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By Root 1057 0

to the Recorder Hall and smile at the topographical models that hang from the ceiling in the large entryway. Framed by the light pouring through the open doors behind me is a large clay Sol-Earth, thick with dust. A scale model of Godspeed shoots around Sol-Earth, designed to mimic the ship’s departure so long ago. It looks small and insignificant compared to the planets beside it, a ball with wings and a pointed nose. I step into the hallway and crane my neck up. Directly overhead is the model of Godspeed’s goal: the big, round globe of Centauri-Earth. It’s bigger than either of the two other models, and hangs in the center of the entryway. I’m not sure if the designers intended it or not, but the shaft of light pouring from the big entryway doors spills right across the surface of the Centauri-Earth model, illuminating it with a halo of light.

Striding forward, I reach my hands up so my fingertips brush Sol-Earth’s Australia. I have always preferred the model of Sol-Earth to that of Centauri-Earth. While the model of Sol-Earth is detailed, with bumps for mountains and squiggly lines for waves on the oceans, Centauri-Earth is smooth, accurate only in terms of its relative size. We’re not sure what we’ll find there, mountains or oceans or something else entirely. We only know that the probe sent before us labeled Centauri-Earth as “habitable”—oxygen-based atmosphere, a significant amount of freshwater, and soil samples suitable for plant growth. Those are the only things we’re sure of.

I want to touch it as well, but it’s too high up.

Centauri-Earth always seems to be beyond my reach.

Eldest’s words echo in my mind: my job is not to get the ship to Centauri-Earth, but to get the people there.

“Can I help you?”

I nearly jump out of my skin. “Oh, it’s you,” I say, laughing at my own skittishness.

Orion is a Recorder. Whenever someone invents something or writes something or does something brilly, the Recorders log it away and store it here. The last time I was here was to help my best friend, Harley, move some canvases. He’s a painter—he’s got a whole room of his art hanging up on the second story of the Recorder Hall. But I’m not here for that.

“Can you help me find some information on Sol-Earth?” I ask Orion.

Orion grins. I cringe—his teeth are stained and yellow. “Of course.”

“I need to find out about...” I pause, thinking of how to phrase it. I can’t just ask him if he knows what the third cause of discord is—he’d have no idea what I’m talking about. “Sol-Earth wars,” I say finally. “Conflicts. Battles. Things like that.”

“Anything specific?” Orion rushes toward me, excitement palpable on his face. I guess with school long over, there are very few visitors to the Recorder Hall. Come to think of it, I’ve never actually seen Orion outside of the Recorder Hall. His existence must be a lonely one.

“Whatever caused the problems on Sol-Earth.”

“Oh.”

“What?”

Orion doesn’t say anything for a long moment, just contemplates me as if I were a puzzle with a piece missing. “It’s an unusual topic for you to be studying, that’s all. Bit grim.”

I shrug. “Eldest needs me to figure something out.”

“Ah, research for Eldest. Well, the easiest way to do this is with the wall floppies.” He nods to the four long screens that hang from the walls of the entryway like tapestries, two on each side. Walking to the one closest to him, Orion taps the screen, and all four floppies turn on, filling the entire entryway with light.

Images flow in and out of each other: diagrams of a lead-cooled fast reactor, an irrigation map of the Feeder Level, paintings from Harley and other artists on board, digital representations of possible geographical features of Centauri-Earth.

“We’ll need your access,” Orion says, drawing my attention away from the wall floppies. When he sees my questioning face, he adds, “Feeders aren’t allowed to view images of Sol-Earth.”

Ah. I’d forgotten. These are images approved for everyone, but the information Eldest wants me to find is restricted. I step over to the biometric scanner against the wall and roll my