Chris looks at me with his startling blue eyes, an unreadable expression on his face. “I don’t think it will be safe to detonate,” he says. “We don’t know enough about it. ”
My hands curl into fists. I remember Dad giving attack orders, but after the first bomb, I didn’t hear him again. Is he, even now, gasping for breath, his blood leaking on the dusty yellow stones as an alien crows in triumph over him?
“What were those things?” I ask softly.
“They looked humanoid to me,” Chris says. “Maybe they’re not that different from us. ”
“Good,” I say. “If they’re not that different from us, they’ll be easier to kill. ”
62: ELDER
Bartie glances up at the weathered concrete face of the Plague Eldest. “So . . . should we get some chisels and hammers?” he asks sarcastically.
“Oh, no. I was thinking we’d go a little bit bigger. ” I look past the statue, barely able to hide my excitement at my plan.
Bartie follows my gaze across the ship to the grav tube clinging to the side of the wall. His eyes round. “You’re going to smash it?”
“Got a better idea?”
Bartie laughs. “I think it’s frexing brilly. ”
It takes both of us the better part of a half hour to move the statue from its pe
destal onto an electric cart. We use crowbars and wedges, but in the end, we both jump on the pedestal, pushing, before the whole statue crashes down. It lands on the electric cart with a thud and a crack. Bartie jumps down from the bench to inspect our handiwork.
“One arm broke off!” he says, picking it up and using it to wave at me. “Look, it’s hollow inside. ”
The arm has exposed a narrow hole in the side of the statue, and it is, indeed, hollow inside. I try to wiggle my fingers in, but the concrete is thick, and without tools, there’s no way to break it open.
“I guess we will have to smash it,” Bartie says in mock reluctance.
“Such a shame,” I comment.
“It’s a great work of art. ”
I nod sagely. “It’s a sacrifice we’ll have to make. ”
Bartie’s smile cracks through his false sincerity. “Come on!” he says, excited.
We practically run up the path between the Hospital and the Recorder Hall with the cart trailing behind us, but some of the fun of breaking apart the statue dissipates as I think about how, when I leave Godspeed this time, I’ll never come back to it. I have been on this path countless times. I walked along it with Harley and Kayleigh, before they were both gone. I used to race it with Bartie and Victria. I kissed Amy, right there, by the pond, in the “rain. ”
I’m going to miss it. I thought I said goodbye to Godspeed when I left, but I realize now that I always believed Godspeed would still be here, that I would be able to look up at the stars and see it floating, a beacon in the sky, a reminder of the home I once knew. But now I know that this goodbye will be the final one I say to the ship.
Bartie and I have to shove the cart to get the statue fully under the grav tube. Bartie locks the cart down so it won’t get sucked up, then orders the grav tube on at low levels. The tube sucks the statue up a few meters, enough for us to slide the cart out of the way.
“Would you like to do the honors?” Bartie says, grinning.
“Gladly. ” I push my wi-com. The familiar beep, beep-beep fills my ear, and although I once longed to hear it again, it sounds strange to me now. “Grav tube on, stationary transport to Shipper Level,” I say.
The tube switches fully on, and the statue is sucked up.
“We better get back,” Bartie says, pulling me behind the cart. “That thing’s going to shatter everywhere!”
The statue soars up and up, scraping along the clear sides of the grav tube as the tube curves along the contours of the ship.
I push my wi-com button again. “Grav tube off,” I say.
“Caution: transport material is currently inside the grav tube. Eldest override?” the computer voice in my ear says pleasantly.