Alight (The Generations Trilogy #2)(80)

And everyone here knows it.





Things are falling apart.

Bishop and Bawden returned empty-handed—no sign of Beckett, Muller, Coyotl or the spider. Fear rages through the shuttle, fueled by Aramovsky instantly screaming to everyone that the Springers have taken our friends.

I feel lost. Did Barkah take our people? Bello’s ship was near the Observatory, a place Barkah has been before. He was so angry when her ship came down—maybe he lay in wait, knowing that my people had been there once and might come back again. If not him, could other Springers have attacked?

Aramovsky said the disappearance of our people was further evidence of a lack of leadership, and that we need a vote, immediately. Bishop argued against it, so did Spingate, saying now wasn’t the time, but they were shouted down.

I stand on the stage and tell people why they should vote for me, but my confidence is gone. Even though I hold the spear, our symbol of leadership, my words sound hollow. As I speak, I look to O’Malley, seeking some kind of guidance—the expression on his face tells me I have lost before the votes are cast.



I should have told everyone about the symbols. O’Malley talked me out of it. It’s not just that people now remember circles were slaves—which is damaging enough by itself—there is also the fact that I knew something everyone wanted to know, deserved to know, and I didn’t tell them.

They don’t trust me.

I wouldn’t trust me, either.

When I step off the stage, Aramovsky steps on.

I see Spingate talking in hushed tones with Gaston, Johnson and Ingolfsson. Is Spingate going to try for leader? I hope so. Anyone is better than Aramovsky.

But as soon as he begins his speech, I realize no one can beat him. Most of the kids gaze up at Aramovsky with wide-eyed adoration. Out of the nearly three hundred people in this room, only sixteen are teenagers.

Only now do I understand the significance of those numbers. While I was out searching for food, exploring, looking for Bello’s ship, Aramovsky was quietly campaigning. The only reason he didn’t call for a vote sooner was that he wasn’t sure if he could win. I got us off the Xolotl, after all, and kept us alive all this time. I think those facts convinced many of the kids that I was best for the position.

Then Bello gave Aramovsky what he needed—a way to make some of my supporters change their minds. Bello is obviously a Grownup, but I have no proof, and right now no one in this shuttle is about to take me at my word.

Aramovsky finishes with a passionate statement that basically becomes an I told you so. He warned us about the “demons,” and now three more of us are gone. He says we must not wait for the Springers to pick us off a few at a time, that if we want to be worthy of this great gift the gods have given us, we need to “be strong in the face of evil” and “drive the demons back to hell.”



During the thunderous applause, I glance at Spingate. Her head droops: she knows there’s no point in giving a speech of her own.

Opkick asks for other candidates. When no one volunteers, she calls for a vote. A simple show of hands, just like the vote on the Xolotl when I became leader.

She calls my name and she counts out loud. I don’t know why she bothers; not even fifty hands go up.

She calls Aramovsky’s name. Hands shoot up instantly. Even though over three-quarters of the kids are circles—like me—most of them vote for him.

He has won. He is our leader.

With that change comes a feeling of hopelessness. All the bad things that have happened so far are nothing compared to what will come next.

Opkick calls us both to the stage.

It takes every bit of will for me to meet Aramovsky’s eyes. He’s not smiling, which shocks me. He looks resigned to his new duty, as if it is a terrible burden thrust upon him rather than something he’s worked for almost since we first woke up.

“Em, we wouldn’t be here without you,” he says. “I want to say—and I think everyone agrees—thank you for your leadership thus far. You got us off the Xolotl, got most of us down here safe. Everyone appreciates that, but now that we’re on Omeyocan we face a different set of challenges. The people have spoken.”

He holds out his hand toward me. I reach to shake it, then I realize what he wants.

My spear.



I feel my face flush red. I look like an idiot. My hand falls to my side.

My fingers tighten on the spear shaft. I don’t want to give it up. I want to hit him. He will lead us to ruin.

Kill your enemy…

It would be so easy to stab him, just like I did the Springer in the jungle…

I glance to the shuttle doors. I see Bishop standing there, hands gripped on his axe. His eyes silently tell me that whatever I do, he will back me up.

Farrar wears the same expression. So does Bawden. All three are ready to fight for me.

I don’t have to give up leadership. I can have Aramovsky and Bello locked up. If the circle-stars are behind me, I can stay in charge.

Attack, attack, always attack…

Aramovsky’s hand is still out, empty and awkwardly hovering in midair. I see a flicker of fear in his eyes. He knows I could ignore the vote, imprison him, maybe even have him killed. I still have the power.

Matilda had power, too. She used it. Look what happened to her people.

I am not Matilda, and Matilda is not me.