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Which means, of course, that as few people as possible know the truth.

“I was apprenticing then,” Marae continues, “and I remember that Elder—the other Elder, the Elder before you—”

“Orion,” I say.

She nods. “Eldest sent him to do some maintenance on the ship, and when he came back, he didn’t report to Eldest. He went straight to Devyn. Whatever he said then . . . it made an impact on Devyn. All research ceased for a while after that. ”

“The Shippers went on strike?” I lean forward, shocked. Of everyone on Godspeed, the Shippers are the most loyal. I don’t know if it’s because we trusted them even without Phydus, or if it’s because they’re genetically engineered to be loyal, or if it’s simply because they, like Doc and a handful of others, like the Eldest system of rule, but whatever the reason, the Shippers are unswerving in their loyalty.

“They didn’t strike exactly, not like the weavers did last week. They did all their duties as normal. Except for engine research. ”

“What made them start researching the engine problems again?” I ask. I’m vaguely aware of the other Shippers in the room, the deep silence, the uncomfortable way they hold themselves, but my attention is focused on Marae.

“Elder died,” she says simply.

She means Orion—when Orion was Elder, he faked his own death to avoid a very real death at the hands of Eldest.

“After that,” Marae goes on, “First Shipper Devyn resumed research on the engine. Although . . . the research was even more closely hidden than before. Fewer Shippers were allowed access to the engine, and Devyn was not exactly, well, not exactly forthright with Eldest. When I took his place, I carried on as he trained me. But . . . I started to notice . . . irregularities. ”

“Irregularities?”

Marae nods. “Things didn’t add up. Some of the engine’s problems seemed new—as if intentionally done, and recently. All records of past research were gone—destroyed, probably, as we’ve never been able to discover them. ”

So Devyn had misled his apprentice, Marae. Whatever Orion had told him had made Devyn change everything, even going so far as to hide information from his own Shippers and Eldest. Orion once told me that Godspeed was on autopilot, that it could get to Centauri-Earth without us. Why would he say that if he’s the one who knew the problems with the engine went deeper than anyone else thought?

“Eldest started to realize this too, didn’t he?” I ask.

Marae looks down at her hands. “The Eldest’s job is to take care of the people. The Shippers’ job is to take care of the ship. But before he . . . before he died, I think, yes. He’d realized something wasn’t right. ”

I rub my face with both my hands, remembering where I first heard those words. Remembering the way Eldest had spent more and more time on the Shipper level, in those last weeks before Orion killed him.

How long has this been going on? Eldest told me my focus had to be on the people, but we can’t have been the only Eldests to realize that we had to focus on the engine too. What happened to them? It all connects at the so-called Plague, the beginning of the lies, the beginning of Phydus. Somewhere between the Plague and now, the truth was lost, and we, all of us, me and Eldest and the Shippers and everyone else, whether we were on Phydus or not, allowed ourselves to believe blindly what others told us.

“I’m . . . done,” I say, throwing my hands back down. “I’m done with the lies, with the ways things used to be. What exactly is wrong with the ship’s engine? If it’s not a matter of fuel efficiency, what is it? Are we going too fast? Are we going too slow? What?”

Now Marae slouches. “We’re not going too fast or too slow. ” She looks sad, worry in her eyes. “We’re not going at all. ”

4

AMY

I CHECK THE CLOCK ON A FLOPPY WHEN I GET BACK TO MY room in the Hospital. Crap. It’s later than I’d thought it was. Every day I’ve been spending more and more of the morning in the cryo level. At first it was to run. But then I quit running. Now I just go and force myself to remember one thing I miss from Earth, one thing in as great detail as I can. And then, eventually, I force myself to say goodbye to my parents. Again.

The solar lamp clicks on, illuminating the entire Feeder Level. Even though I have the metal shade pulled over the only window in my room, a sliver of light slices across the floor.

Morning has officially sprung. Great.

I slam my hand against the button on the wall by the door. Beep! A few moments later, a little metal door in the wall slides open, and a waft of steam floats into the room.

“That’s it?” I say to the small pastry that lies inside. I pull it out. Wall food has never been very appetizing, but this is the first time I can say that it’s small. The whole thing fits in my palm in a flat, depressed sort of way. Two bites later, and breakfast is over.

Someone knocks on my door. Even though the door is locked, unreasonable panic flares in my heart.

“Amy?”

“Doc?” I ask as I zip open the door to my bedroom. His solemn face greets me.

“I wanted to check in on you,” he says, stepping inside.

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