It took a few days, and several people, but Ethan was glad to see his destruction of the silver sculpture wasn't a permanent thing. They had to shut off the old transmitter, on the off chance any other ships might come, but he'd hated to see a piece of art destroyed.

It seemed to have an effect on the rest of the population, as well. Attacks from darksiders were dramatically reduced, and vandals stopped trying to find new ways to get on board the fleet ship parked between the lightside wall and the mountains.

Captain Marshall had his men securing the fuel cells in the storage facility Ara's people had given them, and had stopped spreading his crazy notion of launching the ship and returning to Earth, to take their chances with whatever state the planet was in now.

"He's dragging his feet," Colonel Patterson huffed as he and Ethan finished that evening's meal. "There are plenty of people in there, assisting him in dismantling that ship's systems and equipment, but they're taking their time."

Ethan shrugged. "Maybe they're just being careful. It's not an easy task, ripping apart an entire fleet ship without destroying the components you're trying so hard to salvage." He sat back in his seat and glanced out over the city. From the upper floor of the building the colonel used as his office, they could see lights on top of Fleet Ship Twelve, illuminating the area below for the workers. "You want me to check his progress?"

Colonel Patterson nodded, absently turning a cup around in his hands. "Make sure they really do have all the fuel out, and see how long they expect this to take. I realize some of them don't know what they're going to do with their lives once this job is finished, but I don't understand what they were expecting to do on 581c. We're home now, this is our new colony. God knows we've been here long enough to adjust to that."

“There’s a comfort in having a job to do,” Ethan replied. “Haven’t you ever wondered what you’d do if we weren’t needed?”

Patterson laughed. “Griff, so long as people are people, we’ll be needed.”

Ethan wanted to argue that logic, but he couldn’t and the colonel knew it. He gave in with a nod and started for the door. “I’ll go have a talk with Marshall tonight, see what’s up.”

“Good idea.”

He carried his vest and rifle over one shoulder as he left the building, then walked the few miles to the ship in relative solitude. It was getting late in the evening, although the sun never truly set here in the gray because it never actually rose. He was getting used to the perpetual twilight, his eyes adjusting to the dimness outdoors. There’d been talk of setting up a system of outdoor lights that could, to a point, stimulate daylight, but the natives quickly brought an end to such a notion. They prided themselves on the neutrality of the gray city, where neither side had an advantage over the other.

Ethan suspected that, in time, their people would migrate to the light side of this planet. At least those who were having difficulty adjusting. If he’d had to chose, he’d have taken the dark.

At least, before he’d met Ara. She couldn’t see at all in the darkness, just as Eferia was unable to see in the light.

“Ghost, I nearly didn’t see you there.”

Ethan looked up and nodded at Wingman, who’d pulled night duty guarding the ramp to the fleet ship. “Sorry, I should have said something.”

“Deep in thought again, eh?” Wingman teased. “Just like your sister and those other white coats, always thinkin’.”

“Everyone needs a hobby,” Ethan replied with a grin. “Any news coming down out of this thing lately? The colonel wants me to see what the hell’s taking them so long.”

Wingman shrugged. “Not much being said, no. They’ve got a hell of a lot of people on board, and you can hear a lot going on, but so far no one’s come out with any equipment.” He glanced up at the hatch above. “I figure it can’t be an easy job, pulling a ship apart. But there haven’t been any vandals sneaking around for a few days.”

“That’s something, at least.”

“Progress, I hope.”

Ethan shrugged. “I’m gonna find the captain and get a status report. See you in a bit.”

“Yes, sir.”

He took the ramp slowly, checking out the surrounding area as he ascended. There were marks on the lower level where some darksiders had attempted to start fires, not realizing the ships hull would be completely impervious to anything they could try. Ethan found the hatch closed, but not locked, and stepped inside.

He slipped his vest on, then slid his rifle around to his back out of courtesy as he moved down the corridors, passing a few navy men as he made his way toward the bridge. It wasn’t hard to notice the people he was passing weren’t looking him in the eye, but he chalked it up to navy verses marines all over again. He wondered how many generations it would take for them to be just people again.

The bridge was nearly empty, and Ethan noticed not a single consol had been dismantled or even opened yet. The few people there had no idea where their captain was at the moment, but one suggested he try the cryo sleep control room.

It was several levels down, and in the center of the ship, but Ethan made good time, leaving him to wonder just where the “hell of a lot of people” on board were, exactly.

He found a side door to the cryo control room and opened the door slowly, peering inside as his instincts started nagging him.

The room was small, and empty, but it lead to a larger staging area where cryosleep drugs were administered. Ethan stepped through the door and heard voices in the next room, arguing. He closed the door quietly and moved forward, sticking to the side of the doorway where he couldn’t be seen.

“And I’m telling you my calculations are correct,” a man was saying. “I’ve gone over them, my staff has gone over them, there’s no margin for error here.”

Ethan pressed against the wall to listen.

“You think I didn’t?”

He recognized that voice. Doctor Lydia Warren.

“Doctor Warren--”

“Captain, I can assure you my calculations are correct. And more importantly, the rest of them deserve to hear this.”

“It’s a bit late for that, doctor,” Captain Marshall replied. “We have three other analyses that suggest you’re wrong, and Doctor Franzen is correct. The only thing your information will provide is panic, and as I’ve said, it’s too late. We’re well beyond the point of going back now.”

Ethan stepped around the corner. “Too late for what, Captain?” he demanded.

Captain Marshall spun around, surprised, while Lydia reacted with a sharp intake of breath and a look of shocked surprise.

“Too late for what?” Ethan repeated.

“What are you doing here, major?”

Ethan glanced around the prep room. Lydia was there, as well as another man, presumably Doctor Franzen. “Looking for answers, captain.”

“Ethan, you shouldn’t be here.” Lydia looked from him to Captain Marshall. “He hasn’t seen anything, captain.”

“As a matter of fact, I haven’t,” Ethan agreed. “Particularly your men dismantling this ship. Or for that matter, your men period. I’m told you have hundreds of people here helping out. Where are they?”

“Major, this didn’t need to concern you.” Captain Marshall shook his head and turned around, heading for the doorway to the main cryo chamber room. “But now, apparently, it does.”

Ethan followed the captain, bringing his rifle around as he did.

“Maybe it’s for the best, captain,” Lydia was saying. “We can still stop this.”

“Stop what?” Ethan turned toward Lydia as he spoke, but the look in her eyes suddenly registered his mistake.

When he spun back around, Captain Marshall and three of his men were holding guns, all trained at Ethan’s forehead.

“What the hell are you doing, Captain?” Ethan glared at him, ignoring the other two weapons mere feet away from his head.

“I’m sorry, Major, I certainly didn’t intend for this to happen,” Marshall said. “But right now I’m thinking this could be exactly the leverage we need.” He motioned toward Ethan. “Your rifle, please. And your vest. Then any other weapons you have secreted away.”

Ethan reluctantly unclipped his rifle and handed it to the lieutenant on his right, followed by his vest and the knife Ara had given him. “Tell me you’re not starting a coup.”

Marshall laughed. “We’re not starting a coup.”

“Captain, you can’t do this.” Lydia stepped forward, but stopped when Marshall held up a hand. “Just -- I’ve change my mind, Captain. I’m not coming with you.”

Ethan looked at her. “Coming with him?” He turned to Marshall, who was still holding a gun, cocked and ready to fire. “Captain?”

“You might as well know, Griff.” Captain Marshall waved the gun, motioning for Ethan to walk ahead of him through the doorway, into the main cryosleep chamber. “We’re leaving.”

Ethan stopped just inside the main room. From there, he could see hundreds of cryo chambers in several lines, spanning the majority of the ship’s width and length on several levels. The last time they’d seen these chambers, they were frosted over and empty.

Now, they were frosted over again, but indicator lights suggested occupants in each tube.

“What the fuck?” Ethan blinked, staring at the chambers. “You didn’t unload the fuel, did you?”

“Don’t blame your men, Major,” Marshall explained. “We unloaded the fuel cells into the engine chambers, then filled the empty casings with sand, and had your men hauling those to the storage facility. There isn’t a single Marine in this group, I can promise you that.”

Ethan glared at Marshall, too stunned to form proper sentences.

“And yes, we’ve been secreting people up here for the past several days, duping your guards during shift changes, so none of them realized just how many men and women were on board.” Captain Marshall finally lowered his gun, but only slightly. “We’ve been slipping them into cryosleep over time, and as it happens, we were preparing for launch tonight.”

“Tonight?” Ethan blinked. “You’re insane. You know that, don’t you?”

“Ethan, you don’t understand.” Lydia urged. “These people have all asked to go back.”

“Go back where? Earth? Lydia, you have no idea what’s back there. No one does.”

“That’s exactly the point,” Captain Marshall replied. “You certainly don’t, neither does Colonel Patterson. And frankly, he has no authority to stop us.”

"We have family back there," Doctor Franzen said. "The vast majority of us still have wives, husbands, children, all who didn't make it on a fleet ship. They're all still back home, on Earth."

Ethan shook his head. "Even if they are still there, even if nothing happened to them, and ELM didn't bring the rest of the world down with them, those people will be forty years older when you get back." He looked from Franzen to Captain Marshall. "How can you not see that?"

"It's easy for you!" Marshall retorted. "You didn't leave anyone behind, did you, Major? Your only family is your sister, who conveniently landed, safe and sound." He shook the gun, adding emphasis to his anger. "And Patterson, he's too power hungry to care that so many of our people here are demanding the right to go back."

"Those people came on this mission of their own free will," Ethan replied. "They were never going to go back, none of us were, and they all knew it. Earth is dead, Captain. Regardless of what may or may not have happened after we left, regardless of what ELM might have done to the other ships, Earth is a dead world."

Captain Marshall shook his head. "Not necessarily. As you said, it's been twenty years since we left, and it'll be forty by the time we get back."

"That's not enough time for a planet to recover." Ethan looked at Lydia. "You know that. Right now, you might want to see it differently, but you know the truth."

Lydia looked down, then shook her head slowly. "Look, Ethan, I've changed my mind."

Captain Marshall glared at her.

"Not because I think it's wrong," Lydia added hastily. "But because I don't believe we can do it." She turned back to Doctor Franzen. "Your calculations are wrong, Doctor. I can't keep overlooking what your team refuses to see."

Ethan looked at them all in turn, then settled on Captain Marshall. "Sounds to me like all your people aren't exactly on board, Captain."

"They are," he replied hotly.

"Prove it!" Ethan shot back. "I'd like to hear it, from each and every one of them. I'd like to hear them all tell me, on their own, that they realize what they're doing. I'd like to hear Lydia tell them what she's concerned about."

"Doctor Warren is mistaken!" Captain Marshall was nearly shouting now, his face burning red. "Doctor Franzen's entire team has agreed that the cryo chambers are sound, and the drugs adequate." He pointed toward the chambers behind him. "I've got eleven hundred and eighteen citizens who have asked me to take them home." With a nod of his head, the naval officers behind Ethan moved forward. "Now, just to insure Colonel Patterson's cooperation, I'm prepared to make that eleven hundred and nineteen."

Ethan lunged forward, but the two men who'd grabbed his arms kept him from getting his hands on Marshall.

"What are you doing?" Lydia stepped back, startled.

"He won't let you leave," Ethan glared at Marshall. As he struggled to free himself, a third man wrapped a thick arm around his neck, pinning him back just enough to take him off balance. "This won't work, Marshall."

The captain motioned for Doctor Franzen as he spoke. "But I think it will. You're Patterson's pet, Griff. He'd never risk you, especially here, now."

Ethan saw Doctor Franzen pull a syringe from his lab coat.

"He needs you too much," Marshall continued. "Maybe if this planet hadn't been occupied, he could have managed. But as you well know, Colonel Patterson lacks some of the skills necessary to forge new relationships."

"Marshall, wait," Lydia reached out, trying to stop the Captain. "You can't force Ethan back to Earth. You swore only those who wanted to go would be brought on board."

Ethan stared at Captain Marshall. He had to force himself not to see the syringe in Franzen's hand. "I can't help him if I'm back on Earth."

"Then you'd best pray it doesn't come to that," Marshall replied. He motioned for Franzen. "But you'll have to wait and see how it all turns out."

Ethan struggled. His heart was racing, but he channeled the adrenaline of panic into an effort to free himself. He managed to toss one lieutenant to the side, but the arm around his throat was too tight. He could feel himself losing consciousness even as he felt the needle pierce his arm.

"This isn't right!" Lydia cried out.

It was the last thing Ethan heard.