“Why are you doing this?” I ask. “I thought you were my friend.”

“This isn’t about friendship.” His voice isn’t raised now; these are words for just me, even though the entire crowd is listening. “This is about having a chance to turn this ship into the kind of world we want to live in.”

“And there’s no place for me, huh?”

“There’s no place for an Eldest. Even an Eldest who calls himself Elder.”

From the corner of my eye, I can see blurs of dark blue and black zipping through the grav tube at the City. Marae will be here soon, along with about a half-dozen Shippers.

Stevy groans and struggles to his feet.

“Okay,” I say. “It’s all over. Let’s just get back to work.”

Some of the people in the crowd start to break away. The tension is already diffusing.

“Everyone break it up!” Marae roars, rushing forward.

And there’s the tension back again.

“Ah, here comes Elder’s latest idea—the police force,” Bartie sneers, his voice raised again. “Here to make sure we work like good little boys and girls or else.”

“It’s not like that,” I say—to both him and Marae.

“Can’t anybody see what’s going on?” A new voice cuts through the mass of people surrounding us. It’s Luthor. Of course it is. He always has been one to revel in a fight, even years ago, when we were living in the Ward. Only now he doesn’t bother to hide it. “He’s scared. Our Elder is scared. He’s scared of you! You! You have the power. He can’t control all of us!”

“We can do what we want!” another voice from the crowd shouts.

“We can lead ourselves!” Bartie calls back.

The call becomes a cheer. Lead ourselves! Lead ourselves! Lead ourselves!

Marae and the other Shippers try to drown out the chant with their own shouted orders for silence. Expletives mingle with the chant—sneers and threats. The Shippers respond in kind. Their threats lead to action. Marae shoves a man twice her size back as he draws too close to us; another man takes a swing at Shelby.

I slam my hand against my wi-com. “Communicate area: within fifty feet of my location,” I order. As soon as the wi-com beeps that the connection has been made with every other wi-com in the area, I say, “Everyone, calm down. There’s no need for this.”

A few people stop; they’re listening to their wi-coms, I can tell. But not enough. “EVERYONE STOP,” I shout, and my voice echoes in all of their ears. “Look around you!” I order, and most of them do. “These are your friends, your family. You’re fighting each other. And there’s no need for that. Stop. Fighting. Now.”

I take a deep breath. For the most part, the crowd has stilled.

“And what about Food Distro?” Luthor roars through the quiet.

“What?” My head whips around to Marae. “What’s going on at Food Distro?”

“Don’t you know?” Bartie says, disgust in his voice. “How can you call yourself a leader if you don’t even know that food distribution stopped?”