“So you didn’t really go out through the tailings stacker,” I say. “Those bruises. The battered equipment. Did you have a raider rough you up? I’m sure they were happy to oblige.”

  Tam exhales, a touch of chagrin on his face. “It had to look believable.”

  “You didn’t make very short work of bringing us in,” I say. “You fed us and followed us around. What was that about?”

  “I wanted to gain your trust.” Tam leans forward, his voice earnest. “I was trying to find out who you really are. To see if you might turn. That’s why I left the notes in your cabin. I was hoping they’d make you think.” His mouth twists. “I even tried to tell you about the stolen drifter kids. Remember? Back when we were going through the village compost pile? But then Brig came back.”

  I remember that. We were talking about whether or not I knew my parents. Tam was pretending to be learning things about the raiders as we picked through their garbage. “Why would you tell me about the children?”

  “I thought knowing about them might change your mind.”

  I’m running out of energy, and time. I push myself away from the counter, praying my feet hold steady, and ready my hands to make a grab at the rifle on my back. I don’t want to shoot him. But there’s no way I’m letting him catch me again.

  “You warned the raiders that we were going to burn them.”

  “I never had the chance,” he says. “You watched me too closely. Besides, I knew the drifters were on the move. That most of them had been told to vacate that camp.”

  “I didn’t,” I say. “I thought there were people inside those tree houses, and I still burned them.”

  Silence.

  “So what did that teach you about me?” I ask. “What did you learn that you could tell the drifters?”

  “Nothing,” Tam says. I can’t quite make out the sound in his voice. Hurt? Grief? His eyes meet mine. “The drifters already knew you were merciless. I was hoping to learn something new.”

  We are at an impasse. Neither of us is willing to give. The weight of the rifle on my back feels heavy.

  “Tell me,” I say. “Who shut down the mining equipment?” My question comes out more like a plea than I’d intended and I try to right my voice, make it firm. “It’s my ship. I deserve to know.”

  “It was Owen Fales,” Tam says.

  I recognize the name, from the voyage and from the manifest. Of course I do. I thought I knew them all. “One of the miners.”

  Tam nods. “He was one of my bunkmates. I got to know him pretty well from sharing a room, and from when I was helping down on the mining deck. I could tell he was someone who might break. I talked to him one night, offered him freedom with the raiders if he’d help me shut down the mining system when we got to a certain spot on the river.”

  “That was a risk,” I say, trying to keep my tone light. “He could have told someone else. He could have come to me.”

  “But he didn’t,” Tam says. “I’m good at reading people.”

  And I’m not. I know. How many more times will this point be driven home?

  “So he decided to join the raiders.”

  “No,” Tam says. “It turns out he wanted gold of his own instead. So I helped him steal some. I didn’t realize he’d hidden it in my part of the room.” His face twists in a wry smile. “Smart. I guess I didn’t read him as well as I thought.”

  “So you stole from me, you betrayed me, and you shut my ship down.” This is when I should snatch the rifle from my back, point it at him, make him sorry he ever turned traitor. “Is there anything else you need to confess?”

  “No,” Tam says. “I think that covers it.”

  We stand there, alone in the kitchen, the ship dying beneath us. Did I think Tam was my friend? Had I made that mistake without realizing it? I didn’t let myself trust him. I suspected him all along. And yet there is a hollow in my stomach, a heaviness in my heart that I thought I had steeled myself against.

  Tam swallows. When he speaks, he sounds hollow, too. “Look. Help us fix the armor and get the motor running right. We’re going to move the gold upriver, take it to where it needs to be. Once that’s done, you can go wherever you want. You don’t have to stay with the drifters.”

  “I’m not abandoning my crew,” I say. “They have families back home.”

  “The crew has already abandoned you,” Tam says.

  The words smack me straight on. I try not to flinch; not to show that I care; that I dared to think differently.

  “They know they can’t return to the Outpost,” Tam says, his words soft as if to ease the blow. “They’re outnumbered. And even if by some miracle they did get the ship back, the Admiral would punish them for allowing the drifters to capture it.” Tam lifts his hand, like he’s about to touch mine and then he thinks better of it. “The Admiral knew what he was doing when he picked this crew. No one on our voyage has a family. Not one they care about, anyway, or who have been good to them.”

  “Brig does,” I say.

  “That’s what he told us,” Tam says. “But we can’t be sure if it’s true.” His eyes narrow. “As far as the Admiral is concerned, we know too much.”

  “All we know about is the gold,” I say.

  “Exactly.”

  This damn gold.

  “The raiders act high and mighty about the way we ruin the rivers to mine the gold,” I say. “But they want it, too.”

  “They’re not like the Admiral,” Tam says. “They need the gold.”

  “For what?”

  “You said it yourself in the woods,” Tam says. “It has plenty of uses. As a conductor and an alloy. It doesn’t tarnish. All of those reasons.”

  I shake my head. “Maybe that’s some of it, but I don’t think so.” I frown. “There aren’t that many raiders. They could make a little gold last a long time.” I’m guessing, but something about Tam’s face, his stance, makes me think I’m coming near the mark. “So they must be planning to give it to someone else.” But who? And for what?

  “You’d better worry about what the Admiral plans to do with it.”

  “You think you know?” I say. “I’m as close to him as anyone outside of the Quorum and he hasn’t told me.”

  But Tam doesn’t miss a beat. He has an answer at the ready. “Palingenesis,” he says. “Do you know what that is?”

  It’s a big word. I didn’t go to school long enough to learn anything so fancy. But I’m not stupid. I know genesis means “beginning.”

  “It means rebirth,” says Tam. “Creating again.” He takes a step closer, and I hold up my burned hand. Back off.

  I want him where he is. I need space to think about this. What does the Admiral want to re-create?

  “Himself,” Tam says, as if I’ve asked the question out loud. “People used to believe that you could use gold to regenerate things that died. They thought that if something had been turned to ashes, you could use gold as a catalyst to bring it back. They called it alchemy.”

  Back from the ashes. If you could do that, you could bring back a ship that was burned. A person who was killed.

  “That’s ridiculous,” I say. “You can’t bring anything back from the dead.” But what if, a little bird of hope says inside me. What if you could.

  “There’s rumors that the Admiral has already done it once,” says Tam. “Some of the drifters say he’s lived longer than any human.”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “You don’t have to believe it’s possible to believe the Admiral wants to use the gold to try it,” Tam points out.

  “The Admiral isn’t crazy,” I say. “He’s practical.” But a little nagging thought nudges at my mind. It’s true that he’s been consumed with mining these rivers.

  “A drifter spy saw the papers on the Admiral’s desk,” Tam says. “The file was marked ‘Palingenesis,’ and the details for this voyage were inside, along with stories and legends about people who came back from the dead.”

  I know the Admiral. This kind of thing—mystical, magical—isn’t like him. He’s got his feet on the ground and his eyes on the prize, which is the here and now. He knows better than to dream of the impossible.

  I know better than that.

  “Poe.” Tam’s voice is warm again. I narrow my eyes and he corrects himself. “I’m sorry. Captain Blythe. I want to ask you about your friend who died.”

  I’m in his face, my good hand gripping his collar and hauling him closer. “Do not,” I hiss, “talk about him.”

  Tam holds his hands up. “It’s just—”

  “Do. Not.” My nose is almost touching his. I smell his clean, soap-and-apple-and-bread scent.

  “I’m sorry,” Tam says, low. “I’m sorry.”

  I let go, try to get my composure back. I throw everything I can think of at him, trying to deflect from any questions or talk of Call. “Why, Tam?” I ask. “Why all of this? Why betray the Outpost? You’re so young. What could you know about the raiders? You’ve never even been on a voyage before.” The moment the words are out of my mouth, I catch my breath. Of course. It’s so obvious. “You were one of the stolen children, weren’t you?”

  Tam shakes his head. “I’m not,” he says. “But I want to help them. And our crew. I want us all to get away.”

  “And that includes me?” I don’t understand. Why is he trying to help me? Why hasn’t he sounded the alarm? Why bother trying to change my mind?

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  For a moment, he doesn’t answer. Then he meets my gaze and something new is in his eyes. Or not new, but free. Made plain.

  “Because I want you to come with us.” He swallows. “I admire you.”

  He’s looking at me in a way that reminds me of Call. But Tam can’t mean what I think he means. Call and I knew each other for years. Tam’s known me for weeks.

  Tam laughs. The softness from moments ago is gone, and his voice is unyielding. “You’re not the only one who’s seen things you didn’t ask to see,” he says. “Things you wish you could forget. I’m not any younger than you.”

  I look in his eyes and I know he’s right.

  CHAPTER 31

  “WHAT IS IT YOU’VE SEEN?” I ask. I can tell Tam doesn’t mean the things we’ve witnessed together—the raiders taking the ship, the fire in the trees. It’s something deeper. Something older.

  And then it happens.

  The motor screams.

  * * *

  • • •

  I don’t think.

  That someone could catch me.

  That Tam might try to stop me.

  That this is foolish and stupid and reveals who and where I am.

  I just run.

  For the mining deck.

  I can’t save Call. I don’t know how to save a single person in this world.

  But my ship.

  My ship, I can save.

  * * *

  • • •

  I slam open the door to the mining deck. “You’re going to ruin the motor,” I say. “Shut it down now.”

  Naomi looks up at me, her eyes wide in shock. I have no time for her. She should know better. Than to help the raiders. Than to ruin the motor like this.

  Than to think I’d give up on my ship.

  “Stop the motor!” I call out, and Tam’s at my elbow, and there are guns trained on me from every direction. I look up: Lily’s standing on the platform. “Lily!” I shout. “I’ll help you. But you have to stop the motor.”

  Lily hates me. You can see it even now, as she stares down, her hands gripping the railing. And then I see it: a bandage wrapped around her shoulder, where my bullet must have grazed her. But she’s standing. She’s fine.

  “Where’s Porter?” someone calls out.

  “You don’t have time to get him,” I say. The ship decides to prove my point, listing heavily, inevitably. One of the propellers must have stopped working. I swear internally.

  “You’ll burn out the motor.” Right as I say it the motor begins to smoke, to curl its anger—at being made to run everything for everyone, all the time—out into the air in searing, burning wisps. The smell of ozone is thick. “You will burn it out, and we’ll sink.”

  “Do it,” Lily orders the crew. “Stop the motor.”

  Naomi hesitates. The raider with her nudges her with a rifle.

  “Now.” Lily is halfway down the platform stairs, her rifle at the ready.

  Naomi reaches her hand into the main control panel, which still has loose wires spiraling out from the jerry-rigged repairs. She pulls a lever. The motor spins a last, screaming round and falls still. The dredge is no longer propelled forward. We’ve stopped.

  “Take me to Porter,” I say. “I’ll do it. I’ll help you fix the dredge.”

  Lily strides across the floor, her boots loud on the metal in the silence of the weary ship. “I’ll take her.” She points at the rifle on my back, which I’d forgotten about in these last few moments. “Put your hands in the air. Mac, take her rifle.”

  I hold up my hands, and one of the raiders pulls the rifle from my back.

  “Let’s go.” Lily trains her own gun on me.

  “Where?” I ask.

  “Up top,” Lily says.

  Of course. I should have known. Where all the ghosts are. I’ve been through this before. I thought I couldn’t do it again.

  This isn’t your river, the notes said. This isn’t your gold.

  Maybe not.

  But this is my ship.

  CHAPTER 32

  A SLIP OF CRESCENT MOON ducks in and out of heavy clouds; the wind is strong, sailing and sending them across a silver-dark sky with snips of stars. The smells of rain and night and ship fill my lungs. I swallow the air, draw the deepest breath I can to take in more. I was right. It’s still night.

  The snarls and swirls of my armor have depth and shades in this light. They look almost ornamental.

  Porter turns to face us. He’s holding a lantern. Was he looking out over the edge, trying to figure out where we are, why we might have stopped?

  I wonder whether I’m supposed to say something. Should I grovel? Put my hands up in the air? I’m not sure how to surrender.

  So I don’t.

  “The motor started to burn,” Lily says. “We shut it down.”

  “All right.” Porter’s voice is weary and I am surprised that he lets it show in front of me.

  “And we found Poe,” Lily says.

  “I see,” Porter says drily. “Where was she?”

  “She came to the mining deck,” Lily says. “Told us to stop the motor or we’d burn it out. She says she knows how to fix the dredge.”

  “Thank you,” Porter says to Lily. “You can go back down.” He looks at me. “Will this take long?”

  “No,” I say. “Neither of us has the time.”

  “I’m not sure this is a good idea,” Lily says. “If I leave, you’re the only two up here.”

  “I don’t have a gun,” I point out. Does she think I’d kill him with my one good hand?

  Could I?

  “It’s all right.” Porter nods to Lily. “They need you on the mining deck. I’ll be there soon.”

  Lily turns on her heel to leave. Some people always burn.

  “This is where we killed him,” Porter says after she’s gone. Waiting.

  “No.” I take a step in Porter’s direction. “He didn’t die on this ship.”

  Porter holds up the lantern so that the light glances at and off our faces. The play of shadows makes him look older. I wonder whether the light is doing that to me, too. I am older, a hundred years older, than I was the night Call died.

  “Why did you destroy the other dredge?”

  “We took off the gold first,” Porter says. “There was no point wasting it. The river was already torn up. But we burned the ship so the settlers wouldn’t be able to use it again. We didn’t know you had a second dredge.”

  “You should have known the Admiral wouldn’t give up,” I say. “He’s relentless.”

  “So are you,” Porter says.

  The Admiral. Our driving, red-blooded, obdurate leader, larger-than-life and yet so painstakingly human. His ruddy face, his blue eyes, his workaday clothes. I can almost hear him in my ear, telling us that he has the Outpost’s best interests in his mind and heart, that we are all his children. The Union abandoned us, and the first Admiral gathered us in, and he is doing the same. That’s what the Admirals always do—they gather.

  My Admiral has been in power as long as I remember and yet he hardly seems to age. Has he managed some kind of magic? I imagine him sitting reborn in a pile of ashes, his teeth dripping with blood, enameled in gold. He smiles, wipes his mouth on his sleeve, stands up, offers a hand to clasp in brotherhood and love.

  “He’s coming.” Porter’s voice drops into the darkness. It’s a low rumble like thunder, a cooling on the air, and I shiver.

  The Admiral rarely leaves the Outpost. Why now? Did he hear about the raiders taking the ship? How? We haven’t had contact with the Outpost since before the braid on the river.

  Unless I’ve been lied to about the communication systems and how far they reach.

  “Does he know I lost the ship?”

  “I don’t believe so.” Porter shifts the lantern to his other hand. “I think that he’s always planned to come meet the dredge near the end of its voyage, though he didn’t tell that to you or any of the crew.”

  “I don’t understand,” I say. “Why would he meet us? The plan was to bring the gold back to him in the Outpost.”

  “We think he’s going the same place we’re going,” Porter says.

  I remember what Tam told me. That the Admiral chose our crew carefully, that it was made up of people who wouldn’t be missed. What does he have in mind?