“I’d already trained that Elder. He was supposed to train you, leaving me to care for the ship. When he died and I had to train you, too… I was never supposed to be saddled with another Elder, and I’ve lapsed in my responsibilities with you.”

I search his eyes. When we’re on the Feeder Level, Eldest is a kind grandpa. When we’re on the Shipper Level, he’s like an old king, commanding but attentive. But when it’s just him and me, he lets his real self show — or at least what I take to be his real self — and his real self may be old, but it isn’t kind and it isn’t weak.

Something in the silence makes me realize Eldest has allowed me, and only me, to see this. And that, more than anything, makes me forgive his neglect.

“Well?” I demand. “Are you going to start training me properly now?”

Eldest nods once, then motions for me to follow him into the Learning Center. His uneven gait is more pronounced than usual, his leg already making him regret his stomping rage.

There are only four rooms on the Keeper Level: my and Eldest’s chambers, the Learning Center, and the Great Room. The Learning Center is the smallest of the rooms, with only a table and the portal to the grav tube. The Great Room is the largest. It’s big enough for everyone on board the ship to stand there at once, if they don’t mind standing close together, but only Eldest and I are allowed on this level. It’s leftover from before the Plague, before we used an Eldest system to rule. My and Eldest’s chambers, as well as the Learning Center, were offices back then, for the crew, and, judging from the glowing star chart behind the metal screen, the Great Room was used for navigation.

After the Plague so many decades ago, the ship changed. It had to. The Plague Eldest renamed the levels, reserving this one for himself and the Eldests who would follow.

Including me.