Earthseed

others had been taken away by Caleb after she had been returned. She had not had a chance to speak to them.
    The walls seemed to be closing in on her; she saw herself walking through the settlement toward the forest. She would leave. They would tell her to stop. She wouldn’t, and then they would shoot her. Caleb might make sure she did not revive. She didn’t care.
    She opened the door. The woman who had been watching it before was gone; instead, Ho stood there. He turned and saw her; she watched him warily.
    “Where are you going?” he asked.
    “For a walk.”
    “No, you’re not.”
    “Try to stop me.”
    His knife was out. “Get back inside.”
    She stared at the blade; they had given him back his weapon. “You’re with them.”
    His eyes narrowed. “I know when I can fight and when I can’t. They’re watching me right now to see if I can be trusted. If you don’t get back inside, I’ll have to force you, and I’d rather not.”
    “You told them everything.”
    “I told them what they wanted to know. Why shouldn’t I? Plenty of your friends here are cooperating—you should do the same. Get back inside.”

    Everyone in the settlement had gathered in the clearing before the storehouse. Torches lit the night; the light flickered over bowed heads. Several strangers stood in the back of the storehouse porch, hidden in the darkness.
    The settlement had gathered to bury Willem, and a grave had already been dug. The woman named Ah Lam was speaking now of the tragic accident, of Willem’s friendliness, yet somehow her words seemed to suggest that it was perhaps best that Willem was gone, that a life on the new world would not have been possible for him.
    Zoheret watched from the back of the crowd; she had been allowed to go no farther than a few paces from the door. The light of one torch fell on Anoki’s grim face. Caleb stood next to Zoheret, his chin jutting out, his shoulders thrown back.
    Everyone seemed to have accepted Caleb’s story of an accident; Zoheret, having been kept alone in the shack all day, had been given no chance to refute it. Would anyone have believed her? Brendan and Bonnie might; they knew what Caleb was like. But the others would not.
    Willem was being lowered into the ground on ropes. The young people standing around the grave began to cover him with dirt. Good-bye, Willem, she thought, and the words were tinged with guilt. Good-bye. But nothing of Willem was left to hear the words.
    The torches were put out, one by one, as the young people filed away from the grave and returned to their shacks. Zoheret longed to cry out in protest, reveal the truth. Caleb had made her an accomplice. Bonnie and Brendan passed her; Bonnie was crying. Manuel walked behind them. He paused in front of her, looking concerned; Caleb waved him on. She saw that the others were being led to another shack by Petra.
    Caleb took her arm, pulled her to the door, and pushed her inside, slamming the door behind her. She went to one of the small windows and looked out through the screen. It was still light outside, even though the torches were out; she searched the area and finally saw the source of the light. Bright beams shone from the watchtowers, and lamps on the ground lit the settlement’s periphery.
    She retreated into the room’s shadows.

    Knowing that she would be unable to sleep, Zoheret sat in the corner of the front room. Caleb could not keep her isolated indefinitely; what was he planning to do? Why had the others been sent to another shack? She knew why. He was afraid she would talk.
    She heard the low murmur of voices outside; someone was walking past the shack. The voices rose and fell; she recognized the language. Arabic. Ship had taught her some old Arabic and old Hebrew when she had expressed an interest in her parents. She had never been able to read either language well, but had learned how to speak and understand them. She concentrated on the voices and recognized the word “sensors.” They were talking about Ship.
    “Will it not put us at some risk?” a low voice said.
    “No,” a woman’s voice answered. “We have need only of its automatic functions, not its conscious mind. We can steer the vessel ourselves. We risk more if the mind core remains aware. Once the sensors are blocked, we …”
    The voices faded. Zoheret stood up, peering cautiously over the windowsill; a man and a woman were walking toward the storehouse, their backs to her. Two other people were silently