51
ELDER
THE FREX AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH A SHIP IN REVOLT? IF they’d just listen, we could be discussing preparations for planet-landing. Instead, the people seem intent on ripping the ship apart at the seams.
I storm into the irrigation room first.
“Drop the strongest rain program we have,” I order the Shipper on duty, Tearle.
“Elder,” Tearle protests. “That has the potential to cause minor flash floods on the streets. ”
“Do it,” I order.
“How long should the rain be?” He sounds reluctant, but he moves over to the water controls regardless.
“I’ll tell you when to stop it. ”
I go across the hall to the solar lamp operations. The solar lamp is automated, but the level of heat is regulated by one Shipper, a mousy woman who looks as if she’d be more comfortable on one of the farms. Her name is Larin.
I take out a floppy and pull up the security vid feeds from around the City. The vids show the Food Distro—the rain is flooding it, and the fire is already turning into smoldering ruins. I swipe my hand across the screen to vids of the farms, the Greenhouses, the main street of the City. People are fighting and screaming through the rain. Although there’s no sound on these vids, I don’t need it. I know what a rebellion sounds like.
“I want you to cover the solar lamp,” I tell Larin. She’s been watching me, worried, waiting for my command.
“It’s the middle of the day, Elder!” She looks at me as if I’m crazy.
I suppose I am. The solar lamp is never cut off, but a heavy metal screen covers it during the ship’s version of night. It’s all scheduled, so dark time lasts exactly eight hours and only happens when it’s the proper time. Not now.
“Cover the lamp,” I order again.
“But—”
“Cover it. ”
She stands up and crosses the small room to the control panel. Larin’s fingers hover over a switch. She mutters something.
“What was that?” I demand.
“Maybe Bartie is right,” she says clearly.
I stride across the room and slam my hand against the switch. Beneath us, the Feeder Level is plunged into darkness. But here we’re not. I lean in close to Larin’s face. If Marae were here—frex, if Eldest were here . . .
She stares back defiantly.
Then looks away.
“Uncover the lamp,” I order.
Her hand shoots forward, flicking the lamp back on. She stares back at me, hoping that I’m about to leave. But I don’t. Instead, I wait another minute.
On the floppy, the vids show the people staring at the sky, trying to peer through the torrential downpour to see the solar lamp. It has never gone dark other than at scheduled nighttime. At least I’ve shocked them enough to stop the fighting.
“Cover the lamp again,” I say.
She hesitates, but doesn’t protest this time.
I watch the screens black out once more.
And I push my wi-com and do an all-call. “Attention, all residents of Godspeed. Everyone on board the ship—every single person—is to report to the Keeper Level Great Room this evening at dark time. ”