Gray was a baby when the Snowpiercer launched. By the time the residents started calling it the train, it was home. He'd never known earth or any of the other planets. For all he knows, he could have actually been born on that ship, except that Gilliam told him he'd known his mother before she died in the tail compartment.
Gilliam knows things. Even now, when they're on a different ship, sailing through a different sector of the vastness of space, Gray trusts that he knows.
But at a moment when the ship is about to set course through the storm clouds above their next planet, Gray doesn't need Gilliam's knowledge. He needs his own body to put to work. While the pilots and scouts prepare at their stations, Gray hovers, ready to weave between clunky consoles and beneath them, into ceilings and spaces between the floors, ready to look for the inevitable troubles that a ship in this stage of its lifespan will have in traversing clouds of dust and rock with lightning arcing between them. A particularly bright flash comes through the ports of the ship, lighting the interior starkly white.
They've completed landings like this before. It's never less dangerous.
Gray rises on his toes once, then another time, stretching, before casting his gaze at the person manning the station nearest to him. Excitement and dread mix in him and come out as a twist of his mouth. He taps his forearm (good) and a spot on his chest (?).
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Gilliam knows things. Even now, when they're on a different ship, sailing through a different sector of the vastness of space, Gray trusts that he knows.
But at a moment when the ship is about to set course through the storm clouds above their next planet, Gray doesn't need Gilliam's knowledge. He needs his own body to put to work. While the pilots and scouts prepare at their stations, Gray hovers, ready to weave between clunky consoles and beneath them, into ceilings and spaces between the floors, ready to look for the inevitable troubles that a ship in this stage of its lifespan will have in traversing clouds of dust and rock with lightning arcing between them. A particularly bright flash comes through the ports of the ship, lighting the interior starkly white.
They've completed landings like this before. It's never less dangerous.
Gray rises on his toes once, then another time, stretching, before casting his gaze at the person manning the station nearest to him. Excitement and dread mix in him and come out as a twist of his mouth. He taps his forearm (good) and a spot on his chest (?).