There is nothing of me in their stoic obedience.

I clear my throat.

“I, uh, I needed to talk to you, the first-level Shippers, about the engine.” I swallow, my mouth both dry and bitter-tasting. I don’t look at them, not really. If I look into their faces — their older, more experienced faces — I will lose my nerve.

I think of Amy. When I first saw Amy, all I could see was her bright red hair swirled like ink frozen in water, her pale skin almost as translucent as the ice she was frozen in. But when I imagine her face now, I see the determined set of her jaw, the way she seems taller when angry.

I take a deep breath and stride across the floor toward Marae. She meets my gaze head-on, her back very straight, her mouth very tight. I stand uncomfortably close to her, but she doesn’t flinch as I raise both my arms and shove her shoulders, hard, so she crashes into the control panel behind her. Emotion flares on the faces of the others — Second Shipper Shelby looks confused; Ninth Shipper Buck’s eyes narrow and his jaw clenches; Third Shipper Haile whispers something to Sixth Shipper Jodee.

But Marae doesn’t react. This is the mark of how different Marae is from everyone else on the ship: she doesn’t even question me when I push her.

“Why didn’t you fall over?” I ask.

Marae pushes herself up against the control panel. “The edge broke my fall,” she says. Her voice is flat, but I catch a wary tone under her words.

“You would have kept going if something hadn’t stopped you. The first law of motion.” I shut my eyes briefly, trying to remember all I had studied in preparation for this moment. “On Sol-Earth, there was a scientist. Isaac Newton.” I stumble over the name, unsure of how to pronounce a word with two a’s in a row. It comes out as “is-saaahk,” and I’m sure that’s wrong, but it’s not important.

Besides, it’s clear the others know who I’m talking about. Shelby looks nervously at Marae, her eyes darting once, twice, three times to the mask of Marae’s unnaturally still face. The steady stoniness of the other first-level Shippers’ postures melts.