“Don’t look,” Luke said as he pulled Glass away from the body on the ground. She averted her eyes before she had a chance to see whether it was a guard or a civilian. She didn’t even know if it was a man or a woman.
Glass wasn’t sure what she’d expected. Had she really thought the skybridge would open, and all the Waldenites and Arcadians would file onto Phoenix in a calm and orderly fashion, bidding polite hellos to the people who’d left them all to die?
No, she’d known it wouldn’t be simple, or organized. But she hadn’t expected the noise that filled the skybridge when the barrier raised—an earsplitting chorus of sobs and shouts and cheers and screams.
She hadn’t expected a male voice to come blasting out of the speakers. For the past seventeen years, Phoenix’s PA system had been used for inane, prerecorded announcements read by the same slightly robotic-sounding woman. “Please remember to abide by all curfew restrictions” and “All signs of illness must be reported to a health monitor.”
But as the first wave of people surged across the skybridge, a very different voice rang out over the chaotic clamor. “All residents of Walden and Arcadia must return to their own ships immediately. This is your only warning. All trespassers will be shot.”
Hearing a man’s voice coming out of the speakers was as disconcerting as seeing the skybridge closed, almost as if the ship had been possessed. But even that wasn’t as troubling as the sight of a dozen guards marching toward the bridge, guns raised.
Even then, Glass hadn’t expected them to actually shoot anyone.
She was wrong.
The guards had opened fire on the first wave of Waldenites who crossed the bridge, but even that wasn’t enough to deter the crowds who rushed forward to overpower the guards and take their weapons. Within minutes, Phoenix was filled with Waldenites and Arcadians. At first, most had just seemed relieved to be able to breathe, taking huge gasps of oxygen-rich air. But then they began to spread out throughout Phoenix, carrying whatever they could find as weapons and breaking down doors to steal from the Phoenicians. It had rapidly gotten violent and out of hand.
Luke pulled Glass to the side as two men ran past, each holding an enormous container of protein packets. Then another pair of Waldenites turned the corner, but these weren’t carrying supplies—they were dragging an unconscious guard.
Glass covered her mouth in horror as she watched the young guard’s head roll from side to side. There was a deep purple bruise on his cheek, and he was bleeding from a gash in his shoulder, leaving a trail of blood behind him. She could feel Luke tense next to her, and she grabbed his arm to restrain him. “Don’t,” she whispered. “Let them go.”
Luke watched the Waldenites drag the guard around a corner and disappear, although they could still hear their laughter echoing in the corridor. “I could have taken them,” he said with a huff.
In another situation, Glass might’ve smiled at Luke’s indignation, but she felt only a growing panic. All she could think about was finding her mother and heading to the launch deck. She could only hope that her mother was safe at home, that she’d known better than to venture out into the chaos.
Glass loved her mother, but she had never been particularly good in a crisis. Over the years, Glass had realized that there were some battles Sonja simply couldn’t face.
And so Glass had learned how to fight for both of them.
It felt odd walking back from the Exchange by herself, without Cora or Huxley next to her chattering about their purchases, or scheming of ways to keep their parents from discovering how many points they’d spent. Their absence made Glass all the more aware of the lightness of her pocket. Just minutes ago, it had held her mother’s last necklace.
Huxley’s mother had appeared at the jewelry booth just as Glass began haggling with the vendor about how many points the necklace was worth. “It’s a lovely piece, dear,” she murmured, giving Glass a pitying smile before leaning over to say something to a woman Glass didn’t recognize. Glass had flushed, but kept arguing. She and her mom needed those ration points.
Moving through the Exchange, Glass had felt everyone’s eyes on her. Phoenix was in a state of delighted shock at the scandal surrounding her family. Affairs were nothing new, but moving out was a drastic step given the housing shortage. And according to regulations, two people couldn’t occupy a flat meant for three, which meant that Glass and Sonja had been forced to move to a smaller unit on an inconvenient deck. Now, without her father’s seemingly endless supply of ration points, they’d had to sell practically everything they owned at the Exchange just to keep from living on water and protein paste.
Glass turned down their hallway and sighed with relief when she saw that it was empty. The one benefit of living in such an undesirable location was that she wouldn’t run into people she knew. Or, used to know. It had been weeks since Cora had done more than give her a curt nod in the corridor, grabbing Huxley’s elbow when she smiled at Glass. Wells was the only one of her friends who acted like nothing had changed—but he’d recently started officer training, which kept him so busy, he barely had time to visit his mother in the hospital, let alone hang out with Glass.
She pressed her hand against the door’s sensor and stepped inside, wrinkling her nose. Their old flat had always smelled like a combination of expensive greenhouse fruit and her mother’s perfume, and she still hadn’t gotten used to the stale, stuffy scent that choked the smaller unit.
It was dark inside, so Sonja couldn’t be home. The lights were connected to motion sensors. But when Glass stepped inside, they didn’t turn on. That was strange. She waved her hand up and down, but still nothing happened. She groaned. Now she would have to send a maintenance request, which always took forever. In the past, her father simply would’ve messaged his friend Jessamyn—the head of the repairs unit—and it would be fixed right away. But Glass couldn’t stomach the thought of asking for any favors from her father.
“Glass? Is that you?” Sonja rose from the couch, an amorphous shape in the dim light. She started to walk toward Glass, but yelped as she bumped into something that clanked to the floor.
“Why are you sitting in the dark?” Glass demanded. “Did you send a message to maintenance?” Sonja didn’t answer. “I’ll do it myself,” Glass said, annoyed.
“No, don’t. That won’t work.” Sonja sounded weary.
“What are you talking about?” Glass snapped. She knew she should try harder to be patient with her mother, but she’d been so infuriating lately.
“The sensor isn’t broken. We went over our power quota, and I don’t have the ration points to cover it.”
“What?” Glass said. “That’s ridiculous. They can’t do this to us.”
“We don’t have a choice. We’ll just have to wait until—”
“We’re not waiting,” Glass said indignantly.
She spun on her heel and strode out of the dark flat.
Cora’s father’s office was at the end of a long corridor where most of the department heads worked. The hall wasn’t particularly busy—from her experience, most of the Council-appointed heads spent very little time in their offices—but her stomach still twisted at the thought of running into one of her dad’s friends.
Mr. Drake’s assistant, a young man Glass didn’t recognize, was sitting at a desk, fiddling with some numbers in a holograph. He looked up and raised an eyebrow. “Can I help you?”
“I need to talk to Mr. Drake.”
“I’m afraid the Resources Chief is busy at the moment. Why don’t I take a message and I’ll let him know—”
“It’s okay. I’ll let him know.” Glass gave the boy a patronizing smile and swept past him into the office.
Cora’s father looked up from behind his desk when Glass walked in. For a second, he just stared at her in surprise, but then his face broke out into a big, insincere smile. “Glass! What a nice surprise. What can I do for you, sweetheart?”
“You can turn my lights back on,” she said. “I’m sure it was just a mistake, of course. You would never knowingly let me and my mother spend the next month sitting in the dark.”
Mr. Drake frowned as he tapped on his desk, opening a file on the screen. “Well, you went over your quota, so unless you have points to transfer to your account, I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do.”
“We both know that’s a lie. You’re the Resources Chief—you can do whatever you want.”
He gave Glass a cold, appraising look. “I have the well-being of the entire Colony to consider. If someone takes more than their fair share, it would be irresponsible of me to make exceptions.”
Glass tilted her head to the side. “So bribing your way into the greenhouse and selling fruit on the black market doesn’t count as an exception?” she said with feigned innocence.
Mr. Drake’s cheeks grew red. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Sorry. I must’ve misunderstood Cora. I’ll have to get my friend Wells to explain it to me. He knows much more about all this than I do, since he’s the Chancellor’s son and all.”
Mr. Drake was silent for a moment before clearing his throat. “I suppose I can make an allowance this one time. Now, you should be on your way. I have a meeting.”
Glass flashed him a too-bright smile. “Thank you so much for your help,” she said, then swept out of the office, pausing only to nod at the glaring assistant.
When she arrived home, the lights were already back on. “Did you do this?” Sonja asked, gesturing to the lights in amazement.
“I just cleared up a little misunderstanding,” Glass said, going to the kitchen to assess their options for dinner.
“Thank you, Glass. I’m very proud of you.”
Glass felt a thrill of satisfaction, but as she turned around to smile at Sonja, she realized her mother had already disappeared back into her bedroom.
Glass’s smile faded as she stared at the spot where Sonja had been standing. She’d spent her whole life believing that she’d never be as beautiful as her mother, never be as charming. But perhaps Glass could succeed where her mother had failed. She would figure out how to get what she wanted—what she needed—even when her long lashes failed to convince, when her body was no longer young and beautiful.
She’d be more than pretty. She’d be strong.
Glass’s hallway was startlingly quiet. Glass wasn’t sure whether this was a good or a bad sign. Her heart racing, she walked up to their door and pressed her thumb to the scanner, Luke placing a hand on her shoulder in silent reassurance. But before the machine had even read her print, the door flew outward.
“Oh my god, Glass!” In a flash, her mother’s arms were around her. “How did you get back? The skybridge is closed…” She trailed off as she caught sight of Luke.
Glass braced for Sonja’s relief to curdle into disdain at the sight of him—the boy she blamed for ruining Glass’s life. But to her surprise, her mother stepped forward and clasped Luke’s hand in her own. “Thank you,” she said with quiet dignity. “Thank you for bringing her back.”
Luke nodded, evidently unsure how to respond, but his good manners and self-control won out as usual. “Actually, it was Glass who brought me. You have a remarkably brave daughter, Mrs. Sorenson.”
Sonja smiled as she released Luke and wrapped her arm around Glass. “I know.” She led them inside to the tiny but neat living room. Glass’s eyes darted around, but she saw no evidence of packing, or any intention to leave.
“What’s been going on over here?” she asked without thinking. “Do they know how much longer the oxygen will last? Are there plans to evacuate?”
Sonja shook her head. “No one knows. The Chancellor hasn’t emerged from his coma, so Rhodes is still in charge.” Glass felt a pang of sadness for Wells—it had been three weeks; at this point, it seemed like the Chancellor might never recover. Especially not in time to make it off the ship.
“So what are they telling people?” Glass asked, shooting her mother a look. The night before she fled for Walden, she’d seen her mother and Rhodes together—and they had looked cozier than friends had a right to be. But Sonja just shook her head.
“Nothing. There haven’t been any updates, any instructions.” She sighed and her face fell. “But people are talking, of course. Once they closed the skybridge, it became clear that… well… that things weren’t going to get any better.”
“What about the dropships?” Glass asked. “Has anyone said anything?”
“Not officially. The entrance to the launch was still shut, last I heard. But people have already started heading down there, just in case.”
She didn’t need to say anything else. The ship had been designed with enough dropships for the population of the original Colony. After three centuries in space, that number had more than quadrupled. Not even the harsh population controls enacted a century ago had managed to make much of a dent.
For children on Phoenix, the limited number of dropships had always been something of a joke. When someone gave a stupid answer during tutorial, or messed up during a game on the gravity track, one of their friends would inevitably say something along the lines of “We’re giving away your seat on the dropship.” It was safe to laugh about, because humans were supposed to stay on the Colony for at least another century. And when they finally did return to Earth, there’d be plenty of time for the dropships to shuttle everyone back and forth. No one had ever imagined what would happen in the event of a large-scale evacuation. The prospect was too grim.
“We should go now, then,” Glass said firmly. “There’s no point in waiting for an announcement. By then, it’ll be too late. All the spots will be taken.”
“I’ll just get my things,” Sonja said, her eyes darting around the room as she took inventory of her scant possessions.
“There’s no time,” Luke said, taking Glass’s mother by the arm and leading her toward the door. “Nothing is worth losing our chance at getting to Earth.” Sonja nodded, her eyes flickering with fear, and followed Luke through the door.
The closer they got to the launch deck, the more crowded the halls became—filled with anxious Phoenicians, some laden with bags and children, others carrying nothing but the clothes on their backs.
Luke grabbed Glass with one hand and Sonja with the other, guiding them through the crowd toward the stairwell. Glass tried not to make eye contact with any of the people she passed. She didn’t want to remember their faces when she thought about the dead.