Eldest pulls the Shipper Level up again and rests his fingers on the level’s largest room, just where the engine is. “Between the engine and computers and the nav system and everything else, there’s a lot that can go wrong. This journey… it’s long.” He says this as if he’s felt all 250 years of travel. “The builders of the ship knew this; that’s why they named her Godspeed.”

I mouth the name with him, tasting it like metal on my tongue.

“It’s an old Sol-Earth expression for good luck.” Eldest snorts. “They shot our ancestors into the sky, wished them all good luck, and forgot about us. We lost com with Sol-Earth during the Plague, and have never been able to regain it. We can’t go back. They can’t help us. All the people on Sol-Earth could give us was Godspeed.”

I’m not sure if he means that they gave us luck or the ship, but they both seem a bit inadequate right now.

“But we need more than luck. The ship needs someone to protect the people, not just the ship itself. You will be that leader.” Eldest takes a deep breath. “It’s time for you to learn the three causes of discord.”

I scoot my chair closer. This is new. Finally—finally—Eldest is really going to train me to be the leader after him.

“On Godspeed,” he says, “do we all speak one language?”

“Of course,” I answer, confused.

“Do we have any differences in race?”

“Race?”

“Skin color.”

“No.” Everyone on board has the same deep olive skin, the same dark brown hair and eyes.

“You’ve studied the myths of Sol-Earth: Buddhism, Christianity, Hinduism, Islam. Does anyone on Godspeed ‘worship’?” He says the last word with dripping derision.

“Of course not!” I laugh. One of the first lessons Eldest gave me when I moved to the Keeper Level was about Sol-Earth’s religions. They were magic stories, fairy tales, and I remember laughing myself silly when Eldest told me how people on Sol-Earth were willing to die or kill for these fictional characters.