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“We’re going to have another meeting,” Elder shouts. “I’m calling everyone together now. ” He pushes his wi-com and does an all-call, telling all 2,296 passengers to come to the garden immediately.
No. Not 2,296. Not anymore. I count the number down in my head. Victria. Luthor. All the top-ranking Shippers. The people who died in the riot. The ones Doc slathered in patches. The population of Godspeed, which always seemed so inimitable to me before, now seems very fragile.
Bartie approaches Elder hesitantly. “Can I . . . would you mind if I said something too?”
Elder shoots him a wry grin. “Going to try to start another riot?”
“No,” Bartie says. He’s completely serious.
Elder looks up at me, and I take the hint, letting them have their privacy. The two men move away from me, talking in low quiet tones. I can see the strain in Elder’s face as he listens to whatever Bartie is saying, and when they quit talking, they shake hands with a sort of finality that leaves me nervous.
It seems to take forever before everyone gathers at the pond. The people come slowly—I can see them crossing the fields toward us. I touch my hair—I’m not wearing my head wrap or even my jacket, but I don’t care. I’m not afraid of them anymore. Today I shot a man and watched a woman die. Beneath my feet is a shuttle that will take me far away from here. Their opinion of me means nothing.
I stand on the edge of the pond, on the side nearest the wall. As everyone crowds around the edges of the silty muddy remains of the pond, some of them draw closer to me. Many still keep their distance or sneer, but most ignore me. One girl accidentally brushes my arm.
“Sorry,” she says.
I can’t help but stare in wonder. She didn’t flinch away or look disgusted; she didn’t snatch her arm back as if it were now contaminated.
Elder walks straight into the muddy remains of the pond and stands near the hatch. Victria said before that we can’t choose who we love. I still don’t know if that’s true, but it doesn’t matter anymore. Because, choice or no, my heart is his.
Everyone looks down at him—we all stand on the edge of the pond, towering above him. He’s up to his ankles in muck, and he shifts uneasily as if he’s nervous. Even from here I can see the pale purple-green of bruises on his face, but he’s never looked stronger or more noble.
Elder taps into the wi-com system so that everyone can hear him clearly. He mumbles at first, something I can’t discern, then speaks clearly and loudly.
“In the centuries of travel on Godspeed, much has been gained. But much has also been lost and forgotten. Including this. ” Elder sweeps his hand toward the open hatch.
“We thought that beneath our feet was another level of the ship. We were wrong. It’s not a level. It’s an escape shuttle. At the end of this hatch there is another bridge. The entire level can break away from Godspeed, and it will take us to our new home on Centauri-Earth. ”
I glance around me—every eye is on Elder.
He clears his throat and explains more about how the shuttle works. Although he hesitates, he also tells them about the possibility of danger, Orion’s warnings.
“It’s not ideal,” he says, and this makes my head snap up. “When we launch the shuttle, we’ll be leaving behind Godspeed. I know this ship has been your home. It’s been mine too. But Godspeed isn’t stable. It was never meant to be a permanent solution. The cryo level is large, and we’ll pack it as tightly as we can. Focus on bringing essentials with you. Some things will have to be left behind. ”
Elder motions for Bartie to come closer. Elder steps away from the center of the pond, and everyone’s attention shifts to Bartie.
“I wanted to say something too,” Bartie says through the wi-com system. “What Elder has told you is true. I was in the shuttle today; I saw it myself. And what he says about leaving things behind is true too. And . . . ” He swallows deeply. “And I am one of the things that will be left behind. Godspeed is my home. I don’t want another. I’m staying here. And if you would like to stay here with me, you’re welcome to. ”
My mouth drops open. I turn around, expecting the crowd to be shocked or skeptical, to think Bartie’s lost it . . . but a lot of them . . . don’t. They seem to agree.
They want the walls.
“Can we?” someone shouts.
“Is it safe?”
“It’s suicide,” I say under my breath, but I don’t feel so safe that I can shout back.
Elder crosses the pond and motions for someone to talk to him. The young woman nods and speaks to him, shooting glances at Bartie and the crowd behind her.
Finally Elder speaks again. “The scientists agree that the internal functions of the ship could last for at least a generation, maybe indefinitely if the biosphere is maintained and energy conserved. ”
Conversation surges again through the crowd. Elder raises his arm—and they’re all silenced immediately.
“This is an important decision. Whatever you decide now—ther
e will be no going back. Stay or leave—your decision will be permanent. ”
