“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 — there will be no going back. Stay or leave — your decision will be permanent.”
He takes a deep breath.
“But your decision will be yours.”
71 ELDER
AMY CORNERS ME IN THE KEEPER LEVEL AT THE END OF THE DAY.
“You can’t be serious,” she demands.
“I can’t force people to go.” I roll my shoulders back, trying to ease some of the tension within them.
“It’s suicide! Godspeed can’t last forever — in a few generations, everyone will die out!”
“I’ve talked to Bartie about this,” I say, collapsing in one of the blue plastic chairs I’ve pulled into the Great Room from the Learning Center. “When the ship’s no longer sustainable, they’ll…”
“They’ll what?” Amy demands. “Make a suicide pact? Drink the bad Kool-Aid?”
I have no idea what she’s talking about. “Doc has an array of med patches. The black ones…”
“Kill?” She sounds disgusted.
“As humanely as possible.”
Amy throws her hands down and starts pacing around the Great Room. “This is ridiculous,” she says. “You can’t let them stay here! You have to force them to come! They’re killing themselves—”
I cut her off. “I’ve talked to the scientists. The ship isn’t going to disintegrate overnight. There will be enough energy to last for a couple more generations at least.”
“And then?” Amy demands.
And then black patches.
“It’s what they want,” I say.
“You’re the leader! Make them come!”
I wait until she stops pacing and faces me. “Amy, I have to consider more than just your opinion.”
She bites down as if she’s chewing on her words, then sits down opposite me.
“How many are staying?”
“About eight hundred.”
“Eight hundred?!” Amy jumps up again.
“About.”
“That’s…”
“More than a third of the ship,” I say.
“They’d rather die in a cage than live on a planet?”
“This is their home, Amy,” I say. “I know you can’t understand how Godspeed is a home, but it is.”
She sits back down, slowly. “You should make them go,” she snaps. “But,” she adds when I open my mouth, “I can see how they might want to stay. If they’ve never seen anything else…”
“Amy,” I say, “we have to let them decide for themselves.” I touch her knee, bringing her gaze back to me. “We’re going.”
A tentative smile spreads across her face. She leans forward, her elbows on her knees. “Oh, Elder,” she says, and it comes out in a rush, like a breath of relief, “you’re going to love it. Being on a world without walls. There’s so much… so much that you’re going to see. Trees — great big, towering trees. That pond — it’s tiny — there’ll be an ocean on the planet. Clouds. The sky — the sky. You’ll see birds. Birds!”
I laugh. “I’ve seen birds! We have chickens.”
“No!” Amy’s voice rings with music. “Those chickens aren’t even proper chickens. I’m talking about real birds! Birds that tweet so loud you wake up in the morning before your alarm clock. Birds that soar and swoop and fly!”
With that, she jumps up, twirling with her arms raised. She ends her spin facing me, her eyes alight. “You have no idea how wonderful it’s going to be!”
She sees birds and freedom and oceans.
I see the armory, with piles of explosives. I hear Orion saying, If Godspeed can still be your home, if it’s possible to stay on board — do so.
“Yeah,” I tell her, smiling as best I can. “It’ll be brilly.”
Amy collapses in her chair. She’s giving me this look that says, You have no idea, and all I can think is that neither does she. Centauri-Earth isn’t the Earth she came from. She doesn’t know what’s down there, no one does, the only one who had a clue about it was Orion, and it scared the shite out of him.
“What if he’s right?” I didn’t mean to say it out loud, but she knows immediately who I’m talking about.