We make our way toward the whirr-churn-whirr of the engine. It’s dark inside the Engine Room, but the engine still casts a shadow. It smells of burnt grease, but it seems smaller in my eyes, now that I know it’s not moving the ship. Marae doesn’t look at it at all as she crosses the floor and goes straight to a thick, heavy door with a seal lock.

The Bridge.

I remember Eldest’s words for me before I started training—the Bridge is for the Shippers. I take care of the people, not the ship.

Marae opens the door and waits for me to enter first. An arched metal roof curves over the Bridge. The room is a pointed oval, drawing me to the front of it. There are two rows of desks with monitors protruding from them. A giant V-shaped control panel is built into the front of the room.

I sit down at the control panel and try to imagine what it would be like to steer this massive ship down to the new Earth.

But I can’t. . . . The idea is so impossible to me that I can’t even imagine being the triumphant leader who lands the ship.

I jump up from the chair. Eldest was right. I don’t belong here.

Marae stands in front of one of the control panels. There are two screens there, both blank. One is labeled COMMUNICATION, the other NAVIGATION. “I was working on this today, as you requested, when you commed me to help with the . . . with the trouble,” she says, brushing her fingers over the metal navigation label.

“Have you had a chance to figure out where we are?” I ask, interested.

Marae scowls. “It’s a mess.” She lifts up a hinged panel below the screens, showing me a jumble of wires and circuitry. “If I had to guess, I’d say this was deliberate, probably as far back as the Plague—after all, we did lose communication with Sol-Earth at that time.”

“So someone, probably the Plague Eldest, cut communication with Sol-Earth and that destroyed the navigation equipment too?” I ask, noting how both operations were housed in the same control panel.

Marae shrugs, hiding the ravaged electronics under the metal panel again. “I’ve been trying to sort it all out.”

Even though she tries to disguise it behind an even-toned voice, I can still hear the disdain. “I’m sorry about today. I know the Feeder Level problems interrupted your work.”

Marae eyes me. “You did well today,” she says finally.

“Did well?” I snort. “That was one step away from a riot. Next time it will be a riot. But—thank you. It really helped that the Shippers stood on my side.”