“This doesn’t make sense,” I whisper. If someone’s killing people who disobey me, why kill Marae? She’s been my staunchest supporter from the start. She’s unswervingly faithful, and she’s led the rest of the Shippers in that attitude as well. She jumped at the chance to lead my police force. If Doc was Eldest’s greatest adviser, Marae was mine.

“Who did this to you?” I whisper, but of course she’s not going to tell me. But it has to be someone of high rank, doesn’t it? Someone who either has access to the Bridge or who knows Marae well enough that she’d be persuaded to open the door. Besides the Shippers, a few of the scientists, Doc and Kit, technicians, even Fridrick, as foreman of food distribution, could also come to this level. And with the med patches stolen, any of them could have done this.

Shelby makes a small noise behind me. She’s staring resolutely at the ceiling of the Bridge, her jaw tight.

I want to say something to comfort her, but all that comes out is, “You’re First Shipper now.” She nods once. She will not dishonor Marae by showing weakness. She will make a fine First Shipper.

The ceiling of the Bridge is domed, much like the ceiling in the cryo level and the Great Room on the Keeper Level. When I was outside—I smile a secret smile, when I was outside—it had looked as if there were glass windows over the Bridge. Well—not glass, surely. Glass is too fragile for the ship’s entry into the atmosphere or other dangers of space—asteroids, comets, meteors. But some other clear, strong material, maybe a thick polycarbonate, would work. Something that sparkled, reflecting the light of the planet, shining from the dual suns.

But this roof is metal.

Just like the roof on the Keeper Level. Eldest hid the false stars under a metal roof there . . . one with panels and hinges, just like this one . . . with hydraulic controls on the sides. . . . My eyes trail all the way down to the wall, to the switch near the door that’s controlled by a biometric scanner. I grind my teeth. I don’t know why I’m surprised that secrets have been hidden here too, just like the rest of the ship.

And I am frexing sick of secrets and lies. It’s one thing to not tell everyone that the ship’s engine is dead—it would have been the end of all hope—but the planet changes everything.

“Lock the Bridge door,” I order Shelby.

She hesitates a fraction of a second, then turns and silently pulls the heavy metal door closed.

“Lock it,” I repeat.

“These are above standard lockdown-grade seals,” Shelby says. “They completely seal the Bridge from the rest of the ship.”

“I know,” I say.