Bartie looks shocked for a second, but then he recovers and throws an uppercut that catches me under my chin. My head jerks back so hard my neck pops, and my teeth snap over my tongue. I taste blood inside my mouth, and droplets of dark red stain the top of the Eldest Robe.
The entire crowd surges forward, and the silence they held before is broken. A chant erupts near Bartie and me as his closest supporters shout, “Lead yourselves! Lead yourselves!” Shelby’s voice screams out over the chanting, directing orders to the other Shippers. I move to help her, but Bartie nails me in the stomach. I double over as Shelby jumps into the fight to defend me. Unfortunately, it doesn’t do much good. As she’s blocking Bartie, one of his lackeys rushes forward and slams me against the wall. My elbow cracks against the metal, and I hiss in pain as I draw my leg up and knee him in the stomach.
I race to the dais and leap over the small step.
“Enough!” I roar.
Apparently it’s not.
This is what I’m king of: a whirling mass of humans who either hate me or ignore me.
I jab my finger into my wi-com — wincing, because the sudden movement makes my elbow hurt more. “Direct command: Tonal variation. Level two. Apply to entire ship.”
Now they look at me, some of them with the same look they reserved for Eldest.
“End tonal variant.” I disconnect the wi-com link. “I didn’t call you here to lord over you!” I shout. “I called you here — oh, frex, just follow me.”
I shove my way through the crowd and throw open the hatch in the floor that leads to the Shipper Level. I lead the way down the ladder and head directly to the Engine Room. Shelby calls after me, but I ignore her — she’s going to tell me that this is a forbidden area, that I shouldn’t do this — but they deserve to see. They have to see.
I open both Bridge doors, and the people pour inside. I hear shouts of wonder and amazement from many just at seeing the engine — only the first-level Shippers have ever come this far. Not everyone will fit on the Bridge, and Shelby and the first-level Shippers man the room, directing people where to stand, cutting off the entrance when the Bridge becomes too crowded. Other Shippers jump in to help, sending the message down the crowd that everyone will get a chance to see.
I roll my thumb over the biometric scanner and open the covering that hides the windows. The metal panels fall away slowly, revealing first a sprinkling of stars that soon give way to the glow of the planet spilling its light over the edges of the windows, brimming with promise and hope. I forget about the crowd. I see only the swirling white over blue and green. This is the world, the whole world, and it’s ours.
“We’re going home!” I shout.
For one second there is ringing silence throughout the Bridge.
Then the chaos returns — but instead of fighting and shouting, there is cheering and screams of joy. Some of the people surge forward, their arms outstretched. They can’t even reach the window, but they’re straining up, as if they think touching it will make the planet more real. The Shippers rush forward to create a barrier and protect the control panel.
Shelby organizes the group to move out in rotation, and the Shippers have to use force sometimes to get the crowd to continue on, seizing those who linger too long at the window by their arms and dragging them away. Some of the people don’t react with joy. Victria looks at the planet for only a moment, then bursts into tears and runs from the Bridge. I see another woman slip a pale green patch from her pocket and place it on the inside of her wrist, over her dark blue veins. The intelligence slips from her eyes as the drug takes effect. Others talk, casting suspicious, dark looks at me and the Shippers. They have seen the false stars Eldest gave them; do they really think I could engineer a false planet? Perhaps they simply refuse to believe that a world exists outside the ship.
Bartie’s one of the last to go.
“Tomorrow we’ll be there?” he asks, facing the planet.
“Yes.”
He shakes his head, and with each slow turn, I can see the incredulity shift to belief. He was raised with the idea that the ship would land when he was an old man, then told he’d never see the planet. If it were not in front of him now, he still wouldn’t believe in it.
Bartie clenches his fists, then releases them. “When we land… who will lead?”
“I — what?”
“Are you still going to be the leader, or will it be one of the frozens on the cryo level?” Bartie asks.
This is a new question. No one else has thought past the actual planet-landing — including me. “I — er — I don’t know. No — I’ll lead. It’ll be me, still.”
Bartie raises his eyebrow. “But leading the colony will be different from leading the ship,” he says. “Maybe we’ll need a new leader.”
I stop fully now. “What are you saying?”
“I want you to think — really think,” Bartie says slowly, not meeting my eye, “if you’re the best leader. If you’re what we all need.”
“Of course I am!”
“Why?”
It should be such a simple question, but I find I don’t have an answer. The best I can come up with is that I was born to this job. But that’s not enough. Amy’s shown me enough history for me to know that princes born to kingdoms aren’t always the best leaders.
I’d like to say that there’s just me to lead.
But that’s not true. Bartie’s right in front of me.
54 AMY
I IGNORE THE ALL–CALL ELDER SENT INVITING EVERYONE TO the Keeper Level. He couldn’t have meant that I should go too. My support would hurt him more than help, and I can think of nothing more dangerous than being crammed into a close-fitting room with every other person on the ship. Instead, I’ve spent the last hour with my face pressed against the bubble window in the hatch door, thinking about how, just beyond my vision, there’s a planet waiting for me.
I don’t move until I hear footsteps and the sound of a door zipping open on the other side of the cryo level.
My first instinct is to freeze, but then I remind myself of how few people have access to this level, and so I creep forward until I get to the main room. The door to the genetics lab is open.
“Hello?” I call out.
I can hear shuffling noises from inside. I step through the door. Victria kneels in front of Orion’s cryo chamber. Her dark hair clings to the skin on the back of her neck, and her hands shake as she tucks a strand behind her ear. The chair that usually stands beside it is knocked over, as if she’s slid from the seat to get closer to him.
“How do you stand it?” she asks in a hollow voice.
“Stand what?”
“Your parents are still frozen, right? How do you stand not waking them up? They’re so close.”
I don’t say anything. There’s something strange in her voice, scary.
“I could do it,” she says. “I could do it right now. It can’t be that hard to unfreeze someone. You were unfrozen.”
I stop.
“What does it matter, anyway? The ship’s landing soon. I can just unfreeze him.”
So, Elder’s told them about the planet.
“I need him!” Victria says, her voice raising an octave. “I need him!”
“Why?” I ask gently.
“Because I’m frexing scared, all right? I’m terrified!” Victria screams. Her hands are shaking; she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a square green med patch.
“Doc said those were dangerous,” I say.
“Everyone has them; everyone uses them.” Victria’s voice sounds like a chant. “Just not more than one, only one.”