DEDICATION:

Michelangelo said,

“Every block of stone has a statue inside it

and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it.”

This book is dedicated to

Merrilee for providing me with the stone

and

Ben and Gillian for giving me the chisel.

Dei gratia.

“THIS ISN’T GOING TO BE EASY,” I MUTTER, STARING AT THE solid metal door that leads to the Engine Room on the Shipper Level of Godspeed. In the dull reflection, I see Eldest’s dark eyes, just before he died. I see the smirk on the corner of Orion’s mouth as he relished in Eldest’s death. Somewhere, beneath my cloned features and the echoes of every Eldest before me, there has to be something in me that’s mine alone, unique and not found in the cloning material two levels beneath my feet.

I like to think that, anyway.

I roll my thumb over the biometric scanner and the door zips open, taking with it the image of a face that has never felt like mine.

A very mechanical smell — a mixture of metal and grease and burning — wraps around me as I enter the Engine Room. The walls vibrate with the muffled heartbeat of the ship’s engine, a whirr-churn-whirr sound that I used to think was beautiful.

The first-level Shippers stand at attention, waiting for me. The Engine Room is usually crowded, bustling with activity as the Shippers try to figure out what has crippled the lead-cooled fast reactor engine, but today I asked for a private meeting with the top ten Shippers, the highest-ranking officers beneath me.

I feel scruffy compared to them. My hair’s too long and messy, and while my clothes should have been recycled long ago, their dark tunics and neatly pressed trousers fit perfectly. There is no uniform for the Shippers — there’s no uniform for anyone on board the ship — but First Shipper Marae demands neatness of everyone she has authority over, especially the first-level Shippers, who all favor the same dark clothing worn by Marae.