"You cannot," Mali said. "But the Kindred are not looking for me or Leon. We could go back, he and I, and free Ca.s.sian with the weapons cache."

"You've discussed this with Leon?"

"No, but he will come. He will do what is right. I know it." She lowered her voice. "Armstrong preserve is on a moon not far from here. We will pa.s.s close to it. Have Nok and Rolf insist that they be dropped off there. It will be a convincing argument that they would prefer to have their baby there, among other humans, rather than in the unpredictability of a Mosca planet. While we are there, Leon and I can sneak off. Kindred supply ships make frequent runs. We can find a way to board one back to the station."

"Armstrong?" Cora squeezed the knife harder. "That's the place Dane was talking about. He said it was a paradise, but Ca.s.sian warned me about it. Are you sure it's safe for Nok and Rolf?"

"It is the only choice we have."

Mali opened the door behind her and disappeared.

With a shaky hand, Cora set Lucky's notebook on the counter. A part of her wanted to pore over every page right then, soak up every last bit of him, even from beyond the grave. But there would be time for that; time to absorb every word, remember every detail.

She squeezed the knife hard, looked in the mirror, and cut through her hair in one slice.

It came away uneven from her shaking hand. Her reflection showed a messy asymmetrical cut, starting just under her left ear and hanging nearly to her right shoulder. She returned to the main cabin and tossed the rope of hair on the control panel in front of Bonebreak. The others paused in their conversations.

"Here. It's done. But I want to stop at Armstrong first." From the corner of her eye she saw Mali whispering the plan in Rolf's ear. "For Nok and Rolf's sake, and also to bury Lucky's body."

She squeezed the notebook harder. This was one last thing she could do for him, make sure his body rested in peace.

Bonebreak shrugged. "We need supplies anyway. To Armstrong we go, then, childrens."

He shifted the controls and the ship veered sharply upward. Cora braced against the back of his chair as he hummed a strangely melodic little tune to himself in his crackling voice. For a while, the ship rumbled on through s.p.a.ce. An hour pa.s.sed, maybe two, and Cora clutched Lucky's notebook the whole time.

"Hold on tight," Bonebreak said at last. "Entry into Armstrong's atmosphere can be b.u.mpy."

"We should sit in a circle," Rolf said. "If we hold hands, it will provide stability."

Leon snorted. "I'm not doing that 'k.u.mbaya' s.h.i.t."

"A circle is the most stable shape," Rolf said, and sat next to him. He held out his hand to Nok, who scooted over between him and Anya and held out her hands. Mali scooted in too, and everyone linked hands. Cora looked over her shoulder at the white tarp, and a sharp pain stabbed through her.

"Come on, Leon." She reached out.

He grumbled again as he scooted over, taking her hand in his right and Rolf's in his left. The ship suddenly pitched to the left, and they all held hands tighter, swaying with the movements.

"So what's this Armstrong place like?" Nok asked cautiously.

"It's where they send humans who turn nineteen and have been obedient," Cora said, trying to sound optimistic in case Bonebreak was listening. "Like a reward. It's a sort of nature preserve where they can govern themselves and live how they want."

Bonebreak glanced over his shoulder; she couldn't read his expression.

"Another f.u.c.king zoo," Leon grumbled.

"No," Cora added. "There aren't any bars, and the people there aren't being watched. It's the size of a small moon, and it's habitable."

"But if it's habitable," Nok said, "why don't any Kindred inhabit it? Why leave it for us?"

Cora could feel the uneasiness in Nok's words, and she felt uneasy too. She lowered her voice. "We won't leave you there if it isn't safe, Nok. I promise." And then she raised her voice for Bonebreak to hear. "The Kindred are an astral species, not terrestrial."

But that uneasy feeling reached the tear in the back of Cora's head, throbbing. She hoped she wasn't leading Nok and Rolf-and all of them-into a situation even worse than the one they'd just come from.

The ship dipped sharply. Nok shrieked, and they gripped hands harder. Bonebreak leaned forward, scratching his head, and then shoved a control upward. The ship pitched again. Cora had the feeling of free-falling. That awful rise of her stomach that made her just want to push everything down, to ball up tight, but she didn't let go of either hand. Then the free fall ended abruptly, and there was a rumbling that made her legs and arms jiggle.

"Ever flown before?" Leon barked to Bonebreak.

"I did kill the best pilot," Bonebreak muttered at the controls.

The ship keeled sharply to the right. Cora couldn't see the viewing panel from her place on the floor, but the colors had changed. No longer the dim shine of distant stars, but bright flashing colors, as if they were flying straight into a sunrise. Pressure built in her ears. It was the same pressure as when Ca.s.sian had materialized her out of the cage, making her body feel like it was breaking up into thousands of tiny particles, until it was all she could do to squeeze her eyes shut.

Then, abruptly, it stopped.

The ship made a winding-down sound, and the temperature cooled back to normal. Bonebreak hit a few more b.u.t.tons, seeming rather satisfied with himself. "There," he said. "Perfect docking."

The ship lurched to the right, and Nok screamed.

Bonebreak adjusted a lever, and the ship righted.

"Now. Perfect docking."

"I think I'm going to be sick," Rolf muttered, looking pale.

Bonebreak hit a few b.u.t.tons, and the door opened. A curious sound came from the open doorway.

A sh, sh, sh that at first Cora thought might be ocean waves. A gust of wind suddenly blew up through the hold, carrying fine, sandy dust and thin, but breathable, air. The sound was the wind-in a s.p.a.ce station devoid of anything but artificial breezes, she had missed the wind. She closed her eyes and let it wash over her.

Real dust.

Real air.

For a second, she wondered if Armstrong wouldn't be so bad. Maybe not the paradise Dane had described, but maybe not awful either. She didn't care if it was dusty and hot, as long as it was a safe haven.

The fresh air seemed to have the same effect on all of them, except for Bonebreak. He grabbed a bag from under the control panel and slung it over one shoulder. "I'm going to find something to drink."

"You've been here before?" Cora asked.

"No. But I have never found any inhabited s.p.a.ce in the universe, even desert planets run by lesser species, that didn't have a bar." He dropped down the hole.

The others stared after him.

Nok squeezed Cora's hand. "Come on," she said. "Let's see what's out there."

45.

Cora THE DUST NEARLY BLINDED Cora as she jumped down the hatch; Leon caught her, wiping the dust from his own eyes.

"Not looking so much like paradise, sweetheart."

Cora pushed her hair out of her face-its new length meant it kept blowing in her eyes-and squinted into the dust. "Maybe everone here lives indoors, or underground."

"I think this is just what's left of a dust storm that already came through," Nok said. Her 1950s-housewife ap.r.o.n kept billowing in the wind. "One of the models back in London was from Morocco. Used to tell me about the sandstorms there, and how the wind howled." She coughed as the others climbed out of the ship. "Maybe the dust will settle soon."

She was frowning, and Cora didn't blame her. It wasn't a place she'd want to raise a daughter either.

The shadowy silhouette of low mountains hung in the distance-rounded and ancient. And a sun that was bigger than theirs on Earth, which was probably why it was so hot. Bonebreak was walking off toward a collection of dark shapes that might have been buildings. He seemed to move and breathe just fine, and for once she envied him the mask.

"We should catch up with Bonebreak." She took a step, but her legs felt heavy with exhaustion.

"It's the gravity." Rolf came up beside her, stooped over, like it took effort just to stand up straight. "This must be a very dense moon to have gravity this strong. That's why those mountains are so low. And the air-they must have manipulated the atmosphere."

Cora glanced behind her. Anya had stayed on the ship, her head still aching, and Mali stayed as well to take care of her. Mali and Leon exchanged a few words before parting. Mali suddenly stood on tiptoe and kissed his ear.

When he came over, he looked as off-kilter as if she'd slapped him. "Right," he said, a little dis...o...b..bulated. "She said me and her are doing a rescue mission."

"You okay with that?"

He rubbed at the ear she'd kissed. "Oh, yeah."

Cora rolled her eyes, and they started trudging through the dust after Bonebreak, toward the hazy structures that were getting more visible in the clearing dust.

"What do we say to them?" Nok asked nervously, bobbing along next to Cora as they caught up to Bonebreak. "That Rolf and I are going to be their new neighbors, and by the way, I'm pregnant?"

"I think we start with h.e.l.lo," Cora said. "And then see where that takes us."

The ground was uneven and fissured and marked with spiny vegetation, and Cora had to be careful not to trip. Her lungs burned; the air didn't quite seem right. She felt light-headed, which didn't match with the heavy gravity. The structures came out of the dust in a wavering sort of way, and for a moment the angles didn't seem right. For a terrifying second she thought she was back in the Kindred's cage, where angles had been distorted illusions, but then she stumbled upon a clapboard hut, and she reached out and touched it.

Solid.

The wooden siding was rough-hewn; it must have been made from trees chopped in a nearby forest. A tin bucket of muddy water sat beneath a cloth tarp.

"Vegetation," Rolf observed. "Water. Breathable air. Your friend didn't lie about there being ample resources."

"I wouldn't call Dane a friend," she muttered. She ran her fingers along the board that formed the corner of the hut, and a splinter came off in the pad of her finger. She broke into a grin. "Look-it's real!"

"Hooray," Nok muttered. "The wonderful world of splinters. It'll probably be too much to hope for a day-care center?"

The dust had nearly settled, and the village was taking shape. The hut was one of about twenty that were constructed with primitive but attentive craftsmanship. A few had flower boxes in the windows holding big-petaled flowers with thick round leaves, though they were all currently coated in dust. There was a covered clay ring that looked like a well, and some beaten-flat areas where maybe the Armstrong residents held dances. Everything was made of wood or clay, with a bit of tin glinting on the roofs. It had a pioneer kind of quality to it, and Cora felt proud, despite her reservations. Even far from home, humans had a knack for surviving.

Rolf's eyes went big. "It looks like how I always imagined America's Wild West."

"A bit, yeah," Nok said, toeing the bucket of muddy water. She rubbed the back of her neck, looking at the village. "Should we just knock?"

Bonebreak shook a finger toward the only building that was more than one story high. "I always say, go with the tallest structure and hope it's where someone important lives."

They followed him across the dusty town, trampling a sort of thick-stemmed succulent gra.s.s, to the porch of what they thought must be the town hall. Cora shook the dust from her hair and brushed it off her shoulders, aiming for a halfway presentable appearance, and then knocked.

No answer.

She knocked again. Nothing.

"Where would they be?" Nok asked. For the first time, unease crept into her voice. "You don't think the Kindred knew we were coming and rounded them all up?"

Everyone shot a hard look at Bonebreak, who held up his hands. "If there was a way of communicating with the Kindred or Mosca, little childrens, I would have called for backup when you had a gun pointed at me."

"Then where is everyone?"

"Sleeping," Bonebreak said. "Farming. Picnicking. How should I know what humans choose to do with their time?"

Leon gave a frustrated sigh and pushed forward, throwing the door open. "Hey! Anyone home?"

"We're friends," Cora added. "From Earth, by way of Kindred aggregate station 10-91."

She waited, but there was no response.

"No one home," Rolf observed.

It looked like some sort of makeshift munic.i.p.al building. There was a big entrance hall with a desk by the front door, and a hallway to the left, probably leading to offices. If it was Armstrong's sheriff's department, there didn't seem to be any jail cells, which was good. She'd be happy to never see another cage in her life. She picked up a book left facedown on the desk and smiled. Gone with the Wind. Beneath it was a fat, dusty set of leather-bound pages.

"I guess we wait," she said, flipping open the leather cover and scanning the pages. Nok and Rolf headed off down the hallway to investigate.

"Uh, guys?" Nok's voice came uncertainly from down the hallway.

Cora started to close the folio, but something written across the top of the first page caught her eye.

It was divided into columns. Numbers were listed in the left-hand column like a calendar, but the months only had ten days. In the other columns were series of numbers that didn't immediately mean anything. The first entry read 25/12/12/1; the next, 30/15/12/3; and the next, 27/0/2/25. She flipped the page and froze.

On the next page, someone had written out the column headings: Total New Slaves / Of Which for Manual Labor / Of Which for Wives / Dead.

She froze. Total New Slaves? Given the dates, that had to be new arrivals on the moon . . . the Kindred's regular delivery of good samaritans to Armstrong.

But slaves? And dead? And wives?

Someone had scrawled in the margin: Ask Kindred next time, need more wives. Keep running away. Say it's for reproduction-they always fall for that.

Cora slammed the notebook closed, her heart pounding. She stumbled through the hallway with legs that felt too heavy until she found the others in a small office. They were gathered around a pile of ancient-looking chains, the kind you'd fasten around someone's ankles if it was 1850. On the other side of the room were bins filled with clothes-baseball uniforms, Middle Eastern robes, frilly dresses-the fake kind of clothing the Kindred gave them to wear.

"What does it mean?" Nok asked in a high-pitched voice.

A tickle started in the back of Cora's throat. No-this couldn't be right. The Kindred were the ones who imprisoned humans. Why, when given freedom and ample resources, would humans possibly enslave their own kind?