In His Name

By Laura Schiller

Based on: Across the Universe

Copyright: Beth Revis

"You love him too, don't you," says Victria, one hand on the glass of my Eldest's cryo chamber, the other hand curled over her fetus. Her eyes are swollen, the fringe of her hair damp from crying, and yet her expression is impassive. The way she phrases it is not a question.

I could deny it. I could tell her that my Eldest – I refuse to think of him by the false name of Orion – is the ship's best hope; that the current Elder's choice to rule without Phydus is a disaster, and his plan to land Godspeed is borderline suicidal; that someone has to stop them, all of which I do sincerely believe. I could tell her that love is the most chaotic, unpredictable, destructive emotion that exists, and that I avoid it on principle – which is also true. I could ask her what gave her such a chutzy idea. However, looking at the hollows underneath her dark eyes, the thin line of her mouth, the way she hovers near the chamber as if to protect it, the way she's been coming here like clockwork for the past three months … I can see well enough what gave her the idea.

Looking at this girl is like looking into a frexing mirror. I give up and stand next to her.

Eldest, frozen with his eyes wide open and his hands clawing at the glass, looks as if he were screaming for help. He probably was, at the time he was frozen. He also looks ancient, older than even sixteen years should have made him. Older than the Plague Eldest. Only his long thick hair, the streaks of gray made invisible by the blue freezing solution, is still familiar. He always liked it long.

He used to run his hands through it when he was thinking particularly hard. I used to warn him that he'd make it all fall out, and he would just laugh, tossing it back, letting it gleam as he walked in the rain.

When I was eleven years old and still living in the City, my small size and fastidious nature made me a popular target for the other Phydus-inhibited children. I had mud thrown into my hair, worms dropped down my shirt, and once, memorably, a cowpat in my chair at lunchtime – all this until a fearless, ferocious, and even smaller seven-year-old simply commanded them to stop.

Such was his power, even at that age, that they stopped.

You worry too much, he told me, pulling me outside by the hand and letting the rain dry my clothes.

Since then, I have learned that on this ship, one can never worry too much.

I am still surprised by young Elder's callousness, to freeze his own predecessor without preparation and abandon him like this. I could calculate the precise odds of survival in such a case; they are not exactly high. It must have been the Sol-Earth girl who influenced that decision. She has a vindictive streak to her; I have known that since we met. If not for her, Elder might be a worthy leader by now. If not for her, he would have joined forces with the man before me, and they would have been a line – a family – this crew would be proud to follow.

If not for her, Elder might have died inside the space suit I had punctured. I try not to think of that, of the paper-yellow color of his skin, his motionless chest, Amy's frantic CPR. That was a mistake. I did not mean to kill him. I still don't … except, perhaps, as the ultimate last resort.

I am thinking like my Eldest, making contingency plans. It almost makes me smile. And thinking of contingency plans gives me an idea.

"We could get him back," I tell Victria.

Her face lights up, then darkens again as she eyes the machine. "Really? How?"

"I'll tell you what to do."

When she first came to me with her pregnancy, I barely noticed her among the hundreds of Feeder woman, but since then, she has come to my attention more and more. When she explained to me about Luthor, I gave her a gun from the armory in case of future attacks. And when she asked me to abort her fetus, I refused – not only because it's against Godspeed's medical policy, but because I genuinely hoped for all the children of this generation to be born into a better world than this, and I have not yet given up on that hope.

Destroying the Bridge will be a violent endeavor. I've always hated violence. But if everything goes according to plan, it will be worth it. My Eldest will save us all.

I put my arm around Victria's shoulders and lead her away.

Soon, Eldest. I promise.