Day 21
Page 29
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.
“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.
