Yalda understood Eusebio’s need to speak plainly, but she wondered if he wasn’t going too far. Many people were clearly uncomfortable now, and a few were visibly agitated. It was not that they were learning anything new, but everyone had their own way of dealing with the same difficult truths.
“In two days’ time, if all goes well, you will leave the world behind,” Eusebio continued. “Your fate will be in your hands then, not mine. But the Peerless is a complex machine, and though you have all been trained as thoroughly as possible for your particular duties, only a few of you understand that machine in its entirety. The process of education will continue—and I hope that within a generation or two every adult living in the Peerless will grasp its intricacies more fully than I do myself. For now, though, it is Yalda’s role to determine how best to operate this machine, how to ameliorate any crisis, how to resolve any dispute among you, and how to deal with any other difficulty or controversy that arises. Yalda, her deputy Frido, and whoever else she appoints to assist and advise her, are responsible for keeping you safe, and their decisions must be final. It’s not for me to tell you how the Peerless will rule itself in the eras to come, but as of this moment—and for as long as she sees fit—Yalda must be your sole authority. If you can’t promise her your absolute loyalty and obedience, then leave now, because you are a danger to everyone here.”
Only a few people were discourteous enough to respond to this proclamation by turning to stare appraisingly at Yalda, and she suspected that she was, by far, the traveler least satisfied with these arrangements. But since her omnipotence included the power of delegation, it was probably Frido who should have felt most put upon.
“To those of you I have persuaded to walk away tonight,” Eusebio said, “be assured that you’ve already earned my gratitude and respect, and you will not lose it by reappraising your position. But now I’m done with warnings and discouragement. To all of you who choose to remain—with your eyes open to the dangers and rigors ahead—my message is one of promise. Together, we’ve built this beautiful, intricate seed, and as we prepare to cast it into the void I believe that it has not only the resilience to survive, but also the capacity to grow into an extraordinary new civilization. I am already humbled by your courage and tenacity, but I leave you now with the hope that the achievements of your descendants will be the marvel of all ages. Good luck—and welcome to your home.”
As the audience began cheering, Yalda decided that Eusebio’s judgment had been right after all. If he’d said nothing to remind them of the risks they faced, all his praise would have sounded like empty flattery. Now, even if a handful of people backed out, those remaining could take some strength from the fact that they’d passed one more test of their resolve.
Eusebio called Frido to the stage. “I’m sure that everyone knows their stations for the launch,” Frido said, “but I need to ask you to wait here and confirm them with me, or Rina or Lavinia—they’ll be standing over to my right, shortly. And first of all, anyone leaving us, please come forward and return your name tags.”
A few people began moving tentatively toward the stage. Eusebio spoke briefly with Frido, then embraced him. Frido had told Yalda that it was the sight of his grandchildren that had swayed him into joining her; he’d been paid well enough for his work on the project to ensure that they’d want for nothing, but whatever the prospects for dousing a Hurtler’s fire, only the Peerless offered any hope of dealing with the coming orthogonal stars.
When they parted, Eusebio approached Yalda. “I need to get moving,” he said. “The evacuation’s on a tight schedule. Do you want to walk down with me?”
Yalda’s launch station was three strolls below the hall, almost at ground level. They could spend a day traveling together, reminiscing, exchanging their final thoughts.
“I need to stay here and see how many people we’ve lost,” she said.
“Frido and his staff can reallocate their duties,” Eusebio replied. “You have to trust them to handle things like that.”
“I do trust them,” Yalda said. “But I should be here with them, until everything is sorted out.”
“All right.” Eusebio seemed confused by her decision, but he wasn’t going to argue with her in front of so many onlookers. “Have a safe journey, then,” he said.
“You too.” She buzzed softly. “It’s going to be a long four years for both of us. Just don’t let my descendants find three suns when they get back.”
“I’ll do my best.” Eusebio met her gaze, trying to judge where things stood between them. Yalda let nothing show on her face but simple friendship and a contained sorrow at their parting. There was no untangling the rest of it, no point even acknowledging it now. After a moment, Eusebio stopped searching for anything more.
“Good luck,” he said. He lowered his eyes and walked past her, out of the hall.
Yalda stood watching her new neighbors jostling for access to Frido and his assistants. Out of nowhere, she felt a sudden surge of anger for Daria. With no responsibilities, and so close to retirement, why couldn’t she have come and taught here?
A young solo was standing at the edge of the crowd, one of the recruits who’d witnessed Benedetta’s death. Only two people from that group had chosen to stay with the project.
Yalda walked up to her. “Fatima?”
“Hello,” the girl replied shyly. Though they’d met before, Eusebio’s proclamation of Yalda’s powers had probably rendered her as unapproachable now as the most self-important Councilor.
“What’s your job?” Yalda asked her. “I ought to know, but I’ve forgotten where we assigned you.”
“The medicinal garden. Weeding.” Fatima sounded disappointed, but resigned to her fate.
“But you’ll still have classes. I’ll teach you, if you’re interested.”
“You’ll teach me about light?”
“Yes.”
Fatima hesitated, then added, emboldened, “Everything you know?”
“Of course,” Yalda promised. “How else are you going to end up knowing twice as much as I do? But right now, let’s see if we can find some other people working in the garden with you, then we can all walk down together.”
14
Yalda sat on her bench in the navigators’ post, glancing across the moss-lit room past Frido and Babila to the clock on the wall, waiting for its counterparts to open the feeds and set the depths of the mountain on fire.
The engines that would lift the Peerless off the ground were controlled from three dozen feed chambers that were spread out across the width of the mountain. Within each chamber was a system of clockwork and gyroscopes that regulated the flow of liberator into the sunstone below, taking account of both the overall launch plan and the need to fine-tune the distribution of forces to keep the rocket from tipping or swerving as it ascended. Two machinists watched over each engine feed, ready to perform any simple interventions or repairs, while a network of signaling ropes made it possible to summon assistance from a circle of neighbors, or if necessary from farther afield.