

by Nickie Anderson

Text copyright © 2012 Nickie Anderson

http://www.nickieanderson.blogspot.com

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All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

For my grandmother, who always has a story to tell.

Through the silence I heard a squeak, a groan of the floor. Was that a footstep?

I waited for a moment. No, it was nothing. Papa still wasn't home. He hadn't come home last night for dinner, hadn't come home last night when I went off to bed, and now, as it neared dawn, he still wasn't home. I had been lying on my bed and staring at the ceiling for hours, perking my ears at every little noise.

I shouldn't have been surprised. He worked late so often. He had promised to be back early yesterday, though.

A special birthday for a special girl, he had said, tugging my braid like I was still a little girl. Of course I'll be home for dinner.

"Time," I called out.

"Oh seven hundred," chimed my clock.

I groaned. I hadn't slept a wink, and I was supposed to get up for school in thirty minutes. Great. I rolled over again. Between Papa not being home and the crick in my neck, it was next to impossible to sleep. A catnap would be the best rest I could hope for. I fluffed my pillow and had just settled on a comfortable position, when a voice broke through the silence.

"Sadira?"

Amina, my best friend, called from the front door of my house. She hadn't knocked. That formality had been dropped long ago.

"Get up, birthday girl! My mom sent me over with food."

Amina's voice pierced my tired ears. It might have been my fifteenth birthday, but I was sleep-deprived and not at all ready to get up, let alone celebrate. I slid out of bed and stretched my long arms, reaching toward the ceiling.

"I'll be downstairs in a second," I called. "Lights." My lamp turned on, and the sudden brightness made me wince.

"Off." I was plunged back in darkness. I rubbed my eyes and yawned until my face felt like it would split.

Amina popped her head in my door. "No need to come down yet. Lights!" My lamp flicked back on. "Come on, sleepyhead. There's two slices of chocolate cake waiting in the dining room."

"Cake for breakfast? You know I'm not allowed."

Amina shrugged. "Your dad's not here, is he?"

I shook my head. "I think he had to work late again."

A devilish grin crept across her face. "So who's going to complain if we stuff ourselves with cake?"

I sighed. Amina knew Papa would be upset if I had cake instead of muesli, but perhaps it couldn't hurt to take one tiny bite. It was a special occasion, after all. I yanked a blue dress out of my closet and slipped it over my head, smoothing it over my slip. The dress had reached my ankles less than a year ago, but now a long stretch of calf peeked out beneath.

Amina raised an eyebrow. "You're wearing that?" She gestured to her tight gray pants and loose magenta t-shirt. Her eyes were covered in a matching magenta eye shadow that made her dark skin look even deeper and richer. She was always in some crazy skiff outfit with wild hair to match. "You look like an old woman."

"Maybe I am an old woman. Did you ever think about that?"

"Next time, I'll be sure to bring you a shawl," Amina teased. "Then you'd be the best dressed little old lady ever."

I stuck my tongue out at her. "Make sure it matches my dress." I tied on my leather sandals and glanced out the window. A sliver of sky peeked out above the gray concrete Wall. The sky was still the same sickly yellow-brown color it had been for days. The dust and sand choked out the sun. The Samalut outpost had been stuck in sandstorm after sandstorm for the last two weeks. I grabbed a long scarf. I would definitely need to cover my face. Maybe the sun will shine today. Maybe the skies will be blue. I scrunched my eyes closed and turned the wish into a prayer. God, it's Sadira. Please, let these sandstorms end. Amen. I snagged a hat from my closet in case God wasn't too busy to answer my prayer today.

"You ready, old lady?" asked Amina.

I twisted my long brown hair into a tidy braid. "All ready." Amina ran out of my room and slid down the banister, careening wildly. I took the steps one by one—I was fifteen now, after all. That was practically grown up. Amina was already waiting for me in the dining room by the time I got downstairs.

Our dining room was empty except for a round wooden table and two small chairs. The concrete floor and walls were both bare and unwelcoming. Papa always said that a dining room was a waste of space. Why dedicate a room to eating? I can eat anywhere, he would say. Sometimes I wished our house looked more like a home, like the Nagis', my next-door neighbors, full of warmth and people and chairs and talk. But Papa was a busy man, and I was a grown girl. We didn't need frivolous things.

Amina set out the two plates of cake on the table and pulled a couple of glasses of sim-milk, a mixture of proteins and vitamins in a thin white liquid, from the dispenser in the kitchen.

"Did you grab our pills?" I asked.

She scrunched her nose.

"You know we have to take them every morning."

"The pills prevent illness and disease, and encourage the growth of healthy bodies and minds." Her voice was a perfect imitation of the dry Central videos we sometimes watched in school. She walked back to the kitchen, tapped the dispenser, and pulled out two small yellow pills. "You're worse than my mom."

"Do you want to say the blessing?"

Amina rolled her eyes. "Sadira, please. It's cake. I think God will forgive us." But she caved when my face fell.

"Fine. I'll say a blessing, but only because it's your birthday." She cleared her throat.

"God, I know it's been a long time since we've chatted. Sorry. It's Sadira's birthday today, and we have some cake to eat. Please bless it so that it tastes super delicious, and please don't let Sadira's papa find out she had cake for breakfast instead of muesli. Amen."

I giggled. "Amen."

"Now can we eat?"

"Sure." I sipped on my milk, staring cautiously at the cake. I wasn't supposed to eat sweets for breakfast, but today could be an exception. I took one tiny bite and let the chocolate flavor spread over my tongue. Delicious. Before I knew it, I had wolfed down the whole thing. I swallowed back my yellow pill. I guessed it would balance out the chocolate. Amina licked the icing off her plate. I was tempted to lick my plate, too, but I remembered Papa's stern voice—You are a girl, not an animal. I slid my plate, crumbs and all, into the autowasher instead. It whirred for a moment, then spat out a sparkling clean dish.

"I guess we need to get to school," I said, walking toward my knapsack at the door.

"Not yet. I still have one more thing for you." Amina pulled a small box out of her pocket. "Happy birthday!"

I unwrapped the box and opened it. Inside was a silver necklace with a large, round pendant. I let the cool chain run through my fingers and rubbed the decorative engraving. A ring of gold roses was inlaid in the silver. "It's beautiful. Thank you."

"You haven't seen the best part!" Amina walked over to my chair, her dark curls falling out of her ponytail. "It's one of those new holo-lockets. See? Click this button, and presto!"

A beam of blue light shot from the front of the locket and projected an image of Amina and Timothy on the floor of the dining room. In the holo, Amina was her usual all-smiles self, her hair in a wild halo of curls around her face. Timothy stood next to her, his shy eyes hidden by a thick fringe of dark hair, a soft grin creeping across his face. She grinned. "I figured you needed to remember who your best friends in the whole world were. I uploaded a few pictures. Scroll through them."

I tapped the side of the locket, and a new image appeared. It was Papa, long and lanky like me, and sporting his usual scruffy beard. I tapped it again and gasped. It was an image of Mama. Here, she looked very young and had long, wavy hair cascading down her shoulders. She was smiling, happy. I wished I could remember the details of her face without a picture.

"How did you find this holo?" I only had one old holograph of Mama, from before she passed away. I had never seen this one before.

"I had to sweet talk one of the soldiers in the records department to let me download it."

I threw my arms around Amina and squeezed her. "You're the best!"

"I know." She laughed for a moment, then leaned in to me and whispered, "Can I tell you a secret?"

I nodded.

"Timothy didn't want me to tell you, but he picked out the necklace."

"Really?" Usually Amina, Timothy, and I treated each other to ice creams or cakes for a birthday. I couldn't imagine Timothy looking at necklaces, especially not for my birthday. The thought made my face flush, and I smiled.

"Really," said Amina. "Now move it, Sadira. We don't want to be late today."

She was right. Even though we technically had class today, we were spending the day watching the test launch of a new ship. After the test flight ended and the ship was back on the ground, we would be allowed to climb aboard and talk to the pilots. Everyone was excited. Usually all of the experimental tech on Samalut was kept classified, which meant kids never got to see it up close. Since Papa was the chief engineer, I'd had a few peeks at the design on his tablet. He'd spent a lot of time away from home working on it, and now that it was finally finished, I couldn't wait to see it up close. I clasped the locket around my neck and tucked the pendant under the collar of my dress. I grabbed my earpiece from the side table and shoved it into my ear, in case Papa called for me. I flung my knapsack over my shoulder on my way out the door.

Amina dragged me by the hand. "Hurry up!" We ran out of the housing district, a maze of identical olive green townhouses. The dusty earth worked its way under my feet and clung to my toes and legs, coating my skin. I pulled my scarf up around my neck, holding it over my nose and mouth, but sand still hung suspended in the air, stinging my eyes. We sped through the center of town, dodging the morning hovercab traffic, racing past the bakery, past the church, and farther still past the antique store. The city opened up into a wide, sandy field, dotted here and there with scruffy trees. I could see the launch pad ahead. Hovercabs and transports lined up in front of the Wall.

The rest of our class was already gathered at the launch pad, huddled around Ms. Ahmad. Their eyes peered over colorful scarves tied over their noses and mouths. The large concrete Wall surrounding the outpost loomed cold and imposing in the background, blocking any view of the badlands beyond. Amina wedged her way to the front of the group, elbowing people out of the way. I stayed toward the back, relying on my height to peer over everyone's heads. I could see Timothy toward the front, his wavy brown hair sticking up above an orange scarf, joking with a few of the other boys. He saw Amina push forward, then peered over his shoulder. He grinned when he saw me and brushed a patch of long brown hair out of his eyes. I waved, but Timothy's smile collapsed into an embarrassed flush. I readjusted the scarf over my face; my mouth was already filled with little bits of sand that crunched whenever I clenched my jaw. I turned my attention to Ms. Ahmad.

"Today, as you know, is a special day," announced Ms. Ahmad. "Our engineers will be launching the newest test ship, the first capable of M1000 speed."

The guys in my class whispered among themselves. "Wow! M1000! You think it'll do that?" I knew the ship could make M1000. Papa had spent the last two years designing it. If he couldn't make something work, no one could.

I studied the ship. The hovercabs usually sat either two or four people, but the ships were lumbering black clouds in the sky, carrying dozens of people or heavy cargo between the outposts. Papa had talked about this newest hovership on the nights he came home from work early, about how the cabin was put together and how the thin sheets of metal alloy were stretched over the frame, and how robot-guided lasers welded the seams together. The ship's sleek black shell glowed in the dusky yellow light as if lit from within. On the starboard side, the ship's name, 'CAS Bright Star', shone silvery-blue. I could see why Papa spent so much time working on the ship. It was beautiful, dark and sleek and shimmering a thousands colors, like the shell of a scarab beetle. There were no windows that I could see, but I knew from Papa that there was a view-screen on board. The ship was much smaller than the transports that usually flew overhead. When Papa and I first moved to Samalut, the ship we flew on was so tall I couldn't see the top of it, and it took a full ten minutes to walk around it. But that was a transport, designed for freight. This ship was not much larger than my house, but I was sure it would be fast.

Papa stepped out from behind the ship with the two pilots. He was dressed in his work uniform—carefully pressed khaki pants, a sharply tucked white shirt, sleeves rolled precisely to the elbow. Only his scruffy beard, a black shadow covering his jaw and neck, betrayed the fact that he had been working all night again. Despite the scraggly beard, he still looked put together, even when placed next to the two clean-cut pilots in their freshly pressed uniforms. "That's right, Ms. Ahmad!" he said. "She should hit M1000 with no problems. We designed a new decelerate cabin and all new coms and nav systems for this ship. She'll almost fly herself." Papa waved to me, but I frowned. What is he doing here? He spent his time in the labs. He was never around the flight crews. Usually a crew chief took responsibility for the maiden launch, not one of the engineers. I had assumed he'd spent the night in his office yet again because of work, but if not... he could've been home this morning for my birthday, at least.

"I will be riding with the test pilots today to gather some readings about our ship's performance," he continued. "We hope to make this the fastest ship on the planet..." Papa's voice droned on, but I didn't listen. He was riding with the test pilots? He had never said anything about that. This was how he planned to let me know? The ship was probably safe, but it was the maiden voyage. I closed my eyes and sighed. Papa, what are you doing?

"If everything works as planned, we should be able to get to any of the orbital colonies in less than an hour," he said. "Of course, we won't be taking her up to top speed today, but when we do... well, Ms. Ahmad, we'd like to invite your class back to see."

Ms. Ahmad smiled. "We'll hold you to that promise, Mr. Pascal. Who would like to pass out headphones and glasses?" Timothy and Amina raised their hands and began handing out the protective gear. "Be sure your headphones are on snugly!" called Ms. Ahmad. "The ships are quite loud."

I pulled the headphones over my head, trying to keep them from snagging on my hair. I sealed the plastic discs around my ears and clipped the glasses to the frames. A ripple of static broke through my headphones.

"Everyone got their headphones on?" It was Papa, giving instructions. "Raise your right hand if you can hear me loud and clear." I raised my hand in unison with the rest of the class.

"Good, good," Papa said. "Now, we'll need everyone to take a couple of steps backward. You'll need to stay behind the red line there." Timothy stumbled back a few steps, passing through the crowd, and bumped into me. He grabbed my arm reflexively to steady himself. My arm felt hot where he grasped me. I turned my head, and for a short moment, I stared at him. Yellow dust had settled on his eyelashes and eyebrows. He opened his mouth to speak to me, but then shut it into a thin line and turned away.

"Is everyone in place?"

Everyone crowded at the edge of the red line. Even though I was several centimeters taller than the rest of my class, I kept pushing forward. I didn't want to miss a moment of the launch, especially if Papa was going to be on board.

"You may need to sit down for this," Papa said. "We've adjusted for a minimal shockwave, but you should feel a large gust of air when we take off." Papa turned to the two pilots. "Are you ready?"

A deep voice resonated through the headphones. "Yes, Mr. Pascal. Preflight is complete, and all systems are go."

"Great." Papa smiled, and I knew it was meant for me. "We'll be back before you know it."

One wing of the ship's shell raised, and Papa and the pilots walked on board. The door folded silently behind them. A few moments later, the bottom of the ship shimmered and a hot, heavy layer of steam began to rise around it. The ship lifted from the ground with a roar, shooting out a rush of air that sent everyone reeling. The ship quickly shrank smaller, smaller, and smaller still, until it was no more than a beetle glimmering and dancing in the dusky yellow sky. A cloud of steam billowed over the ground, engulfing us.

The pilot's baritone voice came through the headphones. "What do you all think? Was that a launch or what?" The class cheered.

"We're at about 80 kilometers," the pilot continued. "It is beautiful up here. I'm sending the view-screen feed to your glasses."

My glasses lit up. The Earth glowed a soft blue color, and ribbons of clouds danced along the surface. Bits of green and brown earth peeked through the mist, surrounded by a moat of oceans and seas. The sun was still shinning, after all. I wished it would break through the layers of sand and dust to light up the outpost.

"I'm going to hand you over to Mr. Pascal now," the pilot said. "He'll show you around the ship."

"Thanks, Ben," said Papa. "Let me switch your feed over to the cockpit. Are we good?" The glowing ball of the Earth disappeared and in its place was the dimly lit interior of the ship.

"First off, you can see that this ship is much smaller than most, and the cockpit is even disproportionally smaller. Since we wanted a ship capable of M1000, we had to make a few adjustments..." A siren blared in the background, and a red light blinked overhead. Papa froze.

"What was that, Ben?"

"I'm not sure, Mr. Pascal. Naeem, verify our altitude."

"I'm reading 60 kilometers, falling fast."

Ben ran through all systems. Beads of sweat glistened on his black skin. "Pressure is steady. Power is steady. Vectors are input correctly..."

"Ben, we're at 50 kilometers," said Naeem quietly.

"Mr. Pascal, shut off the feed. Shut it off!" Ben shouted.

"I'm sorry, Sadira." Papa looked pained for a moment, and the feed ended. The ship's cabin disappeared from view, and in it's place was my class, panicked and confused. Ms. Ahmad pulled off her headphones and motioned for everyone else to do the same. "We need to get inside. Follow me, please. Quickly!" She turned and headed toward the school, her walk almost breaking to a run. She began talking on her earpiece.

"Get the Colonel, Danielle. There's been a problem. Yes, Colonel Marwasi? It's Ms. Ahmad. My class was at the launch, and..."

My head spun. What was wrong with the ship? Papa had spent the last two years designing it. Were they crashing? It wasn't possible. I walked in a daze, my class quickly outpacing me.

"Colonel Marwasi? What? Of course, immediately." Ms. Ahmad turned off her earpiece and yelled.

"We need to head for the school basement right now!" She began rounding up the class, pushing them together in a group, urging them on from behind. Some of the boys began running, and she jogged with them, struggling to keep them in sight. Only I lingered, lost in thoughts of Papa.

"I'm sorry, Sadira."

I felt like screaming and crying and hitting something all at once, but I balled the feeling up inside of me and tucked it away.

I started running, but instead of heading to the school with the rest of my class, I raced back home.

"Sadira! Sadira!" Ms. Ahmad called after me. "Come to the school. Follow me." She paused, staring at me for a moment, then looked back at the rest of the class sprinting toward the school. I kept running back home.

"Sadira!" She called one last time, before following the rest of the students toward the middle of the outpost.

My direction never wavered. My feet led me home, cutting through yards and alleys between the blocks of town homes. I finally reached my house and threw open the door, letting it slam into the living room wall. I ran into Papa's room and curled up in the corner. He'd be here any minute, as soon as he landed. He'd laugh at me for being so worried.

A boom shook the house, knocking me on my face. The window, which had been filled with the dusky yellow light, became brighter, brighter, brighter than the sun. I covered my eyes, but the light still burned them. Then blackness...

I opened my eyes, but I was no longer in Papa's room. A face—Mrs. Nagi?—hovered over me.

"Sadira, can you hear me?"

I squinted my eyes shut and reopened them. Yes, it was Mrs. Nagi, my next-door neighbor. Her brow was drawn tight, her eyes filled with worry, and wrinkles splayed across her face. I was lying on her couch, tightly wrapped in thick woolen blankets. I peeled off the layers of throws.

"I can hear you. I'm—I'm fine, I think." I looked at my arms, my legs, and wiggled my fingers and toes.

She sighed in relief. "I was so worried when I heard you weren't at the school. I came to your house as soon as I could, and then I saw you lying on the floor..." her voice trailed off. "I'm glad you're awake. I've called the doctor."

"You didn't need to do that. I'm fine." I began to stand up from the couch, but then the world started to spin, and I collapsed. Mrs. Nagi raced over.

"I'm only a bit dizzy, Mrs. Nagi. Please, don't worry about me."

"Everybody worries about you."

"What about Papa?"

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "I don't know, darling. I haven't heard from anyone over at the Central office."

"He's not dead," I said matter-of-factly.

"Of course not."

I nodded and lay back down on the couch. I tried to close my eyes again, but all I could see was that last vision of my father on the glasses. Why hadn't he told me he was flying today? He knew I hated it. Maybe that was why he didn't say anything. Maybe that was why he hadn't been home much lately. I stared off at the walls of the living room. If my house was empty, the Nagis' was the polar opposite. Lamps stood in each corner of the room. Curtains were draped over the windows, and all of the furniture had brightly colored pillows and throws. It was a warm, comforting place. I felt my body relax and my eyelids grow heavy.

"Sadira? The doctor is here to see you," Mrs. Nagi said. "Come on, sit up for him." I jerked my eyes open again and forced myself upright. The doctor, a skeletal middle-aged man with a large gray mustache, shined a light into my eyes, checked my pulse and blood pressure, and then smiled.

"You are the picture of health, my dear. Did you have some dizziness?"

"Yes," I said.

"Why don't you try getting up very slowly. Here," he offered his hand, "get up halfway and tell me how you feel."

I put my hand into his and tried to stand, but my head started swimming again. I blinked a few times, then stood upright. The world straightened out.

"Any dizziness now?" he asked.

"No, but I do have a bit of a headache."

"Just grab an extra pill today. There's a pain fighter built in."

"What about my father?" The doctor's smile faded, disappearing behind his mustache.

"I don't know. But I am sure Mrs. Nagi will take good care of you until we find out, right?"

Mrs. Nagi nodded emphatically. "Of course we will."

"Have a good evening. I'll be in touch." He grabbed his coat and his bag and slipped out the door.

Mrs. Nagi curled up on the couch next to me. She readjusted her shawl, draping it back over her shoulders, and began stroking my hair. "Some of your friends called earlier. Amina and... Timothy. Timothy Rosen. Do you want to call them back?"

I shook my head. It was hard enough to sit there with Mrs. Nagi, not knowing if Papa was safe. I didn't want to talk, not unless Papa called, not unless his voice came over my earpiece. My hand went to my ear, feeling the familiar piece of metal tucked neatly inside. Papa will call me. I didn't want pity. I wanted Papa home.

"Try not to worry," she said, mostly to herself. "Perhaps when Miquel comes home from work he'll have some news about your papa."

I squeezed my eyes shut. God, please let it be good news, I prayed.

Mr. Nagi came back a little before six that evening. He slung the heavy wooden door open, his beefy frame filling the entrance. Dark circles hung under his eyes, and his shoulders sagged with defeat. He threw his old brown coat on the rack by the door and unwrapped a scarf from his face, then kicked off his sandy shoes on a mat by the entrance.

"What a hell of a day." He ran his hands through his thick, dark hair. "Thank God I wasn't on flight duty. The whole control tower is going crazy! I left as soon as..."

Mrs. Nagi cleared her throat and gestured to me. I was huddled on the couch, and it was clear Mr. Nagi hadn't noticed me.

"Oh, I, uh... good evening, Sadira."

"Good evening, Mr. Nagi." Perhaps he did have some news of my papa after all. Why else would he stammer like that? "What happened at the control tower?"

"Ah, well, we were trying to..." He cleared his throat. "I'm going to wash up. I'm covered in dust." With that, he slipped out of the living room and slunk down the hallway.

"Wait! Mr. Nagi!" I began to rise off of the couch to follow him, but Mrs. Nagi nudged me back down.

"You need to rest, Sadira. I will go talk to him." She followed her husband down the hallway, and I heard snippets of their conversation.

"You know how it is," came Mr. Nagi's deep, creaky voice. "There are some things I can't share."

"She's worried sick! She deserves to know something."

"I took an oath..."

"... she is practically our daughter..."

Their voices grew quieter, and I shifted my position on the couch to hear better.

"Is Henri alive?" asked Mrs. Nagi. Oh, please be alive, I prayed. Please.

"I can tell her nothing!" whispered Mr. Nagi. "Now allow me to wash up."

"As you wish." Mrs. Nagi walked back to the living room, her eyes cast down. "Sadira, come help me set the table for dinner. You know where the dishes are, yes?"

"Yes." Of course I knew where everything in their kitchen was. Since Papa often worked late, I ate with the Nagis almost as often as I ate at home. I grabbed a stack of plates and silverware and walked toward the dining room table, not thinking of dinner, not caring about food. It seemed like Mr. Nagi knew something, but why wouldn't he share it? And what was that about an oath? I was still lost in my thoughts when Mrs. Nagi caught my arm.

"I will speak to Miquel again, and he will tell me what happened at the control tower."

She was usually so soft spoken, but there was a sudden fierceness in her voice and a cold determination in her usually warm brown eyes. Her full, round face was pinched with anger and fear. I wanted to believe her. I had to believe her.

"Thank you."

She gave my arm a quick, comforting squeeze. "You know we will care for you if we need to." I nodded. I loved Mrs. Nagi, but if I had to live with her because my father... I hoped I would never have to stay with her.

When Mr. Nagi entered the dining room, he was only slightly cleaner than before. His fingernails were still filled with dark smudges of grease and oil, but his hands were now shiny and red from scrubbing. He sat down immediately and bowed his head in prayer. After a few silent moments, he raised his head and cleared his throat.

"I'm hungry, Cora."

Mrs. Nagi filled his plate with couscous, steamed carrots, and chicken. Though neither Mrs. Nagi nor I had grabbed a plate, Mr. Nagi eyed his food and began to eat. Each bite resounded through the room, echoing in the silence. I stared at him, but he turned his eyes back to his food. As soon as his plate was emptied, he stood up and walked out of the room without a word. His heavy footsteps echoed up the stairs, and a few moments later a door slammed.

"I will talk to him," said Mrs. Nagi. The same sharp fierceness grabbed her face, filling her eyes with an unfamiliar icy edge. She looked older, stronger. Mrs. Nagi pulled me close and planted a kiss on my forehead. "You're welcome to stay here tonight, if you'd like." She grabbed two plates and set them on the table, but I picked mine up and handed it to her.

"If it's all right with you, I think I'm going to go home to sleep." I didn't want to be alone, but I didn't want to be here, didn't want to eat dinner in awkward silence. I needed to be in my house in case Papa came home. He'll be back at any moment. My skin felt creepy and tingly. Even in the Nagis' familiar home, everything felt wrong and strange.

"That's fine," she said. "Take some dinner with you, and be sure to eat tonight. And keep the doors locked and the windows shut."

"Of course."

"Do you need an extra blanket? It's been so cold some nights. You can use one of ours." She got up from the dining room, opened the chest in the living room, and began to pull out some quilts. I smiled. This was the usual Mrs. Nagi, worrying about everyone and everything.

"I'll be fine."

"I know, I know." She sighed, her face falling into a map of creases and lines. "You come here first thing tomorrow, all right? I will make you breakfast."

"Yes, Mrs. Nagi." This time, I put my arms around her. She threw her thick, sturdy arms around my back.

"Good girl," she said, patting my back. "Everything will be fine."

.

When I woke the next morning, clear, beautiful light streamed in through the windows. The sand and grit from the last dust storm had settled, and the sliver of sky I could see above the Wall was a glorious shade of blue. It was the first time the sun had shone in days.

Very funny, God, I thought. Right after everything with Papa, you make the sun shine. That was what I got for praying for frivolous things.

I struggled out of bed and slid my feet onto the cold tile floor. My neck was sore again this morning. It felt like there was a giant lump in the bed. I rolled my head to both sides, letting the aches work themselves out.

I paused for a moment, and the silence was overwhelming. Even though Papa often worked late and I was used to being alone, the house felt emptier than ever before. There was a certain cloud of silence that hung in the air, dampening the normal squeaks and creaks of our house, crowding out the hum of morning traffic. Empty. Alone. I brushed the wetness from my eyes. Crying doesn't solve problems, Papa always said. Action does.

I took action and rummaged through my closet, trying to pick out a dress for school. Was I even supposed to go to school today? I didn't know, and not having Papa to ask made his absence all the more real. I bit my tongue. Focus, Sadira. I took a deep breath. Crying didn't solve anything. I had to be strong.

I finally decided on an old yellow dress that barely fell below my knees. Papa always laughed when I wore it and said I looked like a little girl.

"But I am a little girl," I would answer.

"No," he always replied. "You are a fussy princess who couldn't sleep on a pea." That was his way of teasing me for being a light sleeper.

I checked the mirror. Between the short dress and my hair hanging loosely around my shoulders, I did look like a little girl, but I decided that was fine. Today, I felt like a little girl who needed her papa. I clenched my fists to keep them from shaking.

He is still alive. He was alive until I knew differently.

I slipped on my sandals, grabbed my earpiece and hat, and headed next door to the Nagis' townhouse. The roses in their small garden were twisted and withered from the days of sandstorms, but I knew Mrs. Nagi would bring it back to its usual splendor in no time. I knocked on the door, and Mrs. Nagi promptly threw it open.

"Sadira! What a surprise!" Mrs. Nagi crushed me with a great squeeze, her rough black dress scratching my skin.

"You asked me to come over, Mrs. Nagi."

"Oh, yes, yes I did. Of course. Well, breakfast is ready for you. Do you want to eat?"

The house smelled delicious. She must have been baking because the warm, rich scent of hot bread filled the living room. I peered into the dining room and saw the table was already stacked with yogurt, tea, flat bread, and honey. My stomach growled.

"Of course I want to eat," I said. "It smells amazing."

"Good, good." She sounded relieved. "There's nothing like a full stomach to cure what ails you." Grabbing my arm, she led me to the table. She pushed me gently down into one of the chairs and poured me a cup of tea.

"Did you take your pill this morning?" she asked.

"No. I came straight over here."

She tutted. "I'll grab an extra from the dispenser for you. You can't forget things like that. You'll become anemic or catch a cold."

She went to the kitchen and returned with a small yellow pill. "Here you go."

I took the pill and kicked it back. It had a sweet coating on it and went down smoothly. "Thanks."

I grabbed a piece of bread from the table and started picking at it, ripping off bite-sized chunks. "Should I go to school today?"

She looked surprised for a moment, then wrinkled her brow. "I hadn't thought about that. I don't know. Do you want to go to school today?"

"Not really." I tore a few more chunks off the bread. I didn't think I was ready to see my classmates yet. If Amina or Timothy asked questions... I bit my tongue. Crying didn't solve anything. Papa is still alive. I had to cling to that.

Mrs. Nagi smiled. "There's your answer, then. It should be fine if you take a couple of days off from school. Let me call Ms. Ahmad." She flipped on her earpiece and waited for the operator's chime. "Ms. Ahmad, please." She paused another moment, waiting for an answer. "Ms. Ahmad, yes, it's Mrs. Nagi. Sadira's at my house. No, she wasn't planning to go to school today." She paused for a moment as Ms. Ahmad spoke. "I'm not sure when she wants to go back." She turned to me. "Would next week be good?"

I nodded. I could go today, if I had to, but I didn't want to see anyone, not after they'd seen the ship crash.

"Yes, she says next week is fine. Oh, thank you! That would be appreciated. Thank you, Ms. Ahmad."

Mrs. Nagi smiled. "Ms. Ahmad was fine with you taking a few days off of school. She said if you missed your math lessons for a year you'd still be ahead of her top-level students. You have your father's head for numbers, you know."

I bit my cheek, trying to control the urge to cry at the mention of Papa. He's alive.

Mrs. Nagi was right, though. I did take after Papa when it came to math. He taught me algebra when I was eight and started teaching me calculus two years ago. Numbers came naturally to me, and having a father who was a math genius didn't hurt, either. "She also said she would be sending someone over with the lessons for this week so you can keep up with everything else. Ms. Ahmad said to pay special attention to your history." I sighed. If math came naturally, history was the opposite.

"Since you're not planning to go to school, what would you like to do today? I was thinking about going to buy some new fabric for a dress." She stared at my short dress and tutted. "Perhaps I should buy some fabric for you, too. That dress is too short for a woman your age."

I was suddenly aware of the long stretches of my legs left uncovered, and I tugged the hem of my dress down. "I don't need a new dress yet. And I'm not a woman. I'm barely fifteen."

"You'll need one soon," she said. "You've shot up this last year."

I didn't feel like shopping, especially today. I wanted to be able to clear my head. "I was thinking about visiting Dr. DeWitt."

Mrs. Nagi scrunched her face. "Hmph. That odd duck?"

"Papa gave me a math problem to work on earlier this week, and I can't figure it out."

"And Dr. DeWitt is probably the only other person in Samalut who understands what you are working on, right?"

"Right." Papa had given me a new math proof that I had been working on for a week solid. Every time I thought I was close to a solution, the answer slipped away. But that wasn't the real reason I wanted to talk to Dr. DeWitt. I needed to talk to someone who understood. Mrs. Nagi was warm and loving, but she worried about dinners and clothes and her garden. I had other thoughts rolling in my head, a jumble of Papa and hoverships and flying and crashing. Dr. DeWitt could help me sort through them.

"Don't stay out too late, and call me if you need anything. You have your earpiece?"

"Yes, Mrs. Nagi."

"Oh, I'll have food for lunch, too, if you want to come back over."

"Thank you." I gave her a quick hug, and her soft, lemony smell wafted over me.

This must be what having a mother feels like. Safe.

I pulled away and slipped out the front door. I looped my long brown hair into a tidy knot on my head and pushed my hat down snugly. It was early, but the sun was already beating down on my face, stinging the bridge of my nose. It was days like this that I hated my pale skin. I pulled my hat brim down to shade my eyes and headed toward Dr. DeWitt's shop.

On the other side of the street, I could make out two figures staring at me—a short, dark girl in a bright green skiff outfit, and a lanky, slouching boy. It was Amina and Timothy, on their way to school. Not yet, God, I thought. I'm not ready yet. I chewed the inside of my cheek. The pain in my mouth dulled the wrenching feeling in my chest.

"Sadira! How are you doing?" Amina ran over to me, her thick black curls falling in her face. She tucked them behind her ear, but the curls spilled back out. Timothy was a few steps behind her, his hands shoved into his pockets and his head hung low. "Did you hear anything about your papa?"

My chest tightened up, and my lungs seized. I didn't want to think about Papa, not yet. My eyes blurred, and I blinked back the tears.

He's still alive. He must be.

"I don't know," I said. "I haven't heard anything yet. I... I'd rather not talk about it."

"OK," Amina said. "I understand." She threw her arms around me. "I'm here whenever you want to talk."

Timothy lifted his head for a moment and stared at me. He started to reach out for a hug, paused, and then offered a hand. I grabbed his hand and pulled him in for a hug, too. His eyes opened wide with surprise, but he put his arms around me and patted my back.

"I hope they find him, Sadira," he whispered. He pulled away for a moment, and then stared at my locket.

"Do you like the necklace?" His olive cheeks turned red.

"I love it," I said. A wide, toothy grin spread across his face, making his brown eyes scrunch even smaller under his dark eyebrows.

"We've got to go," Amina said. "We'll stop by and visit you after school. Promise."

"Thanks." The clenching in my chest loosened, and I relaxed a bit. Everything will be fine. "See you."

I waved as Amina sprinted off toward school, but Timothy walked slowly, looking over his shoulder a couple of times. He smiled again, shoved his hands back in his pockets, and kept walking toward the school.

I turned and continued toward Dr. DeWitt's shop. The clusters of town homes thinned out as I walked out of the housing district and into the Ag district. Ahead, in neat rows beneath the gray concrete Wall that surrounded the outpost, were the greenhouses and a water filtration plant. The Wall sat protectively behind the buildings, jutting upwards at least ten meters.

Samalut was fairly small, yet somehow Dr. DeWitt managed to live in the most remote corner of it. I could see his shop, a dingy blue hovertech garage, up ahead, and his tiny apartment perched above the garage. Unlike most of the buildings in Samalut, the workshop didn't have the sheen of synthetic wood covering the exterior. He had opted to keep the place painted, but it peeled in patches, exposing the gray concrete beneath. The small windows were nearly opaque with a film of dust, oil, and smoke. Dr. DeWitt had never been big on cleaning.

He owned the hovertech repair shop and lived in the upstairs of the building. The garage bay was open, and as I neared the building I could see odd bits of metal stacked in unsteady towers, tools with no names, and bottles of mysterious chemicals. The whole shop looked like a wizard's den.

I slipped in through the garage bay and looked around. Onjali, one of Dr. DeWitt's assistants, was hard at work. I watched her hands, mesmerized. Everything drew me in, from the acrid smell of oil and metal and the hiss of welding torches, to the fireworks of sparks that exploded in the air. She was attaching a new reactor coil to a small cab. This one was a bright blue, instead of the standard black. I puzzled on the color for a moment, but then was sucked right back in to watching Onjali's work. My ancestors would've thought it was magic how man could make metal cars fly at will. Even though Papa and Dr. DeWitt had taught me the physics and chemistry behind hovertech, it was still magical to me as well.

Onjali finished the weld, put down her torch and lifted her visor. Her mouth twitched upwards into her quiet version of a smile. "Sadira, I assume you're looking for Dr. DeWitt?"

"Yes."

She wiped the sweat off of her forehead with a rag, leaving dark streaks on her pale skin. "He's in his office, last time I checked."

"Thanks!"

I carefully navigated the stacks of scrap metal and spare parts, edging ever closer to Dr. DeWitt's office. I knocked on the office door sharply three times, and it creaked open. Dr. DeWitt's white face peered around the edge. His hair was such a pale blond that it may as well have been gray, and his eyes were barely blue, the color of a rag left to fade in the sun. Since his skin was pale as well, he always looked as though someone had picked him up and wrung all of the color out of him.

Dr. DeWitt pulled the door open, knocking down a pile of inverters. They clunked and scattered on the floor, but Dr. DeWitt's kind eyes smiled, oblivious to the mess. "Sadira, I thought you might come by today. Come here. Let me give you a hug." I navigated the cluttered floor and walked up to Dr. DeWitt. He gave me a tight squeeze.

"Now, I won't ask you any silly questions about how you are feeling. I'm sure we're both miserable." I grinned in spite of myself. That was why I wanted to visit Dr. DeWitt. He understood me, understood that sometimes things don't have be said to be known. He knew I was sad. I knew he was, too. But we didn't have to talk about it.

"Thanks. I actually have a math problem that I need some help with." I pulled out my tablet and tapped the screen until my assignment popped up. He put on his reading glasses and peered down at the problem through narrowed eyes.

"Ah! Yes! Intriguing, Sadira. You know, you could try using the corollary of this theorem... here." He traced a few words on the tablet with his finger, adding notes to the problem. "Now try it out."

I read through his notes, and the answer was obvious. "Thanks! Papa gave me this problem a few days—" My voice stuck in my throat. He's alive. Alive, alive, alive.

Dr. DeWitt patted my shoulder. "You are quite welcome. Here, let's give you a distraction. You've had too much on your mind. Come look what I am working on."

"You mean besides the hovercab out front?"

His face reddened a moment. "We're trying out some, uh, special modifications on that one. A prototype, if you will. But there's something else I've been working on as well." He motioned for me to follow him. "Back this way. It's been quite the problem lately."

I walked farther in to Dr. DeWitt's long, narrow office. On his desk, atop stacks of receipts, bolts, and screws, sat a small metal box. He held it up for me to examine.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked. I shook my head. To my untrained eye, the box looked like every other scrap of metal in the shop.

"This is the radio transceiver for Central's hovercab systems. See, usually the routes are preset by Central and you give a voice command for your destination. But lately..." He frowned and whacked the box against the edge of the desk. "Damned things don't seem to be working. I've had over a dozen complaints from the Colonel's office about the cabs going off course. One even went over the Wall."

"Seriously?" A cab flying over the Wall seemed like something newsworthy, but I hadn't heard about it. The hovercabs had a height restrictor to prevent them from going more than a meter or so off the ground. The Wall stood at least ten meters high. "Was anyone hurt?"

"No," he said. "Fortunately, this particular cab lost control after the operator disembarked."

"Why isn't it working?"

"I'm probably not supposed to tell you this, but I'm not sure yet." Dr. DeWitt sighed. "At first I thought it was this blasted sandstorm interfering with signals, but we've never had this much trouble before. I do have one other theory. Here, open this." He lay down a small wooden box. The lid was carved with an intricate geometric pattern. I opened the box, and inside was a small milky white rock, no bigger than my index finger. I stared at him.

"It's a rock."

"Pick it up."

I lifted the rock out of the box. It was strangely warm and much heavier than it appeared. I held it up to my eye. It was translucent, and the surface was very smooth. I could barely see through the snow-white swirls in the rock. I went to lay it down in the box, but it began to make a low humming noise.

"Did you...?" I glanced at Dr. DeWitt.

He grinned. "The crystal is making that noise."

"Huh."

"'Huh' is right, my dear. The first time it happened, I thought I had struck the rock some way to make it resonate. But I've heard it start to hum in the box when I was nowhere near it. This was your father's pet project."

"Papa studied this? I never heard him talk about it at home."

Dr. DeWitt shrugged. "I think he didn't get very far with his research. He came by here after work for several weeks to do some extra studies. He had some cockamamie ideas about ancient oracles using crystals to talk to God."

I shook my head. "What?"

"It's practically heresy, isn't it? That's your father for you—the crazier the idea, the better."

I held the crystal to my ear. The humming sound grew louder, and I could feel the crystal begin to vibrate in my hand. I started to place it back in the box, but a voice came from the crystal.

Help.

I jumped. "Did you hear that?"

"Yes, yes I did." Dr. DeWitt look puzzled. "That hasn't happened before. Most unexpected. That sounded like a voice. Sadira, dear, I think I am going to be very busy for the rest of the day." He shooed me toward the door. "I'll see you later."

"I'll come by again tomorrow," I called.

He grunted, still staring at the crystal. Dr. DeWitt was like Papa in that way. If something captured his interest, the rest of the world disappeared. I let myself out of the shop.

The sun hung directly overhead, my shadow barely a dot on the sandy earth. It was nearly lunch time, and my stomach was starting to growl. I decided to go back to Mrs. Nagi's for food. She always had something delicious on hand. I trudged back to her house, my legs sore from the long trip to Dr. DeWitt's shop.

I turned the crystal over in my mind. Had it spoken? No, that was ridiculous. It had made a noise, though. How? I chewed on my cheek again, this time to focus my thoughts on the rock. Dr. DeWitt said Papa had been studying it. It must have been important, then. Papa must have notes. I made a mental note to check Papa's extra tablet at home when I got the chance.

I was so preoccupied with the crystal that I almost walked past the Nagis' home. All of the town homes looked the same, identical olive green units. If it weren't for the delicious aroma of garlic and lentils surrounding the house, I would've missed it. I nudged open the front door and peered inside. Mrs. Nagi was in the kitchen fixing a large pot of soup.

"Ah, Sadira! I'm glad you decided to drop by. Was Dr. DeWitt able to help you with your math?"

"Yes, he explained it to me."

"Of course he did," she said. "Did you hear anything about our cabs? Miquel told me they'd been having problems at Central with some of them."

"Dr. DeWitt said he was still working on them. He thought maybe the sandstorm had been interrupting the signals."

"Hmm. It's not been a problem before, though, has it?" She held a bowl out for me. "Are you ready to eat?"

"Of course." She filled my bowl with soup and topped it with a dollop of plain yogurt. I sat down at the dining room table and started to dig in.

Mrs. Nagi started to sit beside me, but jumped up. "Oh, I need to show you the new fabric I bought this morning. It's very beautiful. Just a moment, it's in my room." She wandered off and came back with several yards of rich green cloth. She let the fabric unfurl and draped it around her shoulders.

"What do you think? It is gorgeous, right?" She twirled a few times, the cloth spinning around her. "I already have a pattern picked out for this fabric. Perhaps we can make you a new dress, too? Yours is getting to be a bit too short."

I kept slurping on my soup. Hovertech was much more interesting than fabric. So were mysterious crystals that made noises. I knew I needed a new dress, but I didn't much care for the idea of making one. "Maybe I'll buy one."

Mrs. Nagi looked horrified. "Buy one? Why would you do that? No, next time I go shopping I will pick out some more fabric for you, and we will make you something new. Maybe a dark blue?" She looked at my face for a moment. "But blue makes your eyes look so yellow."

"That's my eye color." Papa always told me they were the same as my mother's eyes, honey-brown. Sometimes I caught myself staring at my eyes in the mirror, wondering what it would be like to have Mama staring back at me.

"Tut. Perhaps we'll get something red or brown for you." She folded the fabric neatly and placed it on the side table. She grabbed herself a bowl of soup and finally took a seat beside me at the table.

There was a knock at the door. Mrs. Nagi frowned. "Who would be coming over at lunch?" She walked to the door. It was a young man in a khaki Central uniform. He was tall, imposing, and solemn. A blue name tag, labeled Private Haddad, adorned the pocket of his shirt. He pulled off his beret.

"Is Sadira Pascal here?"

"Yes," I answered, my pulse rising. Why would a Central soldier show up at the door for me? Was it about Papa?

"I've received orders to bring you with me. Colonel Marwasi wants to speak with you." The Colonel? What would he have to say to me? My stomach did back flips, and my palms sweat. There was no need for the Colonel, the head of our outpost, to talk to a kid like me. Official notices were always sent as a blip via earpiece.

"I should go with you..." Mrs. Nagi began, but Private Haddad waved his hand, cutting her off.

"Not necessary. I'll bring her back within the hour."

She lowered her eyes. "Of course."

"She'll be fine, ma'am. Miss Pascal, this way." I followed him outside, where his cab was waiting. He pressed his finger to the ID pad, and the top of the cab slid back. "Hop in."

I climbed into the backseat of the cab and fastened the shoulder harness. The soldier jumped into the front seat and pressed another button. The clear dome covering the cab clasped shut overhead. In a moment we were off, floating above the ground and racing along the streets to the Central office.

I hadn't been in a cab before. Central restricted their use to official military purposes only. Some of the more skiff kids, like Amina, had hoverscooters, but most people walked everywhere. The sandy ground sat less than a meter below us, and the buildings of downtown Samalut rushed past, blurring together in a brown-green smudge. My stomach had an odd sinking feeling, like I'd jumped out of a tree. We stopped abruptly in front of the Central office, a few minutes after we had taken off. Walking took at least fifteen minutes.

Private Haddad tapped on the dash, and the dome over head opened with a whoosh. He stepped out of the cab, offering me his hand and a smile. "Here, Sadira."

I ignored his hand. I was perfectly capable of getting out of the cab on my own. I jumped out from the backseat and followed the soldier to the entrance of the Central office. It was the tallest building in Samalut, like a giant staring down at the town. Unlike the rest of the olive green buildings in the outpost, the walls of the Central office were bright red, broken up by vast swaths of mirrored windows. I had only been in the Central office a few times before. Even though Papa went to work there every day, the security guards rarely let me inside. They stared with hard eyes as Private Haddad walked me through the front doors.

The soldier led me down a maze of hallways to a clear lift. I almost stumbled when it went up. Riding in a cab was one thing, but the lift was completely unsettling. As we zoomed upwards, I could see the ground below us fade from view.

Private Haddad grabbed my arm. "Steady. This thing always throws me a bit off balance."

The lift paused, and we stepped off. We were on the top floor of the Central office in a small lobby, and there was only one door. Private Haddad knocked, and another soldier in an identical Central khaki uniform opened it.

"Colonel Marwasi asked to speak with Miss Pascal," Private Haddad said.

The soldier bowed his head and motioned for me to go in. Private Haddad started to follow behind me, but the guard at the Colonel's door stopped him.

I stepped through the door, and the guard shut it firmly behind me. The entire upper floor appeared to be dedicated to the Colonel's office. One wall was painted white and completely unadorned, so I assumed it was some sort of view-screen. The other walls were lined with shelves of memorabilia, maps, and small sculptures of animals I had only heard of. Swords with gold and ivory handles hung on the walls, and a thick, rich rug covered the floor. A huge metal desk sat solemnly at the far end of the room, and behind it, in a large leather wingback chair, sat the Colonel. His hair was graying at the temples, and his eyebrows were already stained silver. His face was all angles—a long, protruding nose, broad cheekbones, and a sharp jawline.

He inspected me. "Sadira Pascal." It wasn't a question. I could feel dark eyes, hidden beneath bushy gray brows, studying me.

"Yes, sir."

"You must take after your mother. You don't look much like Henri," he said bluntly.

"That's what I've been told, sir."

"Sit." He motioned with his hand to a small metal chair beside the desk. I sat down immediately, but wished I hadn't. The chair was uncomfortably low to the ground, so I had to swing my legs to the side. The Colonel's chair was raised, a throne on a dais, dwarfing me. I had to crane my neck from my where I sat to meet his eyes.

"I wanted to speak to you about your father. Yesterday..."

"What happened?"

"Do not interrupt me." He glared at me, tightening his jaw.

I gulped. "Yes, sir."

"Yesterday, it appears there was some malfunction with the transceiver on the ship, which caused it to crash. Our engineers had redesigned the whole nav system, and our testing had not been thorough enough. I am sorry, Miss Pascal."

"Does that mean...?"

"Yes, Ms. Pascal, your father is dead."

I bit my cheek to choke back the tears. My fears had been confirmed, but I could not be weak now. Papa would have expected more from me. Crying doesn't solve problems, he said. It might not solve problems, but the tears were there, waiting to burst forth.

"When will I be able to bury his body?" I asked weakly.

"Due to the nature of the incident, we will not be able to release the bodies to the families."

"How can we have a funeral without a body?" I screeched, bursting the dam of tears welling up in my eyes. I sobbed, gulping for air.

"Do not interrupt me," the Colonel said, coldly. "And stop crying."

I dried my watery eyes on the sleeve of my dress and tried to calm myself for a moment more.

"Since you are a minor, we'll need to make arrangements for your care," he continued in his indifferent way.

"My neighbor, she will—"

"Yes. The Nagis already spoke to my office about it." He stood up. "I am sorry. Your father was a good man." The Colonel sounded sincere, but the quick moment of kindness faded. A simple apology was all I got for my father's death.

He cleared his throat. "You may go now."

He was throwing me out of his office? I couldn't stand it, and all of the feeling pent up in my heart exploded. "But I can't say goodbye to Papa! I can't see anything of him ever again!"

The Colonel motioned for the guard at the door. The soldier grabbed me by the arm and pushed me out the door, shutting it securely behind me. I slumped to the floor and hid my face in the hands. It was bad enough to lose Papa, but to not give his body the respect it deserved, to not be able to say my goodbyes and place him properly in the ground was too much.

"How are you feeling?" asked Private Haddad.

"I'm fantastic," I replied between sobs. "Never better."

"What did the Colonel tell you?"

"Nothing that matters to you," I snapped.

"Look." He crouched down next to me. "I volunteered to bring you here today. Do you know why?"

I raised my head a tiny bit and stared at him. This was usually the sort of task people pawned off on someone else. For the first time, I actually studied Private Haddad's face. He wasn't handsome—his nose was too big, his eyes too small—but the sincerity I saw there made the mismatched pieces fit together. "No," I whispered. "Why?"

"Because my brother was on that hovership with your father."

"I'm so sorry." I dried my eyes. "I didn't mean—"

"It's fine. Here, let me help you up." He gave me his hand, warm and rough, and pulled me to my feet in one easy motion. "Here's a handkerchief so you don't keep smudging your dress."

I laughed for a moment, a gurgling noise that mixed with my tears. My dress was the least of my worries. The sleeves were already covered in streaks from where I had wiped my face. I took his handkerchief anyway and dried my face.

"Thank you, Private Haddad."

"You can call me Baruj. Here, let's get you back to your house." We walked out of the Central office and hopped into his cab.

Instead of heading directly back to Mrs. Nagi's home, he went a bit off course. He veered off toward the Ag sector, rushing past the blocks of identical homes. I could see the rows of greenhouses in the distance. He pulled the cab up to a cluster of trees, and the cab's reactor coils' whining slowed, then silenced.

"Where are we headed?"

Baruj pointed to the small microphones on the dash of the cab and put his finger to his lips. "I wanted to give you a moment to calm down and collect yourself before I took you back." He removed his name tag from his uniform and opened the top of the cab. He reached behind his chair and pulled my earpiece from my ear, before hopping out. "Come get some fresh air, Miss Pascal."

I stepped out of the cab and looked around. We were next to a grove of scruffy palm trees, the only green in this sandy field. The greenhouses sat a ways off, white tented structures springing from the ground. Behind that, the ever-present Wall stood, cold and quiet. The closest home or business was nearly two kilometers away. I could hear the hum of traffic from downtown Samalut, but it was muted here, a gentle buzz floating on the breeze. The silence was unsettling, seeming to swallow the very Earth.

"This way." Baruj stepped under the cluster of palms trees and sat down.

"Why are we here?" I asked, sitting down beside him.

"Because this is one of the only places in Samalut that isn't wired."

"Wired?"

"Central's always listening to us."

"That's ridiculous."

He shook his head. "It's not that ridiculous. Name tags have tracker and a mike in them. So do earpieces."

"Earpieces are tracked?" This soldier seemed a bit on the crazy side. There was no reason for us to be listened to or tracked. Central didn't have a need for that.

One of Baruj's eyebrows shot up. "Of course. That's why everyone on base is issued an earpiece, even the civilians. Didn't you ever wonder about that? But I wanted to speak to you in private."

"About the crash?" My stomach tightened.

"Yes. Right after it happened, I ran in to the Central office to try to get to the flight control. I wanted to see... I assumed they were all dead, but I had to be sure." The words tumbled out, scared and confused. He stared at the sky for a moment, silent, then let out a deep breath.

His next words were calmer. "As I'm sure you know, flight control is restricted, even to soldiers like me. You need some sort of special clearance to get in there. Yesterday everyone was in such a panic that I was able to slip in. When I stepped in to the office, the view-screen showed the inside of the cockpit. And—Sadira, they were all alive. Your father was shouting at somebody in control to get help. Ben was hurt pretty badly. And then the light came."

"The light wasn't from the crash?"

"No. But the light filled the view-screen. It was so bright they had to shut it off for a moment. When they pulled the screen back up, your father, Ben, and Naeem had all vanished."

I sputtered. "What! The Colonel said—"

"I know. One of the flight control engineers spotted me, and I ran out before they could catch me. This morning, the Colonel called me in to his office to inform me that Naeem was dead. I asked for his body for burial—"

"I asked for Papa, too!"

"What did the Colonel say?"

"He said that they couldn't release the bodies."

"I think it's because there are no bodies for them to release," Baruj said.

"Why would the Colonel lie to us?"

"Why wouldn't he? He can't say that a bunch of people vanished, that Central can't keep track of their own soldiers. Saying they're dead is easier."

"I don't understand why." I wanted to believe Baruj, wanted to believe Papa was alive, but I couldn't, especially not with all of the other nonsense he was saying. If the Colonel said Papa was dead, he was.

"Look, Sadira, I know what I saw yesterday. Your father and my brother were still alive, then poof!" He mimed an explosion with his hands. "I'm going to go find him. Naeem, I mean."

"How? You're not allowed a travel pass."

Baruj jutted out his chin. "I wasn't planning to ask for permission. Naeem would come for me no matter what. Wouldn't your Papa come for you? I'll find them all and bring them back home."

Now he was being ridiculous. "Do you have your own personal hovership? How are you going to get over the Wall? You don't even know what is outside of Samalut. And you don't know where the ship is. And, even if they were alive, they might be dead by now."

"That's why I came to you. I need help. I've heard that you have your father's smarts. I also heard that you might have a personal radio."

"Who told you that?" I practically shouted.

"Can't say who."

I stiffened. "Personal radios aren't allowed. Only Central has radios. Those can get you excluded." If you were excluded, you were thrown out into the badlands and erased from the Central databases. No other outpost would take you in. It was basically a death sentence.

Baruj leaned closer to me, his face centimeters from mine. His small dark eyes studied mine. "Someone told me that the Pascals might be an exception. Is it true?"

Papa was many things—an eccentric genius, a work addict, a hermit. He would never break the law. I knew that for a fact. Papa was not a criminal. "I'm ready to go home now." I stood up, wiping the sand from my dress and smoothing out the hem.

"Sadira," pleaded Baruj.

I avoided his gaze as I walked to the cab and buckled up. Why would he even suggest I have a radio? Do I look like a crook? And Papa? My face and ears burned, and the ball of anger in my throat threatened to choke me. How dare he? Papa was a good man. The Colonel had said so himself.

I slipped my earpiece back into my ear. Baruj is crazy. Yes, that was it. Grief made people do crazy things. He was insisting that the Colonel was a liar, that our earpieces were tracked by Central, that Papa was a bad person. Even though I knew his ideas were wild, the accusation stung, and the words burrowed under my skin.

Baruj climbed into the cab a few moments later. He slumped onto the front seat, put his name tag back on, and punched in instructions for the Nagis' house.

When we pulled up in front of the house, I jumped out immediately and didn't look back. I ran inside, slamming the front door behind me.

Mrs. Nagi stepped in to the living room. "What did the Colonel want to talk to you about?"

"Papa. He said Papa is dead." My voice broke on the last word, on the idea of Papa being gone, gone away forever. I didn't want it to be true.

"Oh, Sadira," said Mrs. Nagi softly. "Come here, come here." She circled her arms around me, holding me tight. "I'm so sorry." Her warm voice and hug melted me once again, and the tears began to flow. I finally dried my eyes and pulled away.

"Let me set up our guest room for you, Sadira. Grab your clothes from your house. I'll clear out the closets."

This time, I didn't object.

.

I pushed open the front door of my house. It swung silently on its hinges. The house was pitch black and cool, like a mausoleum.

"Lights." The dim overhead lights flicked on and seemed to spotlight all of the empty spaces in the house. The usually bare living room now seemed downright stark.

Papa was gone.

I could smell stale coffee on the air mixed with the sim-tobacco Papa smoked when he was nervous. His gray coat hung by the door. His brown house shoes were thrown in the middle of the floor. I choked. How could Papa not be here? His things were here. His scent was here. I could almost see him pacing in the living room, tapping notes on his tablet, talking out whatever problems he was having in his designs.

I fell to the floor, sobbing. It wasn't right. It wasn't true, but Papa's absence was staring me in the face. I grabbed my locket and flipped it on. It projected a holograph of Papa on the floor. I could pretend he was here with me for a little while. He was so real, so near, but I knew that the holograph was only a projection that would disappear when I tapped my locket again.

I could hear Papa chastising me. Crying doesn't solve problems. It didn't, but it was a relief to let the tears flow. After a few minutes, I shut off my locket, stood up, and dried my face. My feet carried me to the kitchen. Tea would be good. Yes, that would help. I put my mug under the dispenser, and it quickly filled with steaming chamomile tea.

I stood for a moment, breathing in the scent of herbs and honey. I would be fine. I would be good. I took a few deep breaths. Papa was still here, in some way. He was with me, within me. I would be fine. A knock at the front door shook me loose of my thoughts.

"Who is it?" I called, walking toward the entrance.

"It's me," said Amina. She edged in the door, and Timothy followed behind her. "We wanted to drop by and see how you were doing."

I smiled, but the smile began to crack the pieces that were holding me back from crying. I pressed my lips together and took a sip of tea.

"I think I'm fine. For right now, at least."

We stood in silence for a few minutes. Amina cleared her throat. "So, you're staying with the Nagis?"

"Yes. I came over to pack up some of my things."

"Oh," Amina said. It was silent again, and the quiet was cold, thick, and uncomfortable.

"Would you guys like something to drink? Water, tea, milk...?"

"I'm fine," Amina said.

"Me, too," Timothy quickly added.

"We can sit, if you'd like." I pulled up an extra chair to the dining room table, and the three of us sat.

"It is true, then?" asked Amina. "About your father?"

"Yes. Colonel Marwasi told me himself." I meant to sound firm and steady, but my voice came out a creaky whisper.

"I can't believe it," Timothy said. "I mean, Mr. Pascal, and the ship, and..." his voice trailed off. "Sorry. I didn't mean to upset you, or bring up anything—" Timothy clamped his mouth shut and turned his head away from me, his dark brown hair flopping over his eyes.

"Ms. Ahmad asked us to give you the lecture notes and the homework," Amina said. "Hand me your tablet." I stood and grabbed my tablet from my knapsack. She quickly tapped a few keys. "I'm sending you my notes. We missed you in class today." Amina gave me a half grin. On her usually bright face, it might as well have been a frown. I forced myself to look cheered.

"Thanks for the notes. I should be back in class next week."

"Oh, good!" Amina walked over to my seat and gave me a peck on the cheek. "Give me a call if you want to talk. I mean it."

"You know I will."

"Good. I have to head back. My mom wants me home for a family dinner." She rolled her eyes. "Let's see if my sister bothers to make it. I'll come by again tomorrow with more class notes, OK?" She waved. "Bye, Timothy. See you, Sadira."

I walked her to the front door. "Bye. Thanks for coming over." I shut the door and headed back to the dining room.

Timothy fidgeted in his chair and tapped his knee against the table. "Could I still bother you for a drink?"

"Of course. What would you like?"

"Chocolate milk."

I let out a low laugh. "I should've guessed." I grabbed a mug and punched his request into the dispenser. Timothy followed me into the kitchen, grabbed the mug, and downed it in one chug. I stared. I never understood how boys could do that.

"Were you thirsty?"

His eyes widened, and he blushed once more. He hunched his broad shoulders inward, making him seem much smaller. "No. I mean, yes, but not that thirsty. I was nervous." His brown eyes darted back and forth between me and the floor.

"Why be nervous?"

"I want to say the right thing, but I don't know what the right thing is. I can't say anything or do anything to help, and I hate it. You know?"

I nodded. I knew what he meant. That helpless feeling had been plaguing me all day.

"And, the other thing," he continued, "I—it's—" He inhaled and let out a big sigh. He stared at me, and for the first time, I noticed his brown eyes had little flecks of green. I realized he was standing close, much too close, and then he pressed his lips against my cheek.

I jumped back. Did he just kiss me? The tingles running down my spine told me he had. I shook my head. Timothy? We had been friends since I first moved to Samalut, but the last year had been different. I finally understood why.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I think I need to go, too."

I grabbed his arm. "Wait." He stared at me expectantly. "I'm not mad. I'm not ready for that, though."

He looked away. "Yeah. It was a stupid idea."

I shrugged. "Don't worry about it."

Timothy looked disappointed for a moment, but then plastered on a small grin. Now he looked more like the friend I had known for years. "I'll just forget it, then."

I wasn't sure if I wanted him to forget it, but I didn't want to think about things like that right now.

"Can I tell you something?" I asked. "Something weird that happened today?"

"Sure. Tell me anything." Timothy leaned against the wall, his legs splayed out in front of him.

"When Colonel Marwasi told me—you know, about Papa—one of the soldiers tried to talk to me afterward. He said everyone survived the crash. He said Papa was still alive."

Timothy's eyes went wide with surprise. "Alive? But didn't the Colonel tell you your father was dead?"

"Yes, he did."

He crossed his arms over his chest and chewed his lower lip, thinking. "So the Colonel lied?"

"That's what the soldier thought."

Timothy paused for a moment, thinking. "Why would the Colonel lie? His whole job is to serve the outpost."

"I don't know. What if my Papa is still alive?"

He frowned. "If your Papa's out there, I'm sure you'll find him somehow." He twisted his mouth, thinking for a moment. "Do you want to hear something weird, too?"

"Sure."

"Last night I heard my parents up late talking about their work. I'm sure they thought I was already asleep, but I couldn't sleep because of—" He looked at his feet for a moment. "Anyway, they were talking about their research and said something about our pills."

"Our daily pills?"

He nodded. "They said that one of the immunizations in there isn't working, and they have to fix it immediately. They both sounded worried about it."

"I thought the pills protected us against all viruses."

"I thought so, too, but since when do adults tell us everything? It was odd. I was going to ask them about it this morning, but I thought they might get angry if they knew I had been eavesdropping." He cleared his throat. "I better run. I told my mom I'd be home by six." He turned and walked toward the door.

"Timothy?"

He stopped and turned back toward me. "Hmm?"

"I'm honestly not mad, you know."

He gave a small smile. "I know."

"Bye."

"Bye."

He stood in the doorway and stared at me for a long moment before finally letting himself out.

I walked back to the kitchen and sipped on my tea. A warm feeling filled my chest.

Timothy?

I hadn't imagined it before. I pushed the thought from my head. I could think about those things later. The warm feeling quickly faded, and I was left with a cold house, with cold walls, and a cold mug of tea in my hands. I had to pack. I had to empty an already empty home, pull out the last remnants of Papa and me.

I grabbed my clothes and walked in to Papa's room. I thought about all the times over the years I had tiptoed in there in the middle of the night, if a storm or a bad dream had woken me. When I was little, he would tell me stories of the old days before hovertech, stories of the ancient flying machines that tore through the clouds. He wasn't there now, just a dark room and an empty bed.

His tablet lay on a small table next to his bed, linked to his main computer in his office. I knew he kept all of his notes on there. Maybe there was something, no matter how small, that could let me know if he was still alive. I threw the tablet on top of my pile of dresses and scarves and headed downstairs. I edged carefully toward the front door, balancing the stacks of clothes in my arms.

"Off." The overhead lights dimmed to nothing. The house was a pit, a cave, a well of darkness. It was no longer a home.

I stayed with the Nagis that night. The bed was too big and lumpy in all the wrong spots; the stucco on the walls swirled in unfamiliar patterns; the sheets felt too thick and scratchy. I couldn't help but think about Papa, about whether Baruj had told me the truth.

Maybe he is still alive.

Maybe the Colonel lied.

I pushed the thought from my mind. Even if Papa survived the crash, he couldn't survive long in the badlands. They said it was over 35 Celsius there, and only outposts had water. If that wasn't enough, Timothy once said his papa told him that the badlands were filled with old radioactive material.

"It makes your skin melt right off," he'd told me with glee.

I cringed at the thought of Papa's skin melting off, but either way, there was no use in trying to leave the outpost to find him. The Colonel had said Papa was dead. If he hadn't died immediately, he was as good as dead now. I tossed and turned fitfully, waiting for sleep to come.

.

Mrs. Nagi woke me in the morning.

"Sadira." She gently shook my shoulder. "Time to get up. I have breakfast for you."

I didn't remember falling asleep, but I couldn't have rested more than a few hours. I still felt exhausted, and my eyes were numb with fatigue.

"Thanks, Mrs. Nagi," I mumbled. "I'll be up in a minute."

I went to the bathroom to wash some of the sleep from my face. My hair was matted, and deep circles hung beneath my eyes. I splashed some cold water on my face like Papa used to when he first woke up. Nothing like cold water to get the blood moving, he used to say. Instead of just feeling tired, I now felt cold, wet, and tired.

Papa got things wrong sometimes.

I toweled off my face, combed my hair, and headed toward the kitchen.

"Here," said Mrs. Nagi. "Have some eggs. There's some sim-milk for you as well. Oh, and don't forget your pill." I put the yellow pill on my tongue. This morning, the pill had a bitter flavor to it. I thought about Timothy's story last night. Did it even do anything to help? I threw my head back and swallowed, but the tiny pill stuck in my throat. I took a big gulp of the sim-milk to wash it down.

I wasn't particularly hungry. I chased my eggs around the plate with a fork and took a few nibbles to be polite. Mrs. Nagi kept flitting between the kitchen and dining room, cleaning up pans and grabbing tea.

Her earpiece rang. "This is Mrs. Nagi. Yes, she's here. We're having breakfast. Oh, yes, I'll let her know." She flicked off her earphone and turned to me.

"Dr. DeWitt called for you. He said that if you're free, he'd like for you to go by his shop this morning."

I pushed the eggs around and took another tiny bite. "I'll head over there in a minute. Did he say what he needed me for?"

She shook her head. "No, but he did ask you to bring him some real coffee and bread. Just like him. I think he only remembers to eat when he passes out from hunger, and I'm sure he's never cooked in his life." She tutted, but good-naturedly, and started humming as she fixed a pot of coffee on the stove. She grabbed a bag and put in some flat bread and a container of butter. Then she poured fresh, steaming coffee into a large thermos. I washed down my eggs with the last bit of my sim-milk.

"Here." She handed me the bag and thermos. "I packed enough for both of you to eat, in case you get hungry later. Don't forget your hat. It's so bright outside today." She pulled my hat off the rack at the door and handed it to me. "There you are. You have your earpiece? Good. Call me if you'll be gone very long."

"Yes, Mrs. Nagi." She kissed my cheeks and scooted me out the door. It was a comfort having Mrs. Nagi fuss after me, check after me. Papa always expected me to be organized and independent, but I liked being coddled sometimes. Mrs. Nagi was so motherly. She couldn't help it.

Today I was in no particular hurry to get to Dr. DeWitt's shop, so I decided to take the scenic route. The Nagis' home and my house stood on the far east end of the Samalut outpost, with the large concrete Wall looming in the background. Dr. DeWitt's shop stood on the south end. It would be faster to follow the Wall and walk the perimeter, but I decided to stroll toward the center of town, heading off the lazy streets lined with small, blocky townhouses, and into the bustling roads of downtown. I sniffed the air. Even though I had eaten my breakfast, the scent of warm bread and pastries drifted from Faheed's bakery, making my mouth water. Mr. Scari was setting out fresh produce from the greenhouse, lifting boxes filled with every color—green lettuce, rich red-orange tomatoes, purple eggplants. I only paused in front of my favorite store, Mrs. Kilone's sweets shop. Papa and I used to go there every week and pick out one of the rich, creamy deserts from the stacks of cakes and chocolates. He always grabbed the baklava, and his thick hands would be covered with sticky honey. I usually grabbed chocolates. We'd walk around downtown, nibble on our treats, and talk.

Everything in me ached. Seeing the sweets shop, seeing the path Papa and I had walked down—it ripped the air from my lungs. Everyone walked about like nothing had happened, but my world had collapsed. I wanted to believe Papa was alive. I needed to have Papa alive, but everything Baruj had told me sounded too incredible to be true. Papa hadn't been hiding radios. People didn't vanish into blinding light.

I turned from the sweets shop and headed back toward Dr. DeWitt's office. Papa wasn't here to share baklava with me. Papa wasn't here to take my hand or pat my head. Papa wasn't here to escort me through town. Papa wasn't here, and I just had to get used to it.

I walked past the Central offices and over to the south side of the outpost, toward the greenhouses and Dr. DeWitt's shop. The buildings thinned out, and instead of hard packed dirt dominating the landscape, there were small trees and scraggly bushes popping up here and there.

As usual, the garage bays in Dr. DeWitt's shop stood wide open, and he was nowhere to be seen. A half-finished hovercab filled one bay of the garage, and the rest of the room was filled with the usual jumble of parts and scraps, organized in no particular order. I stumbled over to his office, sliding behind stacks of spare parts, and knocked three times on the door. Instead of Dr. DeWitt's wild white-blond hair popping up, Baruj opened the office door. A broad grin stretched across his face, making his already small, dark eyes seem even smaller. He was in civilian clothes today, a completely skiff white and neon jumpsuit with a gray vest. Instead of having his hair neatly parted like the other Central soldiers, it spiked into a short mohawk.

"There you are, Sadira," he said. "I wondered if we'd have to send out a search party."

"I didn't realize I was on a schedule," I said stiffly. "What are you doing here?"

"Helping." He leaned against the doorway, looking smug.

"With what?"

"You'll see."

"Where is Dr. DeWitt?" I tried to peer around Baruj, but he shifted his weight slightly, blocking my view.

"Where do you think? Hiding in his office." Baruj eyed the bag in my hand. "Is that bread in there?"

I clutched the bag tightly to my chest. "It's not for you. Now move." I pushed past Baruj and walked into the office. Dr. DeWitt was sitting on the floor, stooped over a nest of wires that draped over his legs. I cleared my throat.

"Ah, Sadira!" he said. "I'm glad you're finally here. Do you have coffee?"

I handed him the thermos, which was still warm. He inhaled deeply. "Mmmm, nothing like some real hot coffee to get the brain going again. I'm tired of that sim garbage the dispenser feeds me. No caffeine." He sipped the coffee for a moment, and his eyes opened wide. "Oh, Sadira dear, give the bread to Baruj. I'm sure he's starving."

I clutched the bag so tightly my knuckles turned white. Baruj tapped my shoulder, and I reluctantly handed the bag to him.

He opened it. "Oh, there's butter in here, too! Mrs. Nagi's a treat." Baruj sat cross-legged on the floor and began spreading thick clumps of butter on the warm bread. "That's delicious," he said between mouthfuls. "I haven't eaten since last night."

I clenched and unclenched my fists rhythmically. "Dr. DeWitt, why is he here?"

Baruj answered in between mouthfuls. "Since you said you didn't have a radio, Dr. DeWitt was the next person I could think of who might have one."

"Of course I don't have a radio. My papa was not a criminal, and neither am I." I glared at Baruj, but he winked at me. I resisted the urge to slap him.

"Anyway, I have dozens of radios!" laughed Dr. DeWitt. "They don't work very well. No range. Central's compromise with me."

"So we tried to get one of them working properly." Baruj wiped his mouth with his shirtsleeve, then brushed the crumbs off his lap. "Then, early this morning that crystal started making noise again."

"What kind of a noise?" I asked.

"Well," said Dr. DeWitt, "at first it was that same humming noise that you heard earlier. Then—"

"It started talking!" Baruj said. "Like really talking!" His face lit up with excitement.

"It was a standard distress message. Here, I recorded it earlier." Dr. DeWitt pressed a button on one of the speakers, and the message began.

"MAYDAY, MAYDAY, MAYDAY, this is the Bright Star, Bright Star, Bright Star. MAYDAY, Bright Star. Position 31 5 North 29 59 East. We have 3 on board. We have lost control of our ship. Altitude is 20K and falling fast. MAYDAY Bright Star, OVER."

The message repeated once more and then crackled out. I sat quietly, thinking about the transmission. Was this the last thing the crew had said?

Dr. DeWitt broke the silence. "I know that's not your Papa's voice, Sadira, and Baruj has assured me it's not his brother's, so it must be... uh—"

"Ben, Ben Nassihr," Baruj said. "He was the copilot. Naeem was the pilot."

"Have you heard anything else?" I asked.

Baruj chewed on another piece of bread. "Nothing since about twenty hundred last night."

"I've been trying to see if I can stimulate the crystal somehow to receive a transmission. That's what this bunch is for." Dr. DeWitt gestured to the wires. "I've tried various electrical pulses, and I've tried vibrating the crystal at various frequencies. We've had no luck yet. Here." He handed the crystal to me. "Let's see if you have the magic touch."

The crystal felt warm in my hand. I turned it over a few times. It was smooth and glossy, and heavy in my hand. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. What had I done when the crystal started humming before? I remembered looking at the coloration of the crystal, of the orbs and swirls of white within, and seeing its odd glow.

I opened my eyes and held the crystal up to the light, turning it this way and that. The waves of white were mesmerizing. I stared deeper and deeper into the stone, hypnotized. It began to hum. A voice came from within.

Sadira.

I jumped and set the crystal down on the table.

"Of course!" Dr. DeWitt jumped to his feet. "There must be some type of photoreceptor in the crystal. Each time its started humming, someone first held it up to a light!" He began to rummage through his equipment. "Let's see... lasers, frequency adjusters, amplifiers, oh yes." He tossed armfuls of metal boxes and wires on his workshop counter. "If you two young ones will excuse me, I have some work to do." He hummed to himself, arranging equipment and plugging in boxes to the solar chargers.

I slipped out of Dr. DeWitt's office. When a thought gripped him, Dr. DeWitt wouldn't have heard a pack of hyenas at the door. I could stand next to him for the next hour and he probably wouldn't notice. I decided to head back to Mrs. Nagi's, but Baruj was walking a half-step behind me. I whirled around.

"Are you following me?"

"No. Well, sort of. I wanted to talk to you again." He looked eager, earnest, his eyes wide and hopeful. But I wasn't fooled.

"You mean insult me again, right?"

"I didn't mean to insult you, Sadira."

"But you did."

"I'm sorry." I studied his face again for a moment. Without the Central khakis and beret, Baruj looked much younger than I had guessed yesterday. He couldn't have been more than eighteen or nineteen, and as I stared at him now, I could see he was as scared and worried as I was. Maybe he was sincere. God, give me the strength to forgive, I prayed.

"If I talk to you for a minute, will you leave me alone?"

"Of course," he said.

"Talk away."

"You heard the distress signal. That wasn't the prerecorded version."

"But that was made before they hit the ground. They may not have survived the crash."

"They did survive the crash." Baruj jutted his chin defiantly. "I saw them."

"I didn't."

He swallowed. "Well, what about the noise the crystal made? Didn't you hear something else besides the hum?"

"What do you mean?"

"You jumped a bit back there, and your face turned white as a sheet. I thought I heard it say something again."

"What did you hear?" I pressed.

"I thought it said your name."

I gulped. "I thought so, too." I had nearly written off hearing my name. I might have imagined it. But if Baruj had heard it, too? Maybe someone was trying to call me.

"Why would it do that?"

"I wish I knew. Are we done here? I have to get back home." I began walking, this time taking the direct route to Mrs. Nagi's house. Baruj jogged to keep up with me.

"Wait, wait. I have another question for you." He grabbed my shoulder to slow me down, but I brushed off his hand.

"Why should I talk to you? You think my papa has a personal radio. You say he's a criminal." Baruj pulled the earpiece from my ear and threw it as far as he could.

"What did you do that for?"

"I already told you. Central tracks those things."

"You can't honestly believe every earpiece is tracked."

"I know they're tracked. And I don't think your Papa is a bad person."

"Oh really?"

Baruj frowned. "I don't think it should be criminal to own a radio."

I forced a laugh. "Central says they're bad."

"Did you ever hear why Central thought they were bad? Hmm?" He raised one eyebrow, challenging me. "Just because Central issues an official statement doesn't make it true." I never had heard an explanation for outlawing radios. It was a rule, and I always followed rules. I'd never thought to question it before.

Baruj reached for my shoulder again, and this time I stopped walking. "I thought that maybe you could help me find Naeem. Look, I'm not going to tell anyone if there is a radio at your house. I don't care what you do. I came to you first because I thought you might understand and want to help, and that you wouldn't tell anyone I was looking for my brother." He paused for a moment, looking over his shoulder. "You haven't told anyone about this, have you?"

"I told Timothy," I whispered.

Baruj began laughing. "That skinny boy that follows you around?" I could feel the heat rising in my face.

"That's not funny."

"Sorry," he said, gasping. "I didn't mean it to be rude. I think it's sweet. You can trust him, right?"

"I think so."

"Good." He leaned in closer, his usually smirking face now intense. "Don't tell anyone else, though. Not even Mrs. Nagi. I have the feeling that if someone else found out we'd be in a lot of trouble."

"What about Dr. DeWitt?"

Baruj smiled. "I'm not worried about him saying anything. He's not the type to pry, you know? I think he might even help us."

I nodded in agreement. "He and Papa were very close. Dr. DeWitt is my godfather, you know."

"That would explain a lot. It seems like you go over there pretty often."

"I do. He helps me with my homework."

Baruj stood silently for a moment and then sighed. "Look, I don't want to offend you, but I think there is a real chance that your Papa did have a radio." I pursed my lips. He was back to this already. No way had Papa hid something like that from me. A radio could get you excluded, and you'd never be allowed back into an outpost again. "I can help you look. I'm not going to judge you, and I'm not going to turn it in to Central. If we find anything, I promise I'll take it straight over to Dr. DeWitt."

"Do you swear?"

"I swear."

Maybe if Baruj saw my house, saw how empty it was and that there couldn't possibly be a radio, he'd let it go. But if there was a radio... impossible. I was sure of it. Papa would never break the law.

"Let me grab my earpiece," I said. "I need to check in with Mrs. Nagi or she'll worry." I walked over to where Baruj had thrown my earpiece, wiped the sand off on my dress, and flicked it on.

"How can I direct your message?" chimed the earpiece.

"Cora Nagi."

Mrs. Nagi's voice came up on the other end. "This is Mrs. Nagi."

"It's Sadira. I'm at Dr. DeWitt's shop still, and I think I'll be here for a while longer."

"Oh, that's fine. I have lunch here, if you're hungry later. Be good!"

"Yes, Mrs. Nagi." I flicked the earpiece off. "That buys us at least an hour to look around."

"Thanks." He held out his hand. "Earpiece."

"Are you serious?"

"Very."

I yanked the earpiece out and put it in his hand. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, swaddled the earpiece, and shoved it into his pocket. "You can't be too careful."

You could be too paranoid, though. A quick look through my house would prove that to him.

We trudged back to the housing sector. My pale skin was beginning to turn pink from the sun. I pulled my hat brim lower on my face, but I could already tell I would have sunburn tonight.

I led Baruj to the street behind my house. It would be hard to explain to Mrs. Nagi why I was wandering around on the street instead of at Dr. DeWitt's like I had told her, so I tried to be discreet. I had left the rear door unlocked last night, and now I nudged it gently open so it wouldn't squeak. I thanked God that Papa had never installed one of the new biotech locks on the doors. A $3,000 door doesn't work any better than a $300 door, Papa told me.

"The Nagi's house is right next door," I whispered. "She'll be able to hear us if we're too loud."

"Understood," Baruj whispered back. "Where should we start looking?"

I shrugged. I didn't think there was anything to find. "I guess Papa's bedroom. He used to hide my birthday presents up there." I led him upstairs to Papa's room, directly across the hall from mine. Baruj gently opened all of the dressers and boxes. I crept over to the closet and pushed aside the clothes. Papa's smell—sim-tobacco, wool, and burnt coffee—washed over me.

"Do you see anything?" asked Baruj.

"No."

"Where else should we try?"

"I don't know. I use every other room, so I think I would have noticed something already."

Baruj thought for a moment, and then his face broke out into a wide grin. "What if he hid something right under your nose? If I was trying to keep something from a smart, inquisitive girl like you, I'd put it in the last place you'd expect."

"My room." I gasped. I hated to admit it, but that was exactly the sort of thing Papa would do. He used to set up elaborate scavenger hunts for me as a child, and they inevitably led to a gift hidden in plain sight.

We walked across the hallway to my bedroom. Once again, we dug through the closet and the dresser drawers. I had already moved most of my clothes over to the Nagis', so my room was positively barren. All that was left was my bed, a nightstand, and a small dresser. I opened the last drawer and sighed.

"I don't see anything," I said.

"Are you a betting kind of person? I'm feeling lucky." He got down on his hands and knees and crawled under my bed. He motioned for me to look.

"What is it?"

He pointed to my mattress. "What's that lump in your bed?"

Now that Baruj pointed it out, there was an obvious bulge in the mattress near the head of the bed. I was shocked I hadn't noticed it before. No wonder my neck has been sore. I pushed on the bulge, and a small box fell to the ground. "You have to be kidding me."

"Right under your nose. I'll bet this is what we're looking for." We slid back out from under the bed, and he handed the box to me.

A small paper note was attached to the cube. A little pea for my princess, it said. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes.

"What does that mean?"

"It was a little joke between me and Papa." I pulled off the note and studied the handwriting, Papa's neat, orderly script—letters perfectly aligned, not a single smudge in sight. A horrible thought occurred to me. Papa knew something was going to happen. Why else leave a note tucked in my bed? It couldn't have been there very long. What had Papa done? I stuffed the note into the pocket of my dress and tried to contain myself. Crying doesn't solve problems.

I turned my attention back to the box. It was a dark green metal cube, about five centimeters long on each side, and it felt cool to the touch. It fit easily in the palm of my hand and appeared to be seamless. I had seen Papa use something like this before. Papa would stroke the side of the box, so I imitated the motion. The sudden lights appearing on the box made Baruj drop it.

"What was that?" he asked. A pink three-by-three grid lit up on the sides of the box, and the squares in each grid were filled in with different colors.

"A clue. It's a puzzle box. Papa used to hide gifts in these for me. You can reset the puzzle each time you put something else in the box. "

"So what's the clue?"

"I'm not sure yet." I bit the sore spot in my cheek, studying the box.

"You'll figure it out." I focused on the gleaming squares.

Baruj put his hand on my shoulder, and laid my earpiece on the ground by my feet. "I have to go check in at the barracks. I'll be at Dr. DeWitt's in the morning," he said. "If you can, bring some more of that bread."

I didn't hear when Baruj left. I was still staring at the box.

What's the clue, Papa? What's inside?

I tapped on the puzzle box for a few minutes, but couldn't make heads or tails of it. The colors shifted and danced, teasing me with their secret.

"I give up!" I sighed. I didn't really give up—Papa always said that Pascals never gave up—but no solution was coming forward. I tucked the puzzle into my dress pocket and ran my fingers through my hair.

Papa on a flight, even though he was usually in the lab with the other engineers. A crash. A disappearance. A puzzle hidden in my mattress.

It was too much to take in all at once.

My earpiece, still laying on the floor where Baruj had left it, began to buzz. I shoved it into my ear and flicked it on.

"This is Sadira."

Amina's voice bubbled though. "Sadira! Timothy and I are going to grab some ice cream and study. I'm buying."

They're out of school already? I must have been working on the puzzle box for hours.

"What time is it?"

"Almost sixteen hundred."

I sighed. I had lost track of time, and hoped Mrs. Nagi hadn't noticed. "What's the catch?"

"What catch?" scoffed Amina.

"To getting free ice cream?"

"I need your help with the math."

That sounded about right. Amina excelled in our languages class, but she couldn't tell a numerator from a denominator.

"Timothy and I will get you through the history, too. We covered a few more sections today."

Bleh. I was already behind on my reading. I had been so caught up with everything else I hadn't even bothered to look at the notes Amina had given me the night before.

"Sounds fine," I said. "Let me check in with Mrs. Nagi first."

"OK! We'll see you there in fifteen minutes, then."

I flicked my earpiece back off and sighed. History was at the very bottom of my list of priorities, but if I was ever planning to finish school, I would have to put in a little bit of effort.

I raised myself up off the floor and put the puzzle box in my dress pocket. I strode down the stairs, and slipped out the back door, taking the long way around behind the row of townhouses to Mrs. Nagi's. If she saw me coming straight from my house, I was sure there would be questions.

I walked up the stoop of the Nagis' house and opened the door. Mrs. Nagi sat on the sofa, reading. Probably one of her wild mystery novels. She lifted her eyes from her tablet.

"Back finally?"

"Yeah. Amina called and said she wanted to study."

"Good, good." Mrs. Nagi nodded approvingly. "Are you headed to her house?"

"No. We're going to grab ice cream downtown."

"Ah, and then study."

"Mmm hmm."

She laughed a moment. "What better way to learn? Is your token card charged?"

I was already racing up the stairs. "Yes, Mrs. Nagi."

I walked upstairs to the guest bedroom—my bedroom—and searched for a place to hide the puzzle box. Under the mattress? Too cliché. Then again, the puzzle box had been hidden in my mattress before. In the dresser? Too easy for someone to accidentally find. I settled on stuffing the puzzle box inside of the toe of an old pair of boots in the closet.

I grabbed my token card and my tablet. On second thought, I grabbed my Papa's tablet. Maybe I would be able to take a look through his notes. I linked his tablet to mine and quickly downloaded his most recent files.

I shoved the tablet and the token card into a small beaded purse and headed back downstairs.

"I've got everything."

"Don't let me keep you waiting, darling. You go and have fun, now. Shoo!" She waved me toward the door. "Call me if you're running late for dinner!"

I headed toward downtown. The sun, which had been directly overhead a few short hours ago, was now completing its graceful arch toward the horizon. The light no longer stung my pale skin, but the bright afternoon sun glared in my eyes. I squinted, and long shadows danced behind me with each step.

The constant buzz of hovercabs soon replaced the relative quiet of the housing district. I could see the shops up ahead, people bustling in and out of stores to get their groceries, soldiers walking in and out of the monolithic red Central office. It was nearly seventeen hundred, time for shifts to change.

I pushed through the crowded sidewalks and made a beeline for Mrs. Kilone's sweets shop. The rich window display was as enticing as ever. Cakes, pastries, and chocolates lined the trays just inside the shop. I stepped inside, and the smell of a dozen desserts greeted my nose. It was like a little slice of heaven. Even if everything else in the world went wrong, there would always be chocolates.

A crowd stood around the long white counter, waiting to get their treats. Amina and Timothy already stood in line, ready to place their orders.

"Hey!" Timothy waved, a few pieces of his hair falling into his face.

Amina's faced broke into a grin. "Sorry! I could hardly wait for you to get here, so I was about to order myself an appetizer."

"An appetizer for dessert?" Amina was so strange sometimes. I couldn't help but giggle.

She laughed. "What do you want? My treat."

I studied the ice cream counter. Everything looked amazing—the smooth yellow-orange mango, rich brown chocolate, a tub of pale green mint ice cream.

"I'll take a scoop of coconut," I said at last.

"Only one scoop?" teased Timothy.

"Yeah." I had a hard time eating more sweets than that. Papa usually made me eat very healthy.

We found an open table outside and sat down with our ice creams, slurping away.

Timothy's eyes fixed firmly on me. "How are you doing?"

I shrugged. What could I say? A million things had gone through my mind over the last two days, and I wasn't sure I could share it with them. "I'm OK. How about you? How's Abigail?" Timothy's baby sister was a handful.

"Abi? I don't believe she eats food because all she does is try to eat my fingers. She bit me three times this morning!" He tried to sound annoyed, but from the way he grinned, it was clear he adored her. He turned back to his ice cream, shoveling down a few more bites.

"Are we actually going to do homework, or was this an excuse to eat?" I asked.

Amina snorted, getting some of her berry ice cream on her nose. She wiped it on her shirtsleeve without a thought. "Don't sound so excited about grabbing a treat, Sadira."

Timothy pulled his tablet out of his pack. "We can study while Amina finishes smearing food on her face."

"Sure, let's do that." I pulled out my tablet as well. "History or math?"

"Let's do the math first. We were covering conic sections today." Timothy tapped until he pulled up his notes. "I'm still not understanding how we're supposed to tell these shapes apart."

I began scribbling on his tablet with my finger, explaining the best way to identify and graph each section. Amina stopped licking her ice cream for a moment and leaned over, checking out the notes.

"Why doesn't Ms. Ahmad ever explain things that way?" she asked.

I shrugged. "She didn't have Dr. DeWitt explain it to her first."

"I'll send these notes to you, Amina." Timothy reached over to grab his tablet, his hand lightly brushing against mine. I looked up, and his brown-green eyes met mine.

I turned quickly, breaking his stare. "Let's take a look at the history assignment now," I stammered.

He pulled up the assignment. "We started learning about the current Central Cabinet."

"Did I miss a chapter?"

He shook his head. "No. That's all we've covered since you've been out."

"Last time I was in class we were talking about the 2240 Cabinet election."

Timothy scanned through his notes. "That's right. You didn't miss anything else."

"But it's 2260 now."

"What's your point?" Amina asked, slurping down the last of her ice cream.

"Did nothing happen in the last twenty years?"

Amina shrugged. "It was probably so boring even Ms. Ahmad didn't want to teach it." Timothy roared with laughter.

I decided to let it go. If we skipped a chapter of history, who was I to argue? I skimmed through the notes Timothy had already uploaded to my tablet. He leaned over my shoulder, reading off the text.

"Ms. Ahmad said to pay special attention to the Orbital Outpost Treaty." An entire paragraph of the text was highlighted in bright yellow. I would have had to be blind to miss it.

"Thanks." I could feel Timothy's breath on the side of my neck. He was uncomfortably close, but so comfortably close. He cleared his throat and sat back in his chair.

I skimmed through the highlighted section quickly, trying to get an idea of the last lecture.

The Orbital Outpost Treaty, put into effect in 2255, decommissioned all orbital colonies made before 2160, most notably the 'Galileo', 'Copernicus', and 'Kepler'. In exchange, all modern colonies were guaranteed three supply drops a year, and all colonists were guaranteed Central citizenship.

The passage was dry, but I read a bit more so I could get caught up. It was hard to picture the orbital colonies in my mind, whirling metal cities in the sky. We had seen holos in class, but I couldn't imagine living in a world without dirt, or without a sky. When I got to the end of the chapter, I checked the time and gasped.

"It's after eighteen hundred already," Timothy said. "We should probably start heading back before curfew."

Now that Timothy pointed out the time, I noticed the heat had drawn from the air, and the sun was settling in the western sky. The crowds of soldiers streaming in and out of the Central office had thinned. Only a few uniformed personnel, here and there, headed into the building now.

My ice cream, only half-eaten, was a sticky puddle in the bottom of the cup. I yawned, stretching. "Yeah, I guess we should get moving. Thanks for the history notes."

Amina fluffed her wild, curly hair. "No problem. Thank you for the math help."

We gathered our bags and started back toward the housing sector. A pair of older women—clearly researchers, from their dark gray uniforms—walked past, arguing.

"You saw the rat. It just stopped. Just stopped." The woman frowned in disgust, her face a bit greenish at the thought. "Awful, simply awful."

"I didn't think it was supposed to be airborne."

"Me neither. None of the previous strains were."

"We have to do something—" the researcher paused, noticing us staring at her. "Yes? Aren't you three a bit young to be out so late? Go home before I report you all. Or do you kids feel like doing community service next week?"

"We were just leaving, ma'am," Amina said, her voice unnaturally formal. "Let's go, guys." She grabbed Timothy and me and dragged us farther away from downtown.

Amina kept peering over her shoulder, checking to see if the women were reporting anything. When the two researchers were finally out of sight, she let out a big sigh of relief.

"My mom will kill me if I break curfew again. You should have seen her the last time. I got dropped off at the front door in one of the hovercabs. I thought she was going to burst a blood vessel." She let go of our arms and sprinted toward her house. "See you later!"

Timothy and I kept walking through the rows of townhouses. Night was quickly sweeping over the edges of the sky. I could barely see a few glimmers of red peeking over the Wall.

Timothy reached for my hand, and I let me fingers tangle around his. We walked quickly, silently, comfortable together. He cleared his throat.

"Those women back there? That's what my parents had been talking about. Something's happening here. I'm not sure what it is yet."

I nodded. "That was kind of weird, right?" I remembered the woman's words. The rat just stopped. Stopped what? The way the woman had said it, and her expression afterward, made me think it wasn't good.

We turned down my street, and I could see the Nagis' home a few doors down. "I guess I'll see you later," I said lamely.

"I guess so." Timothy let go of my hand and brushed a stray hair behind my ear. "Goodnight, Sadira." He leaned in closer for a moment and paused. Was he going to try to kiss me again? I could hear the blood rushing in my ears, feel the heat rising in my face. I shrank back, suddenly timid.

"Goodnight."

He blinked and took a step back, a smile still plastered across his face. I rushed off, scared to stand there with him. What if he changed tomorrow? What if he avoids me instead? I glanced back as I headed toward the Nagis'. Timothy was still standing there, in the middle of the road, watching me. I felt my face grow hot and stared at the ground.

He likes me.

Why?

I wasn't sure what the reason was, why suddenly being friends seemed like far too little, why every time he looked at me I felt my stomach jump for my throat.

I climbed the stairs up the Nagis' front stoop, pausing for a moment to look back at Timothy. He grinned, the smile lighting up his slender face, then jogged off toward his house. I shook my head, willing the blush to leave my cheeks and opened the door.

"Hello, Sadira," Mrs. Nagi called from the kitchen. She walked to the living room and greeted me with a hug. "How was ice cream?"

"Fine. Timothy gave me his history notes, and I helped him and Amina with math."

She nodded. "Good, good. And Dr. DeWitt's earlier? How is he? What did he want?"

I figured if I kept the topic technical, she wouldn't pry. "Oh, he wanted to see how I was getting along in my schoolwork. He also showed me one of the picochips he had to modify. We had to redirect some of the signals to bypass a short on the chip and then reintegrate that back to the main board."

"That's nice, dear." The fake techno-babble had made her eyes glaze over. "Why don't you wash up and help me put together dinner?"

I raced upstairs to the washroom. My day of walking around the outpost had left me with a thin coat of dust on my skin. I splashed my face with water, which ran down my cheeks in small rivers of brown. The water felt cool, fresh on my face, calming the blush that burned there a few minutes before. After a few more splashes, the water ran clear. I could now see the beginnings of sunburn on my nose and cheeks. I dried my face on one of the fluffy towels, then twisted my hair back tightly and went to the kitchen to join Mrs. Nagi.

"I was in a fish sort of mood today," she announced, chopping the head off of a large halibut. She threw the head in a pot to boil and deftly filleted the fish. "You can chop the vegetables, Sadira. I know how the fish heads can make you squeamish."

No kidding. The boiling water in the pot kept pushing the fish's head to the surface, as if it was trying to greet me. I turned to avoid its dead stare and chopped the carrots.

Soon the scent of fish and lemon had moved beyond the confines of the tiny kitchen and permeated the whole house. I breathed in the smell of a warm dinner and tried to relax. Between the distress signal and finding that box, I was torn and confused. What if Papa had been holding contraband? I couldn't believe it. He would never hide something from Central. What if he was still alive? I wasn't sure if I believed that, either.

The front door swung open, and Mr. Nagi walked in, his bulky figure lumbering with fatigue. "Cora? Sadira? Come to the living room, please."

Mrs. Nagi nudged me out of the kitchen and toward the sofa. I froze. Behind Mr. Nagi was Colonel Marwasi. He glared at me, his stony face locked in contempt. The living room didn't seem large enough to hold the Colonel. He was tall, taller even than me, and though his hair was graying and wrinkles sprouted from the corners of his eyes, his shoulder were thick and muscular. He stood straight, his chin held high. All of the light in the room seemed to glisten on the brass medals and insignia on his uniform.

"Sadira, sit," Mr. Nagi said. I fell limply to the couch.

Mrs. Nagi lowered herself beside me. Mr. Nagi remained by the Colonel's side, his huge frame somehow dwarfed by the Colonel's presence.

The Colonel pulled off his burgundy beret and cleared his throat. "Miss Pascal, it has come to my attention that one of the Central soldiers has been feeding you misinformation about your father's fate."

"What?" My voice came out a squeak, shocked at his words.

Colonel Marwasi peered at me down his large, pointy nose. "Someone told you your father is alive."

I felt my heart cinch tighter and tighter in my chest, until it could no longer beat freely. The air stuck in my lungs. Maybe Baruj was right. Maybe Central did monitor us. I shook his name from my mind, afraid that the Colonel might somehow be able to see those thoughts forming in my head.

"What do you mean, sir?"

The Colonel clasped his hands behind his back and leaned closer. "I think it's in your best interest to tell me who is spreading these lies. A soldier told you your father is alive. Who was it?"

I bit my cheek. "I don't know what you're talking about, sir."

The Colonel clenched his jaw, and the veins on his neck and face began to expand. Mr. Nagi stepped forward and rested his heavy hand on my shoulder.

"Sadira," Mr. Nagi said. "Give the Colonel any information you have."

I couldn't say anything. Baruj said he'd get in trouble. I didn't want that. So what could I do? Lie. I had to lie. I turned my face to Mr. Nagi and opened my eyes wide in confusion and innocence. "I don't have any information for the Colonel. I don't know what he's talking about."

The Colonel's veins bulged against his ashen skin. "I'll be watching you, Miss Pascal. Closely." He slung his beret back onto his head and stormed out of the room, slamming the heavy wooden door behind him.

Mr. Nagi stared at me for a long moment, before turning his attention to the kitchen and sniffing the air. "Smells good. I'm ready to eat."

My stomach rumbled, but it was not from hunger. "I'm going lie down. I don't feel well." I pushed myself off the couch and walked upstairs to the guest bedroom. I locked the door behind me, and flopped on the bed.

Mrs. Nagi knocked on the door.

"Sadira, come have some dinner.

"I'm not hungry."

"Sadira..."

"I'm not hungry." She sighed and headed back down to the kitchen.

Even though the food smelled delicious, I didn't want to eat, not even a little bit. Every piece of me felt too tight, like I had been twisted and balled up into a giant knot. I tried to think of who I had talked to about Baruj. Of course, Dr. DeWitt knew, but he would never say anything to the Colonel. I hadn't told the Nagis, or even Amina. Timothy. I told Timothy. Had I told Timothy Baruj's name? I didn't think so, but I began to worry. I knew Timothy wouldn't have repeated what I told him, but the Colonel must have overheard somehow. Maybe Baruj was right. Maybe the earpieces were bugged. I took out my earpiece and threw it into a pile of my old laundry.

I grabbed the boot from the closet and turned it over, shaking the puzzle box into my hand. There must have been a reason why Papa had left it in my bedroom. I curled back up in bed and began to play with the puzzle box. A three-by-three grid appeared on each face of it. From what I could tell, there were six different colored squares. Each time I tapped on one of the squares, that square and the ones tangent changed colors. It was hypnotizing. I sat and tapped on the box, trying to form some patterns.

I sighed. The puzzle wasn't going anywhere. I tucked it back into the boot. Hunger was starting to get the best of me. I could sneak downstairs, grab a bite, and not have to talk to anyone. If I had to talk, I feared my face or my voice might betray me. I started to open the door of the guest bedroom when I heard Mr. Nagi's voice.

"I have to report her, Cora. She's hiding something, I'm sure she is. You said she was at Dr. DeWitt's all day, for God's sake!

"You don't honestly think—"

"Central does. They haven't gotten a single transmission from his shop's com in a month." Dr. DeWitt's shop was wired? Why would Central need to hear him?

"DeWitt's her godfather! Why wouldn't she go to him? It's only natural. Is your job more important?" hissed Mrs. Nagi. "We're talking about sending a girl to interrogation! Didn't the Colonel do enough tonight?"

He sighed. "It's more than my job. Central sent out a blip with orders to report any suspicious activity related to the Bright Star. Sadira is keeping something from us. We could be excluded if we don't comply."

Excluded? I froze. What was so important about the Bright Star that Central would exclude a citizen?

"Let's talk to her," Mrs. Nagi pleaded. "She's upset. Anyone could see that. Why would we punish her for being sad?"

"One day," said Mr. Nagi, sternly. "One day, and if you don't make any headway, I have to report it. For our sake."

I heard the wooden chair scrape against the floor as Mr. Nagi rose from the table. His heavy footsteps resonated through the house, beating against the floor as he marched up the stairs and into his bedroom.

Interrogate? Why would they want to interrogate me? Why would Central wire Dr. DeWitt's office? Why would Mr. Nagi care if I visited the hovertech shop? Why would Central care about a kid like me?

Baruj must be telling the truth. It was the only way this made any sense.

And if Baruj was telling the truth, then maybe, just maybe, Papa was still alive.

Interrogation.

Exclusion.

My skin felt clammy and cold. What if Central thought I had been doing something wrong? I just wanted to find Papa. Was that a crime?

Trembling, I sat back on the edge of the bed. I could come clean to the Colonel and tell him that Baruj was the one who approached me. He was the one who said Papa was alive. But speaking up would only hurt Baruj, and I might lose any chance of getting Papa back.

_Papa, what should I do?_ I closed my eyes and tried to imagine his steady, serious voice. Think. He would tell me to think. _Use your head. Don't lose your head._ I grabbed my tablet, flipped it on, and tapped to the files I'd downloaded earlier.

I scanned the list of files. It was mostly his work, drawings of engine components, and schematics for the computers. One folder immediately caught my eye. _Sadira._ Papa had a folder dedicated to me? I tapped it open. Only one file appeared on the screen; I tapped it open immediately.

Sadira

Birthday present? Puzzle?

Ensure continued contact in case contingency plan is needed.

I wanted to laugh, but it came out a sob. Papa couldn't have written a complete sentence to save his life. Even though the file was a list of disjointed thoughts, it was coherent enough for me to guess what Papa was driving at.

I had to figure out the puzzle.

The box was wedged tightly into the tip of the old, wrinkled boot against the side of the closet. I yanked the box out, then tapped the sides, watching the colors swirl and shift—red, blue, green, white—rhythmic and hypnotizing. The puzzle seemed so familiar, but I couldn't place where I had seen something like it before. I wanted to call Dr. DeWitt and ask him about it, but I knew placing a call at this time of night would draw attention. _Especially since Mr. Nagi was already suspicious of Dr. DeWitt._ Frustrated, I threw the box against the floor.

The puzzle rolled a few times before landing on one face. All the colors on one side now matched, and the box gave a tinny 'ding!'

I finally knew what the puzzle was. "A Rubik's cube," I said under my breath. I climbed out of bed and picked the cube up off the floor. Papa had given me a real Rubik's cube for my ninth birthday, and I had been enchanted by it. Each twist and turn was a new permutation and new riddle to solve. I had played with it non-stop for weeks.

I hopped back in the bed and tapped the sides of the cube, my fingers flying. I studied the patterns that formed, and then slowed my tapping as I saw the solution start to appear. One face was now covered with green squares, then the next with white, and another with blue. Each time a side was finished, the cube gave a little 'ding'. I rotated the cube in my hand and tapped two more squares. The last side turned red, and one face of the box unlatched with a click.

There was something stuffed inside the box, but it was too dark to make it out. I put my fingers in the box and tugged out a clear cube. It was filled with a nest of wires in every color, criss-crossing in an intricate knot. At the center of the knot, suspended in the box, was a crystal. It looked like the same type of stone Dr. DeWitt had shown me in his office.

I turned the box over, but I didn't see a touch screen, switches, or any kind of opening. My shoulders sagged. How did this thing work? "Lights." The bedroom lights glared down on me. I held the clear box up, studying it to find a seam or a dial or _something_ that might activate it.

The box began to vibrate in my hand. I slapped my forehead. Of course. Dr. DeWitt had said something about photoreceptors _._ All I had to do was turn the overhead lights on. A touch screen came to life on one side of the clear box. There were only two buttons, both bright red. One, a small circle, appeared to be a dial. I ran my finger around the perimeter of the button, and the box began to hum louder. I spun my finger in the opposite direction, and the box became quieter.

The other button seemed to be a switch. I flicked it back and forth a couple of times. The box squealed softly and then made a clicking noise.

"Dr. DeWitt, Sadira, please respond. This is Mr. Pascal, engineer on board CAS Bright Star. Exact position is unknown. Our ship has crashed, and we are stranded without food or water. One of our party is seriously injured. Please respond."

I jumped. My heart soared for a short moment. Papa was calling for me. He was alive. Alive!There was a chance to get him back, to bring him home.

But a breath later, a different realization hit me. The box in my hand had to be a radio. A radio. Papa had hidden this from me, from Central. What else had he been hiding?

I listened to the message replay a few more times and ran my hands over the box, searching for a way to respond. The two red buttons were the only marks on the radio, the only way I could see to interact with it. I flipped through my tablet and searched Papa's notes, but I didn't see anything else that talked about the puzzle box, or a radio, or how the transparent box in my hand might work.

Though I wanted to keep listening to Papa's voice, I flicked the switch off, and the box fell silent. It wouldn't do for the Nagis to hear it. "Off." The bedroom dimmed. The box's glow dimmed as well, like a coal surrendering itself to ash. I slipped the box under my pillow. Papa is alive, and I can help him.

Tomorrow, I had to see Dr. DeWitt. Tomorrow, I had to have a plan.

Otherwise, tomorrow, Mr. Nagi was going to report me for interrogation.

It was still the deep navy blue darkness of early morning when I woke, but I could already hear Mrs. Nagi knocking around pots and pans in the kitchen. I cracked open the bedroom door, tiptoed down the stairs, and peered around the corner. She stood alone in the dim kitchen, her head hung low.

"Mrs. Nagi?" I walked over to her, and she jumped. She quickly turned her face from me and wiped her eyes.

"I hope I didn't wake you. I couldn't sleep, and I decided I may as well cook."

"No, you didn't wake me. Are you feeling well?"

She sniffed. "I'm fine. Really. Come help me knead the bread." She pulled a misshapen lump of dough from the fridge and slung it on the countertop. "Grab the flour, dear."

I pulled out a bag of flour, and she dipped her hand in, sprinkling white lines of powder over the surface of the dough and counter. She began beating the dough, punching it and pummeling it with her fists. Sweat dripped down her forehead and mixed with the tears forming in her eyes. She paused for a moment to wipe her face with her sleeve.

"The Colonel said your Papa is gone, right Sadira?"

My throat tightened. "Yes."

"He told you Henri was dead."

"Yes, of course."

"You haven't heard anything otherwise, have you? No one has told you your father is alive, have they?" Her gaze was piercing, as though she could see the traitorous thoughts that had plagued my mind last night. I swallowed the truth and spoke the words I knew Mrs. Nagi would want to hear.

"No, Mrs. Nagi."

She returned to her ruthless beating of the dough. Beat, beat, flip. Beat, beat, flip. With each flip of the dough, little sprays of flour sprinkled across her dark blue dress. Her arms moved mechanically, never hesitating, never missing a turn. She stopped abruptly and turned to me.

"I think you're right, Sadira."

"About what?" I set the bag of flour on the counter, careful not to spill it.

"About your—you know. Miquel won't say it. Central won't say it, so I'll say it." Her eyes were heavy with worry; a deep sigh rattled her frame. She leaned in very close to me, her mouth poised right outside my ear.

"You need to leave Samalut. Today. Miquel plans to report you to Central as soon as he wakes up. They're all hiding something from us. Go find your Papa." Her voice was barely audible. A chill ran through me, and I shivered. How much did she know, and how much had she guessed at? I stiffened and felt my fingers go cold.

"I packed a bag for you, in the cabinet to the right of the dispenser. Take it. Go." I pulled away from her and walked over to the cabinet. Sure enough, a small pouch sat in the far back corner. I pulled it out. It was stuffed with bread and cheese, and at the bottom, wrapped in a plain brown cloth, was one of my spare dresses.

"Why don't you go take a walk?" she said, much louder than necessary. "It'll be good to stretch your legs, especially while it's cool outside."

What about curfew? Civilians weren't supposed to be out before oh six hundred, and the darkness outside suggested it was still much earlier than that. I opened my mouth to protest, but no words came out. If I was going to find Papa, I needed to bend a few rules.

"Yes, Mrs. Nagi." I chewed on the inside of my cheek and walked swiftly upstairs, back to the guest bedroom. I grabbed my tablet and the clear box out from beneath my pillow, shoving them both into the pocket of my dress. They felt heavy in my pocket, but I smoothed my hand over my dress a few times. The pleats hid the fact that I carried anything in there. I fastened my shoes, grabbed my scarf, and headed back down the stairs toward the front door.

"Mrs. Nagi?" I called.

She stepped out of the kitchen, rubbing her hands clean on an old rag. "Yes, dear?"

I leaned to her and whispered, "I'm scared."

She threw her arms around me and held me tight, kissing the top of my head. "Me, too, darling, me, too." We stood there a long moment in the dark kitchen, her hug softening the sound of my tears. She kissed my forehead again and pulled back.

"You have to be stronger than your fear. Now go. Whatever you do, don't come back here." She pressed one final kiss on my forehead. "May God put courage in your heart." She nudged me toward the door.

.

It felt uncomfortable to be alone in the dark. I had always followed curfew strictly, always followed all of the rules strictly. Rules kept society civilized. Rules made the world go round. Rules made people happy. Except I wasn't happy. My world had stopped turning when Papa's ship crashed. Rules would have to wait until I found him again. The radio, the broken rule in my pocket, could help. Papa had a reason for everything, and I trusted he had a reason for hiding a radio from me. Each footstep in the dusty earth felt like a rebellion.

Mrs. Nagi's bag felt enormous in my hand, filled with hope and fear and promise. I clung to it.

Take it. Go, she had said. I struggled to think of a place to run to. I kept walking, but now I noticed my footsteps took me ever closer to Timothy's house. I was deep in the housing sector now, weaving between rows of identical town homes. I came to the back of Timothy's house. His room was on the second floor. Should I knock on the door? No. It was too early for that. The sun wouldn't be up for a couple of hours still. It would be stupid to draw any more attention to myself. I picked a few pebbles off the ground and tossed them at his window.

Ping.

Ping.

Ping.

I heard a quick shout before a face appeared in the window. Timothy's eyes struck wide open with fear. A soldier stood behind him, dragging him back into the shadows.

I turned to run, but all of the townhouses' lights turned on, and Central soldiers poured out of the back of Timothy's home. I had barely made it twenty meters before two khaki clad men tackled me, shoving my face into the ground. Gritty sand dug into my skin, stinging. The guards grabbed my arms, cuffed them behind my back, and jerked me upright. The sudden pull knocked the air from my lungs, leaving me gasping. Colonel Marwasi strode out the back door of the Rosens', a scowl twisting his face.

"Why would a good girl like you be breaking curfew? I'm sure you know that's against the rules." The Colonel marched toward me, stopping a few centimeters from my face. "I told you I'd be watching you very closely, Miss Pascal. Give that to me," he ordered, snatching my bag off of the ground. He opened it and chuckled. "Let's see, food, water, a change of clothes. What might this be for?"

"It's nothing." I said a silent prayer of thanks that I had put the puzzle box in my dress and not in the pouch. That would be even harder to explain.

The Colonel harrumphed. "Let's chat for a bit, Miss Pascal. Perhaps then you'll be persuaded to open up a bit." He gestured to the two soldiers restraining me. "Take her to interrogation. Room B3-C. I'll be there shortly."

The soldiers dragged me off to a hovercab concealed behind a row of short, scrubby trees. I stole a glace back at Timothy's house. I could still see him at the window, thrashing and shaking off a guard that clung to his shoulders. He rammed his shoulder into his window, but bounced off of the shatterproof glass.

One of the soldiers picked me up, threw me into the back of the hovercab, and pulled the harness over my head. He jumped into the front seat and called out 'Central Office'. The hovercab's nav system lit up, a dozen tiny stars twinkling on the dash. A moment later we were off, hovering a meter off of the ground, gliding out of the housing district. My second cab ride ever, and I was heading straight to interrogation.

God, put courage in my heart.

I waited a moment for the prayer to be answered, but my heart felt as empty as ever.

The housing district became a green blur of buildings. Within five minutes, the hovercab had whirred to a stop at the front door of the Central office. Another cab pulled up next to the one I was in. The roof of the cab slid open, letting the cool morning air seep through. The guard driving the hovercab jumped out of his seat and grabbed me from the back, tossing me on my feet.

"Where are we going?"

The soldier, anonymous in his khaki uniform and burgundy beret, only snorted in response. He gripped my left arm securely. The soldier in the cab next to us jumped out and grabbed my right arm.

The two guards led me inside the huge front door and down the hallway to the clear lift Baruj had taken me to days before. They pushed me toward the lift. "B3," said the shorter guard. I braced myself to be whisked upward.

Instead, the lift went down. I stumbled from the unexpected movement and fell to my knees.

"None of that!" the short guard snapped. He jerked my shoulder, pulling me back to my feet.

The lift stopped abruptly, and the sudden motion sent me back toward the guard.

"On your feet!" The short guard pushed me forward into a long hallway.

Though bright lights ran along the ceiling, the narrow hallway felt dank and cavernous. Earsplitting echoes chased our feet down the tile floors, and the khaki paint on the walls glowed a dingy yellow. There were three large metal doors along the right side of the passage, and at the very end of the hall was an opening with stairs spiraling upward. The guards walked me to the middle of the three doors, labeled 'C' The tall soldier pressed his hand against the door's edge, and a ring of lights appeared, scanning his print. As soon as the door unlatched and swung open, the guards shoved me inside.

"The Colonel's coming for you in a minute," the tall guard said from the door, smirking. He slammed the door shut, and the metal latch clicked back into place.

The interrogation room was mostly empty, only adorned by a table and two chairs. The table and one of the chairs, I noticed, were bolted to the floor.

I'm being treated like a criminal. Suddenly enraged, I kicked the loose chair. Though kicking it hurt, the clanging and clattering of the metal chair as it spun on the ground took the edge off of my anger. I took a deep breath.

How did I end up here? If Papa were here...

I sighed. Even if Papa were still alive, he couldn't help me now. I felt my anger bubble up again, fresh, acidic, and hot. I threw myself against the metal door again, again, and again, but it didn't budge.

I'm going to rot down here.

I slumped to the floor. My eyes were hot with tears forming from frustration. I wanted to scream, to throw something, but the tears rolled down my cheeks instead.

Crying doesn't solve anything.

Action does.

I bit my cheek. I would not cry, not for the Colonel, not for anyone. I was a Pascal, and Pascals didn't cry. I had to try to do something. Even if I failed miserably.

I decided to start with my arms. They were beginning to get stiff from being cuffed behind my back. I worked my arms under my legs and back in front of me, giving a long stretch to erase the weariness in my shoulders.

That was better already.

I stood up and studied the door. There was no handle on it. I placed my hand along the edge of the door as I had seen the guard do. A ring of lights appeared, and the metal beneath my hand grew warm. After a moment, the lights shut off. "Access denied," the door chimed.

I scanned the room. There was nothing else in here—just a blank wall and a bare concrete floor, no windows, no vents. I sighed. Papa, what would you do?

My thoughts were cut short by the metallic clang of the door opening. Colonel Marwasi walked in, followed by another soldier, an older man in his forties. This man was a bit shorter than me, but what he lacked in height, he made up in fierceness. His uniform fit snugly around the chest and arms, and his face was all sharp angles and hate. Though he had dark olive skin and black hair, his eyes were a curious luminescent green. An enhancement? I wondered. I had heard some soldiers had surgery to improve their vision. Enhanced or not, they had an eerie, inhuman glow.

Colonel Marwasi noted my stare. "This is Captain Berings." It didn't feel proper to introduce myself, or even speak at all, so I simply nodded.

"Sit, Miss Pascal." I walked to the chair bolted on the floor and sat. Colonel Marwasi picked up the chair I had kicked and sat on the opposite side of the table, and the Captain leaned coolly in the corner. Colonel Marwasi studied me, clenching his jaw.

"Miss Pascal, why don't you start by explaining why you were breaking curfew?" His voice was calm, flat and even, but from the fire in his eyes I knew he was anything but calm. I paused, determined to choose my words carefully. I had been angry before, but now I was just scared. I would play dumb. That was my best bet. I was only a kid, not doing anything bad. Just a normal kid.

"I was upset from yesterday, when you were at the Nagis'. I couldn't sleep. I thought a walk would help."

"That's not an excuse to break curfew."

"I know, sir. I apologize."

"If you were out for a walk, why did you have this bag with you?" The Colonel pulled out the sack Mrs. Nagi had packed for me and dumped the food and change of clothes on the table. "Were you planning to go somewhere?"

My eyes followed a piece of cheese rolling off the edge of the table, hitting the concrete floor with a dull thud. I bit my cheek again, feeling the flesh there becoming raw and thin. I turned my gaze to meet the Colonel's.

Play dumb. Play dumb.

"I was thinking about staying with one of my friends for a couple of days. I wanted to clear my head."

"Why bring food?"

"In case I got hungry."

"Damn your smart mouth! You'll tell me the truth, and you'll tell it now." Flecks of spit flew from his mouth as he screamed.

The fear pressed in my throat, seizing my voice. "I—I—that's what I brought it for. To eat."

The Colonel's face reddened and swelled. He slammed his fists on the table centimeters in front of my face.

"Speak, child! Speak and I may not exclude everyone you know from this outpost!"

"I'm sorry for breaking curfew, sir. I've been very upset the last couple of days, and I wasn't thinking right."

Both men stared, cold and silent. Apologizing didn't work. They weren't buying my story. I decided to try again.

"It won't happen again. Besides, there's no law against carrying food, is there? Or against walking or carrying a change of clothes? Can't you just let me go?"

Captain Berings walked from the corner of the room and cleared his throat. "If I may, sir?" The Colonel nodded and heaved himself back from the table. The Captain, instead of taking the Colonel's seat, walked around the table and stood right next to me. He placed his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. I could feel every finger cutting into my skin.

The Captain rooted around in the cargo pocket of his khaki pants and produced a tablet. He tapped the side, and it glowed. A few more taps produced a list.

"Let's see here. According to Central ordinances, we can actually charge you with several misdemeanors, and we can charge the Nagis with felony neglect."

"What?" I gasped.

"Yes, yes," said Captain Berings. "Breaking curfew. Since you're a minor, that's a misdemeanor for you and a felony offense for your legal guardians, in this case, the Nagis. Plus hoarding of food. Why, Sadira, you know that with Central's distribution plans, there is no need for anyone to stockpile food. That's another mark against you. Did the Rosens' invite you to their home at four in the morning?"

I shook my head.

"No, I didn't think so either. We can throw a trespassing charge on there as well. Additionally, it appears you were outside of your primary residence without wearing your earpiece. More marks. This is beginning to look very bad for you, Sadira."

"How can not wearing your earpiece possibly be a crime?" Baruj had said they tracked the earpieces, Baruj-the-crazy-conspiracy-theorist. In the dingy, bare interrogation room Baruj's claims didn't seem quite so wild.

"Imagine a world where people didn't wear their earpieces." The Captain's voice was calm and smooth. "What if something happened to you? What if there was an emergency? How could anyone contact you? That would be a world of disasters, wouldn't it, Colonel?"

"Yes, it would be," he said flatly.

"We're here to protect you. We're here to save you. You know, Sadira, there's no purpose in lying to us. You think it was an accident that we found you at the Rosen residence? Not at all." He squeezed my shoulder tighter still, until I felt my collarbone begin to shift. I let out a whimper and bit my tongue to stifle the noise. I couldn't be weak, not now.

"See, we can listen to you. We can watch you. We can follow you. We can know what you're thinking before you think it. It's all patterns, Sadira. Patterns, right? We collect, interpret, and extrapolate the data, then presto! There's your answer. Isn't that what your Papa used to teach you?"

I nodded weakly. There are no coincidences, Papa used to say. Only patterns we haven't recognized. If Central had been watching me, how hard would it have been to guess I'd go to Timothy's?

Not hard at all.

Captain Berings released his grip from my shoulder, and I released the breath I didn't realize I was holding. "Colonel, I'll let you take it from here." The Captain's bizarre green eyes glowed with malice, a stark contrast from his relaxed posture. I could feel his stare even as he took his place back in the far corner of the room.

The Colonel had regained his composure. The red had left his face, and his usual dead ashy color had overtaken his features. He straightened himself before sitting back down across from me.

"What will it be, Miss Pascal? What will it be? You're in a lot of trouble just for these trivial things. If we add in a treason charge, you'll be excluded."

"Treason?"

"We have reason to suspect you possess a communications device."

My heart skipped a beat. I had been ready to leave Samalut, but I had been ready to leave with supplies and a plan, not kicked out with only the clothes on my back. Walking through the desert of the badlands with no food and no water—that was a death sentence.

The Captain chimed in. "Oh, won't any collaborators be charged with treason as well?"

The Colonel grinned, and it was repulsive. "That's correct, Captain Berings. I decide who the collaborators are, Miss Pascal. Mr. and Mrs. Nagi? Gone. The Rosens? Gone, all of them, even the baby."

"No," I mumbled.

The Colonel cupped his hand around his ear. "What was that, Miss Pascal?"

"No." This time I said it with confidence. "I can't tell you anything. There's nothing to tell."

The Colonel began to turn red once more, but swallowed a lump of anger. "Your father was a terrorist. He wanted that ship to destroy your school class."

"That's not true." My voice was barely a whisper.

"We have evidence of his treason. His designs revealed that he had planted an explosive on board the Bright Star."

"No."

"It was supposed to detonate when your class went on board to tour the ship. He wanted to use the deaths—the murders—of your classmates to fuel his agenda."

"But I was there!"

"He was willing to make that sacrifice. How much time did your father actually spend with you?"

"No." The tears rolled down my cheeks. It wasn't true, but I couldn't help thinking of all of the missed birthdays and dinners, of all the times Papa had said he'd be home for me, and of all the times he came back two days later, with no excuses or apologies.

What if it's true? What if Papa was a bad person?

I clasped my hand over my mouth to stifle a sob.

"Yes," the Colonel said. "That's right. Your father is responsible for two deaths. Tell us what we need to know so that no one else gets hurt."

"I don't know. I don't know anything." My face was streaked with tears as I sobbed.

"Stop crying," Colonel Marwasi said, but I cried even harder.

"He said stop crying!" In a few swift, decisive steps, the Captain strode over to me and slapped me across the face. The force of it sent me to the floor and left my ears ringing.

"Captain Berings!" The Colonel stood and drew himself to his full height.

"She was disobeying you, sir." The Captain's face twisted into an odd sort of smile.

"Come outside with me, Captain." The Colonel tugged on my cuffs, making certain they were secured, and stepped outside with the Captain. The huge metal door closed with a clang, leaving me once more alone in the interrogation room.

Was Papa a terrorist? I didn't see how it could be true. And yet... the Colonel's words dug under my skin and made my very bones itch with doubt. Papa was always away, gone for days at a time. I would ask what he was working on, and he would smile. You know I can't share that with you, darling, he'd say, and turn back to his work.

Who knows what he had actually been doing?

But Baruj had said—

My head swam. Too much, too many ideas and thoughts and theories swam in my mind. Between that and Captain Berings' slap, my head was starting to ache.

I took a few deep breaths. There had to be an explanation for everything. There had to be a way for me to get out of this, a way for no one to get hurt.

I just couldn't see it yet.

There was a sudden roar, and all of the lights in the room cut out. I heard the metal door unlatch, and without even thinking, I raced to try the door.

It was open. I pushed it gently, cracking it open a hair, and slid out.

Captain Berings' voice echoed down the dark hall. "Get to interrogation! Secure all the prisoners!"

I didn't wait to be secured. I ran to the end of the hallway where I had noted the stairwell earlier and sprinted up the steps, taking them two and three at a time. The complete darkness hid the steps from view, but I kept dashing ahead, hoping my feet found their way on the floor.

"Ugh!" I ran into a soldier hidden by the pitch black, knocking him against the wall.

"Who is that?" he called.

I didn't answer. I kept running, faster and faster up the stairs. One flight, two flights, onward and upwards. My feet raced along the steps, barely touching the stairs in my dash to the top. I paused for a split second on a landing and heard the echo of footprints below.

"I said, who is that?" shouted the soldier. "This is a secured area. Answer or I'll shoot!"

I clamped my mouth shut to keep from panting and continued running up to the exit, up to freedom. Over the building's speakers an automated warning sang. The calm female voice of the alarm unnerved me. How could the voice be so calm? My heart was racing. My lungs burned with effort.

"Attention, all hands, attention. Attempted prisoner escape from basement levels. Seal all exits. Stop any suspicious persons. Attention." The message repeated over and over, drilling into my skull. I was the escaping prisoner.

I took longer leaps up the stairs, but I could hear the soldier closing in on me. Panicked, I stumbled, tripping on the edge of a step and falling to my knees. The soldier caught my ankle and dragged me back down the stairs.

"Sir, this is Private Dallah. I've caught a person on the south stairwell. Request for backup!"

I kicked, flailing against the soldier's hands. One of the kicks connected with something soft; the soldier groaned, releasing my ankle. I pulled myself back up. Run, just run, almost there, run.

The door to the main floor was a few steps up. I could see daylight streaming through the cracks around the frame.

Move, move, move!

I willed myself up another step and gasped when the soldier tackled me from behind. My elbow struck the steps and then my head. Fireworks went off in my skull. The soldier's grip tightened around my legs. I tried to swing around with my arms, but hit nothing.

"South stairwell! South stairwell!" the soldier screamed. "I have someone!"

I rolled as hard as I could, loosening the soldier's hold for a moment, but a moment was enough. I was back on my feet, charging up the dark stairwell.

Almost there, move, move, move.

I ran up another step, another, another. I lunged for the door handle, but the soldier's hand snagged my dress, pulling me back to the ground. Despite my struggle, the soldier held firm and dragged me down slowly, step by step. I screamed.

The door to the main floor flew open, blinding me with the morning light, and a silhouette of a man appeared. He kicked the soldier squarely in the face, sending him tumbling down the stairs. The man picked me up and dragged me up the stairs.

I lunged toward the door, slapping and clawing at the man's arms until he let go. I ran up the stairs, but his voice stopped me.

"It's me," Baruj whispered. "Keep your voice down." He pulled me through the door to the main floor, dragged me down a hallway, and headed toward another stairwell. "We can't go through the front entrance. I'll bet it's already been sealed. We'll have to try one of the windows."

"How did you find me?" I whispered.

"That skinny boy you like—Timothy? He was running to Mrs. Nagi to tell her what had happened, but I crossed his path first."

"He didn't tell anyone about you."

"I know that," Baruj said.

"Is he OK?"

"I think so. I told him to go find Dr. DeWitt."

"He's smart," I said.

"I know. He'll be safe."

My hands dangled uselessly in the handcuffs. Baruj grabbed my arm, guiding me up the dark stairwell. I nearly shook Baruj's hand off, but right now I needed the extra strength and comfort.

"Where do we go from here?"

"Upstairs," whispered Baruj. "There's more bushes back there."

More bushes? I didn't understand, didn't know why he'd care about bushes at a time like this, but I didn't argue. He led me up the stairs, and at the next landing he peered out the door. "It's clear. Everyone's probably watching the main entrance."

We sprinted down the hall and turned sharply to the right. Baruj threw open the first door on the left and pulled me inside.

The room was dark and sparsely furnished—there was only one desk in the room and a lone chair tucked behind it. Dim morning light came in from a bay of windows covering the opposite wall. Baruj let go of my arm and pulled a window open.

A siren began blaring. "Window opened in room 14. Window opened in room 14," the alarm repeated calmly.

"Jump now!" Baruj leaped from the window and tumbled to the ground, a row of bushes below breaking his fall. He bounced right up and waved wildly to get me to follow.

I stood at the edge of the window and looked down. I knew I was only one floor up, but the height seemed dizzying, the ground impossibly far away. I closed my eyes. I was supposed to jump? And a little shrub was supposed to soften the blow? This is insane.

I took a deep breath and stepped closer to the window. I couldn't do this. I couldn't jump. I wouldn't jump. I could break my leg, or hit my head, or, or...

My feet stood still, frozen to the floor.

Voices carried down the hall behind me. "They went this way."

I could jump, or I could get caught and rot in the interrogation room. It was now or never.

I jumped.

The ground zoomed closer, the grains of sand coming into focus. I struck the dirt, landing hard on my feet. My right ankle buckled beneath me, twisting under the pressure. Air forced itself from my lungs as I toppled to the ground. I lay there a moment.

"Get up!" Baruj grabbed my arms and tugged me upright. "We need to move."

Yes, we had to move. Somewhere in my brain I still remembered this imperative. I'd jumped from the window, actually jumped, but I couldn't stop there. The siren still blared through the open window of the Central office, alerting everyone to our presence. We dashed behind the row of shops across the street. Sharp pain shot through my leg with every step. My arms were awkwardly bound in front of me, but I kept running. I can't stop now, can't slow down. Baruj finally slowed and tugged me into a side alley. A cab sat concealed there, bright blue and shimmery. I recognized it immediately as the one from Dr. DeWitt's shop. "Hop in."

I pulled myself into the cab, trying to avoid bumping my sore ankle. I strapped myself in, and we took off. The cab shot off the ground and out of the alley. Baruj steered us toward the outskirts of Samalut.

"Where are you headed?"

"Dr. DeWitt's shop," he replied. "He was the one who cut power to the Central office."

I remembered Captain Berings' words to me. It's all patterns. "Don't go there!"

Baruj turned around, his brow furrowed. "Why not?"

"They've been watching me for a while. They'll be watching his shop."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. That's how they knew to grab me at Timothy's."

Baruj swore under his breath and pulled the cab off the road, tucking it behind a row of scraggly bushes. "Dr. DeWitt told me to meet him at the shop. I'm going to see if there are guards over there."

"I told you, there'll be soldiers."

"Then I have to see if Dr. DeWitt is safe," said Baruj.

"I'm going with you."

"Stay in the cab, Sadira."

"What if someone finds the cab? We shouldn't split up. We can go close enough to see whether Dr. DeWitt is still there."

Baruj considered the logic of this. "Fine, you're right. Stay close, stay quiet." He grabbed my hand again, walking low to the ground to keep out of sight. We moved out of the cover of the trees, darting between clusters of withering shrubs.

He dropped down to his hands and knees and pushed aside the branches of the bushes. I peeked over his shoulder, studying Dr. DeWitt's garage in the distance. Baruj began to get up, but I seized his arm and yanked him back down.

"Wait a moment," I whispered. "I've never seen this place locked up before. Something's not right."

Baruj crouched back down beside me, and we waited for a moment, peering through the bushes at the weathered blue building. One long minute followed another. Everything in me felt hot, uncomfortable. The sun had started its arc through the sky, and the air was beginning to catch fire. Baruj glanced left, right, his eyes darting across the landscape, searching for soldiers.

"It looks clear. I'm going." He moved to his feet, but I pulled him back down once more.

"Just one more minute. Please. Dr. DeWitt never closes the shop."

His mouth settled into a frown, but he sat back down. A minute later, a couple of guards walked around the corner of the building, glancing into each of the darkened windows.

Baruj covered his mouth and swore. "Where do we go now?"

I thought for a moment, but my mind was blank. Think, think, think. I willed the memories into my head. Papa at work early, Papa coming home, Papa telling me he was going somewhere...

"Sometimes Papa and Dr. DeWitt would meet in one of the storage units instead of in the shop."

Baruj's face relaxed for a split second, then twisted back into tension and fear. "Do you remember which one?"

"I think so. It's the last row of units, right next to the Wall."

He nodded. "We'll head there, then." We sat under the bushes until the guards climbed into their cab and drove off, gliding back toward downtown Samalut and the Central office.

"Should we head back to the cab?" My ankle still stung, and a bruise pressed against the straps of my sandals.

"No. It's too far back. We'll lose time and risk getting caught. Come on." He snatched my arm and pulled me up.

"See that clump of trees?" He pointed across the dry, empty field to a patch of green over a hundred meters away.

I didn't like where this was going. Why, oh why, couldn't it be midnight? The morning sun illuminated the clearing, showing each rock in sharp relief. If anyone was near, we would be seen.

"I see it."

"On the count of three. One."

"My ankle—" I glanced down. I didn't think I could keep up with Baruj.

"Two."

I wanted to sob, sit back down, and wait for Papa to find me, but I knew I had to press on.

"Three."

Before I could say anything, Baruj plowed through the field. I jumped up and began sprinting alongside him, my arms halted by the cuffs on my wrists. I wanted to see if any guards had spotted us, but I was too scared to turn my head. Trees. Make it to the trees.

I collapsed beneath the trees, rolling out of sight. Baruj crawled down a moment after.

He was gasping, sucking air in raspy gulps. "I didn't know you could move so fast."

"Neither did I."

He rose to his knees and scanned the area. The biggest open stretch lay behind us. A colony of water treatment buildings sat in front of us. "We'll have plenty of cover from here."

We raced from building to building, always looking and listening for guards. I could only hear the roar of blood in my ears and the rush of water in the treatment plant. We crept close to the walls of the outbuildings. Baruj stayed in front to keep lookout.

I could see the rows of storage units from the edge of the water plant. A few cabs whizzed along the road, but none slowed here. I tensed as another hovercab whizzed by, ripping through the air.

Baruj looked over his shoulder and gave me a quick half-grin. "Relax. Those are only scouts. Central won't patrol here on foot until they're sure we're not holed up somewhere downtown."

I knew he meant it to reassure, but the thought only scared me more. Any chance we had of moving unnoticed would disappear as soon as the soldiers decided to cover the outpost on foot.

We waited for a lull in the passing hovercabs, and then sprinted toward the storage units. The storage units, plain white boxes of buildings in long rows, stretched before us. We veered to the back, to the final rows of units before the Wall.

Baruj stared at the red numbers on the sides of the units. "Which was it?"

I peered up and began walking to the middle unit. "I think it's this one. Unit 390."

I looked closer at the number painted on the building. A small, dark speck sat in the middle of the zero. I motioned to Baruj. "Come here. Look at this."

He leaned closer, thick brows furrowed, studying the speck. "I'm not sure what it is." He started scratching at the mark with his fingernail.

"It's a camera." I jumped, and from the startled look on Baruj's face, I knew he had jumped too. I whirled around. Dr. DeWitt stood at the door of the storage unit, his face relieved.

"Don't just stand there. Come in before someone sees you." He waved wildly to the open door. Baruj and I rushed inside.

Dr. DeWitt's entire body relaxed as he shut the door firmly behind him. "Thank goodness you remembered where this was, Sadira."

The door led to a small but brightly lit room. It looked a bit like the hovertech shop, only cleaner. Bits of metal, wires, and bulbs still crowded the room, but instead of being thrown into haphazard piles, they were each neatly sorted into labeled bins. Labeled in Papa's handwriting, I realized.

"You made it! You're safe!" Timothy ran from the far corner of the room, a smile growing on his face. The grin fell when he saw Baruj still clinging to my arm. I pulled away from him and rushed toward Timothy, the shelves, tools, and hovertech parts fading from view. I wanted to hug him, but my hands hung uselessly in cuffs and I found myself standing dumbly in front of him.

"You're safe, too. How'd you get here?" I could feel my face grow hot. I dropped my gaze to the floor.

Baruj cleared his throat. "I told him to run to the hovertech shop. I assume you brought him here, sir?"

"Yes, I did, and a good thing, too. Central's last blip said they were looking for all four of us."

Timothy staggered back toward the corner of the room. "They're looking for me, too?"

"What did you think would happen if you went running off after this morning?" Baruj crossed his arms, staring at Timothy. "Well?"

"There's been soldiers at my house since I got home last night. They've been waiting for Sadira. The Colonel—he scares me. He said they had to wait until you broke a law, any law, and then they'd take you in for questioning. What was I supposed to do?"

Baruj's arms dropped. "You weren't kidding about Central watching you, Sadira."

"No, I wasn't." I lifted my chin and returned my gaze to Timothy. "I'm sorry for getting you mixed up in this."

"I'm not," he replied. My eyes met his. His face was quiet, serious. "There's no need for Central to threaten my family, or interrogate Sadira, or have a warrant for all of us."

Baruj lifted one dark eyebrow in surprise, then smiled. "You're right. It's messed up. What are you willing to do about it?"

"Whatever it takes to make things right."

Baruj seemed satisfied with that answer. He turned his attention back to Dr. DeWitt. "Do you have something to cut off those cuffs?"

Dr. DeWitt thought for a moment, then began rummaging through the room. "I should have a plasma torch around here..." He dug through a shelf of tools and wriggled a torch from the very back. He grabbed a welding mask from the wall and led me to a table. Timothy walked back toward me, but paused awkwardly once he got to my side.

"Hold still, and turn your head. This will be very bright." He pulled the dark visor over his pale face, and I turned my head sharply, waiting for the white-hot plasma beam to turn on. The metal around my wrists began to heat up, but before they could become uncomfortably hot the cuffs fell to the floor with a clang.

I rubbed my sore wrists, raw from struggling against the sharp metal. Dr. DeWitt yanked the visor from his face, grabbed my hand and stared at the cuts from the cuffs. "Let's put something on that for you." He grabbed a small bottle and opened it, the scent of rosemary filling the air. He slopped the greenish gel onto the broken skin around my hands.

"ReGen gel," he said. "I had a friend in the hospital pinch a bottle for me. This stuff works wonders." It did, too. The gel stung a bit at first, leaving my skin feeling warm and tingly. The small cuts on my wrists began to seam themselves up, until they were no more than a sliver of a line.

"Thanks."

He waved his hand dismissively. "No need for thanks. We have bigger things to discuss. Why did the Colonel take you in for interrogation in the first place?"

I told them about Colonel Marwasi stopping by the previous night, and about Mrs. Nagi telling me to run. "They took me in for breaking curfew, but that's not what they wanted to talk about. The Colonel threatened to exclude everyone I know."

I rested my hand against my side and felt the edges of the puzzle box in my pocket. "I think they were looking for this." Perhaps Dr. DeWitt would have some more answers about how to use it. "Baruj and I found this in my house yesterday." I handed the box to Dr. DeWitt.

Timothy stared at the box. "You found this in your house?"

Dr. DeWitt peered at the box. "It looks like a toy."

"It's not. Watch." I took the box from Dr. DeWitt, tapped it on, and then quickly punched the squares, aligning the colors on each side. "It's a modified Rubik's cube."

"You figured it out?" From the way Baruj tried to bite back his smile, I could tell he was impressed.

"Yep." Since I now knew what to do with the puzzle, I was able to quickly solve all six sides. The box gave a small 'ding', and one face flipped open. Timothy and Baruj leaned closer, studying the open flap.

Dr. DeWitt's already pale face turned a ghostly white. "What's inside?"

I tugged out the clear box within. "I think it's some sort of radio, powered by one of those crystals. I got this thing out of the puzzle last night, and it seemed to turn on when I held it up to the light."

Dr. DeWitt gently lifted the box from my hand and held it up. The crystal inside glowed softly, and the box hummed. "Remarkable. I was reading through your father's notes on the crystals. I hadn't imagined he'd gotten this far."

"What exactly is it?" I asked.

"Henri told me in passing that he had heard rumors of naturally entangled elements. The ancient oracles and prophets always wore crystals in their costumes, so Henri was convinced that these stones were some sort of communication device. Of course, I was skeptical."

"When he first showed me the crystals, I was intrigued, but I didn't see a use for it. Your Papa, on the other hand, made it an obsession. When he wasn't working on the Bright Star, he was fiddling with these rocks. In fact, he was talking about redesigning the com systems on the Bright Star to use those things."

"What happened?" Baruj asked.

"I'm not sure. One day, this was all he would talk about. The next... he acted like they never existed. That was about two months ago. I didn't pry. I assumed he had hit a dead end with his research. But this—sneaky bastard!" He laughed, shaking the box. I winced. "Sorry, Sadira. I'll mind my language."

"Do you know how it works?" Timothy asked me.

"No. I played with it a little bit last night, but I could only receive messages. I heard—I heard Papa. You're right, Baruj. They're still alive. I don't know how to send a message out, though."

Dr. DeWitt tinkered with the bright red buttons now appearing on the box. He sighed. "I'm not sure either. Oh, I wish Henri had said something! Then I might be able to help you more. I suppose he still didn't trust me completely."

"Why wouldn't Papa trust you?" Papa and I visited Dr. DeWitt all the time. He was my godfather, one of the people I felt closest to. There was no reason to not trust him.

Dr. DeWitt smiled for a moment, then licked his chapped lips. The smile faded, replaced with crinkles of worry along his brow. "No, he didn't tell you. Oh, dear, Sadira." He looked as though he might cry.

"I'm the reason your mother is gone."

I stared at Dr. DeWitt. "My mother died before we moved to Samalut. You never met her."

His gaze shifted to the ground, and he cleared his throat. "You're right, but that doesn't absolve me. What do you think lies outside of the Wall?"

"It's wasteland between the cities. Everyone knows that."

"I had to do a training exercise out there once," Baruj said. "We had to wear full protective gear to prevent radiation poisoning."

Timothy nodded in agreement. "My parents told me Central dumps their radioactive material out there.

"Everyone is wrong." Dr. DeWitt's usually jovial tone was much darker. "There's no radiation—at least, not enough to worry about. But there are thousands of people—perhaps millions—stuck out there living as animals."

My mind reeled. "What do you mean? There's nothing out there. It's only desert. I've seen the pictures on the view-screen in school."

Dr. DeWitt sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Central's done their job well."

"I'm sorry?" Baruj raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips, clearly insulted by Dr. DeWitt's comment.

"At lying to you. Manipulating you."

Baruj's face reddened in embarrassment. "I know the things that Central tries to do—"

"You don't know the half of it." Dr. DeWitt's pale blue eyes narrowed, glaring at Baruj.

Baruj's mouth clamped shut, and his small eyes narrowed to slits. "I'm listening, sir."

"Central tells you that your pills keep you vaccinated, that no human has died of virus or disease in over a hundred years. These are both lies."

"What?" cried Baruj.

Timothy clenched his jaw and his fists. "I heard my parents say things. I just didn't know..."

Dr. DeWitt continued. "About fifteen years ago, in a few remote outposts, there was a severe viral outbreak. At that time, I worked in the Department of Health as a junior assistant. I had worked there two years, maybe three, when my team was sent to evaluate a group of infected subjects to try to figure out what caused the illness. Of the original team of twenty researchers, only one person survived to return the headquarters. Me."

Dr. DeWitt's words lingered in the air. Only one survivor in twenty? My mouth grew dry. What kind of sickness had this been? I had learned about illness in school, but I had never been sick. No one I knew had ever been sick. Our pills kept us from getting sick.

Our pills keep us feeling safe. The disgusting thought paraded through my mind. I turned my attention back to Dr. DeWitt.

"Since my supervisors died during the study, Central named me the new head of the Department of Health. Within a few short months, the virus had annihilated three outposts. I didn't have any experience. I didn't know what to do. All I knew was the look on people's faces when they grew ill, when they—" paused a moment, his pale face turning red around his eyes. "At my recommendation, Central began restricting travel passes in an attempt to quarantine the illness. Then they banned personal communication devices so no one could find out how bad it was in some outposts."

Dr. DeWitt pulled off his glasses and dried his eyes. "I was terrified. It's not an excuse, really. I can't justify what I did. I—you have to understand that the virus was horrific. It made—it would..." He choked up and buried his head in his sleeve.

After a long moment, Dr. DeWitt regained his composure. "I'm sorry." He ran his fingers through his white-blond hair. "The virus kept spreading. Within a year, we had reported cases in a dozen outposts, and fatality rates were over eighty percent. Central's Board asked me for my recommendation to stop the outbreak. I told them—" His face reddened, and I wasn't sure if it was from grief or embarrassment. "I told them to test all Citizens and exclude any infected people."

My mouth felt dry, and my voice came out in a creaky whisper. "What does that have to do with my mother?"

His eyes drooped. "She didn't die. At least, she didn't die immediately. She got sick. Henri wanted to tell you, but Central threatened to exclude anyone who spread lies about a sickness their pills—" he spat out the word, "—couldn't cure. I resigned my post, and trained in hovertech instead. I never wanted to see the inside of a Central hospital again."

I sat down. My mom had been excluded? She had died sick and alone in the desert? My stomach turned, and bile stung my mouth.

A radio sitting on the table next to Dr. DeWitt crackled to life. "Should we expand the search perimeter, sir?"

A response, and from the cold voice, I knew it was Colonel Marwasi on the radio. "Yes. Send first platoon through the water treatment plant. Second and third platoon, begin canvassing the housing sector."

Dr. DeWitt frowned. "That's Central's main frequency on the radio. It's time for you both to leave."

"Leave? Now?" I couldn't process everything Dr. DeWitt was telling me. Every history lesson of every year of school had taught us that the badlands were nothingness. They taught us that Central was good and cared for all citizens.

But I remembered my last history assignment. It had conveniently left out information about the last twenty years. How could I have been so foolish? Dr. DeWitt's story fit neatly into the gaping holes in my schoolbooks.

"That's why I'm glad we're all here," Dr. DeWitt said. "We talked about the possibility of having to leave Central's cities someday." He threw two large suede knapsacks at our feet. "There's already some food and water in these bags. Let's grab you both some blankets and other supplies. You know how to use a map and compass, right, Baruj?" He rummaged through the shelves, pulling off a few other items.

Baruj nodded sharply. "Of course." He stood a little straighter, his military bearing taking over.

"Good. It's ancient tech, but it's dead useful, and Central won't be able to track it like their hand held navs. Take care of this. You won't have much else to guide you." Dr. DeWitt put the map and compass in a small satchel, which Baruj tied on to his belt.

Everything was happening too fast. Dr. DeWitt kept piling supplies into the knapsacks. Baruj's dark face lit up with excitement. Excitement? I wasn't ready to go anywhere. I wasn't ready to leave Samalut, the only home I could remember. I looked back into the corner of the storage unit. Timothy stood with his lean arms crossed, staring at the ceiling. His jaw clenched and unclenched. His fingers dug into his own arms. He looked at me for a moment, and his face fell. Tears welled up in my eyes.

I wasn't ready to leave Timothy, either. Not like this.

"I want to stay here."

Baruj and Dr. DeWitt continued to pack, continued to pull tools off the shelves.

"I'm staying," I repeated, louder and more firmly.

Dr. DeWitt paused for a moment. "What?"

"I don't want to go anywhere. I want to stay right here." Timothy tilted his head, glancing at me. His mouth curved up for a brief moment, then returned to a stiff line. He uncrossed his arms and walked toward me.

"You know you can't stay here. It's not safe." Timothy rested his hand on my shoulder. I stared at the ground, afraid to meet his eyes.

"You're staying here, aren't you?" I asked.

"No," Dr. DeWitt said. "Timothy and I aren't safe here, either. We're not going to join your search for Henri and the others, but we have to flee as well. We'll be leaving as soon everything has calmed down a bit."

"Don't you want to find your papa?" asked Baruj, his brow furrowed. "I want Naeem back. We may be their only chance of returning to safety."

"What if something happens to us? How can you know we'll make it? I'm not strong. I'm not strong at all. I don't want to—to die." Once the words had finally been said, I knew what I feared. I couldn't make it through the desert on my own. I couldn't rescue Papa. It was a miracle I had made it this far, a miracle I had gotten out of the interrogation room in one piece. I felt the tears stream down my face. Terror gripped me.

Timothy lifted my face with one gentle hand and looked me straight in the eye. "Your strength is here." He tapped the side of my head. "You're one of the smartest people I know. As long as you use your head, I know you'll make it."

He leaned down to my ear and whispered in a voice so quiet only I could hear, "That's what I love about you."

I dried my face on my sleeve. Timothy still stared at me, his hand resting easily on my shoulder. I put my hand on top of his and held his fingers for a long moment.

"Thank you."

"You've got me, too, Sadira. Don't forget that." Baruj tucked the compass he had been fiddling with back into the pouch on his side. "I want to find Naeem just as much as you want your papa back. We'll help each other. We'll make it." His face, normally filled with a smirk or a hint of a joke, was solemn.

Dr. DeWitt cleared his throat. "You're the one Central wants. The farther away you can get from Samalut, the better. If they catch you again, I won't be able to help you. You'll go, then." It wasn't a question. It was a command. I knew better than to argue with him when he got that way. The truth of his statement settled into my brain.

I couldn't be caught again because I might not have anyone to help me next time. It didn't matter that I was afraid. I still had to leave. I inhaled sharply, letting the air fill my lungs, letting my body relax. My eyes closed, blocking out the world.

"You're right. I have to go. I _will_ go." I said a silent prayer: _God, put courage in my heart._

My eyes opened, taking in the room, Dr. DeWitt, Baruj, and Timothy. It was a new world, a world where my body sung with strength and my soul filled with fire.

Dr. Dewitt carried on with the packing. He pulled out a couple of lightbands, handing one to each of us. I snapped the lightband around my wrist and switched it on. It gave a strong, steady stream of bluish light. I promptly flicked it back off. No point in using such a thing in a brightly lit room. Dr. DeWitt grabbed a long, hollow tube of metal with a switch at one end and a knife. He handed me the metal tube and gave the knife to Baruj, who fastened it on his belt.

"What is this?" I put my eye near the open end, trying to peer inside.

"Careful, Sadira." Dr. DeWitt snatched the tube from me. "You're staring down the business end of a fire-starter. See this switch? Press it, and voila!" A flame shot out of the hollow end of the tube. I jumped back. I had seen fire before, but never this close up. Everything was electric, even Papa's pipe for his sim-tobacco. Dr. DeWitt flicked the switch again, and the fire returned to its home in the tube. He handed the fire-starter back to me. I touched it gingerly, afraid of allowing the flames back out of their prison.

"Ah, one more thing." Dr. DeWitt grabbed two long robes, handing one to each of us. "You'll want to be sure to keep your skin covered, especially you, Sadira. It wouldn't do to try to rescue your father if you're all sunburned."

"What about you and Timothy?" I asked. "Where are you going?"

Dr. DeWitt ran his hand nervously through his hair. "Your father and I had considered this possibility for a long time, Sadira. We had already put together a shelter outside of the city walls. It's well concealed and well stocked. We can stay underground for a year if we need to."

"He really is a mad scientist," muttered Baruj.

Timothy stifled a chuckle, but Dr. DeWitt beamed, flattered by the comment.

"You've been in the badlands before, right?" Dr. DeWitt asked.

Baruj nodded. "Only once. For a training exercise."

"Many of the stories you've heard about the badlands are true. There are hundreds of kilometers of desert with no food, no water, and no shelter."

"Are there wild animals?" I asked.

Dr. DeWitt shrugged. "Possibly. Who knows? It's best to travel by night and sleep during the hottest part of the day. Keep concealed. Conserve your water. There's no telling when you may find more." He lifted the smaller knapsack and motioned for me to turn around. Dr. DeWitt slipped the straps over my shoulders. With a quiet whir, the straps adjusted automatically until the pack sat snug against my back. He then helped Baruj put on his pack.

"How will I know where to find Papa?"

Dr. DeWitt grabbed my hand and placed the crystal radio in it. "These crystals have been Henri's obsession for the last several months. If there's any way to find him, I think it's to use this device. Figure out how to call your papa. Baruj, I marked the last known coordinates of the hovership on your map. You should start there and see what you find."

Baruj cleared his throat. "How are we going to climb over the Wall, sir?"

"Oh, it's far too tall to climb over."

"Then how do we get out?" Baruj asked.

"If you can't go over, then you can always try going under." Dr. DeWitt looked at Baruj with a knowing grin.

Timothy wrinkled his brow. "What is he talking about?"

"Most people think there's only one way to get into Samalut," Baruj said.

"Through the front gate," I said. It's the only entrance I had ever seen used, and even then, access through those gates was rare. Supplies were usually sent in transport ships that floated over the Wall instead of through the gate, but most hovertech crafts had restrictors to keep them within the boundaries of the city.

Baruj nodded. "But there are actually two entrances. There's an underground access point for receiving any classified cargo for the Central office. It's behind the greenhouses." Baruj shook as he thought about it. "Do you think we can go through there, Dr. DeWitt?"

Dr. DeWitt licked his lower lip. "It's the best chance you have."

"I supposed it is."

Dr. DeWitt's face softened, and he turned back to me. "Little Sadira, you know I want to keep you here with me and Timothy, but you're safer with Baruj. The farther away from Samalut you go, the better." He gave me a hug and kissed the top of my head. "You be safe, and be good."

He held out his hand to Baruj, and they awkwardly shook hands. "Take care of her."

"I will, sir."

Timothy reached for my arm and pulled me in for a hug. Everything paused for a moment. My heart stopped beating. My lungs chose not to inhale. His arms felt warm, safe, and sure around me.

Time caught back up to us, and Timothy pulled away. "You'll be safe. Just use your head."

I tried to think of something to say, some way to show I understood, or a way to help him realize that my back was tingling from his touch and my heart was aching at the thought of leaving. No words came out.

Dr. DeWitt brushed the tears out of his eyes and clenched his jaw. "I have one more thing to give to you. Take very good care of this." He walked to one of the back shelves in the storage unit and pulled down a small metal box.

"Ever since Central banned radios, I've been tinkering in my shop to build one that they won't be able to detect, one with enough range to be useful. This is it." He opened the box, revealing two smaller boxes. He handed one of them to me.

"These two radios are synched to a secure frequency. Central shouldn't be able to overhear anything we say. But these are the only two I've managed to build. Don't break it, and for God's sake don't lose it. It's the only way we'll be able to keep in touch. I'll try to get in contact with you once a day to give you any updates."

I turned the box over in my hands. I could have Timothy and Dr. DeWitt by my side, even across the desert. It was a comfort, a small comfort, but better than nothing.

Dr. DeWitt strode forward and propped open the door. "Out you go, then. You can't wait any longer. We'll see each other soon."

Baruj marched out in front of me, and I followed a half step behind. It was bright outside. From the heat of the air, I guessed it was already ten o'clock. Broad daylight, and we're going to try to escape? I could hear the blood rushing in my ears, a strong and steady whump, whump, whump as I passed through the door.

This may be the last thing I ever do.

I pushed that terrifying thought from my mind and followed Baruj. He raced to the Wall and pressed himself against its rough concrete edge. We didn't blend in, couldn't blend in to that environment. Every fold of our clothes and stretch of our skin screamed in contrast to the bleak gray-beige of the Wall. We're going to get caught.

I felt as though I had cotton stuffed in my mouth. I swallowed a few times, but no saliva came. Baruj's strong fingers reached for my hand, and I clutched them gratefully.

We jogged silently, heading ever closer to the greenhouses in the Ag district. My heart was beating harder and harder, and my ankle still throbbed a bit, but the pain slowly receded. The sprain was only a bit of soreness, I decided. Either that, or the adrenaline kept the pain at bay. I kept scanning the land around us, looking for a guard. They were on foot by now. One could turn the corner of a building or step out from behind a tree at any moment.

For those long minutes, the open areas between the storage units and the greenhouses were mercifully clear. We clung to cover as much as possible, staying low on the ground. The greenhouses, gleaming a brilliant white in the morning sun, now sat twenty meters away. Baruj opened the door of the first greenhouse, letting out a cloud of cool, humid air. "This is as much cover as we can hope for," he whispered. It was a relief to be tucked out of sight instead of running across the open fields.

I had only been in the greenhouses once before, during a trip with school. The building was narrow—perhaps only twenty-five meters wide—but was easily two hundred meters long. Tangles of white pipes snaked across the ground, feeding the hydroponic systems. Large white plastic trays elevated the rows of corn, beans, and rice. There was just enough room between the plant trays and the floor for Baruj and me to squirm underneath and disappear from view.

We squeezed under the trays and paused for a moment. Baruj's panting slowed, and he began to relax. He slid next to me and whispered in my ear, "We're going to stick to the greenhouses for as long as we can. This thing is pretty much automated—hardly anyone walks through. The building is wired, though, so you have to be quiet."

I nodded silently to show I understood. Baruj and I kept crawling along under the plant trays, slowly making our way over the irrigation pipes placed randomly throughout. We had nearly reached the end of the greenhouse when the door at the far end clicked open. Baruj's entire body stiffened, and my heart raced into overdrive once more.

Heavy footfalls rang through the building, edging ever closer to us. I couldn't tell how many feet there were—I was afraid to turn around and look—but I guessed there were at least five people in the greenhouse with us.

Baruj twisted his body and turned his face to me. "When I say run, you sprint for the back door with everything you have."

My stomach shrank to nothing, and my legs felt limp.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

Ready? I couldn't be ready, couldn't ever be ready. The footsteps were so close and clicked to the rhythm of my heartbeat—whump, whump, whump.

"Run!" Baruj said.

I pushed myself off the ground and sprinted forward. The weak feeling in my legs vanished. Adrenaline took over, rising in my veins. It drove each footstep, forced each heartbeat. My muscles burned with fear.

"Over there!" I heard the guards behind me shout. I didn't look over my shoulder. Any extra motion only wasted precious time, lost us precious distance. I kept running, following a breath behind Baruj.

We shot out of the back door of the greenhouse. Baruj clutched my hand and dragged me in between another row of greenhouses. I kept running, the aching steps alternating with the staccato drumbeat of my heart.

A blip echoed through the rows of greenhouses, coming from everywhere at once. "Suspects spotted in the Ag district. Request for backup." It repeated incessantly, a horrible song promising capture.

Baruj swore under his breath. I glanced over my shoulder and saw ten soldiers closing in. They jogged at a leisurely pace, sure of surrounding us. I pushed myself harder, faster, and said a prayer of thanks for my long legs.

Baruj halted for a moment, staring at the small building buried into the Wall. Two large gray doors, the same somber color as the Wall, were the only indication of a building. That and the hoards of soldiers standing guard in front of the doors. "There must be a full company there. We're not getting out through the back gate." Panic rose in his voice, each word a note higher than the last. "Shit, shit, shit. What do we do, Sadira?"

I froze. Baruj was older, bigger, stronger. I hadn't planned anything, and I had no idea where to turn next. The guards behind us continued their slow jog, and several more soldiers walked toward us from the building in the Wall.

Guards stood before us and behind us, but a glance to my right showed me the row between the greenhouses was still clear. "We're grabbing the cab," I blurted out. I tugged Baruj's arm and ran back toward the center of the town. Each stride was faster and longer than the one before.

I can't be caught, not here, not now.

Baruj lagged behind me, panting heavily. His footsteps slowed, but I kept sprinting, ignoring the sharp pain building in my side. I turned the corner and sighed with relief. The edge of the cab barely peeked out from behind the row of trees. The Central soldiers hadn't found it yet after all.

I threw myself into the back seat. Baruj collapsed in the front.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"Over the Wall."

"We can't do that! The hovertech is height restricted."

"Just trust me," I said.

"But—"

"We're out of choices. Look." Two black hovercabs approached in the distance.

"Fine." Baruj shut the top of the hovercab and flipped it on. "Manual override," he shouted into the dash. The top row of lights on the dash dimmed, and a set of controls flipped down. He clutched them, knuckles white, and zoomed through the side streets, twisting and turning between buildings. I grabbed the shoulder harness and tried to pull it down, but I was getting slung from side to side in the cab. I pressed my arms against the sides to brace myself as he took another sharp turn.

"I hope this works!"

Me too, I thought. I remembered Dr. DeWitt telling me that a cab had flown over the Wall recently, and him saying that this cab was a prototype. I hoped against hope that he had modified the cab to defy its height restriction. Otherwise we'd be dashed to pieces by the Wall.

Baruj had cleared out of the downtown area and was speeding toward the looming gray Wall in the distance. Dr. DeWitt must have removed the speed restrictors on the cab, too. We outpaced the cabs behinds us. The ground below flew by at a dizzying speed, blurring together as I glanced over my shoulder. A half-dozen cabs hovered behind us, but we surged forward.

The Wall grew closer, closer, closer. It sharpened into view, every flaw of the wall stark and clear. I could see the texture of the concrete, could see the cracks and chinks peeking through.

"Pull up!" I screamed. This is it. This is how I will go, staring at the Wall, smashed against it like a bug.

"I'm trying!" Baruj put all of his weight on the controls, and the cab shot skyward, catapulting over the Wall. I could see the other Central cabs below, stopped on the other side of the Wall, crippled by their height restrictors. The cab spun skywards, climbing fifteen, twenty, thirty meters into the air. We spiraled, and I could hear the reactor coils fall out of synch. That isn't good.

"Buckle up!" Baruj screamed. I jerked at the shoulder harness, which finally pulled down across my chest, and snapped it in securely. The cab had stopped spiraling upwards and was now flying straight down into the desert sand.

I barely had time to blink, when the cab flung out into the desert, crashing and sliding into the sand. I jerked forward, but the shoulder harness cut into my skin, keeping me firmly in my seat. A huge cloud of dirt kicked up on impact.

"Are you okay?" I asked Baruj. He stared back at me, his eyes disoriented.

"I think so. Nothing hurts too bad. You?"

"I'm good, too," I replied. I had a few sore spots around my neck and shoulders that were sure to be bruises tomorrow, but nothing seemed to be cut or broken.

He removed his shoulder harness and pushed open the top of the cab. Sand from the air began to settle, falling like dry, dusty snowflakes on my hair and clothes. "I guess we're walking, then." He held out his hand for me, and I grabbed it, wrenching myself out of the cab. The reactors had stopped whining and now sat deathly still on the ground.

He pulled the robe Dr. DeWitt had given him from his knapsack and slipped it on over his head. "Put yours on too, Sadira."

I removed the wadded robe from my bag as well. It was surprisingly light and airy. The khaki cloth hung loosely from my shoulders and swirled in folds around my ankles. Without the sun beating on my arms, I felt cooler.

I readjusted the knapsack on my back and pulled my scarf over my face. "You have the coordinates for the crash site?"

Baruj pulled the map out of the satchel on his waist. He squinted to make out Dr. DeWitt's handwriting. "Yep. This says the hovership should be around 31 5 North 29 59 East, and we are here." He traced our position on the map. "We should go this way." He pointed off in the horizon and began walking.

I sped up to match his pace. He grabbed my hand. His touch was warm, calming, nothing like the electric chills I got when Timothy was nearby. For a moment I thought to shake off his hand, but the friendly touch made me feel safe.

"We're completely exposed here," he said. "At least the robes are khaki. Keep an eye on the skyline. It'll be an hour or so until they can get a vehicle approved to leave the outpost. We need to cover some ground."

"You think Central will send someone out here?"

He shrugged. "I didn't think they'd interrogate a girl your age, or exclude sick people and let them die in the desert. I didn't think a lot of things."

I hadn't thought of those things before today, either. I suddenly felt very old. My joints stiffened, and my heart ached. The home I knew, the people I trusted, none of it was as it seemed.

But Papa was alive. No matter what else happened, I had to help him..

I resisted the temptation to look back over my shoulder, to take one last look at Samalut, in case I turned to a pillar of salt like Lot's wife. There was nothing to look back for, anyway.

Baruj and I walked hand in hand, trudging up the gently rolling dunes. The hot sand stung my feet, spraying up and working into my sandals. I braced my right foot, trying not to irritate the bruise that formed around my ankle.

We walked for what seemed like hours, the horizon sticking firmly in its place. Nothing seemed to move except for my feet. The sand looked the same in each direction, and the enormous blue sky overhead seemed to shut in on us like a lid on a pot. I was like the fish Mrs. Nagi had cooked the night before, bobbing and boiling in the heat.

I tugged at Baruj's sleeve. "I need some water."

He slowed and slung his knapsack down to his feet.

"Me, too." He dug through his pack and pulled out his canteen, taking long, deep swallows. I shook my head. Dr. DeWitt told us to conserve our water. I grabbed my canteen as well. The container was warm from sitting in my bag. I unscrewed the lid and took only a small sip. The water was the same temperature as my body, and it had a bizarre metallic flavor. I was so used to requesting a cool drink from a dispenser that I had never realized what a luxury cold, pure water was. The relief from the sip of warm water passed altogether too quickly, and my mouth was cotton once more. _Conserve your water._ I was still thirsty, but the instruction rang through my head. I screwed the lid back on to the canteen and put it in my knapsack. Heat spread across my face from the warm air and insistent sunlight.

A high-pitched squealing sliced through the air. "What was that?" Baruj asked.

I had nearly forgotten the radio hanging from the side of my knapsack. I tinkered with the switches until the squeal turned into coherent words.

"Sadira?" Dr. DeWitt called through the radio.

"Yes. Can you hear me?" I held the radio up to my mouth and shouted into it.

"Loud and clear. How are you both doing?"

I told him how we escaped from the outpost, how we crashed into the sandy earth.

"Did you really fly over the Wall?" Timothy asked. "That's what the blips kept saying here."

Baruj shook his head. "We really did. I can hardly believe it myself. Thanks for whatever you modified on that cab, Dr. DeWitt. We wouldn't have gotten out otherwise."

"You're not hurt, are you?" Timothy asked.

"No, we're fine. We've been walking for the last few hours," I said. "How are you two? What about Mrs. Nagi, or Amina?"

"I don't know," said Dr. DeWitt. "The blips have only been about tracking down you two. We'll keep an ear out for any other information."

I heard Timothy shift uneasily in the background—with a sinking stomach, I realized that his family could also be in danger. _God, please don't let any harm come to them. Please protect our families, our friends._

Baruj changed the topic, updating Dr. DeWitt on our status. "I think we've covered about twelve kilometers."

Dr. DeWitt's voice came on, tired and heavy with worry. "It's time for you two to rest a bit and find some cover. We just heard a blip from Central saying that they're sending a cab over the Wall to scout the area."

"Understood, sir," said Baruj. "We'll stop here. At least until the sun goes down and you confirm we're clear."

"Be careful. Contact me as soon as it's dark outside." The radio screeched, crackled, then cut to silence.

"Let's make camp, then," Baruj said.

I didn't argue. I just plopped down on the sand.

He chuckled.

"We should at least put a shade over our heads. You know, for cover?"

"Oh." My sunburned face grew even hotter in embarrassment. How was I supposed to know these things? I had never walked through the badlands before. I was no soldier.

Baruj unfolded a blanket from his bag and handed one edge to me. "Here, stretch this out." I pulled obediently, watching the beige cloth smooth into a large sheet. Its sandy color blended perfectly with the dunes on the ground. The blanket's edges were an invisible seam on the earth. Baruj grabbed each of our knapsacks and sat them upright at either end of the blanket, propping the blanket off of the ground just high enough for us to crawl beneath.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"It's not a palace, but it'll do."

He laughed. "Come on, now. Get out of the sun. We'll need to keep quiet until we hear more from Dr. DeWitt."

We crawled beneath the blanket. There wasn't much room, and the air beneath was stuffy and thick, but the extra shade was blissful. So was finally getting off of my feet. I hadn't said anything to Baruj, but the straps of my sandals cut into my ankle, and the skin of my feet felt raw.

It was quiet, still. The desert had its own low hum, a buzz of silence and emptiness that strummed through the hot air. The warm air lay on top of me, the hot sand below. The desert hum sang to me, and I soon feel asleep.

But a different hum cut through the hot air, more insistent, more familiar. _A hovercab reactor._ The sound jerked me from sleep. I heard the synched whine of the coils, the hiss of a cab's metal body cutting through the air.

Central was looking for us.

I tapped Baruj's shoulder. He rolled a bit and groaned. "Is it night yet?"

"I heard something. A cab, I think."

His dark eyes shot open, and his face locked into focus. "I hear it, too," he said after a long moment.

"What should we do?"

"What can we do? Stay quiet. Stay down. Maybe they haven't seen us. We're not carrying anything they can track."

I tried to stay quiet, but my heartbeat wasn't cooperating. It slammed against my ribs, thundering and roaring with each beat. The shadow of a hovercab raced along the ground, passed right over us in a brief eclipse. I twitched.

Baruj grabbed my shoulder and whispered. "If they'd seen us, we would know. Hang on another minute." I watched the cab crisscross overhead a few more minutes, then finally shoot back toward the outpost.

Baruj sighed in relief as the hovercab sped off. "Try to sleep, Sadira. You'll be glad for the rest."

_Try to sleep._ How could I sleep if Central cabs were trying to track us? I lay there, staring up at the blanket. I could see the blue sky through the weave of the cloth, see the sun blazing overhead. I turned my head. Baruj was already asleep.

I pulled the crystal radio, the device Papa had left for me, out of my dress pocket. I held it up to the light streaming through the blanket, but it remained dim and quiet. Dr. DeWitt told me it was the key to finding Papa, but I didn't see how it would help yet. I tucked it back into my pocket and sighed. _Try to sleep._ No way I was sleeping right then. I kept my eyes open, but tried to let my mind relax. Slowly, inexorably, the sky overhead melted and burned, the rich blue turning to a flame orange as the sun sank below the horizon. Purple and navy streaks quelled the fire, pressing it closer and closer to the edge of the earth. _This is what the Wall had been hiding. This is what I missed after curfew._ I had never seen so much of a sunset before.

I nudged Baruj. "Look."

"Hmm?" He leaned forward, propping himself up on his elbows. His hands went straight to his eyes, rubbing away the last of his sleep.

"At the sky. Look." The yellows and oranges and reds and blues danced together, mixed and mingled into a shifting rainbow.

"Oh, it's almost night. Are you ready to walk?"

I glimpsed at the dusky sky again, sighing. If Baruj couldn't appreciate its beauty, that was his loss. I kept my eyes fixed on the rich swirls of stars lighting the sky. Timothy would have stared at them with me. "I'm ready to walk, but let's call Dr. DeWitt first."

We crawled out from under the blanket into the cool night air. I yanked the radio off of the side of my knapsack and flipped it on. "Dr. DeWitt? It's Sadira. Can you hear me?"

Something clanged in the background, then Dr. DeWitt came on. "Yes, dear, I can hear you. Are you well?"

"We're fine. We only saw one cab, and that was a few hours ago. How are you two doing?"

"We managed to get out of the city as well. I think you should be clear of surveillance for the night. The last blip said that Central was searching east of Samalut this evening."

There was a rustling on the other end of the radio, then Dr. DeWitt's voice. "Timothy's asked to speak to you, Sadira."

Baruj took a few steps back and turned around, pulling his canteen out of his knapsack.

"Sadira?" Timothy's voice came over the radio.

"I'm here."

"I just wanted to hear how you were doing." I bit my lip in frustration and embarrassment. I had told Dr. DeWitt how we were doing, but I guessed he needed to hear it for himself. The gesture was sweet, I decided, and I grinned.

"I'm tired. My feet are a bit sore, but otherwise I'm fine. How are you?"

"We're holed up in some kind of bunker. This thing has got to be from the pre-Central times. It's completely archaic. I mean, light switches and everything. Nothing's voice activated. But it's safe enough, I suppose." He paused, sighing. "I wish I could be there with you."

The simple statement sent hot blood rushing through my veins. "I wish you could be here, too. I'll bet you've never seen stars like these. It's beautiful. Maybe Dr. DeWitt will let you peek outside."

"Probably not tonight. We've heard a couple of cabs come by this area. Maybe tomorrow."

"Timothy?"

"Hmm?"

"Have you heard anything about Amina, or the Nagis, or your family?"

A very long silence followed, finally broken by Dr. DeWitt.

"We don't know yet, dear," he said. "We've been listening to Central's radio frequency. They picked up a few people for interrogation, but didn't state names over the radio."

_Interrogation?_ I remembered the trapped feeling in that stark room, the anger from the Colonel and Captain Berings. They threatened to exclude me. _What if they hurt Amina, or Mrs. Nagi?_

"You'll tell me if you hear anything?" I asked. I had to know if they were safe.

"Of course," Dr. DeWitt said. "I'll keep listening in, and we'll try to help everyone we can."

Timothy's voice came over. "We'll make sure they're safe. You find your papa."

"Thank you." I knew that Timothy and Dr. DeWitt might not be able to help, but knowing that they would try took the edge off my worry.

"Be safe." said Timothy.

I smiled, then frowned when I remembered Timothy wasn't there to see me smile. Timothy made my head swim and my chest tighten in a good way. A very good way.

"I'll try. You be safe, too."

There was silence on the other end. I thought the radio had cut off for a moment, but then Timothy sputtered, "Goodnight."

I heard the rustling noise again, and Dr. DeWitt came back on the line. "As far as I can tell from Central's communication, you two should be safe to travel through the night. If I hear anything different, I'll let you know."

"Thank you."

"May God put courage in our hearts," he said, simply. "I have a feeling we'll need it. Goodnight, dear."

"Goodnight."

The radio exhaled a crackle, then silenced. Baruj walked back over, bemusement spread across his narrow face in the form of a smug smile.

"I could see you blushing from way over there."

I felt my face grow hot. "It's sunburn. I was not blushing."

"You're blushing right now. You like him, don't you?"

"Maybe. I think so." My mind was in a whirl. I knew there were other things to think about, like finding Papa, but Timothy had crept into every corner of those thoughts.

"You could do worse, you know." Baruj nudged me with his elbow, teasing.

"I know. I could end up with you."

Baruj's eyes widened, then he doubled over in a fit of laughter. "I guess I deserved that. It's none of my business."

"It really isn't," I said flatly.

Baruj squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. He had been clean-shaven that morning, but a dark shadow traced the line of his jaw. "I'm sorry if I offended you."

I rolled my eyes. "Offending me should be the least of your worries. Let's grab some food and water and then move."

Baruj folded the blanket back up into an impossibly tiny square and stuffed it into his knapsack. He downed a few gulps from his canteen, and popped food into his mouth, barely pausing to chew. I switched on the lightband on my wrist, surrounding my hand in a halo of cool blue light. I pulled out my canteen and the food Dr. DeWitt had packed for us—crackers and tough jerky, salty food that made my mouth even more desperately dry. I had been hungry earlier in the day, but the hunger had vanished and was replaced with thirst. I threw the food back into my knapsack. I could always eat more later.

We set off again. The badlands at night was nothing like the badlands during the day. The air cooled quickly, but the sand remained warm against my feet. Stars began spilling into the night sky, silvery white dust sprinkled on an indigo scarf. A ribbon of milky white and purple twisted through the air. I had always been inside at night, cooped up during curfew hours. I stared openly at the sky and gaped. It was so big, so full, so beautiful. Now and then a bright streak of red raced across it. I pointed one streak out to Baruj.

"That's one of the orbital colonies," he said.

I knew there were metal cities floating in the sky filled with other Central citizens, but the idea had always seemed so remote before, only a video on the view-screen. Seeing them shoot across the sky, nearly invisible from that distance, made me feel small.

Baruj's warm, steady hand grabbed mine, and I felt a bit bigger and stronger. We walked hand in hand, all night, our lightbands projecting blue spirits that danced on the sand. The cool night air felt delicious on my skin, a welcome relief from the heat earlier. Our path was monotonous at first, endless identical dunes sweeping before us. After a few hours, the dunes finally gave way to rockier terrain. Ghoulish outcrops of white stone haunted the empty landscape, twisted and turned in bizarre silhouettes.

It was silent, so silent in the badlands—I could hear the crunch of my feet on the sand, hear Baruj's heavy, raspy breathing as we continued walking. My legs, feet, and back grew tired, exhausted from the journey. A few hours more and the indigo sky faded into lilac, then a pale crisp blue. Soon it was morning. The blazing sun ate the ribbons and clusters of stars, leaving only an endless blue sky. The morning light reflecting on the sand became blinding, and the hot sand burned my toes.

"We need to find a shelter," I said. "I can't see anything, and it's starting to get hot."

"Where do you want to stop?" Baruj bent over his knees, panting.

I turned slowly and scanned the horizon. In the distance, I spotted a plateau with a small hollow at the base. "There." I pointed. "Maybe we could get a bit of shade beside it."

Baruj checked his map and compass. "It's a little bit off course, but it looks like it's the best thing out here. Let's keep walking then." He made a few marks on the map to adjust for our new heading and then grabbed my hand.

Though the plateau had seemed nearby when I first spotted it, it never seemed to grow any closer. We walked for nearly ten minutes before reaching its base. I felt withered, and salt was collecting on my neck where my sweat had already dried.

We walked around the perimeter of the plateau. There was a small outcropping that gave a bit of shade. "Let's hole up here, and then we'll walk when the sun starts to set." Baruj grabbed his canteen to take another sip, but looked surprised when he put it to his lips. "I'm empty. Can I have some of yours?"

I had been trying to save my water like Dr. DeWitt instructed us, but my canteen was almost empty as well. I hesitated for a moment, and then handed it to Baruj. He took a quick sip and swished the water around in his mouth. I grabbed the canteen from him and gave it a quick shake. There was hardly anything left. I took another small sip and let the water momentarily relieve the dryness in my mouth.

Everything on me felt dry. My skin had a film of dust and salt from my sweat; my hands were drawn and cracked. Even my eyes felt thick with dirt.

I settled down under the outcropping, pulling the khaki robe over my eyes to block out the bright sunlight. I had a splitting headache, and my feet were becoming blistered from all of the walking. I laid my knapsack on the ground and rested my head on it. Baruj set his knapsack down at the entrance of the small cave and then lay down beside me.

I grabbed the radio from my bag and flipped it on. It squealed for a moment, then Timothy answered.

"Sadira?"

"Yes, it's me."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "How are you?"

"Same as yesterday, just more tired and more thirsty. We walked all night. We just stopped for a rest."

"I'm jealous. I've been cooped up inside all day. I think I'm going to go crazy." I could hear his foot tapping on the floor in the background.

"Don't get too jealous," Baruj called out. "I'd give my right arm for some cold water right now."

Timothy snorted. "I guess I should be glad."

"Have you heard any new blips from Central?"

"Not much. It was quiet most of the night. The last thing we heard was that they were sending a team south to search. You should still be in the clear, since you're mostly going west."

"What about Amina, or Mrs. Nagi, or your family?"

Timothy sucked his teeth. "Central's been pulling people in and out of interrogation all day, block by block. No one's been excluded yet."

My relief was momentary. Yet. No one has been excluded yet. I prayed with all my heart it stayed that way.

"Good," said Baruj. "We need to rest now so we can walk more tonight. Call us if you hear anything new from Central."

Timothy's next words sounded forced. "Of course. Keep safe."

"We will." Baruj grabbed the radio and flipped it off.

My mouth felt sour. "What did you do that for?"

"Do what?" asked Baruj, feigning innocence.

"Cut off Timothy like that."

He frowned, his smirk turning into a scowl. "You need to be resting and keeping your mind clear. We don't know what's up ahead. It's best—"

"Why should you get to decide what's best for me?" I snatched the radio back.

"Because. Just because. I'm older, for one thing. Wiser." It was a lame argument, and from the expression on Baruj's face, I could tell he knew that.

"You have people to go home to. If I don't find Naeem—" He quickly changed the subject. "We both need to rest. We're getting irritable. I think that's a sign of dehydration or something."

He settled back down on the ground, shifting the knife on his belt and curling himself up. "Sweet dreams, Sadira."

I was too angry to sleep. Within a minute, he was fast asleep, his face relaxed and calm. He looked so different asleep than awake, serene instead of sarcastic, peaceful instead of petulant. It didn't seem fair that he could just immediately drop off.

I grabbed my tablet from my knapsack and flipped it on. If I couldn't sleep, I could at least read some more of Papa's notes.

The first thing that popped up was not his notes, however. It was my reading assignment for history. I blinked back a few tears as I read through the notes. Had it only been a few days since I sat with Amina and Timothy? Since I cooked dinner with Mrs. Nagi?

Crying doesn't solve problems. Action does.

I shook my head. I was doing everything I could, and I trusted Dr. DeWitt and Timothy to help those still in Samalut. Baruj was right about one thing. I had to keep my head clear. I switched back over to Papa's notes.

I tapped through a menu and into the list of files I downloaded from Papa's tablet. I had read a few of the files, but they didn't seem to contain anything noteworthy, only bits of projects from his work at Central. I scrolled down a bit and tried opening a different file instead.

That one contained schematics for a new hovercab; the next had some crude drawing of a more powerful reactor coil arrangement. I paused for a moment, studying the twists of metal tubes that fed antimatter into the engine, then skipped to the next file.

I paused. This one wasn't an image at all. It seemed to be a story. Several stories, actually. I started skimming through them. Most were about oracles and witches, people seeing things in the future, or hearing voices. Bizarre. I couldn't remember Papa ever reading anything but technical documents. Even when I was little, Papa would read to me about the ships he was building and the places the ships would fly to.

Even odder, as I read farther along in the stories, I noticed each legend had something in common. Crystals. I scrolled to the bottom, where Papa had typed in a handful of notes in his usual sparse style.

Legends?

Divination or communication?

How to speak across continents?

Entangled elements—how to harness them?

I scrolled down a bit more to an article on entanglement theory. It was over my head, but the gist of it was that pre-Central government scientists had found a way to link diamonds, so that if one crystal vibrated, the other would too, even if it were in a different room.

And then the research stopped, just like Papa's notes in that file.

I flipped excitedly to the next file, hoping to find some sort of schematic, an explanation for how the crystal radio worked. Instead, I found a mishmash of equations and drawings, something I couldn't make heads or tails of.

I sighed, flipped off the tablet, and shoved back into the knapsack. I mashed down my bag to make a sort of pillow. Baruj kept snoring away, and I knew if I had any hopes of walking later that night, I would have sleep, too.

.

It was restless, fitful sleep. I was too hot, too dry, and everything was too bright.

I was in my father's room, curled in the corner, my face buried in my hands. Papa would be here any minute. And then the window became bright, bright, brighter...

The light woke me up, and I found myself staring into the setting sun. Baruj was still fast asleep, snoring gently. I shook him awake.

"The sun's setting. Time for us to move."

He groaned, stretching his arms high above his head. "Sure thing." He rubbed his eyes, and slowly walked to the front of the cave. "Did you move my bag, Sadira?"

"No. I just woke up."

"Then where is it? I left it right here." I could see a depression in the sand where his bag had sat and right behind it, a series of footprints. Bare footprints. Both Baruj and I wore shoes. He glanced at me, his face blanched.

My stomach sank. "I don't think we're alone here."

"No kidding. Grab your bag. We're leaving right now."

He didn't have to tell me twice. The idea of someone creeping over here while we slept was unsettling.

Baruj pulled the satchel with the map and compass out from under his gown. "Thank God I kept this on me instead of in the bag." He studied the map for a moment and then pointed. "This way." He scratched his chin, now bristling with the black stubble of a beard.

He grabbed my hand again. As annoyed as I had been a few hours earlier, I was now grateful for the protective gesture. Baruj's hand felt strong and safe. He gave my hand a gentle squeeze, and a bit of my fear left me. "We'll have to be more careful. Sleep in shifts. But we'll find your Papa."

"And Naeem," I reminded him.

"And Naeem. You'd like him. He's as serious as you are."

"Not crazy like you?"

Baruj smiled. "Not even close. He wanted to be a pilot since he was a baby. All he ever talked about was joining Central Air Services, and he kept his nose in the books to pass his flight tests." Baruj's smile shifted. His eyes watered. Papa had been in my thoughts so much the past week that I hadn't even considered what Baruj was going through. His clenched jaw and pained eyes made it obvious. He must miss his brother, too.

"What about your mama and papa?"

He sighed. "They told Naeem flying was against God's will. Our father wanted him to be a priest, kept trying to force him to take religion classes. Naeem moved out as soon as he turned eighteen. I left pretty soon after that, too."

He seemed upset, so I changed the subject. "How far away are we?"

Baruj pulled the map back out and flicked on his lightband to study it in the quickly fading daylight. "This X here is the plateau. This X over here is the last broadcasted coordinates of the hovership. We're still about 80 km away. We have another two days of walking."

I sighed. "I wish we still had the cab."

He let out a groan. "You and me both. My legs are aching, and I'd like some distance between us and whoever took my bag. Can I have a bit more of your water?"

I handed him my canteen. Baruj took a tiny sip and handed the canteen back to me. "There's still a little left."

I tipped the canteen back and let the last few swallows of water slide down my throat. That was all of our water, and we still have two more days of walking.

Fear seeped into my voice. This was the thing I feared—my body lost in the badlands, baked under the harsh sun. "We're out of water. I'm all dried out, and my feet are sore." I started to sob, but I was so dehydrated the tears wouldn't even form.

Baruj motioned to my feet. "Let me see them." I lifted my right foot for him, and he gingerly grabbed my ankle. The quick breath of air he took in told me the pain wasn't in my head.

"You should have spoken up earlier, Sadira. Your foot is past blistered. Dammit."

"Don't use that word."

"You should be using that word. Dammit! Your foot is bleeding! I don't think you'll be able to walk much more, and I can't carry you for the rest of the trip." Baruj sunk to the ground, raking his fingers through his hair. "Let me think."

I took a closer look at my feet. Blisters swelled wherever my sandal straps crossed my feet, and a few of the blisters had popped, leaving bloody crisscrosses. I turned my head aside. It was worse than I had realized. I had tried to ignore the discomfort, but now that I stared at my feet, the pain was undeniable. We couldn't stop here, not now, not without water. Walking was the only option.

"I can walk," I said defiantly. "Hand me your knife."

Baruj stared at me blankly for a moment, then grabbed the knife off of his belt. "Here."

I cut a strip of fabric off the bottom of my robe. I unstrapped my sandals, which stuck to my broken skin, and carefully patted down the sore spots. I wound the cloth tightly around both of my feet, wincing each time the cotton touched a cut on my foot. I cinched the cloth into a knot and stood. I could still feel a dull ache in my feet, but it wasn't intolerable.

"There," I said, casting my sandals to the side. "Let's go."

Baruj shook his head. "You're the most hard-headed person I know."

"And you're the rudest."

"Sadira, I didn't mean—"

"Let's go. Which direction?"

Baruj double-checked his map and compass, then pointed.

"That way."

I nodded and began walking. My feet were still tender, but the fabric actually felt much better on my skin than the leather sandals. I marched, fierce and determined. I could walk all night like this. That night, I ignored the stars littering the sky and focused only on the steps ahead. Each time I raised and lowered my foot, I came that much closer to finding Papa, to setting things right. Baruj scrambled to keep up.

I kept my hand in my pocket, feeling the corners of the crystal radio. Somewhere out there was Papa, and Naeem, and Ben. I squeezed the small cube tightly, praying for some way to find them. It vibrated gently in my hand.

Was it on?

I pulled it from my dress and stared at the box in my hand. Even in the darkness of the night, it glowed dimly and hummed.

Baruj paused, staring at the crystal inside.

"Did it say anything?"

"No. But it wasn't making any noise before."

He peered closer at the box, his face illuminated by the soft white light. "What do you think it means?"

A surge of hope rushed through me. "I think it means we're on the right track."

.

The moon had crossed half of the sky when I collapsed.

My feet were beginning to ooze under the bandages, soaking the fabric with blood and pus. My mouth felt as dry and grainy as the sand that surrounded us. I tried to breathe through my nose to conserve moisture, but it was as if all of the water in my body had been removed. If only I had one more sip in my canteen...

I stumbled and quickly caught myself.

Baruj jumped. "Sadira! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." I winced as I put weight back on my feet. I didn't feel fine, didn't feel close to fine, but if I wanted to find Papa I couldn't stop. "Let's keep moving."

Baruj studied me uncertainly, but continued forward. I stumbled again.

"Dammit, Sadira!"

"Don't use that word."

Baruj licked his chapped lips. "I can say what I damn well please. If God has a problem with it, I'm sure he'll let me know." He bent over and in one swift motion, threw me over his shoulders.

"Put me down!" I hated the way he made me seem helpless, like an infant. I tried to struggle against his grip, but my arms flailed limply, harmlessly.

"You can't walk."

"Then I'll crawl."

"What happens when your hands and knees become raw?"

I thought for a moment. "I'll roll."

Baruj groaned. "If you'd stay still, it would be a whole lot easier to carry you." I stopped struggling. Baruj readjusted me on his shoulders and kept marching forward.

My body jerked with every step he took. I tried to study our surroundings to keep from growing angry that I was just a useless potato sack on his shoulders. The pale sand and rocks gleamed endlessly in the moonlight. A terrible thought filled my head. The badlands will outlast me, will outlast Baruj. We will never finish our journey.

That horrible image, my desiccated body stretched under the desert sun, sprang to mind once more. I turned my eyes to the stars and caught sight of another red streak. I knew now that it was no shooting star to be wished upon, but one of the orbital colonies. Perhaps I could still make a wish.

Please help us live through this journey.

The stream of scarlet quickly faded, and I wondered if anyone had heard my plea.

.

After about fifteen minutes, Baruj fell to his knees, wheezing. "I can't carry you any farther. Not without more water."

We both lay on the ground, weak and weary. I kept moving my tongue around in my mouth, willing some saliva to relieve the dryness. None came.

I closed my eyes and thought of Papa. What would he do if he were in my shoes? Would he give up here?

No, Papa would never give up. He was a Pascal, and so was I. As long as I tried, as long as I had faith and courage, I could keep going.

God, put courage in my heart.

I felt a bit of strength return to my arms and legs. I rolled over on my hands and knees and began crawling up the dune.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to find Papa!" I kept crawling, one hand, one knee, next hand, next knee. Baruj rolled over and stumbled up the dune next to me.

I crawled down the side of the dune, and there was a freshness to the air I hadn't noticed before. It was clean, damp.

"Do you smell that?"

Baruj nodded.

"Water," he said with a grin. He jumped up to his feet with a sudden surge of strength and easily climbed the next dune.

"Sadira, it's right over here! Water!"

New energy coursed through my body, and I pushed myself off the ground. I tottered uneasily on my feet, but pushed myself forward anyway. Thank you, God.

At the bottom of the next dune was a small crack in the earth, no longer than five meters, with murky water bubbling out. A few short, scraggly palm trees surrounded the pool.

The water was shallow and opaque, filled with sand and grit, but surprisingly cool. I splashed it on my face and felt the cold drops trickle down my neck. Baruj wet his hair, then began slurping the water out of his cupped hands.

"I knew we'd make it through." He took another long drink of water from his hands. "Fill your canteen, then we'll clean off your feet."

I took a few greedy slurps of water, then slowly filled my canteen, trying to keep from getting too much sand in the container. Baruj crawled over to me and unknotted the cloth around my feet.

The fabric stuck to my skin, and as he pulled it off, my feet started to bleed anew. He gave a low whistle.

"I don't know how you walked as long as you did." He splashed water over my foot, and I cringed.

"That stings."

"We have to clean it off. I'll try to be gentle." He gave a few more splashes of water. Each cool droplet hurt a bit less than the last. I could feel the hot, sticky blood flow down my feet, but didn't dare look. Baruj dried my foot delicately with the edge of his gown. "We should rest here tonight. We can wash your foot bindings and sleep."

I nodded in agreement. The moon was settling back down for the night, the dove gray whispers of dawn clung to the horizon. "Let's do that."

I lay my head down on the sand, no longer caring how gritty or dusty my hair became. We found water. We could find Papa. My lips were still chapped and flaking, but my mouth was no longer dry. I closed my eyes, and for the first time in days, I relaxed. The cool sand felt delicious against my overheated skin, and the water ebbed rhythmically beneath my feet. I let go of the past week and breathed, falling into an easy sleep.

"Sadira," whispered Baruj hoarsely. "You need to get up, but move very slowly."

I opened my tired eyes. The sun was beaming almost directly overhead. It was nowhere near dark, nowhere near time for me to be waking up. I rolled my head to the side and saw Baruj's tanned face tight with fear. I scooted upward, propping myself up against my elbows.

Beyond the stubby palm trees were six scrawny, mangy, exhausted wild dogs. Dusty brown fur matted against their thin bodies. One dog's ear was half-gone, a wilted, scarred reminder of the flesh that was once there. Their eyes were hungry, promising violence, and we smelled like food.

Amina had a dog, a miniature whippet that would dance around our feet and beg for his head to be scratched. These dogs looked nothing like him. They danced around the sand to study us, to find our weaknesses. Teeth bared, they started closing in.

I held my breath until my lungs felt like they would explode. I had heard that a dog could smell fear on you. If that was the case, I was sure I reeked. I slowly backed my feet toward my bottom and rose to a low crouch.

The biggest dog, with a patch of black fur on his face and demonic yellow eyes, let out a deep growl.

I fought the urge to run and continued my slow crawl back. Baruj did the same.

"Good boy," muttered Baruj. "Good, good boy. Stay right there."

As Baruj backed up the dune, he slipped and fell, letting out a small shout. The alpha dog snapped and charged. Baruj entered full panic mode.

"Run, Sadira!"

Where could I run to? The dogs could all easily outrun me, especially with how my feet were feeling. I froze, staring wide-eyed as the dogs charged at us.

Baruj pulled the knife from his belt and began slashing away. The black-faced dog lunged, catching his arm in a vice-like grip. The dog thrashed wildly, swinging its head side to side. Baruj screamed and stabbed at the dogs in a frenzy, fighting to get the dog off his arm.

Three other dogs began circling me. I snatched my knapsack off the ground beside me and beat the dogs with it.

My first swing connected solidly with the dog with the missing ear. He fell flat on his back and whimpered. I felt sorry for a moment, but a second dog leaped at me. I brought the pack in front of my face just in time. The dog's teeth sunk into the suede bag instead of my shoulder, and I began kicking it. The other two dogs held back, waiting for an opening to lunge again.

In the chaos, my fire-starter fell out of my bag. The memory of Dr. DeWitt lighting it up flashed in my mind, so reached for it and flicked it on, shoving it in the dog's face. I caught its eye.

The dog howled terribly as its fur caught on fire. It ran whimpering through the oasis, a screaming torch with legs, hitting dried palm fronds and igniting them. Thick gray smoke filled the air, stinging my eyes and blinding me. Through the haze, I could see that the dogs attacking Baruj turned, facing their new threat. Me. Two more pairs of sinister yellow-brown eyes faced me, the dogs' teeth bared. They were lunging, coming for me, coming for my throat, coming for a meal. I kept swinging my pack and the lit fire-starter, and after lighting another dog on fire, the remaining pack turned tail and ran. The dog I hit in the eye lay motionless on the ground, a withered piece of charcoal, as well as the two others that Baruj had stabbed.

I ran over to Baruj. His arm was shredded and bleeding profusely. I opened my canteen and slowly poured the water over his arm. He roared as soon as the cold water touched his broken skin.

I refilled my canteen and rinsed his arm several more times. The clumps of fur and grime that had been stuck to his skin rinsed off.

The smoke stung my eyes and throat. I pulled my gown over my mouth, and Baruj did the same. How can I stop the flames? The smoke made a dark streak in the sky, a blemish on an otherwise clear day. Someone would certainly spot us.

I tried approaching the flames, but the heat stung my skin. Water. I vaguely remembered learning that water put out fires, but nobody used fire in Samalut. The foreign flames licked higher and higher, fanning out across the oasis. I splashed some water from the pool onto the flames. It hissed, shooting out a stream of hot steam. One tiny flame flickered out of existence, but on the other side of the oasis, two more shot up.

There was no way I could splash enough water to kill the flames, and I could feel the smoke filling my lungs. I coughed out the ashy air. We'd have to move. I kneeled behind Baruj, reached under his arms, and dragged him up the dune, away from the hazy smoke. With his good hand, he clutched mine and squeezed tightly, pulling me to sit beside him.

"You saved my life," he said.

"You saved mine, too."

Baruj scrounged for his knife and wiped the dogs' russet blood off on his gown, leaving scarlet streaks on the khaki cloth. He handed the blade to me. "Use this if they come back."

I gulped. The knife felt heavy in my hand. Its blade shone. I tried to imagine the knife slipping through the skin of a dog, slicing its flesh, tearing muscle from bone. The thought turned my stomach. I prayed that the dogs stayed away. I glanced over the oasis. The trees around the pool writhed and twisted in the flames, sending up steady streams of smoke.

Baruj lay his head down, wheezing. His breath had become short and shallow.

"Are you okay?"

He waved his hand. "I need to rest." He coughed a few times, then closed his eyes.

I touched his forehead. His skin felt clammy, his olive face gradually turning white. I knew I had to stop the bleeding, but the skin looked so torn and raw that I was afraid to touch him. What if I make it worse? "Baruj? Baruj? Try to stay awake."

"Yes, ma'am." He opened his eyes, but it seemed to take a lot of effort.

The smoke from the fire continued to swirl around us, and its acrid smell stuck to my hair and gown. It was already hot outside, and the fire made it even more uncomfortable. We couldn't stay here, not for long. The smoke filled the bright blue sky, a sharp contrast to the clear air. Someone even ten kilometers away would see this. Central would see this. Baruj's eyes threatened to close, and his breath rasped in his chest. Could he walk? I doubted it. Could I carry him? I doubted that even more. Even with the rest and water, my muscles ached.

In the distance, a shadow appeared. At first, it was an wavering line floating above the ground, but soon the line became arms, legs, a body.

The desert surrounded me, vast, empty, with nowhere to hide. The smoke had called someone here, and that person was sure to see us. I just hoped that person wasn't wearing a khaki uniform.

As the figure drew nearer, it was clear that the person wasn't wearing a khaki uniform. Not a Central soldier. I relaxed, but only for a moment, before recalling Baruj's missing pack. What if the person robbed us, or hurt us? My breath stuck in my throat.

The shadowy shape was a girl, perhaps a few years older than me, clad in a tan robe that stopped just below her knees. Most of her skin was covered by the gown, but the stretches I could see around her feet, her hands, and her calves lumped into unnatural shapes. Her legs resembled the trunk of a cedar tree, rough and uneven. Despite the scorching sand, she didn't wear shoes at all. I gasped at the sight of her. The girl smiled widely, and though she appeared frightening before, her white, toothy grin looked trustworthy. A silver canteen dangled from a strap over her shoulder.

I started sputtering. "I tried—we were attacked, and the fire got so hot..." The flames below continued to lick at the trees, consuming them with their white-hot appetite.

The girl recoiled. "Attacked? By who? Where are they?" Her words tumbled out in a sharp, clipped accent.

Baruj coughed. "There was a pack of dogs." He pointed to a charcoal carcass on the ground.

The girl nodded solemnly. "The dogs will not return. We can't have this fire drawing attention, though." She walked closer to the oasis and kicked piles of sand onto the fire, slowly crushing it out of existence. That was all it took? I felt like an idiot for splashing uselessly in the pool.

After the bulk of the fire had been squashed by sand, the girl began stamping her lumpy feet against the remaining rogue flames.

"Doesn't that hurt?" I asked. "The fire, I mean."

"Your skin, maybe. I am tough. Nothing can hurt me." She flipped her long braid over her shoulder. Her hair was the same glossy color as the hoverships, a deep black that glittered against the flickering flames. I studied her face. The scaly bumps on her skin carved a path up her neck and along one ear, but left most of her face untouched. Her face was strong, proud, assured—beautiful. The word seemed odd to pair with her deformed body, but it was true, nonetheless. A raw, ruthless beauty.

I pointed to Baruj. "He's hurt badly. Can you help us?"

The girl walked over to Baruj and poked her finger in the fresh wound. I gasped. What kind of person would do that? Baruj's eyes shot open for a moment, and he howled in pain. The girl picked up his arm, sniffed it, then felt his neck for a pulse.

She tutted. "If you were tough like me, this would not happen. You are too delicate. But I can find you help. Can you walk?"

Baruj's skin was becoming paler by the minute, stark white under his dark hair. I was afraid he wouldn't be able to stand, but he somehow stumbled to his feet. "Point the way." His voice was weak.

The girl nodded, her dark eyes serious. "Follow me."

I strapped on my knapsack, then stepped over to Baruj and placed his left arm over my shoulder. He put his weight down on me, lifting each foot slowly. I was sore everywhere. My feet hurt. My head still hurt, and my arms were burning from the effort of fighting off the dogs. But Baruj needed me to walk, and I needed to support him.

The girl ran ahead. "It's not far! Come on!" She dashed forward out of sight, then jogged right back to us. "You're not moving fast enough." She bent over, laced her arm through Baruj's legs, and flipped him on her back, before walking off. What a strange girl. I couldn't have lifted him like that, not even if I had been well rested and well fed. Even though she was burdened with Baruj's body, I barely matched the girl's pace.

We walked for five minutes or so, and the girl stopped abruptly. She lowered Baruj from her shoulders, letting him slide gently to the sandy earth. He was barely conscious, but let out a low moan as he hit the ground. The girl reached down and swiped at the sand beside her feet. A large wooden grate lay hidden beneath a fine layer of dirt. She lifted the door upwards, revealing a ladder leading below.

"Climb down," she said. "Careful."

Baruj crawled to the hatch and headed down first, clutching tightly to the ladder with his left hand. I slid down behind him, and the girl came down last.

It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. We were in a small room with sandstone walls, chilly to the touch. It was cool down here in the darkness, a welcome break from the heat of the desert. A dull light shone from an opening at the back of the room.

"Through here." Baruj and I followed her through the door. The next room had to be someone's living quarters. Two chairs stood in the far corner, one of them occupied by a old man, and a low sofa covered the floor. Two dim lamps hung from the ceiling, spreading amber light on the floor.

The old man stood up. "Cantara?" He spoke is the same terse, clipped accent as the dark girl.

"Yes, Asif. I'm safe. The fire was these two. I put it out." She motioned to us, but we lingered near the door.

The old man, though neatly dressed in a white shirt and khaki pants, was completely covered in the same lesions that Cantara had. While her marks stopped around her ears, his coated his face, transforming his nose into a misshapen lump. I could barely make out his small brown eyes under the scarred folds of his eyelids. The yellowish light from above cast garish shadows on his face, making it look like a demonic mask.

"Come in. Have a seat." He motioned to the dark red sofa. Baruj collapsed, rolling on the low sofa. He moaned a moment more, then passed out. I propped his head up with a few rough pillows.

"He's hurt." Asif walked closer to Baruj, peering at his arm. "Badly. It's a good thing Cantara brought you here." He motioned to the girl. "Get the doctor."

"Yes, Asif." Cantara flipped her braid over her shoulder and strode out of the room into the darkness.

The old man rested himself on the edge of the sofa. "What happened to you two?"

"We were attacked by dogs," I said. "Baruj got the worst of it." He lay silently on the couch, his face now completely blanched, his dark eyebrows shocking black streaks on his face. His arm oozed a slow stream of blood from his raw, torn flesh.

Asif frowned, studying Baruj's arm. "Yes, I can see that. I think he'll be fine, though. If you two were left alone out there..." He turned his gaze from Baruj to me, his face open and questioning. "Why are you away from your outpost?"

For a split second, I thought about refusing to speak. I didn't know this man, much less where I had been taken to. But his face was kind, expectant. I found the story spilling from me, about the crash, about losing Papa, about running from the Central soldiers and crossing the desert. The old man's eyes squinted further with worry.

"If things are as you say, your presence here is a problem. I'll see if we can find a way to help you find your father."

I nodded. "Thank you."

He patted my shoulder. His hand was rough from his scaly skin, but not unpleasantly so. His touch was warm and friendly. It was rather like being licked by a cat.

I lifted my gaze to meet his. His small eyes gave a tight, concerned smile. "Where are we?" I asked.

Asif pushed himself up from the edge of the sofa and settled back down in one of the large chairs in the corner. "These are the ruins of Bawiti. It was a real city at some time, long ago, but now," he gestured around him, "it serves its purpose. Time and sand have buried the city. The people here remain hidden and safe."

"Hidden from what?"

"From those like you. Be glad Cantara was on patrol today and not one of our other, more vigilant residents."

I was confused and struggled to think of more questions, but Cantara came back into the room. "The doctor, Asif. I brought him as you said."

Cantara moved aside, and behind her was one of the tallest men I had ever seen. He stooped through the doorway and kept his head lowered in the room. If he had stood upright, he would have bumped himself on the low ceiling. Unlike Cantara and the old man, the doctor had fewer lesions on his caramel colored skin. They only encrusted his forearms and a patch on his neck. The doctor frowned at me and Baruj, his face stern and serious.

"Why should I help them?" the doctor asked. Asif stared at him, his narrow brown eyes no longer warm.

"They are children, Dr. Hennet. Imagine if someone found Cantara like this. Wouldn't you want them to help her?"

"Those clean bastards would never—" the doctor spat, but Asif cut him off.

"You will help him. And you'll use our reGen ointment."

"But we don't have enough for our own people, and you want me to waste it on this?"

This time, the old man said nothing. He merely stood up, drawing himself to his full height. Though he stood a full head below Dr. Hennet, there was no mistaking his power.

"This is a mistake, Asif, but I'll do as you ask." The doctor kneeled beside Baruj and inspected his arm. He pulled a bottle of liquid from his bag and poured it slowly on Baruj's wound. The sharp scent of alcohol filled the room, and Baruj, unconscious a minute before, screamed. Asif clasped his hands over Cantara's ears, but too late. The girl's eyes went wide as Baruj's shrieks echoed through the room.

The doctor then put an oily green salve on Baruj's arm. The smell of rosemary stung my nose, and I remembered the cream Dr. DeWitt had put on my raw wrists. The bleeding slowed, but Baruj's skin still hung in jagged strips. Dr. Hennet pulled a needle and thread out of his bag. "This is going to hurt," he warned. "You better hold on to something."

Baruj grabbed one of the pillows from the couch and squeezed it as Dr. Hennet began suturing his arm. His knuckles turned white from the effort, and he gnashed his teeth so as not to scream. Dr. Hennet swiftly stitched his arm, and then snipped the end of the lose thread. Baruj's white face had turned red from the suppressed screams. His eyes locked shut.

Finally, Dr. Hennet pulled a bottle of pills out of his bag. "Take these three times a day until the bottle is empty. If his arm begins to feel warm or smell, call me immediately." I doubted Baruj had heard the instructions, but I nodded that I understood.

"Give me the bottle," I said. "I'll see to it that he takes these." Dr. Hennet tossed the bottle in my hand, the pills rattling inside. I slipped it into the pocket of my dress.

"Do you have any injuries, child?" Asif asked. Dr. Hennet tapped his foot, ready to bolt out of the room and away from the likes of Baruj and me.

"Only my feet," I said. "They're not too bad, just a bit sore from walking."

"Take a look at her feet, Dr. Hennet."

The doctor looked appalled. "I'm supposed to touch her feet when her kind won't even—"

Asif raised one eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. "Yes. I expect you to help her."

Dr. Hennet kneeled down and lifted the edge of my robe, revealing my raw, cut, and bloodied feet. His eyes widened for a moment, and he pressed his lips into a thin line.

"It's a good thing Asif is so soft-hearted, young lady. Another couple days of walking and you'd be crippled." He shook his head and glopped the green reGen gel onto my feet and toes. I bit my tongue, wincing at the sudden sting of the medicine. The sting faded into a soothing heat, radiating down my toes and up my ankles, the first real relief for my feet in days.

"Will that be all?" Dr. Hennet asked. Asif nodded, and the doctor stooped back through the door, leaving without so much as a glance back.

Baruj's tight, shallow breaths had slowed, and the redness flowed away from his face, slowly returning his skin to its normal olive-brown color. He looked older. Dark rings hung around his eyes, and his jaw was covered with a thick black beard. I knew Baruj lay somewhere beneath the layers of fatigue. The bleeding on his arm had stopped, and the reGen ointment was clearly working. The ragged edges of flesh began to seam themselves back together. "Why didn't he want to help us?" I asked Asif.

"Because sometimes your kind comes here to hurt our kind. Even the young ones. Cantara here could tell you."

"My kind? Do you mean..." I motioned to my skin, smooth and unblemished. He nodded.

Cantara dropped her head, staring at the floor. "Sometimes it's one soldier, sometimes a group. They come to hurt people. That is why we patrol. That is why we followed you." She fingered the canteen hanging around her neck.

"Is that—" I began, but I already knew it was Baruj's canteen from his stolen knapsack. I wondered where the rest of his things had gone, but I supposed they had been given to other people in this place.

"Why is your skin different?" I asked. Cantara's dark face flushed, but Asif nodded solemnly.

"Dr. Hennet tells us it's a virus of some sort. Not everyone will host it, but those of us that do... well, you can see what happens. And we're the lucky ones," he said drily. "I used to be very handsome, you know."

He smiled, and it was so warm and welcoming that I didn't doubt his statement. "You still are handsome," I said. "Kindness always is."

"Ah, flattery." The old man rose to his feet, groaning. "Well, I may be handsome then, little girl, but my knees are failing me. I will have to leave you two here for a moment and speak with the other elders. Cantara, please stay with them."

"Yes, sir," said Cantara obediently as Asif limped out of the room.

She began pacing in front of the door, walking stiffly. Her gaze drifted between me and the blackness beyond the doorway. She's guarding us, I realized. Perhaps we shouldn't have come here. Perhaps we should have stayed at the oasis instead. But Baruj...

I looked down at him. He was breathing more normally now and seemed to be sleeping. I squeezed his good hand. If we had stayed at the oasis, Baruj's blood and life would have drained away, and I would have been alone in the desert.

I fiddled with the locket around my neck, twisting it absently in my fingers. The cold chain snaked through my fingers; the pendant swung like a pendulum under my hand. Papa and the others need us to hurry. I wanted to read more of Papa's notes, or try to call Timothy, but with Cantara watching, I could do neither. I hoped we wouldn't be kept in this place very long.

Cantara stopped pacing abruptly. Her sudden words made me jump. "What do you have there?" She pointed to my necklace.

I relaxed at the question. "It's a locket. Would you like to see?" She looked over her shoulder nervously, then looked at me and Baruj on the sofa, weighing the consequence of moving from the door. After a minute or so of thought, she nodded.

"Yes, show me." She marched from her post by the door and sat cross-legged on the floor beside the sofa. I undid the clasp of my necklace and put the locket in her hand. My touch made her smile, softening the hard lines on her face.

"I didn't think your kind would touch someone like me. What is your name?"

"I'm Sadira. The boy is Baruj."

"I'm Cantara." I hadn't thought to avoid her touch, but now that she mentioned it, I wondered if I had done the wrong thing. What if I get ill, like the people Dr. DeWitt told us about? I shook my head. No use worrying about that now. I patted her shoulder. "Thank you for helping us, for leading us here."

"Why were you out in the desert anyway?"

I told her the same story I told Asif, about how Baruj and I escaped from Samalut and crossed the desert. Her eyes glistened as I told her about Papa.

"You love him very much, don't you?"

I tried to tell her how it was, how Papa was strict and quiet and serious, but so kind. I wanted to tell her how Papa taught me everything, how we used to walk through the city together on those afternoons he finished work early. My voice caught in my throat, and I could only manage to nod.

Cantara grinned and turned the locket over in her hand, inspecting it carefully. "I'm glad I helped instead of shooting." Instead of shooting? I remembered Asif's words, that I should be glad Cantara was the one to find us. I glanced up and down her body, but any signs of a weapon were concealed by her loose robe. Her hands, rough, dark, and warm, may have killed a person before. The thought made me shiver, but I kept my face calm.

She seemed undisturbed by the idea of shooting a person and changed the subject, studying the locket. "What does it do? Is it for ornament?"

"You can store pictures on it. See that button on the top? Try pressing it."

She pressed the small silver button on the pendant, and the front of the locket spun open, revealing a lens. The ground in front of us glowed with blue light, projecting an image of my family on the floor. Cantara's eyes went wide with wonder.

She inhaled sharply, awestruck. "I've never seen anything like this before!" She waved her hand through the projection. "There is nothing. Only air. How does it work?"

I began telling her the basics of holo-tech, but I doubted she understood my explanation. She instead turned her attention to the projections.

"Who is this?" she asked.

"That's my grandmother, my papa's mother. I don't remember her at all, but Papa always said she was a wonderful cook." Grandmother's face was long and thin with dark, deep-set eyes, like Papa. I tapped the side of the locket, and the image changed.

"This one is my papa." My heart ached just looking at the holo. Is he still alive? Will I ever find him? In spite of everything I had been through, every step I had taken through the desert, I felt so far away from him. I brushed my eyes, hoping to dry the tears before they formed.

Cantara tapped the side of the locket again to switch to the next picture.

"Those are my friends, Amina and Timothy." I blushed a bit as I said Timothy's name. I hoped he was safe.

Cantara placed one rough hand on my arm. "You like him." It wasn't a question.

I stared at the ground, trying to will the redness to go from my face.

She smiled. "It's obvious. Does your friend like you, too?"

"Maybe. Yes. I don't know. Here, let's look at the next one," I said, desperate to change the subject. I tapped the locket again, and the image of Timothy and Amina was replaced with the holo of my mother.

Cantara gasped. "You know her? How?" she demanded, pointing at the projection.

I stared at her, confused. "That's my mother. She died a long time ago."

She shook her head, her black braid flopping around. "That can't be your mother. I know that woman. That's Miriam."

_My mother's name was Miriam, too. Is she—she couldn't be. Papa said she died._ Cantara's eyebrows stood high on her face, raised in genuine shock. Before I could form a new question, Asif reentered the room. Cantara jumped up and stood stiffly, embarrassed to be seen away from her post.

"I watched them carefully as you asked, sir."

He saw Baruj fast asleep on the sofa and chuckled. "I'm sure they were a handful. Thank you, Cantara. You may go, if you'd like."

She began to walk out of the room, but then turned back. "Asif? Sadir—the girl was showing me her necklace. It made pictures come out, and one of the pictures was Miriam."

He frowned. "What is she talking about?"

"I showed her the holographs of my family on this locket. One of the pictures... here, let me show you."

I turned my locket back on, then scrolled through the pictures until I reached my mother's. Asif's brows furrowed, and he ran his hands over his lumpy face.

"How did you get this picture?"

"It's my mother."

"Cantara, go tell Ms. Fermat I will be visiting with her."

She ran out the door, her tan robe trailing behind her. Asif sat down on the chair next to me. For a long moment, he did not speak, but only stared ahead at the blank wall in silent contemplation.

"Tell me, child, how did your mother die?" he asked, his eyes still distant.

"My papa always told me she was hit by a hovercab. But someone else told me that she got sick and died."

He nodded gravely. "Do you remember her at all?"

My memories of Mama were all tinged with blue, a scene from a holograph instead of a picture in my mind. "No. I was only three when she went with God."

"Let me look at you, child." He grabbed my face with his rough hands, studying my nose, my mouth, then my eyes.

"Ah, perhaps it is so."

"Perhaps what is so?"

He pushed himself up from the chair, his body heaving with a sigh. "Child, I must leave you here once more. I am going to lock this door. Do not try to leave."

Where could I go? Baruj had the map. I had no idea where we were, and of all the places I'd been in the last week, this seemed to be the safest. The old man limped out of the room and slammed the heavy wooden door shut, clicking the lock into place. I curled up on the sofa next to Baruj and grabbed his good arm once more. His skin was still clammy, but the flesh on his right arm continued to seal. I breathed a sigh of relief. He would live. We would find Papa. As much as I tried to fight it, I soon drifted off to sleep.

.

"Sadira, Sadira." A small, rough hand shook me. "Please, wake."

I opened my eyes, puzzled for a moment. The dim room, the sofa and its rough blankets, a beautiful, scarred face before me.

"Cantara." I sighed. The pieces of the puzzle fit together, and I remembered where I was. "What's going on?"

"You must follow me." Her voice was urgent.

I started to shake Baruj awake, but she grabbed my arm. "Just you. Don't worry. The man will be safe."

She grabbed my hand and led me through the door, pausing for a moment to lock it back up. She pulled me along down a dark corridor and a flight of steps. We passed through a large room, filled with rows of tables. A cluster of people sat at one table, and as we passed through the room, they all stared. Each person was covered to some degree with the same lesions as Cantara and Asif. Cantara marched forward, seemingly oblivious to the attention.

We went through another corridor, where she finally paused to open another wooden door leading into a well-lit room.

Cantara gave a quick bow. "I brought her, as you asked."

The room was arranged as a small bedroom suite. In one corner sat a low bed, covered with bright yellow sheets. A desk was pushed against another wall, and a pair of simple metal chairs stood in front of the desk.

A woman, perhaps in her forties, graced one chair, and Asif occupied the other. Their conversation, unintelligible low whispers, ended as soon as I walked through the door.

"Child, do you recognize this woman?"

The woman turned and looked at me, but before I could even get a good look at her, she gasped. "Forgive me for not believing you."

"Now that you see her with your own eyes?"

The woman stood and walked slowly toward me. "I always wondered if I would know you if I saw you again, Sadira." She neither smiled nor frowned, but only studied me with a cold, scientific curiosity. "My mother's eyes, my father's nose. You have Henri's frame. Tall, too thin, just like him." Her voice had a different, scratchy quality to it, rougher and harsher than Cantara's.

Part of the woman's cheek and head was covered in lesions, replacing some of her cascading, nearly black waves with a warty bald patch. Even then, I recognized the face that I had dreamed about a thousand times over the years. "Mama," I said, my eyes welling with tears. I reached forward to grasp her hands.

She stepped back, her hands fixed at her sides. "I haven't been much of a mother to you. Call me Miriam."

I choked. Her hollow, cold words didn't seem real. Mrs. Nagi would have held me, put a kiss on my forehead. Mrs. Nagi would have comforted me, said she was glad to see me after so many long years. The woman who was my mother only stared. She had to turn her chin slightly upward to meet my eyes, and she brushed some of her thick dark hair behind her ear. Her eyes were the same yellowish honey-brown color as mine, a color I hadn't seen on any other person. Miriam's deep blue dress hung regally from her shoulders, adding to her hard, steady presence. It was like looking into a distorted mirror. She was my mother. Whatever fantasy I held about my mother shattered. I broke my gaze, turning my attention to the floor.

"Why did Papa always tell me you were dead?" I asked.

She clenched her jaw and crossed her arms tightly in front of her. "I'm sure he thought I was dead. I thought I was going to die. I was very ill. Henri took me to the doctor, and they did some tests. They said they would call us with the results." She shut her eyes for a moment, looking pained by the memory.

"That night, I was laying on the sofa trying to sleep. My head hurt tremendously. There was a knock at the door, so I stumbled to get it. There were soldiers, three of them. They grabbed me. Henri tried to stop them, but they threatened to shoot him—threatened to shoot you, too, Sadira. They said it was because I was ill, that I could make other people die."

"What happened then?"

"They said they were taking me to the hospital. But really, they opened up the gates to the city and threw me out with a few other people. I was still in my nightgown, with no food, no water, no shoes, even." She trembled at the memory. "I walked until I thought I was about to die, and then Asif—he found me and brought me here."

She sighed, letting her arms uncross and her body relax. "I always wondered what happened to you both. I wondered..." Her voice softened for a moment. "Asif told me you were looking for Henri. He is smart, strong. There's a good chance he's still alive.

Asif cleared his throat. "In light of this, I believe we need to call a meeting. Some of the elders I spoke with think we should keep you locked up here, so that you can't tell anyone where we are."

"We can't stay here!" I cried.

He sighed. "Some of the other elders think that you and the boy should be killed."

"But we haven't hurt anyone. We're just trying to find—"

"That's why we need a meeting." He gave me a small smile. "If they all see you, hear your story, I'm sure they will want to help you find your father."

Cantara jumped up. "Do you want me to tell the elders?"

"Yes, thank you. Tell them we'll be meeting after dinner tonight."

Cantara slipped out of the room, racing down the dark halls. Asif placed his arm on my shoulder, warm and reassuring. "I trust your story, Sadira. I'll try to convince the other elders to help you. But I can't make any promises."

My chest tightened. What if we've gotten this far just to be executed?

Here in the dim underground rooms, it was impossible to tell how much time had passed. By the pangs of hunger twisting my stomach, I judged we had been in the city for at least four or five hours. Miriam led me back down the maze of dim hallways.

"Ma—Miriam?"

She raised her brows and turned to stare at me. "Yes?"

"I'm glad you're alive."

She paused for a moment, then grabbed my hands with her small, rough ones. "I'm glad you're alive, too. I never dreamed I would see you again. I was afraid to hope too much." She raised one of her hands to my cheek, stroking my face. "Twelve years is a long time. I missed so much."

She stiffened, drew back, and took a deep breath. "Tell me what happened to Henri." Her pace slowed as she listened to my story of leaving Samalut and traveling through the badlands.

"If anyone could survive out here, it's your father," she said.

"Do you miss him?" I asked.

Her face hardened, and I knew I'd pushed too far. "I try not to think about it." She stopped in front of a wooden door, pulled out a key, and pushed the door open.

Baruj still lay fast asleep on the sofa, but even in the short time I had been gone, he looked better. The rough flesh on Baruj's arm had seamed together, leaving narrow streaks of white scars.

I kneeled beside the sofa and gently shook Baruj. He groaned, swatted at my arm, and finally opened his eyes.

"Where are we?" He shot upright, his voice fraught with panic.

"The dogs bit you. A girl led us here—"

He rubbed his eyes. "She was real? Where is she?"

Miriam stepped forward from the door, slowly approaching the sofa.

"You need to get up. Asif has asked that you both attend dinner."

Baruj, still sitting on the couch, trembled as he stared at Miriam. "Who are you?"

"She's my mother."

"Your—what? But your mother is—" He studied both of our faces, then rubbed his eyes."Look, whoever you are, I'm not hungry. We're not going to dinner. Sadira and I are leaving."

He moved to stand, but Miriam pushed him back on the couch. "If you try something like that, your life is forfeit. From what I understand, one of our scouts was already able to get close to you. You should watch your things more carefully, boy."

His mouth dropped open, but no words came out. "You'll do as I ask," Miriam said, "or I cannot be responsible for what happens to you or Sadira. I can only protect you so much."

He struggled to his feet, stumbling a bit on the floor. I rushed to him, pulling him up by his good arm. My legs shook under his added weight, but I didn't buckle. I threw an arm around his waist and helped him straighten up. His head rolled onto my shoulder, his short beard scratching my neck.

"Lead the way," I said. Miriam turned deftly and headed for the door, guiding us through a maze of corridors. After a left, a right, then another right, she paused, pushing open a great wooden door. The room beyond was the same large one Cantara had led me through earlier, but now it brimmed with people.

The people inside were a rainbow of complexions, from Asif's pale, milky coloring to Cantara's deep chocolate brown. Despite the differences, I noticed two similarities. First, everyone in the room had the same scaly lesions covering their bodies, though the severity varied widely. Some, like the doctor that treated Baruj, had only a few rough patches, while others, like Asif, seemed to be totally encased in warty, lumpy skin.

Secondly, Cantara was by far the youngest. The next youngest person was a man who looked to be in his thirties, but there were no children to be seen. It was just another way that Baruj and I stuck out in this place.

Miriam—my mother, I reminded myself—motioned for Baruj and me to sit in the far corner of the room where two solitary chairs stood with a small table between them. I understood immediately—as outsiders, we weren't welcome to sit on the benches and mingle with the rest of the people. She turned and walked off without a backward glance, taking a seat beside Dr. Hennet.

Baruj collapsed in his chair. He still looked exhausted. Thick dark circles hung beneath his eyes, and his shoulders sagged from the effort of sitting upright. I pulled my chair closer to his, and he rested his head on my shoulder.

Cantara walked over a few moments later with two trays of food in her hands.

"Here. Eat up." A glimmer of a smile crossed her lips when Baruj looked up at her, but she pressed her lips back into the same serious, thin line and turned back to the rows of tables to sit down.

The food looked odd, like a chunky reddish-brown stew, but it smelled delicious. There was no spoon on the tray, so I lifted a chunk of meat out of the stew with a piece of bread and chewed. It was a bit gamey—not one of Mrs. Nagi's amazing dinners, but better than the jerky and stale bread we had been eating.

I turned to Baruj. "It's actually pretty good. You should eat. It will make you feel better."

He lifted his head from my shoulder and dipped his finger in the meat stew. After a taste, he decided it was safe to eat and dug in. If he was anywhere near as hungry as I was, the food was a welcome relief. It was our first proper meal in days.

The sounds of talking and eating quieted down, and soon I could see everyone in the room had finished their meal. Asif stood up and began to speak.

"We are brought together today to conduct a meeting about these two outsiders. Elders, please stand and take your positions." Six people stood and placed themselves around Asif. Not all of the elders were actually old. Several looked to be in their thirties. Most did not look friendly. I began to worry about my chances of actually leaving this place alive.

"Let the meeting begin." he bowed.

The first elder stepped forward, a short, stocky man with a hooked nose.

"What are your names?"

"My name is Sadira Pascal. This is—"

The elder interrupted me, a frown forming around his mouth and eyes. "The other can answer for himself."

"I am Baruj Haddad."

The elder scratched his bushy, light brown beard. "Is it true that you are Central spies?"

"No!" I exclaimed.

"Then please explain why we found this in your pack." He held up Dr. DeWitt's radio. A collective gasp ran through the room.

"It was from a friend," I said weakly. "He helped us escape from our outpost."

"That cannot be true. Everyone here knows that it's illegal to own a radio on the Central bases." Several of the other elders nodded their heads in agreement.

"That's right," I said. "This friend, he built the radio in spite of the laws because he knew the laws were wrong. We're not spies."

"Lies!" He threw the radio to the ground, where it made a sickening crunch. Small pieces of metal tinkled on the ground like metallic raindrops. My mouth fell.

That was the only radio to call Dr. DeWitt.

That was the only radio to call Timothy.

I rushed to the broken radio, snatching up the pieces. Maybe I could salvage it. Maybe I could piece it together. It was a faint hope, but I had to try. I picked up the pieces in my hands and rushed back to my seat, away from the elder's anger.

The elder pulled his shoulders back, puffed out his broad chest, and sneered. "See? It must be a spy radio. Why else would she jump like that? She's another of those Central sympathizers. I bet she has a tracker—"

Asif waved for him to quiet. "Enough, Ghazi. Let another elder speak." The burly elder stepped back, his eyes narrow slits of suspicion.

The next elder stepped forward, a slender older woman with rivers of gray hair. "This question is for the boy," she said. "Why did a young man of your age choose to walk across the desert with such a young girl? It's highly improper. Did you abduct her?"

Voices buzzed around the room at the idea of such a scandal. I jumped up and started to protest, but Baruj pulled me back down to my seat.

He lifted his head wearily. "I did not abduct Sadira. She came of her own free will, in search of her father."

"Surely there was another young man you could take?" The implication was clear, and it angered me. I opened my mouth to speak, but Baruj shook his head. He pushed himself up from his chair and began to walk toward the elders.

"My brother was the pilot of the hovership that crashed. Sadira's father was on board the same ship. I know they both survived the crash. I tried to talk to my superiors to help me find my brother and his comrades, but everyone insisted they were dead." With each sentence, Baruj took another halting step toward the elders. They shrank back.

"Sadira is one of the few people who put any trust in me. Her spy radio," he spat the word out, "gave us messages from a friend, messages that helped us avoid Central soldiers on our trip. It gave us hope that our families were still alive. She walked by my side kilometer after kilometer through the desert. When I ran out of water, Sadira gave me hers. When a pack of dogs attacked us, she fought—she saved my life. There is no one I respect more." He paused, standing less than a meter in front of the elders. "I would never do anything to hurt her."

He turned toward me and smiled, and I felt a grin grow on my face.

The mood in the room shifted palpably. Several of the elder's faces softened. The next elder stepped forward. "Is it true that you are Miriam's daughter?"

My mother stood up, her shoulders square and proud. "It's true. I was excluded when she was a small child."

Yet another elder stepped forward. "What do you two hope to accomplish here?"

Baruj sighed. "I want to find my brother and bring him home."

I nodded in agreement. "I want to find my papa."

The angry elder, Ghazi, shot back forward. "Don't you two understand that you can never go back home? How naive are you?"

I froze, confused. "What do you mean?"

Ghazi snorted. "You've shared a meal with the unclean, breathed our same air. What outpost will welcome you back now?"

Asif bowed his head. "Ghazi is right, Sadira. Even if you both find your family, you'll never be able to go back to your outpost. Some people here have tried. They were shot on sight."

My breath caught in my throat. I'd hoped to find Papa, prayed he was still alive and well, but I hadn't thought of what I would do after that point. How could I have been so blind? Of course there was no going back. I wanted to kick myself. Amina, Timothy...

"Why can't we welcome them to Bawiti?" asked Miriam. She stood, defiantly at first, but as the gaze of all seven elders turned toward her, she stared at her feet.

"And risk having Central's eye turned on our village?" said Ghazi. "We'd be putting ourselves in danger to show these two hospitality. What if Central tracks them right to our door?"

Asif bowed his head, looking grave. "I'm afraid Central is already aware of our outpost. Child, I apologize. I took the liberty of going through your bag to see if you spoke the truth." He held up my tablet. "This was in the girl's bag. I began reading through some of the files—your father's files?"

"Yes," I whispered.

"It appears that a few months ago, he had been asked to design a device to terminate any infected people."

A buzz ran through the room.

"Kill us?"

"Those bastards!"

"Why would they do that?"

Asif raised his arms. "Quiet, everyone. It's clear that her father did not intend to comply. In fact, he wished to help us. We should help these children."

The other six elders jumped forward, all shouting at once.

"What about Central?"

"How do we know those notes weren't planted?"

"Maybe it's a trap."

"We can keep ourselves safe. We don't need some clean man to help us."

Asif hung his head and sighed. My heart sunk. Papa wanted to help people. I knew it in my heart. He was a good person. Why couldn't these other elders see that?

"We can't kill them," muttered one of the other elders. "They've done nothing wrong."

"But we can't keep them here, either," said Ghazi. "It's too much of a risk for us. Central's scanners haven't found us yet, and I don't think they'll find us now. I move that we expel them from Bawiti and forbid them to come within two kilometers."

The rest of the elders nodded. Asif wrung his hands, but called out the motion. "All in favor of expelling the outsiders?"

"Aye!" they said in unison.

"At least they didn't vote to kill us," I whispered to Baruj.

"They may as well have," he replied.

The silence broke, and the badlanders stood to leave the room. Miriam marched toward me, her chin held high. She stopped in front of my chair.

"Sadira, I wish I could help you. I wish—" Her eyes met mine, and they filled with tears. She blinked, and her face was somber once more. "I wish many things, but we can't change the past. We can only pray for the future."

She yanked a small silver ring from her finger, inlaid with tiny blue stones.

"This belonged to my mother. I always meant to pass it on to you." She dropped the ring in my hand.

"May God put courage in your hearts." She stared at me a moment longer, then turned, walking back into the crowd of people leaving the dining hall. I slipped the ring on my finger. Maybe some little piece of Miriam was still my mother after all.

.

Asif led us back to his room, with Cantara following closely behind. "Gather your belongings. You have one hour to leave this place. If you come within the two-kilometer radius, any of our scouts is permitted to kill you."

"How is this any different from being excluded from Samalut?" I said.

"It's not, but it's the best I can do." He opened his cabinets and pulled out a couple of heavy cloth bags.

"Asif, I would like to go with them," said Cantara. She began grabbing her own bag from the floor and wrapped a bright red scarf around her face.

He paused, dropping the cloth bags to the floor. "We don't have time for this."

"I can help them. I can help them find their families. I'll make sure they don't come close to here."

He shook his head and sighed. "I can't stop you, Cantara, but be careful. Here is more food. Take care to ration it. Sadira, here is a new pair of shoes for you." He handed me a pair of soft, leather boots. I pulled them over my feet, and though I still had sore cuts across them, the shoes were very comfortable. They came up a few centimeters above my ankle and cinched around my calf.

"Here is more water as well," he said. "And a new map." He handed Baruj a crude drawing of the area. "This mark here, this is our Bawiti." He pointed to another mark. "This is where Cantara found you both. The blue dots are the oases in the area. Don't camp in them, because then you'll be too easy to find. But don't stay too far away from water, either." He drew a rough circle around the city. "This is the two kilometer mark. Take care not to cross it. It will be patrolled.

And your tablet, Sadira." He produced the tablet from a pouch tied on his waist. "I'm sorry your father's words couldn't persuade the other elders."

I slipped the tablet back into my knapsack. "Thank you for all your help, Asif."

"You're quite welcome." He kissed all three of us on the forehead. "God be with you." He gestured toward the ladder. "You must go now. Cantara, return as quickly as you can. I'll tell Ghazi you are on patrol, but you need to be home by morning."

Baruj, Cantara, and I made our way back up the ladder.

"Which way should we go?" I asked.

Baruj pulled out the two maps. "Last known coordinates of the hovership are that way." He pointed. "And it looks like there might actually be an oasis near there."

"Let's go."

We walked through the fading daylight, the night sky focusing into a brilliant shower of stars. The extra food and medicine had done wonders for Baruj. Though he walked slowly, he no longer leaned on me for support. I hobbled along behind him and Cantara. My new shoes were nice, but my feet were still sore from the previous days of mistreatment.

"Why are you helping us?" I asked Cantara.

She shrugged. "Why shouldn't I? We all have to help each other. I wouldn't be here if someone didn't help me."

Baruj glanced sideways, studying her. "Who helped you?"

"My mother," she said, her voice tight. "And your mother, too, Sadira. You saw how I am the youngest in Bawiti?"

It had struck me as odd before, and her statement confirmed that my gut reaction was right.

"What Asif and Miriam did not say was that Central excluded children, too. You can imagine how far most of them got here in the badlands, with no help, no adults. I remember... it's confusing. I remember coughing a lot, having a fever. My mother was sick, too. We went to the gate. There were other people there. We walked for such a long time, and it was so hot."

She inhaled sharply and paused, staring at the sky. "Miriam said she found me in my mother's arms, crying. She said I was so dehydrated there were no tears. I don't remember when my mother fell. I just remember being brought back to Bawiti and being taken care of there."

Baruj placed his hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "It's fine. I don't remember much of my mother, or getting here, only little pieces. But this is why I will help you. It is the right thing to do."

Baruj lowered his hand from Cantara's shoulder and offered her his arm. She took it, a smile growing on her face. I bit back a laugh. Baruj had been staring at her since he first awoke in Bawiti. I couldn't blame him. Between her rich, chocolate skin and large brown eyes, she was beautiful.

After an hour of walking, when the heavens had gone from a deep blue to an inky blue-black, Baruj spotted the oasis in the distance. It sat below us, some distance ahead, in a basin in the earth. We stood on a ridge that formed a crescent, sloping down about ten meters to a small oasis with tufts of palm trees. To the right of the oasis was a shadow, a specter eclipsing the landscape behind it. I could only make out silvery-blue letters that glittered in the moonlight. CAS Bright Star.

I let out a small yelp, jumping in the air. My heart leaped with my legs. "You've found it!" After all the walking, all the pain, the hovership sat within reach, perhaps a hundred yards ahead. I sprang forward, ready to run down to the ship, down to Papa, but Baruj halted suddenly. "Get down," he whispered.

I opened my mouth to ask why, but then heard the steady hum of hovership reactor coils. I fell to the ground, and Cantara followed suit. A small ship shot through the sky, then settled down at the oasis, just to the right of the Bright Star. A cloud of sand kicked up as the bottom of the ship kissed the earth. The doors opened, releasing a dozen Central soldiers, guns at their sides. Baruj motioned for us to crawl closer to the oasis, silently sliding along in the sand.

This ship was larger than the Bright Star, but not by much. Its dark green body tapered to a fine point at the end. A 3000 series, probably a C model. Fast, but not nearly as fast as the Bright Star. Gold paint graced the side of the ship in strong letters—CAS Altair.

I squinted, struggling to make out the soldiers in the dim light of the night sky. There was something off about the way the men stood. Their legs were too long from knee to foot, and limbs stuck at stiff, awkward angles. The men gathered in a line, and a whirring noise followed their every step.

Cantara's eyes went wide with wonder, but Baruj cursed.

"They have ExoShells."

Once he named the difference, I could see the shimmering light on the metal bars strapped to the soldiers' bodies, the hoses in their throats feeding them extra oxygen. My heart sank. ExoShells gave the soldiers extra strength and speed, the endurance to fight and survive in the badlands. Their alien bodies, an unnatural pairing of human and machine, stood awaiting orders.

"Secure the ship."

Half of the guards walked up to the Bright Star, surrounding it. One attached a small device to the side of the ship. I squinted to make it out, but from the distance I could only tell that it was round and blinked red light. The light pulsed, shifting from red to green, and the door of the ship unfolded. The soldiers streamed on board, their footsteps thudding on the metal alloy floors.

A few minutes later, one soldier walked back out of the ship.

"It's clear, Captain. No sign of the crew."

I let out a sigh of relief. On the one hand, I had hoped against hope that Papa was just that short distance below me. On the other hand, I was glad that Central hadn't caught up to him yet.

"Thank you, Pireldi. Let's form up, gentlemen." The rest of the soldiers marched out of the ship and stood in an orderly line, their heads held high and glistening green guns at their sides. "I didn't expect the crew to be on board, and they didn't disappoint. I doubt they're far from here, given the supplies they had on hand at the time of departure. We go the rest of the way on foot. I have it on good authority that our target has navigation and communication jamming capabilities, and we don't need to risk our hovership. Plus, we maintain the element of surprise."

The cold, smooth voice sent a shiver down my spine. "That's Captain Berings," I whispered to Baruj.

"Are you sure?"

The soldier shouting instructions turned, and I caught a glimpse of his glowing green eyes.

"I'm certain."

Baruj clenched his eyes shut. "God, help us."

"Is that bad?" asked Cantara.

"Very," I replied. God, help us, indeed. I thought about my last encounter with the Captain, his clinical, calculating words. He was harsh without anger, focused and intense. In my geology class years ago, my teacher told us how canyons were created. I didn't believe him, at first; the idea of water, simple water, dripping and pushing to cut through hard rock was too incredible.

Captain Berings was like the water. No emotion, no fear, but always pushing forward to chip away at the rock. The lack of fire in him frightened me.

"Our mission is to scuttle the craft. If our tech falls into the wrong hands, it could mean disaster. Don't forget what happened in Antalya."

The men nodded somberly. Antalya? The name didn't sound familiar, but I knew it must have some significance. I made a note to ask Baruj about it later.

"Bring the crew home alive, if possible. The Colonel wants them for questioning. If they put up a fight... well, you won't be suspended for any unfortunate accidents. The only one we must bring back is Mr. Pascal. He only needs to be able to speak."

Baruj's face turned pale, and my heart sank under the weight of the Captain's words. He gave them permission to kill the pilots and hurt Papa.

"Finally, once the targets have been captured or neutralized, we've been given orders to flush out any badlanders we find." This time, Cantara cringed. "Our intel says there's a village in the ruins about five klicks from here. We'll make an aerial pass, then neutralize any stragglers on foot. Any questions?"

The men stood silently. "Good. Make sure your gear is on securely. If you screen for plague, I'll burn you with the village."

One soldier laughed nervously until he realized no one else chuckled. He began fiddling with his ExoShell, making sure there were no gaps in the equipment.

"Three of you stay here to maintain a perimeter on the ship in case the crew comes back for supplies. Four of you, follow Lt. Donovan and search north. The rest, follow me. We'll be searching south. Twenty-minute check-ins for everyone, and we'll regroup here in two hours. Understood?"

Each soldier gave a sharp, mechanical nod.

"Move!" the Captain shouted. The men broke into their groups and began walking off, their robot-bodies moving at an incredible speed.

Baruj trembled, an earthquake of anger. "Those sons of bi—" He stopped when he saw Cantara staring at him. "I can't believe I volunteered to be a Central soldier." His voice was choked with ire. "Sadira, we need a new plan."

"I know."

He spoke quickly, firmly. "Cantara, go back to Bawiti and warn everyone. Be quiet, and be careful. You don't want to face these soldiers if you don't have to. It doesn't matter how young you are. They'll shoot a child if they think they have to."

Her voice came out weak and breathless. "I'll go." She scanned the basin, but the soldiers were well out of sight. She jumped up and ran, quickly vanishing into the black night.

"So where do we go from here?" Baruj asked. "We've found the ship. Where do you think they went?"

I pulled the crystal radio out of my pocket. It glowed brighter than before, almost as brightly as our lightbands. The steady, white light streamed out, and the box vibrated continuously.

"It's been humming more as we've kept walking. And look how much brighter it is than yesterday." Baruj's eyes met mine, and I knew he understood what I was driving at.

"Dr. DeWitt said they were linked, right?"

"Mmm hmm. I think maybe the crystals can sense each other."

"So the closer we get to your father, the brighter it should get?"

"That's what I think." That's what I pray. We had nothing else to go on. If this didn't lead me to Papa, I didn't know what could.

"Which way?" asked Baruj.

I walked a slow circle around him, studying the light from the crystal radio. A few steps to the right, and the dim light grew slightly brighter. Baruj grinned.

"I think you've found the way."

We walked, slowly at first, staring at the crystal, picking our path carefully. As we moved farther, the path became clearer, and the crystal hummed, resonating with energy. In the darkness I could just make out a mountain, a black spire cutting through a field of stars.

"I think the crystal's taking us there."

Baruj nodded in agreement. We continued, faster now, only checking the radio occasionally. The closer we walked to the mountain, the brighter and louder the radio became. As we neared the base of the mountain, the radio began to vibrate even harder, shaking in my hand.

I paused, scanning the area. "We must be close."

I flicked on my lightband, shining it on the base of the rocks. Baruj did the same, illuminating the mountain with the lightband's blue glow.

"Here," he said. "There's a little opening under this rock." I studied the spot he pointed to, and there was a very small hole in the side of the mountain. Baruj would barely slip through it. Even I would have to wriggle a bit. The thought of squeezing myself in a hole when I had no idea what stood on the other side frightened me.

It didn't seem to bother Baruj, though. He dropped to his hands and knees and slid down without hesitation. A moment later, a thump and a groan reached my ears.

"Baruj! Are you OK?"

"Yeah." His voice echoed back up to me. "Come on down. It's not a big drop, maybe a meter. There's a whole room down here."

I groaned. I didn't want to have to squeeze myself through a small space like that, but if it meant finding Papa I would do anything.

"I'm lowering my pack down first." Begrudgingly, I forced myself into the opening. If Baruj made it through, I could make it through. The stone walls scraped my legs, and the darkness of the tunnel enveloped me, but with a little more pushing, I was able to lower myself all the way down.

The room was more of a small cavern, stalactites dripping from the ceiling. I slung my knapsack over my shoulders and surveyed the room. It wasn't quite as dark as I expected. The opening we entered let in some moonlight, and between our two lightbands and the crystal radio, the cave walls glistened with light. A tunnel led deeper into the mountain where it was pitch dark.

"Let's go," I said, flashing my lightband into the tunnel ahead of me. Baruj followed closely behind. The tunnel quickly opened into another even larger room. Unlike the cavern, this was an actual room—no stalactites, no lumpy, uneven floors, just smooth stone walls carved into a rectangular shape. A small blue light shone in the corner, illuminating the otherwise dark room. All three crewmembers were there. Two squatted in the corner, mumbling in low voices. A third lay on the ground, his feet propped up by a bag. I immediately recognized one of the squatting men, tall, lanky, in a dingy white shirt, Papa. My heart jumped out of my chest, and blood surged through my head. Papa.

A man jumped up, his gun pointed at me.

"Who are you?" His hair and clothes were sticky, matted with sweat; a thick beard circled the face that had been closely shorn a week ago. Even then, his resemblance to Baruj was clear. Naeem. The gun shook unsteadily in his hand, wavering as my face came into view.

Papa looked up. "Sadira! Naeem, put down your gun." He ran to me, grabbing me by the shoulders. "Are you okay? How did you get here? Why didn't you stay in Samalut? Where is Dr. DeWitt?"

His questions overwhelmed me. Tears filled my eyes. "I had to find you."

"Who helped you?" he asked. "Did you make it through the desert on your own?"

"No, no. There's a village, and Miriam is there, and they need—"

Papa gasped. "Miriam? Your mother? Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. She gave me her ring." I stuck out my hand, and Papa stared, his face blanching.

"I hoped—I never knew, but I hoped." He turned his face toward the ceiling and sighed.

Baruj slipped into the room, and Naeem's jaw dropped.

"Baruj? Baruj!"

"Naeem!" Baruj pulled Naeem into a tight bear hug. "I can't believe it. I wasn't sure I'd ever see you again." He laughed, but it cracked into a sob.

Naeem pulled back and roughed up his brother's hair. "I'm glad you found us." He squeezed Baruj's shoulder, and they both wiped a few glistening tears from their cheeks.

I interrupted the reunion. "We don't have much time. Some Central soldiers flew in, and they're coming for you all. They only want Papa alive. We need to move."

Naeem shook his head. "Ben's injured. We're safer here than anywhere else."

"They won't stop until they find us, Naeem," Papa said.

"Ben, do you think you can walk?"

The man on the floor raised himself slowly from the ground. A streak of red ran along one side of his head from a jagged cut. "My legs feel fine, but I'm still a bit dizzy. I can walk, but don't expect me to run a marathon."

"Sadira, how many soldiers are there?"

"Twelve, maybe fifteen tops. They came in an C-class hovership, the 3000 series." I was glad I paid attention to my father's ramblings when he worked on his designs. Any knowledge we had would help us.

"Only one ship? You're sure it was the 3000 series?"

I nodded. "That's all I saw."

"Are they all armed?"

"Yes," said Baruj. "They all have ExoShells and standard issue ifrit guns."

My father ran his hands through his hair, making the thick dark waves stand on end. "We might be able to make this work, but we need to move now. Sadira, Baruj, can you lead us back to where their ship landed?"

"I think so," Baruj said. "It's less than five kilometers from here."

"Ben, can you handle your gun?"

He lifted one strong, muscled arm apprehensively. It shook with the effort, and he let his arm fall back to his side. "I don't think I can shoot and walk at the same time."

"Dammit," Papa said. I winced. Papa had always been after me to never swear, to never use words against God. It was painful to hear him use the same language Baruj sputtered out. "You'll have to do the best you can. Sadira, you help Naeem carry Ben. Baruj and I will cover the front. Let's go."

We wriggled back out of the narrow opening of the mountain and into the sparkling desert night. The cool night air caressed my skin. I held up Ben's left side and Naeem his right, and we stumbled along in a weird rhythm of hops. Between Ben's weight and the weight of my knapsack, my shoulders quickly sagged.

"It's not far, is it?" Ben asked.

"No, not too much farther at all."

"Good." His dark skin glistened with sweat. "This is harder than I thought it would be."

"Hang in there," Naeem said. "We need you calm and focused. You're the best with a gun."

"And you're the best at fiddling with flight controls."

I stared at Ben. "What do you mean?" His eyes widened, and he bit his lip, trying to keep new words from escaping.

"We planned this crash. Well, not the me-getting-injured part. I knew that was a possibility, though. Your father has been wanting to escape from the outpost for a while."

He planned to leave me? "To find my mother? He meant to come back, right?"

"I only know part of the plan. Your father said he was handed down a project a few months ago for a device that would terminate all infected people."

My mind flew back to Asif's words at the meeting. "One of the villagers told us that. He said—"

"Villagers? What villagers?" Papa's voice rang out sharp and stern, matching his glare. He stopped walking and turned to face me. Baruj paused, too, glancing over his shoulder at Papa and me.

"Where Miriam was. Baruj and I were attacked by dogs, and then some people helped us..."

His face fell as if he finally remembered something, his voice mixed with incredulity and fear. "I can't believe I didn't ask. These people, had they been sick before?".

I nodded timidly. What if it had been wrong to accept their help? What if that feeling before—that maybe I shouldn't have touched those people—what if I should have listened to that?

Papa rubbed his temples. "You've not been vaccinated. Oh, Sadira—"

I reached to touch his arm, but he pulled back. Fear rose in my chest, but I tried to ignore it. "We'll just have to wait and see. Maybe it's nothing. But there's a village of these people nearby?"

"Not for long, if we don't hurry. The soldiers, they said they were going to bomb the village, too. Why would Central want to—terminate—" the word stuck in my throat, "those people, anyway? They keep themselves isolated. They haven't hurt anyone."

"That's not the way Central sees it," Ben said. "Their existence alone is a problem. If they're still contagious... you're too young to remember how bad the plague was. My parents, they both died from fever. My little sister suffered first." His face, already exhausted, fell with the memories of his family.

"What Ben's trying to say is that it was ugly," Naeem said. "I was lucky. The outpost Baruj and I lived on never had any plague. But some nearby outposts did, and almost everyone there died. If the fever didn't kill you, the lesions did. They'd grow in your throat, in your lungs, until you choked to death."

"I'm sorry," I said to Ben. "I didn't know."

"After the plague hit," said Papa, "Central required travel passes to leave an outpost. It was the only way they could keep the plague contained." He stood silent for a moment, scratching his chin. "The innocence of these villagers is debatable, too. But their hands are cleaner than Central's." He stared at me, his eyes uncertain. "You took a big risk, Sadira, but it's too late to do anything about that now. Let's keep moving."

Papa hurried back to Baruj and continued marching through the dark desert, his footprints firm and steady. I slid Ben's arm farther up my back, pushing his slumping body up straight again.

"How did you get out? From your outpost, I mean. After your family—"

Ben sighed. "I was quarantined for three months, and they ran tests until they were sure I wasn't a carrier. I was shipped off to Central's orphanage in Messina and told that if I ever told anyone what happened to me, I would be executed."

"You mean excluded, right?"

Ben shook his head. "You heard me right the first time. They killed a couple of kids who tried to talk. Lined them up in front of everyone at breakfast and just—" He mimed a gun with his fingers. "I was eight the first time it happened. There was at least one kid a year who thought he could get away."

My stomach twisted in revulsion. Central said they took care of us, protected us. And they shot children? From the expression on Ben's face, I didn't doubt his story.

"Let's talk about something else."

Ben laughed mirthlessly. "Sure. How many soldiers again?"

He asked me to recall everything I saw and heard while observing the Altair. As he pushed me with more questions, I found the image of the ship, the Captain, the soldiers solidifying in my mind, turning from a hazy mirage to a crystal clear picture.

"You have a sharp mind," Ben said, clearly impressed. "Did you see which way the soldiers moved?"

I bit my cheek, thinking for a moment. "We started to move right after they did. We didn't want to risk being seen. I think four or so headed north, another group headed south, and a few stayed behind.

"Good," said Naeem. "We won't be facing them all at once."

The ship appeared in the distance, an indistinct black line wriggling on the surface of the sand. I felt my senses sharpen, scanning the horizon for signs of the soldiers. Nothing yet.

"Perhaps we should slow down a bit," I said. Naeem nodded and paused for a moment. Ben sighed in relief. Baruj looked over his shoulder and nudged Papa. The two of them backtracked a bit to meet us.

"All right, Mr. Sharp-Shot," Naeem said. "Give us the lay of the land. What's our best spot?"

Ben licked his lips and gazed around us, studying the basin in the distance and the two ships below. A few pale boulders scattered the landscape, gleaming in the moonlight. "None of those rock formations give much cover," he said at last.

"Some is better than none, right?" asked Papa.

"False security," Ben said. "Plus, I'll bet my right arm that a few of the Captain's guys are already holed up back there. He's not one for subtlety."

I saw a flash of dark from around one of the boulders. "Like that?"

Ben nodded. "We have to get in range. I don't think I'll be a good mark from this distance, especially with this poor light. But we have to be careful."

Naeem and I helped Ben back up. Ben stifled a cough. "Baruj, you should head up around the east side of the ridge. See that outcropping?" He pointed to the near side of the basin. There, the ridge dropped steeply into the oasis and the flat ground cupping the two ships. "Get over there, and position yourself on the edge. Stay low and be quiet. Naeem, give me your earpiece."

Naeem pulled the device from his ear and placed it into Ben's hand. "Baruj, you'll use this since you'll be out on your own. Mr. Pascal modified this to use a closed circuit. You'll only hear me and him." Baruj popped the small metal device into his ear. "Sadira, you and Naeem carry me over toward the west side. Mr. Pascal... they want you alive, right?"

Papa nodded, and his face went white.

"We need you to flush out the soldiers. As soon as all of them come out, get low. We want clear shots. Understood?" Papa nodded weakly.

Flush them out? No, no, no. I tugged on Papa's sleeve. "You're not going down there!"

"I have to," he replied in a hoarse whisper. "If we don't get on that ship before the rest of the soldiers get back, we're going to die here. We're badly outnumbered. They'll kill you."

"But not you."

"No." He licked his chapped lips. "They'll do much worse than that." He held his chin up. "I'll head down on your signal, Ben."

"Come on," Naeem said. "We need to get Ben into position."

I wanted to scream, kick, and protest Papa going down to the ship, but I knew better. Papa had been stone cold honest when he said the soldiers would kill me without question. I will follow Ben. I will trust him. I will help him, I thought. Maybe we'll all live through this.

Naeem and I carried Ben along, hobbling across the desert ground. Now and again, I would peer over the rock formations and see a dark swish behind one of the rocks. That's where the soldiers are. I began trying to count the movements—one, and two, for sure. They were being sloppy. They knew there was a chance we might come back here, so why move around so?

I tried to recall how many soldiers Captain Berings left behind. Two or three? Two or three? Both sounded right. Both sounded wrong. I kept my eyes focus on the basin, looking for any other movements. We neared the far side of the ridge Ben had pointed out and settled along the edge. He nestled his belly on the rough sand. He positioned his gun, now a natural extension of his body, and fiddle with the scope at the top.

Ben tapped his earpiece. "I'm in position. Baruj, are you ready?"

"Yes," replied a static-y voice.

"Your cue, Mr. Pascal."

My heart leaped against my chest. I knew the soldiers wouldn't kill, but they could hurt him. I bit my cheek, chanting a short prayer in my head. God, let him live. Papa walked down the ridge, his arms held high above his head. A cautious soldier moved from behind one of the stony formations, checking around him. Seeing no one besides Papa, he stepped out into the open.

"What do we have here?" the soldier mocked. "Mr. Pascal? Back so soon?"

Papa slowly lowered his arms. "The pilots had it all planned out. I barely escaped from them. I can show you where they are."

"The pilots planned this?"

"Do you think I would crash that hovership? Do you have any idea how hard I worked to build this thing?" Papa drew himself up to his full height, positively towering over the young guard. I could imagine the scowl on his face, like the look he once gave me when I failed a history exam. If Papa wanted to, he could make any kindness in his face shrivel and disappear. Even though Papa was lightly built, his height and strict demeanor seemed to intimidate the soldier. The soldier backed up a few steps, raising his ifrit gun. The oval shell of the gun pointed squarely at Papa's chest, waiting to let off a fiery blast of plasma.

"Stay where you are, Mr. Pascal. I'm calling for backup," the soldier's voice rasped through his oxygen hose. He flicked on his earpiece, reporting Papa.

I kept scanning the area, searching for another dark blur behind the stones. I knew I had seen more than one guard, but I couldn't spot any movement now. My stomach clenched. They're not buying it.

After a few long, tense moments, another soldier came out from behind one of the stones and approached his comrade. "Cuff him," he said casually. "The Captain's on his way."

Ben flicked his modified earpiece. "Now," he said. I saw Papa hit the ground below.

Ben lifted himself off the ground and fired. His first shot hit one of the soldiers in the head. His face disintegrated, vanished in an eruption of green ifrit charges and violet-red blood. The second soldier ran. Ben adjusted his arm, took aim, and pulled the trigger, but his second shot only hit the soldier in the arm. The guard screamed as his left arm detached from his shoulder, connected only by the metal braces of his ExoShell, but he kept running behind the ship. Another blast came screaming out of the gun. Baruj's shot found its mark, and the soldier fell to the ground.

Naeem jumped up and ran down from the ridge to Papa. Ben flicked on his earpiece. "Naeem, don't be an idiot! Wait!" Naeem slowed for a moment, turned to Papa, and then turned back to the ridge. A shot rang out, and Naeem fell to the ground, blood streaming from his chest. He tumbled down a few feet, before skidding to a stop. I heard a scream, wild and pained, rip through the air.

Baruj.

He stood and sprinted down the ridge, firing wildly. Papa clung to the earth for dear life. The last Central soldier peeked out from behind another rock and fired at Baruj.

"Where's backup?" screeched the soldier. "They took out Marksen and Bose!"

Baruj gained speed, flying over the ground. The guard behind the rock kept firing, his shots flying errant around Baruj.

I covered my eyes for a moment, afraid to look at what was happening below. I heard more shots, a howling scream, and then silence.

I lifted my hand, unveiling my eyes. "Wha—what happened?"

Ben stared unbelieving at the ground below. "Baruj took out the guard. We need to get down there before their backup arrives."

I pulled Ben to his feet, and we hobbled down the steep slope of the ridge. It was all I could do to keep him from falling forward. Baruj lay on the ground at Naeem's side, sobbing.

"He's dead." He raised his head toward me. I had already guessed as much. The pool of blood streaming outward was too big, far too big...

"I'm going to kill every one of those sons of bitches out here."

"Baruj—" I started.

"I hate them all!" Baruj sobbed.

Ben reached down and slapped Baruj across the face, knocking him over on the ground. "Get yourself together. We're badly outnumbered, and you and I are the only good shots here. Without Naeem here, you're our best pilot, too. If we don't get on that ship before backup comes, we'll all be like Naeem."

Baruj sobbed, got to his knees, and tried to pick up his brother's limp body.

"Leave him here," said Ben.

"No," Baruj protested between sobs. "He needs a proper burial."

Papa walked up from behind. "Leave him." Papa pulled Baruj off the ground. "We have to move."

I heard another ifrit gun fire in the distance, the wailing noise carrying over the desert sand. I could imagine the ghost-like glow blasting out of the gun, an evil spirit bent on chaos.

"We need to move now!" Ben shouted.

Papa dragged Baruj along to the Altair, with Ben and I following closely behind. Ben was trying his hardest to run, gasping each time his right leg hit the ground. I dashed back to him, placing myself below his arm. We stumbled along, tripping over the uneven ground.

Papa opened the hatch to the Altair and ran inside. Another shot rang out, this one even closer. Green sparks flitted through the oasis basin, floating through the air like an evil spirit. I couldn't move Ben nearly as fast without Naeem on the other side. He started to sag, crumpling to his knees.

"Go on," he said, gasping. "Keep moving."

I grabbed Ben's arm, trying to lift him back to his feet. He got to his knees, then slumped back down to the ground.

"Sit me up, Sadira," he said. The gunshots had quelled, but now I heard voices and felt a faint vibration on the ground below me.

Footsteps.

The whir of ExoShells filled the air, the heavy metal footfalls shook the earth. I lifted up Ben, and he steadied his arm on his knee before him. "Get in the ship," he said.

"But—"

"Get in!" His panting had slowed, and now he breathed easily, steadily. He narrowed his eyes, turning his head toward the sound of the voices. "I've got this."

I turned to get up but was tackled by one of the Central soldiers, insect-like in his shiny metal exoskeleton. The guard pinned me to the ground. Even through my knapsack his knee dug into my back. I struggled to get up, but the motors on his arms whirred, tightening his grip on my wrists. He was too strong.

A shot fired, and Ben screamed. "That's for shooting Marksen!" one of the soldiers yelled. I squirmed to turn my head and saw Ben lying on the ground, blood pouring from a stump that used to be his leg. He moaned. The soldier stood above him, his face unnatural and elongated by the oxygen mask. His arm quivered, pointing his gun directly at Ben's head.

"Drop the gun, Pireldi." I could only see the boots of this new soldier, but from the calm, cold voice I knew it was Captain Berings. Pireldi hesitated, still aiming for Ben's head.

"Drop it!" shouted the Captain. Pireldi let the gun fall to the ground with a dull thud.

"He's not a threat to us now." The Captain's boots, bright and shining even in the dusty desert, walked toward me, pausing with one foot on either side of my head.

"This one is a better bargaining chip." The Captain dropped to his knee and peered in my face. Even behind the alien screen of the oxygen mask I could make out his eerie green eyes. "Hello, Miss Pascal. I have to say I'm impressed you made it this far. Truly impressed." He pinched my cheek condescendingly. I whipped my head around and tried to bite his fingers. He chuckled, and the mask twisted the laughter into something diabolical.

He tapped a small box on the side of his mask. "Ship com." He fiddled with a few more switches on his helmet, and the sound from his call carried out across the desert.

"Mr. Pascal? It's Captain Berings. I believe I have something out here that you'd like back."

A long pause followed, then a hoarse voice. "There's nothing out there for me," Papa said.

"No? I've found a little lost lamb who's crying for her Papa. I think that other pilot of yours might still be kicking, too." The Captain stopped, listening closely. Ben inhaled an uneven, raspy breath and let out a low cry. The soldier holding me down shifted his weight, moving everything inside the bag on my back. I could feel the corner of the crystal radio pressing into my skin.

"There's nothing out there," repeated Papa, and it felt like I had been kicked in the gut. Nothing out there? I walked across the desert to find Papa. I helped him get back to the ship. And now...

"Very well, then," the Captain said. "They're both expendable." He leaned down and pulled my arm out from under the soldier above me. He gave it a quick twist and jerk. My arm made a sick cracking sound, and I screamed. I fought to bite my tongue, swallow the hurt, but it burst forth from my lips in a formless cry.

"Hear that, Mr. Pascal? That's the sound of nothing."

I heard another voice in the background, shouting incomprehensibly. Baruj. His voice was nearly unrecognizable through the shrill cry of panic. "Help her!" Baruj shouted.

The transmission cut for a moment, then Papa's calm voice came back on. "Will that be all?" A long pause followed, and I heard the click of the com being cut off.

Papa abandoned me.

The Captain flicked off the earpiece on his mask and jerked my arm again. Something was jagged inside of me and scraped against my muscles and skin. I tried to bite back the scream, but I only howled louder.

With another slight twist of the wrist, I felt my shoulder tear from its proper place. My shouts of pain turned into terror. He's going to rip me apart. I shrieked until my lungs ran out of air, until my throat burned, until my heart threatened to leap from my chest.

The door of the Altair burst open. Baruj's gun stuck out of the side and shot at the soldiers. One, two fell down immediately, and the rest ran for cover. Even Captain Berings dropped my arm and took a few steps back toward the Bright Star, ducking beneath the hull.

"You're only one person, Private!" the Captain called. "You're outnumbered and out-armed!"

"And you've got somebody I still care about." Baruj moved from the cover of the ship's door, but the Captain fired, pinning him back.

"So she's not worthless?"

"Not to me."

One of the soldiers moved toward the entrance of the ship, but Baruj fired a quick shot, felling him. A pool of blood stained the white sand of the desert.

"If your men are all this stupid, I won't be outnumbered long."

The Captain chuckled. "Come and get her before I rip off her arms." His ExoShell whirred to life as he flexed his wrists, his arms, a sick, mechanical grinding sound.

No, no, no, no, no. I felt the Captain grab my wrist again, the pressure of his hand on my arm, and another jerk tore at my arm. I wailed, and this time I could feel my skin stretching unnaturally.

The Captain's com came on. "Captain! There's a group of—" the voice on the other end cut off in a torrent of gunfire, shots that I heard echo down the valley. But the shots—they were not ifrit guns. They were different, short sharp notes filling the air.

"Pireldi! Ganeesh! Go find the third squad."

Two soldiers left their positions, wary of the door of the ship and Baruj's deadly aim. They ran, their exoskeletons whirring and propelling their bodies at unnatural speeds.

More gunshots. More screams. I struggled on the ground and saw a group of people standing along the ridge of the valley, looking down at the two ships.

Cantara stood toward the center, instantly recognizable by her long black braid. More than a dozen villagers surrounded her, armed, their guns pointed down the valley.

"I don't think I'm outnumbered anymore, Captain," jeered Baruj.

The Captain cursed and sprang to his feet. He began sprinting, his body a mishmash of fluid muscle and stiff machinery. He pumped his arms, heading faster, faster, and faster up the ridge.

He was going to get away.

A dozen shots rang out from the top of the ridge, a dozen angry villagers, armed with the ancient bullet guns I had only seen on view-screens. The Captain collapsed into a heap of motors and blood.

Baruj jumped from the ship and ran to me.

I waved him off with my good arm. "Grab Ben. He's lost a lot of blood."

Ben's breathing had slowed over the minutes, becoming faint and distant. The stain around him faded from a garish crimson to light pink; the merciless desert drank his blood. Baruj ripped off a section of his robe and tied it around the remains of Ben's leg, cinching the fabric down with a yank.

I sat up slowly, careful not to bump my arm, and pushed myself to my feet. My right arm hung limply from my shoulder, loose and disconnected from the rest of my body. The villagers began racing down the ridge toward me and Baruj.

Cantara ran past me, straight toward Baruj and Ben. "You found them? Your brother?"

Baruj's face drew tight. "My brother's back there." He gestured to the east side of the ridge where Naeem lay in a halo of reds and pinks. Cantara gasped.

"Help me get Ben up." Cantara grabbed Ben by the waist, and Baruj held him by the arms. They dragged him into the ship.

I took a few slow steps toward the ship, but my knees threatened to buckle beneath me.

God put courage in my heart.

The rest of the villagers wandered down. I saw Miriam standing next to the doctor, her eyes sharp slits above the hard line of her lips. Her mouth curled into a quick, uncertain smile. Ghazi and a few of the other elders were there as well, but many more, like Asif, were nowhere to be seen. They wore ancient guns at their hips, their shoulders laden with rounds of brass and lead ammo. They moved, their limbs silent, natural, right. Their skin may have been distorted, but they were far more human than the soldiers that lay still on the ground.

Ghazi offered me his arm, and I took it gratefully, steadying myself. "Thank you," I whispered.

"This was not for you, child," said Ghazi. "With luck, these Central bastards will never find Bawiti."

"Is Asif still there?"

Ghazi nodded. "He is taking care of everyone who chose to stay behind."

"Where are you headed?" Miriam asked.

I started to shrug, but the searing pain in my shoulder made me rethink that simple motion. "I don't know."

A younger man I didn't recognize, his shoulders encased in scarred lumps that pressed against his shirt, stepped forward. "Wherever you go to fight Central, we'll go." The crowd of faces nodded in agreement.

I didn't want to fight Central. I didn't want to hurt anyone. I didn't want to hold a gun or watch people be killed. I only wanted Papa back, but I remembered the harshness of his voice to Captain Berings.

There is nothing out there for me.

There was nothing here for me either, but there was no way I could return to Samalut, no way I could return to Amina, or Mrs. Nagi,, or Timothy. Central would be waiting for me there. I had to keep moving forward.

I didn't want to fight Central, but they wanted to fight me. And I would fight back with everything I had.

"Get on the ship," I said, harsher than I meant. The villagers straightened up at the edge in my voice and entered the ship in an orderly line. I brought up the rear, holding my head high to try to shut out the pain in my arm.

The narrow entry opened up into a seating area that doubled as the mess hall. Rows of gray chairs lined the room. Webbed shoulder harnesses dangling lifelessly at the sides. It was crowded, stuffed with the dozen or so villagers. They stood aimlessly, staring at me, waiting for more direction. I didn't give any.

Two passages led out of the mess hall. A wide, arched opening sat to my left, lined with blue lights, and a narrow tunnel lay on my right. I opted for the left side first, which opened into the bridge. The bridge was barely a third of the size of the mess hall, and instead of rows of chairs, there were only five, widely spaced with a console at each chair controlling navigation and the engines. The wall before me was blank and smooth—a view-screen. Papa leaned over one set of controls, tearing out wires. If it had been anyone else fiddling with the ship, I would have worried that it wouldn't run. I stood on my toes to try to get a better view of the room. I twisted the silver ring on my finger. Miriam was nowhere to be found. Ghazi, the angry, hooked-nose elder, stood next to Papa, arguing. He wanted the villagers to stay on board the ship, travel with him. Papa wanted them to go back to their homes.

"Don't you see we can't go back? Not for long, anyway. They know about us. They know where we are. We won't be safe until they're all gone."

Papa's face reddened. "I had a deal with Captain Sorensen. Three people, and now I have fifteen! How do I explain that?"

"You'll have to throw us off yourself," said Ghazi. "I'm going to tell everyone to strap in."

The argument got more heated as I walked closer. I paused, unsure whether I should leave or speak up. Papa's attention turned from the mess of wires at hand for a moment, glaring at me. "What do you want?"

"I thought I could help."

He frowned. "You've helped enough. You need to stay out of the way while I'm working."

"But—"

"I need to focus. You probably need to find the doctor, right?" He motioned to my arm, which still throbbed, then turned back to the wires on the floor. The conversation was over before it even started. I opened my mouth, to scream, to ask for just a moment of his time. Hot tears stung my eyes. I turned and stormed out of the bridge before they could betray my thoughts.

My whole body shook, from anger, frustration, and fear. I had worked hard—so hard—gone further than I ever knew I could, and all for Papa. I had a Papa who pushed me away and a mother who didn't know me.

I buried my face in my hands for a moment, hiding the tears. A hand touched my shoulder, making me wince. I hastily dried my face and turned.

The angry elder, Ghazi, stood next to me, his face no longer hard and unfriendly. "What's wrong?"

I pulled his hand off of my arm. "It's injured," I shot back. "That's all."

He stared at me, his small, green eyes peering over a hawk-like nose. "It's not only your arm. I wanted to apologize for my harsh words. Cantara and Asif explained to me—"

"They don't know everything," I said, bitterly.

"They knew more than I did. I should have been more patient with you. You've shown real courage." He smiled, but it was sharp, a face not used to smiling.

"I don't want courage." I pushed down the sobs that bubbled up in my chest. "I want my family." Ghazi looked as though I had hit him in the stomach, but I didn't care what he thought of me. I wanted my friends back. I wanted to know Amina and Timothy and Mrs. Nagi were safe. I wanted a family. If courage meant going through everything I had over the last week, or losing trust in Papa, then I wanted none of it.

There was at least one person on the ship I could still turn to. I strode back into the mess hall, looking for Baruj. The villagers sat quietly, staring at their ancient guns, the edges wood and metal instead of the dead, gleaming green plastic of the ifrit guns. They talked in low, unsteady voices. Baruj was not among them.

The small, dark tunnel at the far end of the mess hall beckoned to me. It was a sharp change, going from the brightly lit mess hall down the tunnel, and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. I kept my left hand against the wall, feeling my way until my eyes grew friendly with the dim light. There were doors all along the corridor, shiny green things, each labeled with a purpose. Supply. Engineering. Weapons. Toward the end of the hall, one door stood open, light spilling into the dim area.

I strode down the hall, wincing every time I moved my arm. My shoulder was definitely dislocated, and my arm was probably broken as well. I held it stiffly against my side, weary of the slightest jostle. Slowly, exhausted, I made it to the door and peered inside.

Dr. Hennet, the one who had treated me and Baruj earlier, hovered over an exam table, Ben's incomplete body stretched below. Baruj's shirt, secured around Ben's leg, was already soaked with blood. Ben was unconscious, his breaths quick and shallow.

The doctor barked orders, focusing his complete attention on Ben. "Baruj, grab the plasma. Cantara, hand me the suture gun. Miriam, find the antibiotics." Baruj, Cantara and Miriam danced around the room, throwing open the drawers and cabinets to find what the doctor needed.

Dr. Hennet paused, noting my face peeking though the door. "Good, an extra set of hands. I need you to irrigate his leg."

I stared dumbly for a moment. Irrigate his leg?

"Rinse it off," said Miriam gently. "Dr. Hennet can't close the wound with sand or grit in there." She handed me a squeeze bottle and a towel. I began pouring water on Ben's leg, sending rivers of red streaming. I put the bottle down and grabbed the towel with my good arm, dabbing Ben's leg to catch the falling blood. My stomach churned at the sight of his destroyed flesh.

I bit my cheek. I can do this. I can help Ben. I swallowed my queasiness and continued rinsing the wound.

"Step aside," Dr. Hennet said. I moved, relieved to stop touching Ben's maimed leg. I felt lightheaded, the coppery smell of blood filling my lungs, so I propped myself up against the wall to keep from collapsing.

"You did a good job," whispered Miriam.

Dr. Hennet stuck a needle in Ben's arm and hooked a bag up to it. "He's lost a lot of blood." He grabbed the suture gun and a scalpel, and cleaned Ben's wound, sealing the torn vessels.

I felt myself grow fainter, so I turned away. Naeem lay lifeless on the ground outside. Ben lay in here, clammy and motionless.

"Are you well?" asked Miriam. I shook my head. How could I be well?

"I need some air." Miriam nodded, turning her attention back to helping the doctor. I stumbled back into the corridor and slumped against the wall. Baruj followed, sat down beside me, and rested his head on my shoulder. His arm was still puffy and swollen from the dog bites, but the broken flesh had already closed into a shiny pink layer of new skin. Was that only yesterday? I struggled to process everything that had happened in the last week. I shut my eyes, trying to remember the feeling of my warm bed in Samalut, the comfort of safety.

That comfort was gone. I felt my sleeve grow damp. Baruj was crying softly, tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Is it Naeem?" I asked quietly.

"It's everything."

I nodded. I could understand that. I clasped his hand and squeezed.

"What happens now?"

He sighed. "I don't know. I don't know." He shuddered a little and wiped his nose on his sleeve.

"Should we go back to the bridge?"

Baruj lifted his head. "I suppose I need to. Unless you're secretly a pilot." He rose, dried his eyes, and ran his fingers through his hair. He reached to help me up, but touched my injured arm. I stifled a scream. He dropped his hand immediately.

"I forgot. You need to have the doctor take a look at that."

"After he's done with Ben. Ben will be fine, right?"

Baruj sighed. "I hope so."

Miriam leaned out the door. "You two headed back to the bridge?"

I nodded.

"I'll join you." She grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze. Her face tightened into an uncomfortable smile. "I suppose I have to speak to him eventually."

It took me a moment to realize the 'him' was Papa. Miriam closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and marched forward.

We walked silently back to the bridge. It was empty save for Papa. A pile of wires lay on the floor, and he tapped swiftly on the ship's touch screen.

"I think that did it. I have the tracking and com systems rerouted. Central shouldn't be able to find us. Not through their usual methods, anyway." He looked up, his eyes widening as he saw us walk into the room.

"Miriam."

"Yes," she said simply.

"It really is you." Papa took a step forward, reaching toward her, but she took a step back.

"You've raised her well, you know," she said. "She's beautiful." I felt my cheeks flush, and Papa glanced at me for a moment.

"She looks like you." His eyes crinkled at the corners, and he took another step forward.

"I've moved on, Henri. Erik—"

"Who?" Papa's eyebrows scrunched.

"The doctor."

The doctor? I shook my head. My parents were supposed to be together. We were supposed to be a family.

Papa straightened, holding his chin high. "I understand. Eleven years—"

"Twelve," Miriam corrected.

"Twelve." He pursed his lips. "I shouldn't have assumed anything."

They both stood there, staring. The moment was so uncomfortable, I blurted, "Where are we headed?"

Papa stared through me, tightening his lips. "Same place we were headed before the Bright Star crashed. The Galileo."

"Where?"

"If you bothered studying your history, you'd know," he snapped.

I started to protest, but before I could say anything, Baruj leaned over. "It's the oldest orbital colony," he whispered.

I couldn't understand anything for a moment. The low mutterings of the villagers buzzed from the mess hall, and I could hear my pulse racing in my ears. Orbital colony? That meant...

That meant Papa had planned to leave and not return. Papa had planned to leave me the whole time. I meant nothing. My stomach sank, and my skin felt chilled. I tried to think of something to say, anything, to show I understood this new reality, but my words left me.

It didn't matter if I could have found the words to explain myself. Papa turned his gaze from the floor in front of me and Miriam to a steady glare in Baruj's eyes.

"You've been trained on the 3000 series?"

"Some. I know the 2000 series better."

"There aren't many differences." Papa was in his engineer mode. "Controls are mostly the same. The 3000 has a slightly different docking sequence. Here." He grabbed Baruj's shoulder. "Let me show you."

The two were quickly absorbed in the minutiae of hovertech, going through their flight plan. There was nowhere on the ship for me. I thought of Dr. DeWitt, of Timothy. Would I be able to call them once we were in orbit? I doubted it. I wanted to call Timothy now, hear his warm familiar voice. I wanted to talk to Dr. DeWitt, try to understand what my Papa was doing.

My knapsack felt heavy and useless on my back. This was made for a journey through the desert, a journey to a papa who welcomed me with open arms. I stared at him, but his face was bitter and cold, focused on explaining the nav system. There was no welcome there.

Miriam tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear and smiled. "He'll come back around," she said.

I wasn't so sure.

I heard footsteps behind me, and craned my neck over my shoulder. It was Cantara, her shirt splattered with drops of blood.

"I think the other man will live. Dr. Hennet seemed hopeful."

"Thanks."

"You need to see the doctor, too, yes?" She stared at my arm, hanging limply at my side. I stared inward at my heart, breaking slowly.

"You're injured?" asked Miriam.

I nodded. "Yes. I do need to see the doctor."

We stood in silence at the opening of the bridge.

Papa cleared his throat and pressed a button on one of the consoles. "I'll need everyone to find a seat and strap in. We're about to lift off." His voice echoed through the ship, strong and authoritative.

A cheer went through the villagers, echoing down the passage between the mess hall and the bridge. They didn't know how Papa didn't want them there, either. It was better that they didn't know.

Baruj sat, shoulders squared, in front of the main controls, in the dead center of the bridge. I found a chair at the edge of the bridge and strapped myself down. Cantara sat to my right, pulling the harness down over her own head, and Miriam took the seat to the right of her. Papa sat on my left, staring straight ahead.

"View-screen on," said Baruj.

The entire wall before me glowed, showing an image of the desert ground. Bodies littered the sand, pink and red with blood. With the ExoShells on, it looked like grasshoppers lay quiet, but I knew the blood was human, the insect-like bodies human. I blinked back the tears forming in my eyes. They were only Central soldiers.

Baruj tapped a few more buttons on the control console. "Begin auto launch system."

The ship vibrated beneath us, trembling and quivering with the excitement of the launch to come.

The ship roared as it began its ascent, first a few meters from the ground, then a kilometer. I could see the desert rush away, the bodies fade into dark specks.

"Enable the destruct sequence, Baruj," ordered my father.

Baruj nodded, then tapped a few buttons on his console. Below us, on the ground in the valley, where so many had fallen, a bright white light lit the desert.

"Destruction successful," Baruj said. The light dimmed, and I could see the Bright Star no longer sat on the desert floor.

"There were explosives on the Bright Star," I said, remembering Colonel Marwasi's words.

"Yes," Papa said. "In case Central caught up to us. That way our contacts wouldn't be compromised.

The Colonel had told the truth—at least part of it. I had assumed it was all lies, but now I wasn't sure what to believe. Papa's face turned toward mine, but I snapped my eyes forward to the view-screen ahead.

The ground turned into a homogeneous sea of white, then the clouds appeared, layers of thick, white sheets filling the sky.

We rose above the horizon, and I could see the gentle curve of the Earth. A blue-green sea licked the northern edges of our desert, and as we continued to rise, continents and oceans appeared before my eyes.

"Sadira?" Papa called to me, his voice soft and low, the same voice he'd used when he promised he'd be home for my birthday. I didn't turn my head.

"I want to explain something to you. When the Captain had you—I had to call his bluff."

"You would have let me die." The words were bitter in my mouth.

"No. Well, that was a risk. I thought Dr. DeWitt would come, darling. I never thought—"

"Don't call me darling." My right arm dangled uselessly, painfully from my side. I was not darling to him. He was no longer darling to me.

"Look at me when I speak to you." His voice was firm, no longer reconciliatory.

Against my will, I turned my head. He glared at me, his brown eyes blazing.

"You are small, Sadira. You are one person. This is bigger than you."

Though I had tried to harden my heart, the words cut. Nothing had been bigger to me than Papa. I had tried so hard—I whipped my head forward, determined to hide the tears, bite back any sobs.

"It's bigger than you. It's bigger than me. What I'm doing, it's not for one person. It's for everyone down there." He pointed to the view-screen in front of us. The Earth was a sapphire, glittering blue, round, still, and gentle.

"This is for everyone up there, too." He gestured with his hands to the ceiling. "Central has done some bad things. I've done some bad things, in their name. I can't stand by anymore, Sadira."

"I've been in contact with the captain of the Galileo. She's going to help me—going to help us. We have a plan. We're going to stop Central. I wanted to tell you, but I had to keep you safe. You've seen how they are. That captain wasn't the worst. They want to kill—"

I remembered Ben's story. "They want to kill people like the badlanders."

Papa let out a low sigh of relief. "So you understand."

I did understand. Dr. DeWitt had explained his story to me, how he had hurt so many people, but Dr. DeWitt hadn't hurt me in the telling.

The ship turned away from the quiet blue of the Earth to the darkness of the sky. The view-screen blackened, then the coal-colored background glittered. Stars, thousands of stars, littered the black blanket of the sky, glowing and shimmering. In front of us a giant metal tube spun slowly, cold and distant, with faint red lights blinking at its ends.

That was it. That tube, the Galileo, it would replace Samalut, replace all the places I'd known in my life. My room would not be there. After hearing Papa argue with Ghazi, I doubted they would welcome me. They expected soldiers, engineers, fighters, not a scared, uncertain girl.

The metal cylinder kept twirling, alone in the black sky. Alone. The next steps I took would be alone.

"The Galileo," Papa said. "Welcome to your new home."
Acknowledgments

As with any book, there are so many people who helped to make this possible. First, I have to thank my editor, Kelly Hashway, for doing such a fantastic job. Next are my critiquing partners—Mary, Lindsey, Tyrean, and Shreyonti. Their constant feedback during the writing process kept me motivated, gave me new ideas, and helped me make this story as good as it could be.

A special thanks to both my mother and mother-in-law for reading through my story and giving me support. Your words of encouragement kept me going when I felt that the editing would never end.

And finally, a big thanks to my husband, who listened to me ramble every night about this world I created. You were with me every step of the way.
