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But I can’t. . . . The idea is so impossible to me that I can’t even imagine being the triumphant leader who lands the ship.
I jump up from the chair. Eldest was right. I don’t belong here.
Marae stands in front of one of the control panels. There are two screens there, both blank. One is labeled COMMUNICATION, the other NAVIGATION. “I was working on this today, as you requested, when you commed me to help with the . . . with the trouble,” she says, brushing her fingers over the metal navigation label.
“Have you had a chance to figure out where we are?” I ask, interested.
Marae scowls. “It’s a mess. ” She lifts up a hinged panel below the screens, showing me a jumble of wires and circuitry. “If I had to guess, I’d say this was deliberate, probably as far back as the Plague—after all, we did lose communication with Sol-Earth at that time. ”
“So someone, probably the Plague Eldest, cut communication with Sol-Earth and that destroyed the navigation equipment too?” I ask, noting how both operations were housed in the same control panel.
Marae shrugs, hiding the ravaged electronics under the metal panel again. “I’ve been trying to sort it all out. ”
Even though she tries to disguise it behind an even-toned voice, I can still hear the disdain. “I’m sorry about today. I know the Feeder Level problems interrupted your work. ”
Marae eyes me. “You did well today,” she says finally.
“Did well?” I snort. “That was one step away from a riot. Next time it will be a riot. But—thank you. It really helped that the Shippers stood on my side. ”
“The Shippers always stand on the side of the Eldest,” Marae says simply, in the same tone she’d use if she were to tell me that the name of the ship is Godspeed or that the walls around us are steel. “But . . . I hope you realize, Elder, that we wouldn’t have needed to be down there if you’d put the ship back on Phydus. If we didn’t have this kind of trouble, then the Shippers and I could focus on the problems with the engine and the nav system. ”
“No Phydus,” I say immediately, but the determination that’s usually in my voice is gone. Even if Stevy was poisoned by Phydus, Marae’s still right. How much time was wasted—not just in the Shipper level, but across the whole ship—today? We have to work, or we’ll all die. We can’t afford to break down like this.
“Eldest,” Marae starts.
“Elder,” I insist.
“Without Phydus, things are going to keep getting worse. They don’t care what kind of leader you are—they want someone else. Anyone else. Or no leader at all. People are, at their heart, constantly moving toward a state of entropy. Much like this ship. We’re all spiraling out of control. That’s why we need Phydus. Phydus is control. ”
I sigh. “I admit, the way I’ve run things—or not—in the past three months hasn’t worked well. I thought I could trust everyone to keep doing things the way they were. ”
“Can’t you see?” Marae asks gently, like a mother talking to her child. “That’s exactly why we need Phydus. That’s the first thing you need to do, if you want to control the ship like Eldest. ”
“I don’t. ”
“You don’t what?”
“I don’t want to control the ship like Eldest,” I say. “Amy—” Marae narrows her eyes at the mention of Amy’s name. I continue anyway, a growl in my voice now. “Amy helped me see that Eldest never controlled the ship anyway; he just controlled the drugs. I think I can do better than that. I hope I can. ”
“You realize,” Marae says, “without Phydus, this may mean mutiny. ”
I nod.
I know that.
I’ve known it all along.
30
AMY
I STARE AT THE PRINTED LIST AND CURSE ORION ALOUD. Another puzzle.
I glance behind me, but Victria’s still in the gen lab. Orion’s clue was simple: 1, 2, 3, 4. Add it up to unlock the door. I run my finger down the list, counting. Twenty-seven people on the list. The doors on this level are locked with a keypad—maybe punching in 27 will unlock one of them.
My hand goes immediately to the wi-com on my wrist. I know Elder would want to open the door with me. But I don’t push the button. All I can think about is the anger in his voice when he ordered a curfew. And—I cringe—I promised him I’d go straight to my room and lock the door. How mad will he be if he finds out I came here instead?
Still clutching the list, I rush past the rest of the cryo chambers and head to the hallway on the far side of this level. There are four doors here—each made of thick, heavy steel and sealed shut with its own keypad lock. The hatch that leads out to space is through the second door—the keypad is smeared with red paint, a reminder of Harley’s last night. There’s one door to the left of it, one door to the right. At the end of the hallway is another door, the largest of all.
