Across the Universe - Beth Revis [9]
When Eldest reaches the biometric scanner, he rolls his thumb over the bar. The glass rises first, pulling the stars up along the ceiling, the hydraulic arms sighing in relief. Then the grinding metal screen tucks them away, hiding their false light.
“You’re loons! You put the Keeper Level into lockdown over this?” Eldest’s rage almost makes me cower. Almost.
“I thought they were real! I thought the ship was being exposed to space!”
“They’re just lightbulbs!”
“I didn’t frexing know that! I thought those stars were real! What are they even there for?”
“They’re not there for you!” Eldest bellows.
“Then who are they there for?” I shout back. “It’s just you and me on this level!”
Eldest sets his jaw. A lump rises in my throat, but I swallow it down. I won’t let Eldest think I’m nothing more than a little boy who throws a tantrum when he discovers the stars aren’t real.
“You can’t do this, Elder. You could cause the whole ship to panic!” Eldest looks both enraged and weary at the same time. “Don’t you understand? You are Elder. When you take my role as Eldest, you must dedicate your whole life to this one idea: you are the caretaker of every single person on the ship. They are your responsibility. You can never show weakness in front of them: you are their strength. You can never let them see you in despair: you are their hope. You must always be everything to everyone on board.” He takes a deep breath. “And that includes not panicking and throwing an entire level of the ship into lockdown!”
“I thought the ship had been exposed,” I say.
Eldest stares at me. “And you put the ship into lockdown.”
Does he have to remind me of that? I’m a frexing idiot, I get it.
“While you were still here.” His voice is different now. Calmer. I meet his eyes, and I see something in them I’ve never seen before.
Pride.
“You were going to sacrifice yourself to save the ship,” he says.
I shrug. “It was stupid. Sorry.”
“No.” Eldest drawls out the word. “Well, yes, it was stupid. But it was also noble. That took courage, boy. That took leadership. To be willing to sacrifice yourself for the rest of the ship? Shows you think. You thought about how the Keeper Level’s on top, didn’t you? That if the Keeper Level was exposed to space, the explosive decompression would affect the level below it, and the one below that. You thought before you acted. You thought of all the people below.”
I look away. Maybe it had been noble, but all I can see is how the stars aren’t real.
“I’m sorry,” Eldest says. When he sees my confused look, he adds, “I’ve ignored you. It’s my fault. You reminded me of the other Elder, and we ... did not get along. When I trained him, I told him too much, too soon. And he acted foolishly, selfishly. But you’re different. I forget that you’re different, but you are.”
Eldest has my full attention now. I know perfectly well there had been another Elder, one between me and Eldest. He died before I was born, but Eldest never talked much about him before.
“I’d already trained that Elder. He was supposed to train you, leaving me to care for the ship. When he died and I had to train you, too... I was never supposed to be saddled with another Elder, and I’ve lapsed in my responsibilities with you.”
I search his eyes. When we’re on the Feeder Level, Eldest is a kind grandpa. When we’re on the Shipper Level, he’s like an old king, commanding but attentive. But when it’s just him and me, he lets his real self show—or at least what I take to be his real self—and his real self may be old, but it isn’t kind and it isn’t weak.
Something in the silence makes me realize Eldest has allowed me, and only me, to see this. And that, more than anything, makes me forgive his neglect.
“Well?” I demand. “Are you going to start training me properly now?”
Eldest nods once, then motions for me to follow