I can hear shuffling noises from inside. I step through the door. Victria kneels in front of Orion’s cryo chamber. Her dark hair clings to the skin on the back of her neck, and her hands shake as she tucks a strand behind her ear. The chair that usually stands beside it is knocked over, as if she’s slid from the seat to get closer to him.

“How do you stand it?” she asks in a hollow voice.

“Stand what?”

“Your parents are still frozen, right? How do you stand not waking them up? They’re so close.”

I don’t say anything. There’s something strange in her voice, scary.

“I could do it,” she says. “I could do it right now. It can’t be that hard to unfreeze someone. You were unfrozen.”

I stop.

“What does it matter, anyway? The ship’s landing soon. I can just unfreeze him.”

So, Elder’s told them about the planet.

“I need him!” Victria says, her voice raising an octave. “I need him!”

“Why?” I ask gently.

“Because I’m frexing scared, all right? I’m terrified!” Victria screams. Her hands are shaking; she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a square green med patch.

“Doc said those were dangerous,” I say.

“Everyone has them; everyone uses them.” Victria’s voice sounds like a chant. “Just not more than one, only one.”

“How did you get this?” I ask warily. Kit had told me they were stolen.

Victria shrugs as she tries to rip one open, but the package twists instead of tears, and she throws it down. She sits down fully on the tile floor, and more green patches spill from her pockets, at least a dozen. I raise my eyebrows but don’t comment, although I do want to know why she has so many. Ignoring the patches completely, Victria wraps her arms around her legs and buries her head into her knees.

“Why are you so scared?” I ask, scooping up the med patches and slipping them into my own pocket, out of Victria’s reach.

“It was so huge.”

“What was?”

“The planet.”

My heart sinks. Elder showed everyone else the planet? Why didn’t he tell me he was going to? Maybe it would have been worth the risk, if I could have finally seen it for myself. Or . . . he could have shown me before.

“It was pretty,” Victria says. Her eyes rove over me, lingering on my red hair. “But it was different. Strange.”

“You’ll like the new planet,” I say.

“How do you know?”

“Well—there won’t be walls.”

“But I like the walls,” Victria whispers.

And I realize, to her, the metal isn’t a cage, crushing her into a claustrophobic existence. No—to her, the walls are the walls of a comfortable home. It’s the outside—the vast, never-ending outside—that terrifies her.