“Elder!” a voice bellows after us. Elder freezes, then turns slowly back to the scene of the crime.

Stevy is lying on the ground, whimpering and clutching his head. Bartie looms over him, pointing at Elder. “What right do you have to punish this man like this?” he roars. “You said you were so much better than Eldest, but look at you! The first time someone protests against you, you punish him so severely he can’t even stand!”

Elder narrows his eyes and storms back to Bartie and Stevy. “Okay, first? He can stand. It’s just a thing that makes your wi-com make noise. And second? He punched me. He punched me.”

Even though Bartie and Elder are close enough now that they could talk in normal tones, both of them are yelling. Bartie has his guitar strapped to his back, and for a crazy moment I think he’s going to grab it by the neck and swing it at Elder’s head. Instead, he just shouts, “What will you do the next time someone disagrees with you? Kill them?”

“Oh, come on! Quit exaggerating!”

But no one else seems to think Bartie’s exaggerating. They’re all watching Stevy moan and writhe on the ground.

“It’s not that bad,” Elder tells Stevy. “And besides, it should be over now.” But Stevy doesn’t get up. I wonder, is he playing up the pain to get attention, or does it really hurt as badly as it seems?

“We can’t trust you, Elder,” Bartie says, still shouting loudly enough for everyone to hear. He’s drawing a crowd—the spinners have all hopped up from their spinning wheels to see what’s going on. The bakers, covered with flour, are poking their heads out of their shop windows. The butchers walk out, meat cleavers still in their hands.

“When have I lied?” Elder says. “When have I proven dishonest?”

I try not to think about how Elder hasn’t told everyone that the ship’s stopped. It’s not a lie, after all, just . . . not quite telling the whole truth.

“Everything I’ve ever done has been for this ship!” Elder bellows.

“Even her?” Bartie asks, pointing past Elder. At me.

“Don’t bring Amy into this.”

I stand, rooted to the spot, as everyone, even Stevy, turns their gaze on me.

When I first woke up on Godspeed, I went running and found myself in the City—but it was a different City from this. The people had hollow eyes and seemed robotic; they were frightening because they were so empty inside. Now their emotions are boiling over, and the fear and anger and distrust all writhe together inside them, spilling out in narrowed gazes and snarling lips and clenched fists.