A Million Suns by Beth Revis Read Free Book Online

revulsion. I don’t like to think of him in the same terms his friends do.
    The door zips open again. Victria whimpers softly, hiding her face. I jump up.
    He stands in the doorway, scanning the room.
    His eyes lock on me.
    And he smiles. Slowly.
    Â 
    Seductively.

7
    ELDER
    THE DOOR IS LOCKED. JUST THE WAY I LEFT IT.
    Â 
    After—after everything—after
    Orion was frozen and
    Â Â Amy found out the truth and
    Â Â Â Â Eldest died and
    Â Â Â Â Â Â I watched him die . . .
    Â 
    I watched him die.
    Â 
    After all of that, I crawled back up to the Keeper Level. The empty, hollow Keeper Level. And I broke into Eldest’s room, and I found his stash of alcohol, and I stayed drunk for two days straight. Then I threw up for two more days, and then I relocked his door, one of the few doors that even has a lock.
    And I put a table in front of it.
    Â 
    Now I shove the table out of the way so forcefully that it tips over on one side and crashes to the ground.
    Before, the Keeper Level seemed too big, big enough for everyone on the ship to stand in it at one time so they could be lied to while they looked up at the ceiling and gasped at the light bulbs called stars.
    When it was Eldest and me, this place felt huge, the space between us filled with emptiness and silence. Now that it’s just me, the Keeper Level feels claustrophobically small.
    My wi-com beeps. I jab it with my finger to silence it.
    And before I can talk myself out of it, before I can walk away and promise to go into his room later—
    â€”I unlock Eldest’s door.
    Dust particles swirl in the light as I enter. I breathe deeply, expecting to smell Eldest’s musky soap, but instead it smells like mildew. My feet stick to the floor. Near the door lies one open and spilled alcohol jar, dried into a gummy mess. That’s my mark on Eldest’s room.
    The room itself is messy and cluttered, but that’s the way Eldest kept it. The bed’s unmade, the blankets a swirl of cloth at the foot. Spilling out from underneath the bed is a pile of wrinkled clothes. A dirty plate that’s still littered with a few crumbs rests perilously close to the edge of his nightstand.
    I feel like an interloper, a trespasser in Eldest’s private space, but I remind myself that, technically,
I’m
Eldest now, and this is more my room than a dead man’s.
    On the desk are the scattered remains of a model engine. I pick up the small resin nuclear reactor core, wiping the dust carefully from the surface. The first time I saw the frexing thing was when Eldest hid it from me. I weigh the model engine in my hand. He knew something was wrong, even then. If he had just
told
me the truth from the start, maybe we could have worked together to solve the engine’s problems. If everyone would just be frexing honest, we’d probably be at Centauri-Earth by now!
    I hurl the model engine across the room. It crashes over Eldest’s bed, sprinkling cracked resin across his pillow, still dented from where he laid his head.
    Shite.
    I rub my hands across my face.
    Shite.
    With the hacked message on the floppy network and Marae’s eagerness to form my police force, I’d pushed from my mind the hardest truth of all.
    We’re not going anywhere.
    Stopped.
    Staring at the broken engine bits on Eldest’s bed, I realize something. I’m not going to tell the rest of the ship. I’m not. I never thought I’d get tangled up in the lies Eldest wove around
Godspeed
 . . . but I can’t tell them. I can’t tell them we’re not just going slowly. We’re stopped. If just taking them off Phydus has calls for revolution leaking through the floppy network, then surely they’ll rip this ship apart if I tell them we’re not going anywhere; they’ll tear through the metal with their teeth and let themselves be swallowed into the black of space.
    Just like Harley.
    I run my