The Toll (Arc of a Scythe #3) - Neal Shusterman Page 0,180
the next one.” Then she closed the hatch, ejected, and let Mendoza enjoy a happy little death spiral to the sea.
* * *
Sister Astrid found the blastoff to be much more violent and jarring than she’d expected. Their ship had been on one of the farthest islands. She almost missed the launch, but a kind man in a speedboat had gotten her there just in time. The engines ignited even before she had her harness fully on.
The first minute was the worst of it, and the booster separation felt like an explosion. More than once she thought their trip would end before it began. She intoned through all of it, but she couldn’t even hear herself over the roar of the engine. Then the final stage separated, the rattling stopped, and the silence was so complete, her ears rang with it. Her hair drifted up, tickling her face. They were weightless! They were in free fall! She unbuckled her harness and pushed herself free—the first to do so—and she laughed with the joy of it.
“Welcome,” said Cirrus. “I’m pleased to say we had a fully successful launch. We’re on our way to Aria.”
Astrid turned around, ready to meet her shipmates. They were not Tonists, but that didn’t matter. She was sure, over the years, with her leadership, they would come to hear the vibration. But to her surprise, the seats in her cluster were empty.
“You’ll need to strap yourself in again, Astrid,” Cirrus said. I’m about to initiate a barrel roll. The centrifugal force will create a semblance of gravity. I’ll wait until you’re ready.”
She pushed off to get a better view of the launch deck. It wasn’t just her cluster of seats that was vacant. They all were.
“Where… are the others?”
“The colonists are in the hold,” said Cirrus.
“No, I mean the living. I mean the rest of the crew.”
“I’m sorry,” said Cirrus, “but in the unexpected haste of our departure, no one else made it aboard this particular ship.”
Astrid grabbed a floating strap of her harness and pulled herself back to her chair, trying to let the full gravity of this take hold, just as artificial gravity pressed her down into her seat. She was dizzy and a bit nauseated by the barrel roll, but realized it wasn’t just that.
1,683 years…
“I would revive a few of the dead for you,” Cirrus said, “but I’m afraid that won’t be possible. The Thunderhead insisted upon only one rule that I am obliged to keep. The dead may not be revived until we arrive, lest I, or any of the living, be tempted to alter the variables of our journey. Our precious cargo must stay precious cargo.”
Astrid nodded numbly. “I understand.”
“But the good news is that you have the entire ship at your disposal. The many recreation centers, the exercise room. There are a variety of dining experiences, and a complete virtual immersion system to give you the experience of forests, beaches, or any environment you choose.”
“But… I’ll be alone.”
“Actually, no,” said Cirrus. “You will have me. I cannot offer you physical companionship, but I know that has never been your highest priority. You will, of course, need to remain alive for the full length of the journey, but I can arrange that.”
Astrid took a long time to consider it. In the end, she decided that the path of self-pity wouldn’t do her any good. While Tonists shunned nanites and any form of life-extension, this was clearly what was expected of her. The Toll had brought her to Kwajalein, the Thunder had determined she would be alone, and the Tone desired that she live to see Aria.
“This was the will of the Tone,” she told Cirrus. “It’s time for me to accept what cannot be avoided.”
“I admire your convictions,” Cirrus told her. “They make you strong. One could say they transform you.”
“They give me… a reason to go on.”
“And you shall go on,” Cirrus said. “And you shall be content. I will make it my goal to keep you in good spirits through all the years of our journey. Our ship may not survive the trip, but if it does, think of what that means, Astrid! You will truly be the mother of your people!”
“Mother Astrid,” she said, and smiled. She liked the sound of that.
* * *
Down in the bunker, Scythe Faraday and Munira had felt, more than heard, the ships launch.
“It’s done,” Faraday said. “Now we can get on with our business here on Earth.”