Glow

by Amy Kathleen Ryan

  “So how did you like the tour of the gardens today?” Josiah asked as he broke his bread into small pieces and dropped them into his stew.

  “They’re beautiful,” Waverly said, and meant it. The gardens on the New Horizon were much better tended than on the Empyrean. There were fewer weeds. The wheat rows were straighter, the corn greener, the berries bigger and juicier. She supposed without children to care for, the crew had flung themselves to the task of farming. “We played on the banyan trees.”

  “Those were my favorite when I was young.” Amanda laughed. “Can you imagine Josiah and me as children? I was four and he was six when we were brought aboard the New Horizon.”

  “So you remember Earth?” Waverly asked, wistful. She loved hearing about Old Earth and its blue sky. “Do you remember rain? How it fell out of the air?”

  “It was beautiful to watch,” Amanda said, “but full of chemicals.”

  “Why? What chemicals?” Waverly asked. Few adults on the Empyrean had been willing to talk about their planet of origin, she’d noticed. They always changed the subject if she asked too many questions, and no one ever gave her a clear picture of what had really happened to make their home world such a hard place to live. She’d always wondered why it was a secret. Her mother’s explanation, that it was too painful for people to talk about, never felt entirely true. Something was being held back. “How did chemicals get into the rain?”

  Amanda shook her head. “I have never understood it. Josiah? Do you?”

  “I’m no climate scientist,” he said as he nudged a broth-soaked piece of bread with the back of his spoon. “The factories got out of hand, or—”

  “Pastor Mather said that the reason Earth collapsed was because people didn’t pay attention to the signs God sent them. They were greedy and lazy, and because of that—”

  “They were punished,” Josiah interjected.

  “For what? What exactly did they do?”

  Amanda let out an embarrassed laugh. “We were so young. This is our home now.”

  “Do you miss it? Being on a planet?”

  “Every single day,” Josiah said. “But it wasn’t always so terrific, either.”

  “I remember feeling hungry most of the time,” Amanda said before taking a huge bite of broccoli. “My bones didn’t form quite right as a child. I had to wear braces.”

  “And there was lots of violence,” Josiah said. “We’re much better off here.”

  “Especially now that you girls have come,” Amanda added. She smiled at her husband, and he briefly covered her hand with his own. Something private passed between them, then Amanda dropped her gaze and took a small bite, letting her spoon linger in her mouth.

  “How is it?” Amanda asked, indicating Waverly’s soup with a flick of her eyes.

  “Really good,” Waverly said again. They ate in silence, the only sound the clink and slide of their spoons against the earthenware bowls. Waverly took another piece of bread, though she wasn’t so hungry anymore. She wanted something to do with her hands, some excuse for not talking.

  “Waverly, I wonder if you’d let me paint you?”

  Waverly stopped chewing, surprised. “Me?”

  “I’d love the chance to work with a live model. And you’re so pretty, dear.”

  “You haven’t seen Felicity Wiggam,” Waverly said. “She’s absolutely beautiful.”

  “I like your face. I’d like to paint it,” Amanda said. “Just a simple portrait.”

  “Amanda doesn’t do nudes,” Josiah said with a chuckle. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “And it would give us an excuse to visit more,” Amanda added. “If that would suit you. I could get permission from Pastor Mather.”

  Waverly put down her bread. “I suppose that would be all right.”

  Amanda stood and gathered the empty plates. “Who’s ready for oatmeal cookies?”

  “À la mode,” Josiah added with a chuckle. “Have you ever had ice cream?”

  “We don’t carry cows on the Empyrean,” Waverly said, and dropped her chin. Any mention of her home sent a jarring grief through her, and she had to swallow back tears. It’s still there, she told herself. They’re still out there.

  There was an awkward pause before Josiah said haltingly, “You haven’t lived until you’ve tried ice cream.”

  Waverly found a way to smile at him. She tried to enjoy her oatmeal cookie, though the ice cream made her queasy and she couldn’t finish.

  She helped Josiah and Amanda do their dishes, and then they walked her back to the dormitory. She extended her hand to Amanda, who folded it between both hands, smiling down at the girl. As tall as Waverly was, Amanda was much taller. “Remember, you’re going to model for me. I’ll arrange it with the Pastor.”

  “That sounds fine,” Waverly said, and even let the woman give her a brief hug. She smelled of oil paints and fresh-cut tomatoes.

  Once she crawled into her bed and the lights turned off, her thoughts turned to Kieran. He would never accept that Captain Jones had sabotaged the New Horizon. As for why he’d refused to help them, Kieran would say that if he’d increased acceleration, that would have increased the artificial gravity, and there would be no way of knowing how the crew and livestock would be affected. He was only trying to protect his crew.

  But the Captain hadn’t protected his crew, had he?

  Seth had said that friends of the Captain led complicated lives. Waverly wished she could talk to him about it. Seth was less naïve than Kieran, more willing to see the dark side of things. He didn’t let his loyalties confuse his idea of the truth.

  Was she being disloyal to Kieran, thinking these thoughts? She loved his simple trust and the way he believed in his friends. She knew that was the way to bring out the best in people. Seth would always be suspicious of others and a little rough around the edges.

  No, Kieran was better.

  Waverly wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed her own back, imagining Kieran’s arms, Kieran’s hands. She imagined him burying his face in her hair. He might even find a way to make her laugh, even now. He could always do that—cheer her up even when she was at her lowest.

  “What would you say to me now?” she whispered into the silent darkness, and listened in her mind for a response. None came.

  Waverly turned her face into her pillow. She bit the pillowcase, gnashing it between her teeth as she cried.

  SERVICES

  The next morning, the matron turned on the lights and clapped her hands. “Get up, girls. You’re in for a treat!”

  Waverly sat up in her cot, confused. She and Samantha looked at each other, and Samantha pretended to clap her hands gleefully, making Waverly smile. She wondered why she’d never been friends with Samantha before. They had more in common than she’d ever thought.

  Several women brought in simple black dresses and stockings, handed them out to each of the girls, and told them to dress quickly. Once dressed, the girls were given white lace kerchiefs to tie around their heads, covering their hair. The girls looked like the pictures of Russian peasants Waverly had seen in a book of stories by Chekhov.

  If this were a normal Sunday, Waverly and her mother would make waffles or pancakes and lie around reading old novels from Earth. Regina loved mysteries that reminded her of the home world. Waverly liked Victorian novels, with their descriptions of the English countryside, birdsong, and genteel manners. The descriptions were so complete, she could almost imagine what it would be like to stand in a place and be able to look at a horizon with nothing over your head but sky. In the afternoon, Waverly would draw a bath and soak for an hour before running off to meet Kieran in the orchards. Now, there was no bath and no books. Just rough black fabric that irritated her skin and a lace scarf that hid her hair and made her feel ridiculous.

  The matrons had the girls walk double file down several flights of the central stairwell to the granary, the largest room in the ship.

  Hundreds of people were milli
ng about between rows of young wheat, talking together, laughing. Absolutely everyone wore black, the women in shapeless dresses that hung to their ankles, the men in tunics and leggings. Waverly saw Amanda and Josiah through the rows of wheat stalks, and they waved at her. She waved back and contrived a smile.

  The girls walked single file between the wheat rows to an acre that had been cleared away. A stage had been set up beneath the large porthole that looked onto the veiled sky. Waverly could see a few stars in the distance, shining through the haze, and she hoped that meant they were nearing the edge of the nebula.

  The matron gestured toward the front rows of chairs, where the girls sat down. Josiah walked onto the stage carrying a small guitar. He sat on a stool, and with a wink at Waverly, he began plucking the strings. His music echoed through the cavernous room, seeming to trickle between the stalks of dried wheat that hung over the heads of the congregation. Pastor Mather was sitting in a carved wooden chair, and on either side of her were an older man and a young woman, each holding a black book. Holy Books, Waverly guessed. All three of them were wearing white robes, in stark contrast with the rest of the congregation. Anne Mather herself wore an elegantly embroidered mantle, sewn in rich purple, red, and gold—the only color in the room. A similarly embroidered kerchief covered her hair. The people began filing into the rows of seats. Soon Anne Mather stood, the music died down, and she walked to an altar at the center of the stage.

  “Welcome, all of you, on this, the two thousand two hundred and fifty-third Sunday of our mission to New Earth. Peace be upon you.”

  “And peace upon you,” the congregation answered in unison.

  “I wish especially to welcome aboard our guests, the refugees from the Empyrean, whose presence is a source of great joy to us all. Girls, please stand.”

  Reluctantly, Waverly got to her feet, and the rest of the girls followed. The last to stand was Samantha, who hunched her shoulders resentfully.

  Mather crossed the stage to stand over the girls, holding her hands out, palms down. “Dear Lord of the heavens, we ask that these girls learn to make a home for themselves aboard our vessel. We do not ask why it was Your will to separate them from their families. We must simply accept, and try to do our best to fulfill our obligations to You, both for the sake of our immortal souls and for the sakes of all future generations of New Earth. We will overcome any trial to fulfill our destiny.”

  Mather took her place behind the altar and, smiling down at the congregation, lifted her hands. She seemed to glow from within, and Waverly thought that some special spotlight must be shining on her—a cheap effect to make her seem holy.

  “Let us thank the wisdom of God for saving these girls and bringing them to join our family. Thank You, Lord, for sparing them from the fate that has met our brothers and sisters of the Empyrean. In Your wisdom You have seen into these girls’ hearts, and have found them worthy of Your mercy. Like Israel fleeing the bondage of Egypt, our young sisters have come to Canaan in search of a new life, and we welcome them with glad hearts.”

  Mather obviously meant to imply that the crew of the Empyrean had died because they were wicked. Waverly glanced at Samantha and Sarah, who seemed to hate what Mather was saying as much as she did. Though a few of the younger girls seemed to feel proud that they’d been “chosen” by God as Mather suggested, most of the girls looked at the Pastor with distrust and anger.

  After the services were over, Waverly sat in her chair, listening to the voices of the people around her. Several of the adults were talking about what a wonderful sermon Mather had delivered. These people spoke loudly. But underneath these voices were softer ones, murmuring to one another in hushed tones. Waverly strained toward these quieter voices. Something in them called to her.

  Maybe not everyone on the New Horizon believed in Anne Mather.

  Waverly noticed a woman staring at her from across the aisle. It was the lector with the auburn braid who’d read the ancient writings for services. She had very pale skin and pale eyes, but fine, strong bones in her face. The lector nodded, and Waverly nodded back. The woman walked across the aisle, held out a hand.

  “Peace be upon you,” the woman said, and laughed brightly. “I always need to use the bathroom after services. Don’t you?”

  “What?” Waverly asked.

  Almost imperceptibly, the woman raised her eyebrows, then walked away.

  Did she mean for Waverly to follow her?

  The woman walked toward the port side of the granary, looking back discreetly over her shoulder. Waverly started after her, but the matron stood in her way. A full head shorter than Waverly and twice as wide, she was like a tank. “Where are you going?”

  Waverly stood tall. “I need to use the restroom.”

  “I’ll take you,” the woman said irritably. She led Waverly through the crowd. Waverly saw a great many faces turning eagerly to look at her as she passed, smiling in welcome. She smiled back, nodding as she went, though she felt tense to be the center of so much attention. How could she and the girls escape when they were under so much scrutiny?

  Waverly hoped that the matron would let her enter the bathroom alone, but the woman came right in with her. There were two stalls, and the woman with the chestnut braid was just leaving one of them. She politely held the door open for Waverly and, nodding at the matron, went to the sink to wash her hands.

  There was no way to talk to her. And Waverly felt sure the woman wanted to tell her something. But with the matron there, all she could do was go into the stall and pretend.

  Once she was inside the stall, the door safely closed, something caught her eye. Spread out on top of the water in the toilet was a note scribbled on tissue paper. The bluish ink was just beginning to fade into the water, but the words were still legible:

  You must not tell anyone about this. Not even your friends. If you betray me, I could be imprisoned, or killed. Those who disagree with Anne Mather have learned to be silent.

  Members of the Empyrean crew are being held in the starboard cargo hold. I don’t know how many, or how they got there. I do not know what the Pastor plans to do with them. Some of them might be your parents.

  I thought you had a right to know.

  Waverly’s knees turned to liquid, and she had to sit down. Spots crowded her vision. She forced her breathing to a steady rhythm to keep from fainting.

  Her mother might be on this ship! If she could find her mother, if she could get to her and the other parents …

  A sob escaped Waverly’s throat. She covered her mouth with her hand, crying and laughing at the same time. She couldn’t control herself.

  “You okay in there?” The matron knocked on the door.

  “I’m sorry,” Waverly said. “I’m not feeling well.” Quickly she stood and flushed the toilet. The note twirled with the water, turning it blue, and went down the pipe just as the matron forced her way into the stall.

  Waverly stood chest to chest with the squat woman. “What were you doing?”

  “I…” She knew she was acting strangely and tried desperately to think of an explanation. “It’s embarrassing.”

  “Did Jessica leave anything…” The woman’s eyes turned to slits.

  “I thought I might be getting my period,” Waverly said quickly. “It’s not something I like to talk about.”

  A smiled plumped up the matron’s pink cheeks. “Oh, I see.”

  “False alarm,” Waverly said with a shrug.

  “But you do bleed monthly,” the woman said as Waverly washed her hands in the metal sink.

  “Well, I’m almost sixteen.”

  “So you’re fertile,” the woman said as she opened the door of the bathroom. “Pastor Mather will be pleased.”

  On shaky legs, Waverly followed the matron out of the bathroom. The voices of the congregation flooded around her like brackish water, made the room spin. Panic forced its way into every breath she took, and she had to bite back a sob. Being around so many people brought the truth hom
e to her. The girls were hopelessly outnumbered here. They were trapped.

  And these people could do anything to them they wanted.

  No.

  Waverly squared her shoulders. She had to find her mother and the rest of the parents. She had to find a way to leave this ship, no matter what happened.

  And she would kill to do it.

  PART THREE

  MANEUVERS

  The opportunity to secure ourselves against defeat lies in our own hands, but the opportunity of defeating the enemy is provided by the enemy himself.

  —Sun Tzu, The Art of War

  CONTAINMENT

  At first, Kieran didn’t care about the alarm sounding through the ship warning of a reactor leak. He could only stare out the porthole as the New Horizon rotated to change course. Its powerful engines spattered blue light, and it sped away, disappearing into the nebula’s haze. Harvard’s shuttle followed close behind. Their only hope would be to tether themselves to the larger ship, or they’d never catch up.

  Soon the area outside the ship was as peaceful as it had ever been.

  She was gone. Waverly … For a crazy instant, he imagined bursting through the thick glass portholes to chase her. He would breathe the nebula. He would swim through it to find her.

  “We have to do something!” Seth Ardvale stood in the doorway to Central Command. He was shirtless and blinking blood out of his eyes. “Don’t just stand there! Chase them.”

  “We can’t change course,” Kieran snapped. “Harvard’s shuttle will never find us again if we do. They’ll die.”

  “We’ll use the radar!”

  “The radar was designed to work in a vacuum,” Kieran said distantly. He thought some part of his consciousness must be floating outside the ship. “We don’t have enough range in this nebula.”

  “The shuttles can’t keep up with the New Horizon!”

  “They can if they latch on to it. They had time. I saw the whole thing.”