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  The weather had nearly rusted away the double doors, leaving an irregular, gaping hole like a jagged mouth. Aidan kicked one of them open and stepped inside, stopping to stare in wonder.

  It was an old church. Sunlight streamed in from the southern window, a series of stained-glass panels lighting the room up in a golden dappled glow. Many of them were still intact. It was beautiful, and heartbreaking. Great Grandpa Astin, thundering in the small chapel at Boundary Peak at his shrinking flock, extolling them to breed like rabbits…

  Aidan pushed that memory away. Papa Astin, the bible thumper, had been smitten by the whole Sodom and Gomorrah parts of the Good Book, and the wickedness of that ancient land. Despite his great grandfather’s admonitions, Aidan had grown up with feelings that were wicked in the eyes of his church.

  Aidan wondered if the people here had felt the same.

  A robin leapt out of her nest on a small wooden shelf and flapped by his head, squawking her displeasure. Aidan ducked and watched her fly out the door. He grinned. At least you survived.

  He made his way down the aisle, his hand touching each of the old wooden pews. Their mother had told them about churches, things she had learned from her grandmother—places where people had gathered to sing and listen to the Good Word, which came from the Good Book. She still kept hers by her bedside.

  Aidan stepped up onto the creaky wooden platform at the back of the church. It held his weight—barely—groaning as he reached up to touch the wall.

  A large “t”—his mother called it a cross—hung there, faced with symbolic flames. Sticky dust covered it, making it look almost furry. He touched it, and it broke free from its moorings and crashed to the ground with a loud boom.

  Aidan leapt out of the way as it smashed into pieces.

  “There you are!”

  He spun around to find Ally at the doorway, Cimber at her feet. The mech dog sniffed the air and bounded off to check out something interesting.

  “Hey sis. I was just looking around—”

  Ally smirked. “Yeah, I know what you were doing. You don’t need to hide it.”

  Aidan flushed. “Yeah, well, I knew you’d crush the vibe.”

  Ally laughed. “I’d hope so.” She looked around and whistled. “This place is beautiful.”

  “Yeah. It reminds me of Papa Astin.” He knelt to pick up an old leather-bound book. That’s when he saw them. “Look!”

  There were bodies stuffed under each pew. Many had their arms wrapped around one another. They had died together, at least. He knelt to get a better look—a few had their hands together in prayer. “They were scared.”

  Ally knelt next to him, frowning. “I’m sure they were.” She looked around the cavernous space. “They came here for sanctuary, hoping God would protect them.”

  “I guess he didn’t.” It wasn’t the first time he’d seen it. But something about the serenity of this place and those empty gazes from tens—no, probably hundreds—of skeletons made him uneasy. “What do you think killed them?”

  Ally rubbed her neck. “Most of the buildings here are intact. They used smartgas in a lot of places on the West Coast—it sought out human life and snuffed it. The fucking chaffs thought they could take over things after the Last War ended.” She almost growled the name.

  Aidan touched a naked skull, and it fell off its skeleton to roll across the floor, lodging against one of the pews. Naked sockets staring up at him.

  He shivered. Sometimes he just wanted to go back home and lock himself underground, away from the open sky and all the terrible things in this empty world. He pulled out his notebook and made a quick calculation. Probably a hundred dead in this room.

  He dutifully added the hash marks, and closed his eyes to say a short prayer for the dead.

  Ally frowned. “You still doing that?”

  “Somebody should record the dead.”

  Ally shook her head but said nothing. When he was done, she pulled him away from the grisly sight to stare at the stained glass. “Look at the windows.” She put an arm around his shoulder, her body warm against his. “We have to remember that they made beautiful things too, back then. Even in the midst of the horror.”

  “I guess so.” It was beautiful, the rising sun shattered into a myriad of colors by the glass. “Do you think they were comforted by their faith?”

  She bit her lip. “I’d like to think so. Would you be?”

  “I don’t know.” What was it like? Those frantic, fearful last minutes as the gas smothered them. Aidan shuddered. “Can we go now?”

  “Yeah. Come on, let’s get some fresh air.”

  They left the old church together, stepping into the wild meadow outside.

  Aidan took a deep breath. He could still see the skull staring at him. “What’s this city called?”

  Ally pulled out one of the old plas maps she carried. “Sacramento. Capital of the state of California.”

  He nodded. “How far are we from Martinez Base?”

  “Three days. Two if we push it.”

  They’d been on the trek for a little over three weeks, sleeping in burned-out houses at night and walking by day. Aidan had never been in better shape. He whistled for Cimber, and the mech dog bounded out of the church behind them with a happy bark, a leg bone in her mouth.

  “Cimber! drop it!” Aidan sighed, whispering a prayer for the bone’s owner as the mech dog set it down with a growl. Were real dogs such a pain in the ass?

  Ally tugged at his shirt sleeve. “Come on. I want to get something to eat and get going. We don’t know how long Mamma has left.”

  Aidan nodded. He worried about her too. But in the long run, did it matter?

  They were all doomed—the last family under the Mountain. Their mother, three boys, and one girl. There was no one else to continue the human race here once they were gone.

  He glanced up at the sun as it rose in the east, its golden light filtering through the sky tree branches, unconcerned with human problems. Am I going to die alone?

  With a heavy sigh, he followed his sister through the trees, back to their temporary shelter.

  Cimber bounded along behind them in the new morning’s light.

  Tien watched the glowing ring of the Launchpad draw slowly closer, the giant spinning station framed by the blue curve of the Earth below.

  The rest of the run had gone without mishap, save for a brief scare when the patch had leaked, causing an alarming hiss and lowering of pressure in the Zhenyi’s cabin.

  Behind her, the others chatted about the mission ahead, either having forgotten their lost companions, or filling the time so they didn’t have to think about them.

  Tien hung back. Always the outsider. Her teammates were all creche kids. They socialized with others—even strangers—more easily than she ever would. Yet they had accepted her transition without question.

  “Time to bring her in.” Hera slipped into the pilot’s chair, rubbing her bruised but thankfully unbroken arm.

  Tien swiveled to watch Hera work. The pilot was a wonder, having overcome a debilitating accident as a child and now the loss of four of their friends, still holding it all together.

  “Launchpad control, this is the Zhenyi.”

  “Zhenyi, roger. Good to have you back.” The woman’s voice cracked a little.

  Hera nudged the jumper, lining up with the station’s spin, the thrust pushing them all to the side. “Thanks. Is this Lorelei?”

  “Sure is. Hera?” Lorelei’s voice sounded raspy, like she’d been crying. “So sorry to hear about the Bristol. We’re all a mess here over it.”

  Hera’s hand tightened on the joystick, her knuckles white. “They knew the risks.”

  There was silence on the comm.

  “Lorelei?”

  “Sorry.” She cleared her throat. “We’ve got docking bay one waiting for you. Need guidance?”

  “No, I got this.” A little of Hera’s trademark bravado returned.

  “I’m sure you do. Roger and out.”

  Tien put a hand on Hera’s good shoulder. “It’s okay. We all feel it.”

  Hera’s muscles tightened. “Thanks. I need to concentrate. Buckle in.”

  Tien pulled away, hurt. “Sorry.” She looked at Ghost. He shrugged. -Give her space.-

  She nodded. -Think she’s okay?- She latched her belt and settled in for docking.

  -She’s Hera.-

  Tien laughed under her breath.

  She was terrible at these things. For all that they’d trained together for years, sometimes Tien felt that she didn’t know these people at all. Her mother would have known exactly what to say.

  She sighed softly, watching the spinning of the Earth against its velvety, starry backdrop.

  * * *

  Her family was been enjoying a picnic on the Chinese side of Riverside Park.

  Tai had climbed up onto the bright red rail of the bridge. She perched on top, watching the clear water flow over the round pebbles below. It glistened and sparkled, murmuring its secrets to her.

  “Tai, get down from there!” Her mother’s strong arms pulled her down. “What did I tell you about climbing up on the bridge railing? You boys are always getting into trouble.”

  “Sorry, Mamma.” Tai started to cry. She hated making her mother angry.

  I’m not a boy. Why couldn’t they see that?

  The last time she’d said it, she’d been spanked and sent to her room. Now she kept it to herself.

  Chen Yun’s features softened. “I only scolded you because you scared me, Tai. You could have fallen into the river and been swept away before I could save you.”

  Tai looked down at the water coursing through the river channel next to them as her mother carried her back to the family. It didn’t look all that deep. Or fast.

  “Hey!”

  Tai looked up, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand.

  On the far side of the bank, a little girl about her age waved at her. Behind her, a group of kids about the same age were playing tag.

  Tai waved back, staring at the little girl’s pink dress with envy. “How come I never get to go play with the creche kids?”

  “You’re only four. When you go to school next year, you’ll meet them.”

  Tai stared forlornly at her peers. “They don’t have any parents to tell them what to do.”

  Mamma stared at her. “Who told you that?”

  “Lin Chen. She said they all live in a big house, with no Mamma and no Papa.”

  Mamma knelt next to her, her serious face on, the one that meant someone was going to get a talking to. Tai hoped it was Lin Chen. “Lin Chen doesn’t know what she is talking about. Each creche has one to three creche parents. Sometimes they are all mommies, or all daddies, or somewhere in-between. But they are all parents to those kids.”

  Tai considered that. “Okay.” The other little girl had gone back to play with her friends. “Why don’t I live in a creche?”

  Mamma Yun kissed her on the forehead. “Because we wanted you here with us. That’s always been our family’s way.” She squeezed Tien and stood, shooing her away. “Go play with your cousins.”

  Tai hugged her, and then ran off to find the others, but the little girl in her pink dress across the river stayed on her mind for days.

  * * *

  A shudder brought her back to the present.

  None of that mattered anymore. She was a grown woman now, and Tai was little more than a memory.

  What mattered now was what Mamma Yun had said to her, the last night before she left for Earth.

  “We are proud of you, Tien. My beautiful daughter. We don’t want you to go into such danger with doubt in your mind.”

  Tien flushed with warmth. She looked out of her portal.

  Hera had synched the little jumper with the station’s hangar, and the ship had risen into the landing dock. The thick metal hangar doors clanged closed below them, and the jumper touched down with a barely perceptible thunk. Tien whistled. “Nice job!”

  Hera sighed, her shoulders slumping.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s not you.” The pilot unbuckled herself and slipped past Rai to hug her. “I’m just on edge. It was a rough flight.”

  Tien nodded and sent her a private em to em message. -Still—I’m sorry.-

  -Really, it’s okay.- Hera tagged her response with a hug, and warmth spread through her. “Come on. Let’s get out of this tin can.” The pilot retrieved her bag from under her seat and tapped her temple. “Dek, is the dock pressurized?”

  “Affirmative.” The station mind’s voice came out of the jumper’s speakers for their benefit. “Welcome to the Launchpad.”

  “Nice to be back.” Hera palmed open the jumper’s hatch door and climbed out into the hangar.

  Tien took one last look around the little jumper, her home for the last three days, waiting for the others to file out. She was ready for a shower.

  Like the one in her memory, the station was a bridge of sorts too—a connection between Luna and the Earth, where she would start the next phase of her life.

  Tien smiled. How far I’ve come. From one bridge to another. From doctor to dropnaut.

  How far we still have to go.

  3

  Launchpad

  I keep seeing Dax’s face. Laughing at one of Jess’s jokes or looking all somber and shit as Sam lectures us about what’s to come.

  Holy cracking hells.

  I’ll never see them again—Dax, Jess, Ola, and Xiu Ying. They’re gone, and they aren’t ever coming back.

  Maybe we won’t either.

  Laughs harshly. I’m a bit bleak today. What happens, happens.

  This spin just got real.

  —Hera’s Journal, 6.17.2282

  * * *

  Hera rested her hand on the cool white wall of the station hallway to check her pings after Dek, the station AI, synched her loop.

  There was a brief message from Jolly, her creche mother, expressing her sorrow at Jess’s loss and wishing her and Ghost a safe journey to Earth. A smattering of messages from friends, and a reminder to pay her rent.

  She frowned, rubbing the bump on her head from her mishap in the Zhenyi absently. Thought I took care of that. She sent a quick ping to Alpha’s services phage, who handled all that for the dropnauts in their absence. It would go out in the next laser burst to Redemption.

  There was also a long message from Tovey.

  She closed her eyes, and they grinned at her, their brown eyes dancing. “You’ll be at the Launchpad by the time you get this. I miss you.” Tovey scratched their dark, short-cropped hair. “I’m still thinking about last night—”

  “Hey.”

  Hera blinked. Ghost was standing in front of her, his green eyes searching hers. She filed Tovey’s message away for later. “Hey. You hear from Jolinda?”

  Ghost nodded, running his hand through his mop of long blond hair. “Yeah, she hit me up too.” He looked uneasy, strange for him. “Anything from Tovey?”

  “Yeah. Haven’t watched it all it yet.” She’d need to watch it in the privacy of her own cabin, if it was going where she thought it was. She flushed hot.

  Ghost grinned. “Tell them ‘hi’ for me.” He bit his lip and crossed his arms, leaning back against the smooth white wall. The running lights painted his face a pale blue, making him look more like his namesake than usual.

  “What’s wrong?” She knew Ghost as well as she knew Jolly. Maybe better.

  “You. You snapped at Tien in the jumper. That’s not like you.”

  “I know.” She rubbed her left arm. The bruise there would take weeks to heal. If she shut her eyes, she could still see someone’s leg drifting by outside the Zhenyi, rolling end over end through the darkness. She could see Jess’s warm smile too, hear her laughter around the dinner table at the creche, infectious and a little dorky. She and Hera and Ghost—the Three Musketeers of Tycho Creche. “It’s so weird. Jess is gone.”

  Ghost closed his eyes. Pain flickered across his features. “I know. I’m trying not to think about it. About them.”

  A pang of unexpected jealousy seized her. “Did you two ever…?” Where in the cracking hell did that come from?

  Ghost tilted his head and frowned. “No. She had a thing for someone else.” Then he smiled ruefully. “Not that I didn’t consider it.”

  “Ah. One you couldn’t conquer with your charm and good looks, huh?” She felt a strange sense of relief.

  “There’ve been a few.” He stared at her, his words hanging awkwardly in the air between them until Rai showed up, carrying his bag. “Hey guys, you gonna clear the hallway? I’m starving.”

  “Sorry.” Hera stepped aside to let Rai pass and hugged Ghost, burying her head in his hair. “Thanks.”

  After a second’s hesitation, he hugged her back. “What for?”

  -For asking. For knowing to ask.- She squeezed him tightly. They had a long history—and there was no one in the world she felt closer to. Not even Tovey. “Come on. Rai’s right, I’m starving too. It’ll be good to be around the rest of the ‘nauts.”

  -Any time.- His voice whispered in her mind, and a slight grin curled his lips.

  She pushed him away gently and turned away, determined not to let him see her cry.

  The mess hall was packed. Everyone on-station had turned out to see the dropnauts, and to offer their sympathies for the loss of the Bristol. A long series of floor-to-ceiling windows on the gently curved wall facing Earth gave the otherwise boring white hall one of the best views on the station.

  Ghost recognized most of them. The mission control crew sat on one side of the wide room, where the green-and-blue light of Earth lit them with its pale glow. The sun was just rising over the planet’s surface.

  The service crew was on the other side, much more raucous, drinking junlei wine and laughing while spontaneously toasting the dropnauts every five minutes or so. Behind them, the moon was passing by, her silver light no match for the brightness of the golden sun.