Oh, frex. How am I going to tell Amy this?
“How long have we been stopped?” My voice rises. I sound like a tantrum-throwing child, but I can’t help it.
“We’re… not sure. For some time. Maybe since the Plague.” Marae bites her lip.
“There was no Plague,” I say automatically. She knows this; she’s just used to calling the mutiny that happened so many gens ago the Plague, perpetuating the lie the Eldest system is based on.
Behind me, the ship’s heartbeat continues: whirr-churn-whirr. “How can we not be moving?” I ask. “The engine is still working.” Even to me, I sound desperate, a child refusing to believe the fairy tales aren’t real.
“We’ve been diverting energy since the Eldest system began, actually. We need it for the internal function of the ship. The solar lamp alone isn’t strong enough anymore.”
I force myself to meet Marae’s eyes. “So where are we?”
Marae shakes her head, thrown off by my question. “What do you mean?”
“How far away are we from Centauri-Earth? If we’ve been stopped for… for so long, then our projected planet-landing is… inaccurate, to say the least. So, how far away are we?”
“We don’t know,” Marae says. “We cannot be concerned with planet-landing now. We have to hold Godspeed together.”
The authority in her tone — the way she has given me an order — claws up my spine. “Here’s what we’re going to do,” I command. “One of you will be assigned to navigation. Exclusively. If we know how far away we are, we’ll know how big a fix we need to do on the engine. Maybe we can make the ship limp along, long enough to reach the planet. Maybe eventually we’ll have to discuss more drastic measures.” I level my gaze on Marae. “But we are going to focus more on making this ship actually reach Centauri-Earth.”
Second Shipper Shelby opens her mouth to speak, but Marae throws her hand up first to stop her. “I’ll do it myself,” she says, “but first, we want to make a request of you.”
The way she says “request” makes it feel much more like a demand, but I nod anyway.
“We want the Feeders to be put back on Phydus.”
My hand slips into my pocket. For a moment, I wonder if Marae knows that I’ve carried the wires from the Phydus machine with me every day since Amy ripped them out three months ago.
“No,” I say, firmly, as much to myself as to them.
“It wouldn’t be hard to fix the Phydus machine,” Marae says. “In fact, Second Shipper Shelby has already done a preliminary repair report—”
Marae holds her hand out, and Shelby gives her another floppy already flashing with a mechanical diagram.
I glance down at the floppy. It would be an easy fix. An easy fix — and an easy solution. A little bit of Phydus — maybe not even as much as Eldest used before… we could eliminate a lot of the conflicts we’re having… get people back to working without fuss…
“No,” I say adamantly, my voice low. “We’re not using the pumps.”
“It doesn’t have to be through the pumps,” Marae says. “Doc’s been working on some med patches for us using the Phydus compound.”
I cut her off. “No one needs Phydus.”
Marae’s lips tighten. She reaches across me and swipes her finger across the top of the floppy. The mechanical diagrams are replaced with a line chart. “Productivity decreased by ten percent the first week the Feeders were off Phydus. It’s down to nearly thirty percent now, and there seems to be no indication that it will rise again.” She offers me the floppy, but I don’t take it. “Our food supplies are dangerously low. This is a primary concern, but we’re running out of other necessities, such as clothing, as well.”
I open my mouth to speak, but she continues in an even voice. “We have crime now. Never had it before. But now we do. Domestic violence, theft, vandalism. With Phydus—”
And there it is. Doubt. They trust the drug more than me.
“I’ll take care of the people,” I say, my voice firm. “You take care of the ship.”
“But Eld — Elder,” Marae says, resting one slender hand on my arm. “Why bother? They don’t need to be anything but workers. We don’t need them to be anything else.”
“I understand what you’re saying.” I grip the edges of the floppy.
I don’t tell her that I’ve thought of all of this before.
I don’t tell her that’s why I carry the wires to the Phydus machine around in my pocket every day.
Instead, I say, “What we need is a police force. Like they had on Sol-Earth. I need people who I can trust, who can help me ensure that everything runs smoothly.”
Marae stands straighter. “A poe-leez force?”
This time, I’m the one who swipes the floppy and starts tapping on the screen. After a moment, I hand her an article about police and social sciences. She scans it briefly, then hands it to Shelby.
“Basically, I need people who can help enforce the rules. Investigate crime, stop people from doing wrong. If there’s trouble, I’ll need backup.”
“The Shippers have always been obedient to the Eldest system. We will make sure the system does not fail. In whatever capacity it becomes.” She means: she’s willing to try using police instead of Phydus. I’m not confident enough in her words or my position to ask what will happen if my latest suggestion fails.
I know the first-level Shippers better than nearly anyone else on this ship, even though I’ve only worked with them in the months since Eldest died. I can read their faces. Haile and Jodee and Tailor are nodding along with Marae, eager to accept this role. Prestyn, Brittne, Buck, and even Second Shipper Shelby look wary. I know they will follow Marae, though, even if they wouldn’t follow me. And while Marae sometimes still tries to boss me around because I’m younger, she never truly forgets my position as Eldest, even if I won’t take the name.
This might just work.
And, as soon as I think that, Shelby makes a noise of surprise. We turn to her. In her hands is the floppy she’d taken earlier. She holds it out first to Marae, but then she thinks better of it and hands it to me. The Shippers break their ordered line and crowd around me as I read the giant white words flashing across the black screen.
DO NOT ACCEPT THE OPPRESSION OF THE ELDEST SYSTEM
THERE IS NO LEADER
LEAD YOURSELF
“Someone has hacked into the floppy network,” Marae growls. Her fierce eyes meet mine. “Is this what you meant by needing a poe-leez force?”
“Yes.” My voice lacks her passion. These words flashing across the screen say I am nothing, and for the first time since Eldest died, I think they may be right.
Marae slides the floppy from my fingers and tries to swipe the screen clear. The last two words — LEAD YOURSELF — grow larger, filling the whole screen. Marae slides her fingers across the screen again. Nothing happens.
“Frex!” I’ve never heard her curse before.
The Shippers gather close to the screen. They look worried — Haile and Jodee start whispering to each other, and Brittne’s hand moves to her wi-com. Shelby’s eyes keep reading the phrase over and over, mouthing the words silently.
“Calm down,” Marae snaps, and I — and every Shipper — focus our attention on her. “This is our first task as poe-leez. And we will not fail the Eldest.”
She hands the floppy to Fourth Shipper Prestyn. “This is a good hack,” he says after a moment of examination. “I’ll get my group started on breaking it right away.”
Marae nods curtly, and Prestyn heads to the door, already barking orders into his wi-com.