covered in blood.”

  My mouth falls open. More whispers around us.

  “She demanded my linkcom and would not explain herself, even though I offered assistance.”

  She makes me sound like I was unhinged. I want to argue, but it’s true, technically.

  “Her shouting attracted the attention of Medic Guion, who came over and undermined me by offering his own linkcom before I could ascertain what the situation was.”

  Cassius is making notes on his display screen.

  “Ursa then pinged Astra and asked her to summon a different protector, in spite of the fact that I was available and ready to help. I knew she was trying to hide something.”

  “That’s not fair!”

  “Sit down, Junior Engineer Ursa.” Cassius puts the emphasis on “junior.”

  I hadn’t noticed that I’d stood up. I thud back onto the bench.

  There are mutterings in the audience.

  “Your turn to testify will come, Ursa,” Cassius says. “Vega, please continue.”

  She’s staring at me now. “I finally got Ursa to confess that Orion was dead in the forest.”

  Confess? I open my mouth to interrupt again, but Mom puts a hand on my shoulder, and I get the message.

  “It’s no secret that Ursa hated Orion. She should be treated as a suspect.”

  “Vega,” Captain Cassius says, gently, “that is for the investigation to determine, but we will be open to all possibilities.” He glances at me, an appraising look on his face. “For now, we need an overview of the facts. What happened after Ursa told you that Orion was dead?”

  Vega closes her eyes, swallows. “I ran to the forest, hoping that Ursa was wrong, hoping that he could be saved. But Protector Sirius was already there, and he confirmed that my husband had been murdered.”

  Tears streak her cheeks, but she holds herself steady in her chair.

  Captain Cassius sighs. “I think that is enough for now. You are excused, Protector Vega.”

  Vega heads along the aisle back to her chair. I look down in my lap, but I can feel her staring at me as she passes.

  Cassius consults the display screen in front of him. “I think it would be most helpful to question Junior Engineer Ursa next, if she is ready.” He peers at me from beneath his bushy gray eyebrows.

  I lick my lips and lie. “I’m ready.”

  The gaze of the audience is itchy on my back as I walk toward the witness stand, boots loud on the metal floor. So many eyes are on me. Shouldn’t they be busy? There’s plenty of work to go around. I scan the crowd. It’s a mixture of those who knew Orion well and the ship’s biggest gossips. I trip over a badly patched section of flooring. Vega’s words spin through my head. Treated as a suspect? She can’t seriously think I’d slash Orion open.

  The metal seat is uncomfortably warm. Cassius sucks in his cheeks and begins.

  “Junior Engineer Ursa, do you swear, on Beta Earth, to tell the truth?”

  I pause for a second. Vega wasn’t made to swear. Then I realize the implication. By getting me to take the oath, he’s ensuring anything I say can be used in a later trial against me. I swallow and raise one hand, palm up, toward the steel globe above us both.

  “On Beta Earth,” I intone.

  “Then we shall begin. Can you explain why you followed Senior Protector Orion into the woods on the evening of the thirty-second of fifth month, year one?”

  Ah. It’s going to be like that, is it?

  “I wasn’t following him. I was returning to the shuttle camp.”

  “Why didn’t you wait for the morning?”

  I shift in the metal seat. Cassius is a protector. He’s trained in telling whether or not someone is lying. “I decided I’d spend the night in the shuttle.”

  “Not at the forest camp?”

  “I’m still not comfortable there. Not after … Maia.”

  Cassius nods. If it were anyone else, I’d think he looked sympathetic for second. But it was probably just a facial tic. He continues. “Perhaps you would have been better off waiting for the sunrise?”

  “In retrospect, yes.”

  “So, you were traveling through the forest. Tell us what happened then.”

  I wrap my arms around my stomach. “I saw his legs first, then the rest of him. He had been cut open by something and —”

  Cassius interrupts. “Something? Don’t you mean someone?”

  I bite the inside of my lip. I shouldn’t have let that slip. “
I guess. I don’t know what happened to him.”

  Cassius types on his display screen. I glance out over the audience. Celeste’s eyes are wide, glistening.

  Cassius continues. “There is no need to go over the injuries again, especially as it would cause upset.” He glances at his daughter as he says this. “Did you disturb the body in any way?”

  “I checked his neck for a pulse. Then I … panicked.” That’s hard to admit.

  “Panicked? In what way?”

  “I dropped my linkcom. I tried to find it in the mud, but I slipped and fell onto Orion’s body.”

  Cassius taps on his display screen again, as if I’ve made a con-fession. I suppose I have kind of backed up Vega’s version of events, of me being unhinged. Damn.

  “Then what did you do?”

  “I couldn’t find my linkcom, so I decided to head back to the shuttle camp. To get help.”

  “Did you stop or see anyone on the way? Any sign of other landbikes or people?”

  I pause. But he’s asking about people. Not strange creatures. And Vega’s testimony has already made me sound crazy.

  “No.”

  “About how long did it take you to get back to the camp after discovering the body?”

  “Maybe ten minutes.”

  This doesn’t look good. He must have died right before I got there. My DNA will be all over him. People are going to think I’m a killer anyway. Does it matter if they think I’m crazy too?

  “You saw and heard nothing?”

  I meet Astra’s kind eyes in the front row, and there’s strength in them. Time to make up my mind.

  I am under oath.

  “I didn’t see any signs of landbikes or other people.”

  Cassius’s bushy brow furrows. “So, what did you see?”

  I knew I couldn’t get that past him. I take a breath. Celeste is staring at me. I should have talked to her first. Should have told her in private. She deserved that.

  “I thought I saw something with teeth.”

  In the front row, Mom’s mouth falls open.

  Cassius leans back. “An animal in the forest?”

  “Yes. Something big.”

  “You are aware the releases haven’t begun yet?”

  “Of course.”

  “So, you know what you are claiming is ridiculous?”

  “I … well, how well do we know the planet? It’s covered in trees. Perseus nearly died because the trees meant he couldn’t see a cliff right in front of him. Who knows what the forest could be hiding?”

  Cassius stiffens at the mention of his son. “That’s impossible.”

  “I would have thought so too, but —”

  “So, you thought you saw a creature in the forest. You then headed back to the shuttle camp on the landbike. But according to the records, you abandoned it some distance away. Why?”

  “The battery was dead.”

  “Then you entered the shuttle camp, screaming and shouting?”

  “I called for help.”

  “But when Protector Vega offered help, you refused.”

  “I didn’t want her to find out her husband was dead from me. She should have heard it from a friend.”

  There’s a murmur from the audience. It sounds like agreement. I feel it echo from the metal ceiling. I pull myself up in my seat.

  Cassius exhales. “You know procedure. You were to report it to the protector on duty.”

  “I did. Just not right away.”

  “And then what happened?”

  “Vega ran into the forest. Guion went after her. I stayed in the camp until other people arrived.”

  “So, you were alone again. For how long?”

  “Maybe half an hour, until Vega came back with Sirius and Guion.”

  Cassius nods. “And from then, we have their testimony.”

  “You do.” I stand up, ready to head back to my seat.

  “A couple more questions, Junior Engineer Ursa, if you will.”

  I sink back down.

  He taps on his display screen. I wonder if he’s really checking something or just enjoying making me wait, hoping I’ll squirm under the gaze of our audience. It’s working. My blood pulses through my head. The ceiling feels too low, the room too hot.

  “I notice from your service record that you’ve hardly been on the planet, even though your sister lives there and your mother spends a lot of her time there.”

  I glance at them both in the front row. Mom’s biting her lip.

  “I went down a lot at first. At the start of the winter. Before Maia died.”

  “But until the day of the bonfire you hadn’t been planet-side for three months.”

  “There’s so much to do on the Venture.”

  “And there’s plenty for an engineer to do on the planet. Fixing landclearers. Preparation for the hydroelectric plant. Yet you have not volunteered for a planet-side task for a long time.”

  “I guess not.”

  He leans forward, puts on one of his fake concerned faces.

  “Junior Engineer Ursa, do you like the planet?”

  I stare at him. He doesn’t break eye contact. I’m under oath. I don’t want to lie. And why should I?

  “I think it’s dangerous.”

  “Dangerous?”

  “Three people are dead. Mom’s been rushed off her feet, deal-ing with injuries. I’d call that dangerous, wouldn’t you?”

  “What would you have us do? Return to Alpha Earth?”

  There’s a buzz in my ears. “Of course not! I just think we should slow down the settlement. We’re so vulnerable there.”

  I see some quiet nods in the audience. Recognize a few people who have been on the Venture almost as much as I have these past few months. Interesting. I’m not alone.

  Cassius puts his hands together. “It sounds to me as if you are letting your fears get the better of you. Clearly, I need to question you further, and you need the privacy to speak freely.”

  I hold my breath, dreading what is coming.

  “You will take the next shuttle down to Beta, and we will schedule private interviews. I am reassigning you to planet-side duties, pending the outcome of this investigation, at which point we will decide whether there is any evidence that warrants charges against you.”

  He might as well have punched me in the stomach. I think I’m going to be sick.

  “But I …”

  “That is my final word, Ursa. You may return to your seat.”

  I want to stay for the rest of the hearing, but the next shuttle leaves in just over an hour. So I head back to our cabin, head reeling, and start packing, pulling clothes down from the overhead storage, swearing as I do so. It’s the only way to keep the tears away.

  I used to calm down by staring out the window. I’d watch the stars turning through our little porthole until my breathing slowed. But that won’t work now. It hasn’t since we arrived. I can’t stand the way Beta lurches in and out of view as we rotate.

  “Down to the planet,” I complain to Maia. “Interrogation by Cassius! He’s going to try to pin Orion’s death on me.”

  I punch the metal wall and split the skin on my knuckles.

  “Yeah. That was smart.” I imagine Maia laughing.

  I turn to my engraving of her, propped up in the corner. Every-one else has stopped carving memory panels to use in ship repairs. And I know there’s no point, since we’re going to pull the Venture apart. But I hurt less when I’m bent over the metal, burin in my hand, recreating her familiar face.

  It’s a portrait of her the last time I saw her. It’s hard to capture the mischief in her eyes, her red hair in wisps across her features, the snowflakes in her eyelashes, but I’m trying. I like to think of her as she was on that day.

  It was two months after
our arrival. I’d lost count of the number of times I’d been down to the planet by that point — enough for most of the initial shock to wear off. I was no longer astonished by the vastness of the sky, the green of the trees, the strength of the wind, and the endless space. But I couldn’t get used to it.

  I don’t think I ever will.

  We were working on the shuttle. It still needed tuning up, since we’d assembled it from the pieces in storage while in orbit. It was easier to do the fixes on the planet, where we didn’t need to worry about EVA suits. Maia crouched on the wing next to me, handing me tools, her landsuit lurid red against the white metal. Our onboard overalls were gray long before I was born, from washing and constant patching. The landsuits were among the supplies waiting for us on Beta. New, bright, and stiff.

  I had to take off my gloves in order to get a proper grip on my wrench, and my fingers ached with the cold, barely feeling like a part of me. When I was done, I pulled my gloves back on.

  “Done.” I stood up. Maia rose next to me, and we looked out over Beta.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” she said.

  Snow coated the trees then, stretching in all directions, covering the planet as far as I could see. The sun gleamed on it, making it sparkle. White, clean, new. It was strange to see so far. We’d all had to have our eyes adjusted to be able to focus at a distance, after the close quarters of the ship.

  I pulled in a lungful of air. The cold tingled on my teeth, as if I’d bitten metal.

  “It’s better than autumn, at least,” I said.

  Maia laughed. “Remember how you wanted to fix the trees?”

  “You have to admit, it’s weird that things kept dropping off them.”

  “Leaves, Ursa. They’re called leaves. You prefer winter?”

  I blew through the thick fabric of my gloves. My hands prickled as warmth returned. “It’s freezing.”

  “I guess it is pretty cold.” Wisps of red hair whipped around her face, escaping from her hood. Her skin was light pink, almost as pale as the snow. She blended in there. Part of the landscape.