Glow

by Amy Kathleen Ryan

  “I have everything I want. You’re out of the way, and the ship will finally be run the way it should be.”

  “Is that why you needed the guns?” God, how many did they have?

  “Guns make it easier,” Seth said.

  Dread oozed through Kieran’s chest like hot sludge. Seth had gone insane.

  “What are you planning on doing with me?” Kieran said, trying to hide his fear.

  Seth sat on the cot next to Kieran, hands on his knees. Now that he was finally in charge, he wasn’t sullen so much as arrogant. He moved with a kind of easy swagger, and humor even played at his eyes. Everything about him seemed disconnected, ill matched to the situation. “I haven’t decided,” Seth said.

  “You think everyone will go along with whatever you decide?”

  “Who cares what everyone goes along with?”

  “You should. They outnumber you,” Kieran said.

  He thought he saw a brief flicker of doubt in Seth’s eyes, but it passed quickly. “You’re the one who should be worried right now.”

  “Why? You’re my only enemy. How many enemies have you made, you bully?”

  Seth’s fist flashed at Kieran’s eye, exploding into pain through his head and down into his neck and shoulder. He fell backward off the cot and rolled on the floor, unable to pretend that it didn’t hurt.

  “Don’t call me that!” Seth screamed. All the pain of losing his father coursed through Seth’s voice, and he seemed about to buckle under. But he bit his lip fiercely, reined in his emotions, and said, “I don’t want to hit you again, but I will if you keep calling me names.”

  After the pain dulled to a reddish haze behind his eyes, Kieran pulled himself onto his feet. He had to lean on the metal wall behind him. The steel was cold on his back, and it revived him. He realized he needed food. He needed water. He needed so many things.

  “You know what happened aboard the shuttle, Seth. You were there. You saw the whole thing. I piloted us back to the Empyrean.”

  “If I hadn’t taken the controls, we’d have lost atmospheric control,” Seth said. He was playing to an audience of two: Sealy Arndt, who was scowling at the floor, his expression unreadable, and Max Brent, who was watching Seth with rapt attention, his eyes aglow. “I know what I did.”

  “Yeah. You held the joystick for ten seconds. You pressed a button to close the cargo hold. That’s what you did.”

  “We’re still trying to fix the damage you did to the atmospheric system when you crashed the shuttle.”

  “I barely grazed the surface. What did you really lose? An antenna? Does it even need to be repaired?”

  “You disabled the control system.”

  “If your father were here, he’d say you’re a liar.”

  Seth froze in shock, and for a moment Kieran thought he might cry. The boy squeezed his fist closed, and, moving so quickly that Kieran didn’t see him coming, he punched Kieran in the stomach. Kieran went blind for a second, and when his vision cleared, he was on his knees again. He struggled to breathe, but his diaphragm was in spasm. He gulped air desperately as the pain in his stomach doubled the pain in his head. He was hurt. He was so hurt.

  He really might not get out of this.

  He looked up at Seth standing over him. Kieran thought he saw a flicker of self-doubt pass over Seth’s eyes as he kneaded his fist.

  “Why are you doing this?” Kieran asked Seth, gasping.

  “I won’t let one of Captain Jones’ thugs have this ship.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about how things need to change.”

  “I think you’ve gone insane.”

  “Do you have any other ridiculous accusations to make?” Seth said, his voice low. “Or are you ready to listen to what I have to say?”

  Kieran merely looked at Seth, waiting for him to speak.

  “You’ve been asleep for thirty hours, so you’re probably hungry, right?” Seth asked knowingly.

  Kieran held his sore stomach, waiting.

  “We’ll bring you something to eat, but first I want you to admit to your mistakes in front of everyone. That’s all you have to do.”

  Kieran needed food. He felt weak, and despite the pain in his gut from Seth’s punch, he felt hungry. But he would not let Seth make an example of him. If he did, the ship would be lost. Kieran could feel the other two boys waiting for a response. He had to think of something he could say that would undermine Seth.

  It was hard to think like his enemy. What was the worst thing he could say to him right now?

  “You must be afraid,” he said slowly. He lifted his eyes to Seth’s face and focused all his hatred into his gaze. “That’s why you’re hiding me away from all the other boys. You’re afraid I’ll turn them against you.”

  Seth grabbed Kieran’s hair and rammed his head backward against the wall. “You think you’re smart.”

  “Otherwise why are you asking for a public confession? If you weren’t afraid, you’d hold a real trial. If I’m the criminal you’re making me out to be, you should be able to prove it. But you can’t, so you’re afraid.”

  “No, Kieran,” Seth said as he backed out of the cell and slid the door closed. His face was a blank mask, but his voice trembled with rage. “You’re the one who’s afraid.”

  It was true, Kieran realized later that night, alone in the darkness, hungry and aching and missing Waverly. He was very afraid.

  PART FOUR

  SUBVERSIONS

  All oppression creates a state of war.

  —Simone de Beauvoir

  CARGO

  Waverly smiled, half-hidden behind the fruit bowl, leaning her chin on her hands. It was a ridiculous pose, and it felt wholly unnatural, but it’s what Amanda wanted.

  “That’s lovely, honey. It’s going to be adorable,” Amanda said as she blocked out the composition on her canvas with a thick piece of charcoal. She was weak like the rest of the adults and could stand at her easel for only a few minutes at a time, so the process was slow. “You’re a natural!”

  “Thanks,” Waverly said, trying not to move.

  “So, Waverly…” Amanda’s voice was precise. “Tell me, do you want to be a mother someday?”

  “I don’t know.” Waverly slid her eyes over to examine the woman, who was peering closely at her canvas. “Why do you ask?”

  “Oh, I guess because I’m jealous.”

  “Jealous? Why?”

  For a long time Amanda didn’t answer; she just stroked the canvas with charcoal. “I wanted to be one of the first mothers of New Earth. I thought it was my destiny.”

  Waverly said nothing.

  “But you’ll get to. You’ll be a progenitor of thousands, maybe millions of colonists on New Earth. You’ll be celebrated and remembered by an entire planet full of people. Like Eve in the Garden of Eden. Well, you and the rest of the girls.”

  “I never thought about it that way,” Waverly said. A chill passed over the backs of her shoulders.

  “When you think about it, it’s almost your duty, if you know what I mean. To be a mother.”

  Waverly watched Amanda as the woman drew, her hands nervous and quick as they marked the canvas.

  “And to be safest, you should take advantage of your youth. Have children early, if you can. Women become less fertile as they age. You know that.”

  “I’m not ready to be a mother,” Waverly said. A lump had formed in her throat, and she swallowed hard. What were these people planning?

  “Oh, I don’t mean that you should be raising babies at your age. Heavens, no!” Amanda laughed.

  Waverly found a way to smile, but she felt uneasy. The woman was talking around something, she felt sure, edging toward some goal.

  “I’m so glad you came for this visit,” Amanda said with a vibrant smile.

  “It’s no trouble,” Waverly told her.

  In truth, this was a welcome change from the monotony of the dormitory. It had been five days since fa
mily time, and there had been no more word of moving the girls in with families. Instead they’d been left in the dormitory in utter boredom, spending day after day trying to amuse themselves, given only plain food, and hardly enough to satisfy their hunger. They were cranky and uncomfortable, and many fights had broken out. Waverly suspected that Mather was getting them ready to be separated. If the dormitory was a dull, frustrating place, the girls would be eager enough to get out.

  A thousand times Waverly considered telling Samantha and Sarah about the woman who had left the note in the bathroom, but something stopped her. It was the kind of secret that might be impossible to contain, and her only chance to rescue the Empyrean survivors was to surprise Mather and her crew. They must not get any inkling that she knew there were Empyrean crew members aboard—at least, not until she was ready to rescue them and escape, and that would take time.

  So when Amanda came looking for Waverly, asking her to come to her quarters to pose for a portrait, Waverly had jumped at the chance. She hoped to get away from the guards long enough to sneak to the cargo holds. Her mom might be there, and she had to know if she was okay.

  She couldn’t think about that now, or she’d cry.

  A photograph on the wall behind Amanda caught Waverly’s eye. It showed orange rolling hills under a swath of blue, and Waverly forced her mind toward it and away from her worry. “What is that?” she asked.

  “What, that picture?” Amanda took it off the wall and set it on the table in front of Waverly. “That’s California.”

  “California?”

  “It’s a part of North America, where I came from. I thought you were from North America, too.”

  “My family came from British Columbia.”

  “The mountains or the coast?”

  “Mountains.” Waverly picked up the photo, studied the soft red land undulating like waves. “Are these mountains?”

  “Sand dunes.” Amanda chuckled at Waverly’s puzzled expression and sat in a wooden chair beside her. “Like in the fish hatchery? You’ve seen the sand that coats the bottom of the tanks?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, that’s what makes up those dunes, only lots and lots of it. And just like the water moves the sand on the bottom of the tanks, the wind on Earth moves the sand dunes, and it makes those shapes.”

  “So these are like waves of earth?”

  “Yes. And if the wind is strong enough, when the sand strikes your face, it stings. And gets in your eyes.”

  “What makes the wind?” People had tried to explain before, but Waverly always asked, because people always said different things.

  “The sun, I think. When it rises at dawn, it warms up the air.”

  Waverly tried to imagine standing on top of a sand dune with the wind in her face. It was so difficult, imagining air moving without any visible cause. She imagined standing somewhere you couldn’t see any walls or a ceiling—nothing but the sky above you. Nothing to hold you in and keep you safe. The thought scared her.

  “I miss being outside.” Amanda leaned back in her chair, hands folded in her lap, dreamy eyes on the photo. “My father and I would take long walks along a seasonal stream that ran through an arroyo near our ranch. He’d hold my hand and show me the crawdaddies crawling along the shore, and I’d try to catch them until one pinched me.”

  Waverly didn’t know what a crawdaddy was, but she had learned not to interrupt stories about Earth, or the adults might stop talking about it altogether.

  “I wish I could describe how it feels to have the sun on your face. I’ve tried to duplicate it. I even stuck my head in the oven once until I realized what I was doing.” Amanda laughed, shaking her head. Waverly squirmed. “Nothing feels like that gentle buttery light on your skin. And as far as painting goes…” She scoffed at the fluorescent lights above. “I’ve tried a million ways, but I can’t capture the look of natural light in my work. I’m convinced that’s what my paintings are missing. No matter what I do, the colors seem dank.”

  “Are your parents still aboard the New Horizon?”

  “My father passed away several years ago. My mother died on Earth when I was a baby. She was never quite right after giving birth to me, and didn’t last long. Daddy fought so hard to come on this mission. He took the aptitude tests three times.”

  “I thought only once was allowed.”

  “We had money,” Amanda said, shamefaced. “He bribed the administrator.”

  “Oh.” Waverly wondered if everyone on the mission to New Earth came from wealthy families. Did lots of impoverished geniuses get left behind because they couldn’t pay off the selection committees?

  Amanda took the photo from Waverly and hung it back in its place.

  “I know it’s unfair,” she finally said. “But it’s the way things were on Earth. Every year it got a little hotter, more farmland dried up, and so there was less to go around. So every year people got more desperate. Those conditions don’t bring out the best in people.”

  Amanda’s expression darkened as she brushed at the canvas with the tip of her finger. Waverly watched her curiously. Few adults had ever been quite so honest about the corruption leading up to the mission. It was refreshing to be with someone who was frank about it.

  She might tell me what really happened on Earth, Waverly thought.

  “I’ve been wanting to ask you a question,” Amanda said tentatively.

  “What?”

  “Well, we’re trying to find better living situations for you girls. We want to place you with families. Until we can find your parents, of course.”

  “Of course,” Waverly said, wondering grimly if Amanda knew about the captives in the cargo hold. If she did know, she gave no sign. She simply looked happy to have Waverly in her home. She’d baked fresh bread for the occasion, and more of the oatmeal cookies sat in a bowl within Waverly’s reach. They smelled delicious after the bland food she’d been eating for the last few days, but she resisted them. She’d learned how confusing it was to accept kindness from her captors.

  “I’m wondering if maybe you would … Josiah and I would love…” The woman smiled uncomfortably. “We want you to stay with us.”

  Waverly looked at her warily. “Why?”

  “We like you,” Amanda said with a shy shrug. “And we thought you might like us. We even…” Her eyes fell to the table, still messy with wood shavings and small bottles of paint. A half-finished guitar lay on top of the clutter. “Well, we made you a room. Want to see it?”

  Without waiting for a response, she took Waverly by the hand and led her down a short hallway and into a very small room, complete with a bed, a desk, and a lamp. Above the bed hung a photograph of a horse, looking at the camera sloe-eyed. The room was hardly large enough for two people to stand in. It felt like a glorified jail cell.

  “It’s not much,” Amanda said, “but it would be all yours. You’d have some privacy. And your own porthole.”

  Waverly went to the oval porthole and looked into the murky nebula. There were no stars visible now, only that sludgy gas swirling outside the window. How much longer would they be trapped in this horrible cloud?

  “Well? Would you like that?” Amanda asked eagerly. Waverly turned to face the woman, whose tall form seemed to fill the doorway. Amanda leaned on the door frame, straining toward the girl with hopeful eyes.

  “I guess I could stay here,” Waverly finally said. If she had no choice but to be moved from the dormitory, she might as well be with people who seemed harmless.

  “Oh, that’s wonderful.” Amanda’s bright smile made her green eyes shine. “I’ll ask the Pastor if she’ll give her consent.”

  “Okay,” Waverly said.

  “And please! Take a cookie! I baked them specially.”

  Waverly took a cookie to be polite, but she didn’t eat it. Somehow doing that would be giving in. “I’ll save it for later,” she murmured.

  Amanda looked so disappointed at this that Waverly almost giggled. See how far yo
u can push her, said a quiet, cold voice from inside. “You know,” Waverly ventured, “I’ve been feeling so cooped up. Maybe we could take a walk?”

  “Of course! Why didn’t you say something?” Amanda stepped into some flat shoes and picked up a sweater. “Let’s do some exploring, shall we?”

  Waverly wrapped herself in a light shawl, the same pale brown one that had been given to all the girls, and followed Amanda out. The two guards stationed outside the apartment began to follow them, but Amanda said, “Oh, surely we don’t need you. What do you imagine will happen to us?”

  “We’re supposed to keep track of all the girls, ma’am,” the shorter of the two guards said. He had sharklike eyes, and when he looked at Waverly, she felt like prey.

  “I’ll keep track of her. Honestly, they’re just children. I don’t know what the fuss is about.”

  “The Pastor—”

  “I’m one of the Pastor’s closest friends, Nigel. If she questions you about this, send her to me.”

  The short guard was about to protest, but the taller man pulled on his arm to quiet him. “Okay, ma’am. Have a nice walk.”

  “Finally some privacy!” Amanda whispered happily, taking Waverly’s hand. “Where would you like to go? There’s the arboretum. Or we could go to the observatory. I’ve heard people say that sometimes stars are actually visible. They think we’re almost through the nebula! Isn’t that exciting?”

  “It is,” Waverly said, but she was deep in thought, trying to remember the layout of the ship. She had to get as close to the starboard cargo holds as possible. “Actually, I was kind of curious about the orchards.”

  “Oh, yes! I think the cherries are in bloom now!” Amanda said. “We’ve managed a cross-pollination that’s produced a beautiful fruit. Want to see?”

  Waverly nodded. Amanda led Waverly down the corridor, smiling at the passersby, who all glanced at Waverly curiously. Once inside the elevator, she tried to fill the silence with prattle about the cherries and how juicy they were and what a lovely color, she’d have to add some cherries to Waverly’s portrait. Finally the elevator stopped at the orchard level.