“I’ve seen it,” Ethan muttered. “Did they take everyone?”
Darren nodded. “I’ve been trapped in that stupid closet ever since. I guess they were waiting for something.” His face grew hard. “If they did anything to Benny . . .”
I tried to think logically. “I think they grabbed everyone, and now we’re supposed to do something, but I have no idea what.” I heard Rachel scoff, but others shushed her, regarding me with anxious eyes. I made a decision. “Let’s see where that hallway goes. There’s nothing else to do except sit in our rooms.”
In the end, everyone agreed. With Ethan in the lead we walked down the next corridor. It was white and blank, ending at a large airlock. The outer portal swung open as we approached, revealing a small clean room and a wide chamber beyond the inner door, set with four long tables in its middle. No one was there. We quickly explored the room and found an identical portal at the far end, but that one was sealed. Stymied, we gathered at the tables and debated what to do next.
Those of us that had been captured in the hangar told the others what we’d learned about Chrysalis. Shock nearly paralyzed other members of the group.
Alice sat quietly by herself and put her head down. The soccer girls—Lauren, Casey, and Dakota—wanted to go back to their cells, while Leighton and Ethan decided to hammer on the other airlock. Most of the others were silent, waiting to see how the wind would blow. Rachel was in the middle of explaining how this whole thing was actually my fault when a giant flat screen descended from the ceiling.
A woman’s face appeared. She had glossy black hair, dark blue eyes, and wore a smart gray uniform. Her age was hard to place but I guessed no more than thirty. She wasn’t smiling, but her expression wasn’t unfriendly. Conversations around the table died as if guillotined.
“Members of Nemesis One, welcome to Chrysalis.” The woman’s voice was soothing and lyrical, like that of a therapist. She nodded as if we’d accomplished a goal rather than been dragged from the Terrarium against our will. “On behalf of the whole crew, I’d like to apologize for the manner in which you were integrated into humanity’s greatest technological triumph, the Chrysalis space station.” Her expression became somewhat knowing. “Though I must point out that you brought the problem upon yourselves.”
“We caused the problem?” Sam snapped. “We didn’t even know about this stupid ship!”
“Class-M orbiting superstation,” the woman corrected gently. “But I was referring to your decision to break containment and exit the Terrarium before full biotic compatibility had been established. One of your number breached the habitat, forcing a series of countermeasures. When those failed, and social conditions inside the biome degraded to an unsustainable point, we had no choice but to remove and quarantine your class while assessing the damage.”
Toby, I thought glumly. He must’ve reached the edge of the Terrarium and started this whole mess. But then the rest of what the woman said hit me, and I rose quickly. “Damage? What do you mean?”
“You may have contaminated the station,” she explained patiently. “Chrysalis is a finely tuned, self-sufficient biosphere with the Terrarium as its beating heart. We take special care before removing subjects from its environment. You never know what nature might concoct during a regeneration cycle.”
“So that’s why you kept us in there?” I said. “You were testing our . . . compatibility?”
She nodded. “An entirely new ecosystem developed on Earth while you were completing Nemesis Phase Two. Unfortunately, not all subjects are a good fit for reinsertion, both physically and psychologically. Your class is particularly worrisome, since you didn’t stay within Program parameters.” She smiled ruefully. “You’ve caused quite a stir here on Chrysalis.”
“Where are the others in our class? Are they being held, too?” I didn’t ask about my dad, although the question burned inside me. I didn’t want to give him away if he’d escaped, or register my interest if he was another prisoner.
The woman’s expression became carefully neutral. “We are examining all remaining test subjects from Nemesis One. You will be told more as it becomes necessary.”
“Necessary?” Ethan exploded. “Who the hell do you think you are? You’ve got no right to hold us here.” A familiar pink flush was creeping up his neck. “Let me out of whatever this is right now. You can’t keep me prisoner!”
The woman’s voice hardened. “On the contrary, Mr. Fletcher, I can do exactly that. The MegaCom that ran your Program—and all of the machinery responsible for your regeneration—are the sole property of Chrysalis. To be even more blunt: we rebuilt your bodies, so we own them.”
Stunned silence. I couldn’t breathe. She continued as if stating a tax foible.
“Chrysalis has a singular mission: to effectively colonize the planet’s surface. We reserve the right to screen applicants for suitability.”
“Is that what this is about?” I said, hope blossoming in my chest. “We’ve been brought back to recolonize the planet?”
The woman nodded pleasantly. “Which hardly makes us monsters, now does it?”
A wave of relief swept through me. I saw shoulders ease around the tables. Cautious smiles.
Recolonize Earth. That’s what we’d been trying to do anyway, right? That’s what Fire Lake Island had been all about. The more I considered it, the less I could deny that our situation had dramatically improved. This place had light-years better technology than the silo. With a freaking space station backing us, life wouldn’t have to be a dangerous pioneer experience.
We’d been fooled and used, but maybe they’d been testing our ability to work together on a new world. It made a sick kind of sense with so much at stake. But there was one major sticking point. “Why are the sixteen of us being held separately from the rest of our class?” I asked. “When can we see them?”
“I need to be clear, Ms. Wilder. With all of you. Not everyone will be selected for colonial insertion. Nemesis One was supposed to produce twenty filtered test subjects. Instead, you subverted the Program and sixty-four data sets regenerated. Therefore, statistically, we know all of you can’t be suitable. New screening methods are being devised.”
My blood ran cold. “And what happens to those who are found unsuitable?”
“Unsuitable candidates are designated for repurposement.” The woman smiled disarmingly. “Several of your classmates have already been reclassified and removed from the testing process. But don’t let this worry you. They too will serve the station. No human asset is ever wasted aboard Chrysalis.”
I stared at the woman for a long moment. “You haven’t told us your name. Where are you from?”
The woman dipped her head in acknowledgment. “I am Sophia. We’ll talk about the crew another time.” She sat back in her chair. “That’s all for now. Please return to your domiciles. Further instructions will follow soon, so I suggest you rest and prepare.”
The face onscreen winked out.
22
NOAH
The pattern kept repeating.
Blue, blue, blue, red.
Blue, blue, blue, red.
The glowing boxes ran across one wall of my antiseptic cell, the first disappearing as the last arrived. I stood beside the display, flexing my fingers and watching intently. I didn’t want to miss again.
Blue, blue, blue, red.
Blue, blue, blue, red.
Blue, blue, blue, red, orange, yellow, green.
The game speed doubled, new colors appearing so fast I barely had a chance to mimic them. Beads of sweat erupted at my temples, but I didn’t dare look away. I’d done so once already this morning and paid the price.
Blue, blue, blue, red, orange, yellow, green.
Blue, blue, blue, red, orange, yellow, green.
Blue, blue, blue, red, orange, yellow, green, purpleblackblueyellow.
“Crap.
” I muttered the litany in my head, entering colors as fast as I could to sync the two lines. This was where I’d screwed up last time, and my computer overlord’s response had been clear. A second failure meant I was a candidate for “repurposement.” I didn’t know what that was, but it didn’t sound great.
Blue, blue, blue, red, orange, yellow, green, purpleblackblueyellow.
Blue, blue, blue, red, orange, yellow, green, purpleblackblueyellow.
Blue, blue, blue, red, orange, yellow, green, purpleblackblue yellowredredgreenredblue.
“Gaaah!”
My hands flew, my brain frantically locking in the pattern as my lips moved soundlessly to a rhythm I’d invented. I was full-on sweating now, circles forming at the pits of my jumpsuit.
Blue, blue, blue, red, orange, yellow, green, purpleblackblue yellowredredgreenredblue.
Blue, blue, blue, red, orange, yellow, green, purpleblackblue yellowredredgreenredblue.
Blue, blue, blue, red, orange, yellow, green, purpleblackblue yellowredredgreenredblue.
Ding!
“Congratulations. You have completed this task.”
I wobbled backward with a relieved sigh. Called for my chair, and sat heavily when it slid from the wall. Taking a calming breath, I wiped my brow with a forearm. Holy crap. I detested memory games, but I’d managed to get it right this time. I smiled dumbly at the seamless, solid-white floor. Victory for Livingston!
Even though the process was degrading—I was being held inside a box and made to perform like a guinea pig—I couldn’t help feeling proud of myself. This stuff wasn’t easy, but I’d already passed four “tasks” that morning. I was really hoping for a lunch break.
I thought it was midday, anyway. The only way I could guess the hour was through meals. My cell was a perfect square without windows or a visible door. For all I knew it was midnight, or dusk, or whenever. Is there a proper time of day in outer space? I didn’t have an answer to that one.
First I’d been required to make three-dimensional shapes fit within a series of plastic molds. I breezed that, remembering those maddening tangram puzzles Mrs. Reamer had forced on me back in middle school. Then I’d been subjected to an increasingly difficult series of visual logic games. After eking by those with only one mistake to spare, silhouettes had begun appearing at random on the walls. I’d had to find and touch them before they vanished. That left me drenched in perspiration and thoroughly annoyed. What could possibly be the point of these challenges?
I looked hopelessly to where I knew the door should be, based on the one time I’d been released. Two days ago sixteen of us had emerged like moles into a featureless hallway. I’d searched frantically for Min, but she wasn’t in the group. The corridor had led to a large common room with tables and chairs and nothing else. A second airlock on the other side refused to open, so I’d sat with the others, nerves inching toward a breaking point, until that stone-faced woman appeared onscreen.
We were test subjects. Possible contaminants. Property of Chrysalis.
I could barely wrap my head around it. We’d been sent back to our rooms, and the tasks began an hour later.
A wall panel swished open, indicating it was time to eat. I’d been right about lunch: behind the glass was the ubiquitous brick of purple gelatin—still couldn’t eat more than a few bites of it, sorry—a glass of rehydrated milk, a bowl of noodles, and an apple. Where it all came from I had no idea. I dug into the pasta, wondering what devilish monotonies my afternoon might consist of, and was caught completely off guard when my door swooshed open.
I rose and hurried out, hoping to see my classmates again. My block consisted of eight boys: me, Derrick, Richie, Ferris, Aiken—all from the village—along with Benny and Corbin, who’d been at the Outpost, and Hamza from Ridgeline. There were also exactly eight girls: Sarah was here, along with Susan and Jessica from the silo, Piper and Leah from Home Town, Maggie from Ridgeline, and Liesel from the Outpost.
Everyone had a story about his or her capture. That first day, those of us who’d escaped the Terrarium on our own told the others what we’d learned about Chrysalis. It’d taken a while for everyone to digest the magnitude of how badly we’d been played, then tempers exploded. But the tough talk died when that Sophia woman explained the testing we could expect aboard the space station, and the possibility of joining a colony down on the planet if we succeeded. I suspected everyone else had spent the solitary hours wondering what “repurposement” meant, too.
But as I entered the white-walled corridor this time, I found myself alone. The other cells all remained sealed. I tried knocking on the closest one, but my fist created no sound, and I wasn’t completely sure where the door was anyway. I gave up and trudged down the hall.
The passage had changed as well. There was no longer a right turn toward the common room—instead, as if by magic, a way to the left was now open. I marveled again at the station’s construction. The material forming the walls seemed to bend and shape like liquid plastic, pliable yet unyielding, and seamlessly covering whatever lay behind it. This tech was light-years beyond anything I’d seen or even heard of back in Fire Lake. We’re out of our league with these people.
Or person. So far Sophia was the only crew member I’d encountered, beyond the helmeted jackboots who’d stormed the cargo hold. Would they keep us quarantined forever, or would we eventually meet the rest of our quasi-captors? After the initial reception we’d gotten, I wasn’t sure which I preferred. Rose, on the other hand . . .
This new hallway led to a door that swished open at my approach. Beyond it stretched a large white chamber like an empty gymnasium, with padded walls, a springy floor, and a towering ceiling. Something glinted on the far wall. With a shrug I began walking across the open space, and was surprised when I ran smack into something in the middle of the chamber. Dumbfounded, I pressed a hand against the invisible barrier. It reminded me of the force fields surrounding reset zones inside the Program.
But that was a simulation. This is real technology. I whistled in appreciation.
A door on the opposite side of the room opened and a boy entered, dressed all in black. He was nearly my height, but thicker in the chest and arms, with spiky brown hair and a cocky sneer. I nodded as he approached, but the jerk ignored me, stopping ten yards across from where I stood and staring at nothing, his hands on his hips.
“Hi there,” I tried. “I’m Noah. I guess you’re from another—”
“Not interested, dude.”
“Right, then. Good talk.”
There was a sound like a computer booting up. Lines of color streaked across the invisible barrier between us. My opponent—for I abruptly realized that’s what he was—rolled his neck and shook out his arms and legs. I didn’t understand but did a few quick lunges just to look ready.
Okay, pal. Bring it, whatever it might be.
The lights flashed, then a tone sounded. I noticed the boy had retreated halfway across his section, so I did too.
A giant grid appeared on the invisible divider, like a chessboard. At the top was a row of black squares, with a row of white squares at the bottom. My opponent, who I now thought of as Sneer, reached out a hand and jerked it downward. A black square gleamed and advanced a block, coloring that space black as well.
I glanced at him in confusion. “So what is this, checkers or something?”
Sneer crossed his arms, saying nothing. A computerized voice sounded.
“White has five seconds to move.”
I held out my hands. “Wait! I don’t know the rules!”
“Two seconds.”
“Hold on! How am I supp—”
“White has elected to make no move. Black may proceed.”
Sneer snickered, extending his arm again. The next piece snapped forward, like a dark curtain descending onto my territory. “Worse than the last guy,” he muttered.
; My competitive juices ignited. I reached up and pointed at a corresponding white square, then dragged my finger upward. The piece slid as requested. I smiled tightly. Great. Now I just have to figure out the point of this game.
Move followed move until our pieces collided. Those spots turned gray. My opponent worked systematically, reinforcing gray spots with more black squares, turning them fully black while inching toward the bottom of the board. I realized it was a game of domination. A square that had been converted from gray to black or white could then move double, graying more territory and squashing the other player’s progress.
I was falling behind at an exponential clip. Sneer smirked contently, sure that I was as good as beaten.
Abruptly I changed tactics, abandoning a trench-line defense. I punched up the sides of the board and circled around the black wave, enveloping my opponent’s pieces from behind. More and more of the board turned gray, then white, as I hemmed in his remaining squares and began to wipe them out. The smirk slipped, soured, then disappeared altogether, replaced by a frustrated glower. But it was too late. I mopped up the last stain of his army in a bottom corner, completing a grid of gleaming white.
The tone sounded.
“White is victorious.”
Sneer glared at me, eyes smoldering. I faked a yawn to piss him off.
“Name’s still Noah, by the way. Good job, good effort.”
He gave me the middle finger. I just laughed.
The door behind me opened and I sauntered out of the room, feeling good for the first time since being locked in my cell. But it didn’t last. I was still a toy for the amusement of others. I’d won a stupid game, like a rat completing a maze and reaching the sacred cheese.
What was my reward to be?
23
MIN
The door whisked open.
I sighed. Put down my fork. Every time I thought I was about to go nuts from being locked up a moment longer, the way out would magically appear and I’d fight an urge to hide under my bed. I considered refusing to walk myself to the next competition, but, like always, my need to know compelled me down the hallway.
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