in space, or had broken down. There was so much that could go wrong.
She cleared her throat. “How long?”
Dr. Yang handed her a glass full of a pink protein shake and she took a sip—it tasted of nothing—and swallowed.
“Three hundred and twenty-two years.”
Wow.
She forced the next question out. “Are we home?”
Dr. Yang gave one of her rare smiles. “We are. We landed on Trakis Four a week ago.”
A week? They’d been here a whole week and she was only just being woken. She bit back her disappointment.
Dr. Yang wore a white lab coat over her ship’s uniform of black pants and a red fitted shirt. It was the same thing she always wore when Destiny saw her. She was smaller than Destiny and only came up to her chin, and she had brown skin and golden eyes, slightly slanted in her round face. She’d once told Destiny that her appearance came from the combination of her Jamaican father and Chinese mother.
From the geography books she’d read, Destiny knew that Jamaica had been an island in the Caribbean Sea and China a huge country in East Asia. Both were gone now.
Destiny had no clue who her mother and father had been. All she knew was she had pale skin, blond hair, and blue eyes. But according to Dr. Yang, it wasn’t important where you came from—that world no longer existed. What mattered was only what you did with your life. From now on, everyone left alive would have a role to perform.
She stretched her arms above her head—her strength was returning—and looked around. Nothing had changed. The lab was a small, crowded space, about twenty feet across and circular with silver walls. This was the extent of her world. The only existence she’d ever known. She’d never set foot on Earth or seen the sky or breathed fresh air.
Her heart rate kicked up again. “Can I go outside?”
“Not just yet.”
A flicker of anger awoke inside her and she stamped it out as fast as it had arisen. Anger would get her nowhere; she’d learned that at a very early age. Learned to bury her fury deep inside until she’d almost convinced herself it was nothing but a bad memory.
“We need time to determine whether the planet is safe,” Dr. Yang continued.
“I could help.”
Dr. Yang gave another smile, but a small, tight one this time, and the last of Destiny’s hope shriveled and died. “You’re far too important to risk, Destiny. Be patient. When the time is right.”
Then what?
Everyone on the ships had been chosen to ensure that humanity reached a new world and that they would thrive. Everyone had a part to play, and in an uncertain future, they all had to stick to those parts.
Apparently, Destiny herself had been born to play an important role in the survival of humanity. According to Dr. Yang, she should be proud. And she was. Really, she was, just sometimes—okay most of the time—she wished she knew what that role was. But if she ever asked, then the doctor would get angry and closed off and Destiny wouldn’t see her for a long, long time. And then she’d be alone, and she hated to be alone. Dr. Yang was the only person who ever came to the lab.
She sighed. While she would do her duty, and do it with pride, was it so much to ask that she could just live a little first? Breathe the fresh air, feel the wind on her face, the sun on her skin. Was it warm or cold on the new planet? Did it rain? She’d never felt rain or the sun or swum in the sea. Was there even a sea? Or animals? Birds in the sky? The questions were building inside her, yearning to get out.
Dr. Yang turned to go, and Destiny couldn’t help herself, she reached out and touched the doctor’s arm. “Please. Let me come with you.”
Dr. Yang flinched and glared, and Destiny dropped her hand to her side. She held herself very still, but then the tension went out of the other woman.
“Not yet, Destiny. You must be patient.”
I don’t want to be patient.
Who knew how much time she had? While she had no clue what her role was, she suspected it must be dangerous. Otherwise why not tell her?
“It’s just to keep you safe,” Dr. Yang said. “You know how important you are. How special. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. But as soon as we’re sure there’s no danger,