Finally, I find it. A tiny label. Cargo Evacuation.
I close my eyes after reading the words. Amy was once labeled as nonessential cargo, and I promised her that she was so much more than that. But the four hundred and ninety-nine dead bodies in my cargo
hold cannot hear my promise now.
First, I flip the switch to undo the safety harnesses around each body, then I open the doors of the transport boxes in the hull. The grav replicator affects only the operational level of the auto-shuttle, and the bodies below deck float effortlessly into space. The release of air causes the bodies to drift, like lotus flowers floating in water, toward the cockpit. Weightless, the bodies rise from the bowels of the ship past the window before me. I recognize individual faces as they waft up before floating into the abyss of space. I try to say a silent goodbye to each of them, the Feeders who had only a few months without Phydus before being overdosed by it, the women who came here to give the babies growing inside of them a home without walls, the Shippers, the workers in the City, the engineers, all of them my people, gone. But I won’t forget them. I force myself to say their names aloud, memorize each one—Rhine and Lucien and Cessy and all the rest. I will never forget them.
Four hundred and ninety-nine people.
I lean up, pressing my face against the window as I seek out individuals, begging each person to forgive me for my part in their disastrous end.
A flash of red glints out of the corner of my eye, and my head whips around.
Amy’s mother.
Her pale skin and red hair are just like Amy’s, and though her eyes are open, she is too far away for me to see the green that lies within, though I know it’s there.
Amy almost entered the five-hundredth chamber. If she had . . .
Amy’s mother’s body moves like a dancer in the weightlessness of space. Her arms stretch out, pale skin against the blackness of the universe, and I imagine that starlight makes the golden highlights of her hair gleam.
I stand there, watching the bodies float past, until the very last one is gone, and all that’s left in the sky are stars.
My eyes are burning and watery as I sit back down in front of the control panel. I touch the Unidentified Orbiting Satellite dot on the locator screen. From the edge of the cockpit window, I see rockets burst along the right side of the auto-shuttle as it slowly turns around. More rockets kick on, and I soar closer and closer to Godspeed.
Soon I can see it.
Godspeed looks ravaged. The shuttle’s gone, of course, and the Bridge is nothing but mangled ruins. Still, my heart sings as I peer down at the ship I thought would be my home forever.
The auto-shuttle gets closer and closer—so close that I start to worry it won’t stop and I’ll just crash right into the ship. Instead, the rockets reverse thrust, and the auto-shuttle stops. I’m still several meters away from Godspeed, but I’m close enough that my window is filled with the image of it.
The red-and-white location system flashes a message: Destination Arrived. Another panel lights up. Disembarking Process Initiation.
Frex. I hadn’t thought of this. The only door to the outside of Godspeed, the hatch from which Harley threw himself, was a part of the shuttle that landed on Centauri-Earth, the same shuttle the aliens just blew up. The auto-shuttle is designed to automatically dock in the space station.
The problem?
I’m not at the space station.
Beep, beep-beep! My wi-com jumps to life just as I’m pondering whether I’ll be able to connect to the hatch inside the koi pond. I touch my neck. I’m close enough now to pick up the signal directly from the ship, just as I’d hoped.
“Com link req: Bartie,” I say.
I wait, a silly grin plastered on my face.
“Elder?!” a voice—Bartie’s voice—says into my ear.
“Hey, Bartie,” I say.
“The frex! Elder! What? How?!”
I’m so happy I laugh out loud. Bartie’s not just the rebel who took control of the ship after me. He’s my friend, the one who used to chase rocking chairs with me across the porch of the Recorder Hall.
“Doesn’t matter how,” I say. “I just wanted to see if the new leader of Godspeed would be willing to let the old one back on the ship. ”
After a moment’s pause, Bartie barks with laughter. “Good one! Tell you what, you figure out how to get up here, and we’ll throw you a party. ”
“Start baking a cake,” I say, grinning widely. “Because I’m already here. ”