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built a little wooden stage for the proceedings.
    Lots of speeches. Kait, at the periphery of the large milling crowd, listened as the head of Refugia’s elected council, Steve Francis—an architect who had helped design the colony—gave the official bon voyage. It was dull enough to make Kait realize that not every old habit had been left in the Last World.
    She listened more carefully to Nick Albright, who on the night the world fell had helped Malcolm fly the plane carrying Trey, Kait, and others here. Nick’s speech was interesting, a detailed description reminding everyone staying in Refugia how safe and secure they would be, even with Malcolm and so many others gone.
    Malcolm spoke next, commanding as always in his shaggy-haired, hawklike way. Standing on the stage, a glass of something in his hand, he made jokes, cursed without caring who was listening, and in general acted like a fierce-eyed prophet, as he always did.
    He described their plans aboard the
Trey Gilliard
, the time frames he envisioned, and where they hoped to drop anchor to undertake their explorations on land. No one in Refugia had a greater knowledge of the Africancontinent than he did, or had traveled across it more widely when such travel was possible.
    Listening, Kait was beginning to understand that every speech had an agenda beyond the actual words being spoken. Malcolm’s agenda, his true meaning, was simple: I’m smart. I’m strong. I know what I’m doing.
    It may be years, but I will bring these people back home, safe.
    The last to speak—and the only one Kait made sure to hear—was Mariama.
    Mariama Honso, perhaps the single most important figure in Refugia’s brief history. One of the colony’s founders, before even Trey and Sheila knew it existed. The one who’d taught them that human survival depended on the vaccine—and also on gathering experts, from physicians and biochemists to architects and glassblowers, and bringing them to live close to the vaccine’s source.
    Mariama had voyaged across the world, risking her life and suffering months of imprisonment, in order to reach Trey and tell him of her plans. Thus she became the one person most responsible for Kait’s own survival as well.
    Nor had her role diminished after the Fall. Although never allowing herself to be elected to any official post, Mariama’s strength and determination had helped carry Refugia through its early, hungry, disease-ridden years. She always had a purpose, even if it was just finding the next meal, and she always inspired others to persevere as well.
    Most people had thought that Mariama would leap at the chance to head off on the
Trey Gilliard
, but she’dchosen to stay behind. To stay onshore and wave good-bye to the departing ship and many of the people she loved the most.
    Her speech was short and characteristically blunt. No hidden agendas for her. Watching her, Kait marveled once again that this short, gray-haired woman could be so strong, wield so much power.
    â€œIt’s going to be hard for us,” she told the others who were going to be staying behind. “Harder than you all think.”
    She paused for a moment. “But we’ll get through,” she said. “We always have, and we will again.”
    Someone in the crowd shouted out, “Do you promise, Mom?”
    Everyone laughed, but Mariama didn’t smile.
    â€œI promise,” she said.
    *   *   *
    THE INSIDE OF the ship smelled like fresh-cut wood and shellac and oiled iron and human sweat, overlaid by whatever Esteban and Fiona, the ship’s cooks, were preparing for the first meal on their voyage.
    If they ever began voyaging.
    Most of the crew would be sleeping in shifts in hammocks strung in one of two dormitories in the center of the ship, but a few had been given private cabins: Kait, Clare Shapiro, Fatou Konte, and Malcolm, the captain. Kait’s place in the hierarchy