Seventeen-year-old Amy joins her parents as frozen cargo aboard the vast spaceship Godspeed and expects to awaken on a new planet, three hundred years in the future. Never could she have known that her frozen slumber would come to an end fifty years too soon and that she would be thrust into the brave new world of a spaceship that lives by its own rules.
Amy quickly realizes that her awakening was no mere computer malfunction. Someone - one of the few thousand inhabitants of the spaceship - tried to kill her. And if Amy doesn't do something soon, her parents will be next.
Now, Amy must race to unlock Godspeed's hidden secrets. But out of her list of murder suspects, there's only one who matters: Elder, the future leader of the ship and the love she could never have seen coming.
"Daddy said, "Let mom go first."
Interesting, creepy, claustrophobic story.
First off, I can't imagine being on a spaceship for fifty years let alone hundreds. Can you say claustrophobia?? Seriously, there were times I felt closed in. That's good writing!
The ship, Godspeed, and all it's quirks
Lots of secrets
Learning about the ships social structure
I skimmed the first 1/4 of the book. I don't think the first few chapters were totally necessary to the story. I got tired of Amy's 'poor me' chapters.
Earth's history changed so the leaders have control
I wasn't hooked from the beginning.
Sex in the street, park, steps during the 'Season'
Rating: PG 16
V: Yes, fighting
L:Yes but not our swearing. The ship has it's own like 'frex'
S: almost rape scene, the Season where the shipmates have sex like animals
25% test (p.100):
"...chair I am sitting in at him, not to pull down the walls that surround me. "In fifty years I'm going to be older than my parents, and you're telling me to find a way to occupy my freaking time?!"
"A hobby, perhaps?"
"GAH!" I screech. I lunge for his desk, about to sweep everything on it onto the floor. The doctor stands, too, but instead of trying to stop me, he reaches for the cabinet behind him. there is something so calmly disturbing about this action that I pause as he pulls open a drawer and, after rummaging around for a bit, withdraws a small, square, white package, similar to the hand wipes I used to get from the Chinese restaurant Jason took me to on our first date.
"This is a med patch," the doctor says. "Tiny needles glued to the adhesive will administer calming drugs directly into your system. I do not want to spend the next fifty years medicating you just so you stay calm." He sets the white package in the center of his desk, then looks me square in the eyes. "But I will."
The med patch lies there, a line in the sand that I do not want to cross. I sit back down.
"Now, do you have any hobbies or skills that you could put us on the ship?"
Hobbies? Hobbies are something ninety-year-old men have as they piddle around the garage.
"I liked history in school," I finally say, although I feel like a dork for thinking of school before anything else.
"We don't have school here." Before I can contemplate life without school, the doctor continues. "Not now. And besides, at this point, the life you lived is, well..."
Oh. I see his point. My life, my former life, already is history. What will..."