Claudia tried to concentrate on the meeting, the speech her Deputy was giving about… whatever it was, but the images she’d seen in the news that morning were too much of a distraction. Shields ripped open, charred corridors, dried blood on the landing deck—Claudia’s ship, just as she’d left it. Still floating in the buffer zone, close to the border. Although the footage was doctored to obscure all identifying details, of course. Had they sent someone specifically to take those shots? No, that would have been ridiculous. The rescue team must have documented things on arrival. She would have noticed it if she’d been conscious, probably.

But then, why the gag order? The secret trial? Why had she been disposed of quietly if they were going to leak it all to the press?

“The housing arrangements are already a nightmare,” Ebie was saying. She sounded angry; Claudia forced herself to pay attention again. “People will want to have teams, all the training would have to be before it got dark.”

Right. Michael had proposed—out of sheer brilliance or criminal stupidity, Claudia couldn’t tell yet—establishing a gaming tournament in each district, with a final, inter-district competition.

“It’ll be a mess,” Ebie went on. She sat with her hands in her pockets, wearing her usual sullen expression. Claudia remembered her screaming about murder the day the other girl died. Paradoxically, she seemed to be the most competent authority figure in the entire school, at least in what Claudia had observed so far. She exuded a natural sort of confidence and her file was impressive. Despite the abrasive demeanor, her district’s statistics were exceptional.

Michael turned to the other girl. “Vrei?”

Claudia wondered how much weight the children’s opinions really carried. Michael was still making an effort not to share anything he didn’t have to, which included the nuances of how these sorts of decisions usually worked. Claudia should have initiated disciplinary action against him days ago, but it would mean doing all of this alone and she wasn’t quite angry for that. At least not yet.

“It would depend on the type of game,” Vrei said, after a pause. She sat with her feet pulled up on the chair, her arms around her knees, apparently in the habit of curling up on whatever surface she occupied. She seemed a lot more calculated than Ebie, and far slower to take on responsibility. “Are you suggesting props? Like circles or ovals? Or trivia?”

“Something competitive, physical,” Michael said. “Foster teambuilding, that sort of thing. Reduce tensions, get people away from the Sau-ma in the evenings.”

Ebie gave him a defiant look. “You’d have more success with card games. People would definitely organize for that.”

Michael shot her a disapproving look in response. “I meant something productive, Ebie. Something new.”

If it weren’t for meetings like this Claudia would assume Michael was the sort of typical, backwater bureaucrat who cherished his position because it imbued his pointless life with a false sense of significance. But then, watching scenes like this, Claudia wondered if he had not also deluded himself into thinking his pedagogical contributions could matter to these children. As if this or that initiative would change anything about their futures.

“But why would people compete?” Vrei said. “As long as the supply allocations are the same. More vouchers aren’t going to be a huge incentive.”

“Well, there’s always medical,” Ebie disagreed.

“Yeah.” Vrei paused, considering. “But this won’t be worth it for a few extra medical vouchers.” She looked at Michael. “But if we could say that you’re fighting for an increased budget overall—”

Michael interrupted her by turning to the boy, who was scribbling in a notebook. “Bo? What do you think?”

He looked startled. Even Claudia could tell he wasn’t cut out for this. She wasn’t sufficiently invested in any of this to go against Michael’s recommendations, but keeping the boy in a position of authority purely out of respect to some school charter seemed a little cruel.

“More vouchers…” the boy said. “I guess that’s… good?”

Vrei looked at her shoes; Ebie stared at the ceiling.

Claudia couldn’t tell how long the two of them had known each other. They seemed to get along well, like old friends, but she was certain, after studying a map of the school, that children in different districts were prevented from having any contact with each other. The girls were not the same age, so they had probably never met during their year of chores. Perhaps they’d only gotten to know each other after being ‘promoted’.

“Would you like some time to think about it?” Michael said.

“Yeah,” the boy said, after a pause.

“Just think about the stuff you’ll have to do if this passes, ” Vrei said, turning to the boy. “You’ll have to start training people, or at least letting them train. Oversee try-outs so they’re at least mostly fair, rearrange housing…”

“All those things you’re so good at,” Ebie said.

“That’s enough,” Michael said.

“Do you even know how many people in the 942 play circle games?” Ebie asked Bo. “Rough number?”

Bo shook his head. Claudia could see his white knuckles gripping the pencil.

“Average night,” Ebie said. “You walk outside, how many people are out playing?”

“I… don’t know. I’m sorry,” Bo said.

“Not us you should apologize to,” Vrei said quietly, looking at her knees.

“All right,” Michael said. “We’ll leave this for now and talk about it again after Transfer Day. Bo, use that time to do some research, form an opinion. Talk to some of the older residents if you need help.”

“Please,” he said, in an entirely different tone. His eyes were on Michael, clearly carrying on a conversation that had begun long before this meeting.

Claudia sat up a little straighter.

Michael’s lips were a thin line. “Absolutely not.”

The boy turned his pleading eyes on Claudia. “Please. I can’t do this.” He looked like he’d drop to his knees if he thought it would help.

“This isn’t the time or the place,” Michael said, raising his voice. “You are a Key. You were chosen, by us. You have to accept responsibility.”

Claudia barely managed to keep the surprise from showing on her face. This was certainly a change. At least she could count on the man to keep up appearances with the students, even behind her back.

“I don’t know anything about being a Key!” The boy said, his eyes wet. “Please, pick someone else.”

Vrei and Ebie looked like they were trying to will the boy into silence.

Michael sighed. “Bo, everyone wants the district to run smoothly.” he said. “You just have to give them a chance to help you. You have an experienced First, the elders in your district. Vrei and Ebie, if you need their advice. Sol kept you close for a reason, don’t sell yourself short.”

Claudia expected the girls to chime in, but they were both quiet, each unreadable in her own way.

For a moment she wondered what they’d look like as officers. They were not as incompetent as Claudia would have assumed, and they didn’t rely on Michael the way she’d expect children their age to do. Of course, that would never happen. Without sponsors, with nothing but references from the random, unimportant civilians at this school, they’d spend their careers on maintenance crews or as junior kitchen staff. Maybe, if they got lucky and did very well on their exams, they’d eventually make it into low-level tech staff.

Which was better than the alternative, Claudia reminded herself. The military could have left them to starve. It was only government foresight, compromise and the looming threat of a generation of criminals sweeping every moon and waystation that forced the opening of schools like this.

“Michael,” Claudia said, clearing her throat. “How soon can we replace Bo?”

Michael looked at her with a mix of surprise, thinly veiled annoyance and, curiously, relief. Of course, the idiot had been yearning for her to say something like this. Give him an excuse to sidestep his own rules, without admitting that he was steering the school towards a disaster. He began digging through his papers, as if checking whether Claudia’s suggestion could be implemented.

Claudia couldn’t be sure how or why details of her ship’s ‘accident’ were becoming public, but she was fairly certain it would end up meaning worse things for her than this dismal posting. She planned to reach out this evening, see who among her old contacts would still take her messages, maybe find out how the information about her ship got out. But whatever she could find out, she already knew her anonymity was in danger. They’d hidden her away to prevent escalation, cover up the first border skirmish since the War, keep the public calm. But if that plan failed, if things got agitated, Claudia’s head on a platter would almost certainly be the next peace offering. Nevermind that it had been a misunderstanding, that they’d been given the wrong ID codes by Central Command. That most of her crew died for nothing, trying to fix the mistake until they ran out of time. A small, unarmed cargo ship up against a border patrol.

She could be made to look responsible—it was probably why they’d kept her alive in the first place.

“He will have to serve out Sol’s term, of course,” Michael said, bringing her thoughts back to the present. “But I’ll start compiling a list of suitable applicants, Colonel.”

“No!” the boy said, tears staining his cheeks. “That’s too late.” He wiped his face with the back of his palm. “It has to be now. I can’t… I can’t do Transfer Day.”

At this rate, being pulled out of this school for a show trial followed by a public execution would be a mercy. At least she would not be surrounded by wailing children while she was in prison.

“You most certainly can,” Michael said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Claudia tried to imagine her younger self, being told she’d make it all the way to Colonel only to sit through meetings like this. She might have quit the Academy.

“Calm down,” Michael went on. “Get a hold of yourself. It’s not as complicated as you think.”

The boy looked like he was barely holding back a sob. He wiped his eyes again. “You don’t understand.”

Michael took it as a sign of capitulation. “All right, back to what we were discussing,” he said, looking at the girls. “About the new uniform allocations, Vrei you said you wanted to go over the figures again?”

Claudia made sure to straighten up in her chair, giving the appearance of paying attention.

 

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Ebie’s bed felt big enough to stretch on, for once. The room was quiet and chilly, perfect for sleeping. She had a luxurious four hours before reveille. Her head pounded, her eyes felt too heavy to open, but sleep still wouldn’t come. She’d slept badly for the last few nights, but today it felt impossible. The room felt too empty, too big. She let herself slip to the floor, when she couldn’t stand being on the bed for another second. She hit her knee on the stone floor, but making a sound was too much effort. She dragged the blanket down from the bed, to wrap around herself, and regretted it immediately. It smelled like Len.

She tried closing her eyes again, told her head the hard surface should make a difference. No distractions, no memories, no thinking about Transfer Day or the Palace or Sol, just a black void she could fall into.

But long minutes passed and she could still hear the sound of her own heartbeat, feel the dust moving around the room, smell the person she hadn’t slept without in years.

Finally she let out a deep breath and rose on her elbows. Getting up, going somewhere, felt impossible, but she couldn’t spend another hour lying here, letting the frustration and anger build up. She’d be totally useless tomorrow.

The hallway outside was dark, but Ebie knew it well enough to find her way to the showers. She didn’t bother putting on clothes, so fumbling with the faucets and getting everything wet wasn’t a problem. At least the cold water made her headache a little better. The soap felt nice in her hair. A shower always made her feel more human.

She grabbed a hygienic powder pack from the dispenser, chewed until her mouth felt like it was on fire and spit it out. Back in her room, she pulled on a pair of uniform pants and a clean undershirt and went downstairs.

The building she wanted was a ten minute walk away.

The streets were empty at this hour. There was some light coming from the Compound, like a soft glow meant to direct everyone there in an emergency. Ebie walked in the opposite direction, relying on the stars. There was an uncountable number of them here. When she was little she lived in a huge city, in a community house where the floors were all soft rubber and the plants were synthetic. Real flowers cost too much, but the ones in Ebie’s dorm would turn a different color every day. She always liked them better. The sky was always totally black, though. Even on camping trips to the suburbs. She’d never imagined there could be so many stars until she came here.

The room she needed was on the first floor. She’d given the elders living in this building a choice, and they’d all chosen to be closer to the exit. When she opened the door to the right room, it was mostly empty. Four of the seven beds were unoccupied, though the bottom bunk nearest the door contained two people.

The exhaustion was making it harder to think, harder to focus, and this was definitely not a problem she needed to waste her time on. She told herself elders knew better than to cause trouble.

A woman slept alone in the bottom bunk by the window. Ebie shut the door quietly and took two steps forward to lean against one of the beams connecting Lai’s bed to the empty bunk above hers.

Ebie hadn’t been in this room since last year. Just seeing this, remembering Lai’s rants about how sleeping next to the window was the only way to get oxygen at night, made her chest feel too tight for her lungs.

Ebie let herself slide down, too tired to think of what to do next. She stretched her legs out when her ass hit the floor.

Maybe just being in a room with people would fix her. She’d never had problems sleeping before she became a Key. Even when Len’s nightmares woke everyone up, Ebie never had a problem going back to sleep.

“Ebie?” Lai said, barely audible. She sounded groggy and unguarded. A rare echo of how Ebie remembered her.

“Hey,” Ebie whispered. She had to apologize for barging into Lai’s room in the middle of the night. That was probably the right thing to do.

Lai rose up on one elbow. She looked like she was still trying to decide if this was a dream. “Why… what are you doing here?” Her long fingers were clutching the blanket.

“Can’t sleep,” Ebie said.

Lai sat up fully, frowning. She squinted at Ebie, trying to make out her face through the faint starlight coming from the window.

Ebie stood up, slowly. She slung an arm over the top bunk to keep herself steady.

Lai pushed back her braids and rubbed a hand over her eyes. Her face looked softer than Ebie remembered, in this light.

“I could go,” Ebie said.

Lai gave Ebie a look that wasn’t quite annoyance. Ebie tried to brace herself. The walk back to her building would be torture, but she’d crawl there somehow. Maybe she’d just pass out in the hall and wait for someone to wake her in the morning.

Lai looked at her for a long moment before rearranging herself, pushing her back against the wall, and making space for Ebie on the bed.

Ebie didn’t try to hide her relief. “Thank you.”

Lai yawned, rubbing the back of her hand against her eyes. “Last time, kid.”

Ebie nodded and started toeing off her boots. She pulled off her uniform pants and kicked them under Lai’s bed. Lai didn’t like ‘real clothes’ on her clean sheets, that much Ebie remembered.

The warmth of Lai’s blanket felt like home. The smell of the pillow was so familiar, Ebie bit her lip to stop herself from speaking. Nothing she could say now would lead to anything good. Lai was leaving in a few days. They’d said everything they had to say to each other years ago.

Lai’s lips curled into a smirk as Ebie got comfortable. “Your First having trouble performing?”

It was a joke. One Ebie was used to hearing by now. She should have rolled her eyes and said something clever, but she was so tired. There were no words in her head except about how much she’d missed this. How much she’d give up to have it again.

“It’s not like that, with me and him,” Ebie said, finally.

“I know,” Lai said, after a pause, her face changing from a hard, closed off expression to something softer. Her fingers traced Ebie’s lips and Ebie had to hold herself still and quiet. “You picked the weirdest boy on the planet.”

Lai’s hand slid down to Ebie’s collarbone, pressing down, as if trying to memorize her skin. Ebie took a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling Lai’s fingers rise and fall with it. When they’d met Ebie had been a nobody. She’d never met Sol, or Michael, didn’t even know what a Key did, exactly. Lai had explained it, one night.

She didn’t want to think about any of that. There were so many secrets she had to keep already, the weight of all these memories was too much. She could feel it pricking at her eyes, asking to spill out. In a moment Lai would notice it and Ebie wouldn’t be able to hold back at all.

She had to talk about something else. Maybe she couldn’t tell Lai the whole truth, but she could give her a piece of it, at least. Anything to stop thinking about how she never wanted to climb out of this bed.

“You know how I met him?” Ebie said.

“The Palace,” Lai said. Her hands were caressing Ebie’s stomach. Ebie was ticklish, but Lai kept her touch light enough that Ebie didn’t swat her away.

“First week, kitchen duty,” Ebie said. Her face felt unusually warm. She stared at the top bunk over her head. “They sent me to clean one of those giant food mixers. I climbed in there and didn’t come out for hours,” she swallowed. “The drugs, they… they must have not worked on me or something. When I was done there was blood everywhere. My pants were soaked, everything was dirty.”

Lai didn’t make a sound, but her hand froze, halfway under Ebie’s undershirt.

“I didn’t notice until they sent him to get me,” Ebie said. “It was right before dinner, they would have had to sanitize the machines all over again. Remember Cecilia, the old fluff minder?”

Lai’s face was covered in shadow, Ebie couldn’t see her expression. “She would have skinned you alive.”

“Yeah,” Ebie said. “And Susanna would have drugged me into a coma.”

Lai’s hand kept caressing under Ebie’s shirt. “He didn’t tell anyone?”

Ebie felt her lips curve at the memory. It felt good to share this in the dark. Easier. “He put his arm on one of those sharp bolts, the giant ones in the machine they tell you not to touch? Sliced himself open, elbow to wrist. Must have hit a vein. The blood went everywhere.”

Lai let out a huff.

“They thought it was an accident.” Ebie’s said, letting herself smile. “He started screaming. I had enough brain cells to make sure no one noticed my pants. We didn’t even know each other before that, never had any chores together or anything.”

“Good thing you picked him,” Lai said, after a moment. She bent down to press her lips to Ebie’s neck, pushing a strand of hair out of the way. “I would have just told Cecilia it was your fault.”

Ebie pulled away, took off her undershirt and threw it on the floor. She found Lai’s hand again and put it back where it was, warm against her skin. It was a little easier to breathe now. The pounding in her head was barely noticeable and her throat didn’t feel like it wanted to climb out of her chest anymore.

She turned over to face Lai, the two of them pressed up together. “I know people expected things, after I got appointed,” Ebie said. All of Lai’s friends expected her to become First, not Ebie’s weird friend from the Palace. A lot of people hated Ebie back then, for turning everything upside down. The district ran on a system: be friends with the Key and get favors, be a nobody and get left alone, be a kid or a weirdo or a weakling and hate everything about your life. Everyone expected Ebie to follow it, but she couldn’t. She’d never thought of herself as a strong person, just someone steady and firm, bad with people but good at keeping things organized. But she couldn’t keep letting the elders do what they wanted, relying on them to keep the peace. When Michael chose her, she knew she had to change things or die trying.

“I’m sorry,” Ebie said, feeling the moisture gathering in the corners of her eyes. “I had to do it my way.” It would cost her friends and parties and, eventually, Lai, but back then keeping herself isolated was the only way she knew to keep herself clean. People were never nice to a Key without wanting something. And she didn’t want to hand out any favors, intentionally or otherwise.

“Old news, kid,” Lai said, her lips curving into what Ebie thought was a half-smile. “Besides,” she went on. “You’d do it the same now. So don’t start apologizing.”

Ebie leaned over, so close to Lai that she could feel her breath, and Lai buried her fingers in Ebie’s hair and pulled her closer until their lips met.

 

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3 Days Until Transfer Day

Kim woke up suddenly, with a gasp.

Dej was shaking him. She backed away as soon as he opened his eyes.

“You were making noise,” she said, quietly. Everyone else in the room was still asleep.

Kim tossed the blanket aside and planted his feet on the cold floor. He could still remember the dream—Sol’s face bent over him, her skin peeled back, her fingers stabbing his chest like needles. His heart was still pounding.

“We should check on the girls,” Dej said, already dressed, crouching by the door.

Kim hated waking up so early, but it was the only way to make sure he could deliver on the deal he’d made. Once the sun came up, keeping a secret would go from difficult to impossible.

He rummaged under his bed for some clean underwear and headed for the showers, closing the door gently behind him. The hallway was packed with sleeping bodies. Kim nearly stepped on someone’s face in the near-darkness. The building had run out of beds a long time ago but people kept coming. Most of them were kids and secondyears, but a few were older.

The cold water of the shower helped clear his head.

All they had to do was hide the body far from the Gate and then move it to one of the closer buildings when the Head was somewhere in the middle of the district. She wasn’t going to teleport from the Compound to the fence, no matter what route she picked. In theory the 942 was big enough that it should work. As long as no one ran to tell Arai.

They’d picked a building that was about thirty minutes away. It was as close to the Gate as they could risk it. One of the thirdyears there owed Kim a favor and Dej thought they could trust her to keep a secret. Besides, the last Head had skipped it two years in a row, so maybe their luck would hold. If they moved quickly, they could let whoever the other Key sent spend the night in their building, and then move him once the Head got far enough away from the Compound gate.

There was barely enough light to see the street, but Kim could still make out three bodies passed out outside his building. Behind them was a smoking pile of… something. He tried to get closer but Dej grabbed his arm.

“Heard them last night,” she whispered. “Said no one could make them go back to the Compound if they burned their uniforms.”

“But they’re wearing their uniforms!” Kim whispered back.

Dej shrugged.

They had to go. Kim tried not to wonder what had been sacrificed in the fire, or how they got it lit. The district couldn’t run out of sau fast enough.

The girls at the building near the Gate seemed reliable. They met Kim in the lobby and didn’t ask questions about who exactly they’d be hiding. Kim didn’t volunteer any details. Getting caught would cost them all the same, whoever they were hiding, and it was safer this way.

He and Dej were back home just as the room was starting to wake up. Nobody wondered why the two of them were dressed already—just jealous that they’d managed to beat the bathroom traffic.

Tyen slid off his bunk without even registering Kim’s presence. He’d been in a fog for days. If anything happened while he was like this, who would they even go to for vouchers? Even in the dim light Tyen’s eyes looked heavy and bruised. Kim tried to compensate by not letting him out of his sight.

Breakfast was emptier than usual. The mess hall was maybe a third full, mostly with elders.

“If I could just talk to him,” Kim said, staring at his vegetable-mix kasha.

“The Key?” Dej said, from the opposite side of the table.

“The kid,” Kim nodded. “Sol was appointed, but Arai?” Ever since the other Key had mentioned it Kim couldn’t get it out of his head. “She’s been keeping him locked up in that room.”

“She’s here now,” Tyen said, looking somewhere beyond Kim’s shoulder. He hadn’t touched his protein stew.

“Without the kid,” Dej added. After a moment her eyes met Kim’s. “You think she keeps the door locked when she’s gone?”

No, she couldn’t, not with the kid inside. That would be ridiculous. Kim surveyed the mess hall again—most of the residents of number 8 were here.

“Go,” Tyen said. His eyes were on his food. His fingers on the table were jittery. He pulled his hand back once he noticed Kim staring.

“Go,” Dej said, more forcefully.

She was right. Tyen wasn’t alone, and the Compound was always safer than the district. He wouldn’t be gone long.

“Come on,” Dej said to Tyen, picking up her trey of half-eaten food. Kim frowned at her but she ignored him, heading for the disposal unit and forcing Tyen to follow.

Kim could either follow them to a classroom or go back to the dorms.

He took a few more spoonfuls, not trusting himself not to look suspicious if he got up immediately, and then walked as casually as he could to the exit.

While his neighborhood was bursting with people, the streets outside the Gate were deserted. Kim stuck his hands in his pockets and forced himself not to run.

He slowed down as he got closer to number 8, but no one stopped him when he tried to go inside the building. Some of the room doors were open, but he hardly saw anyone on the way to Sol’s. He imagined it was different, before she died. She had a habit of spending her days in there, getting high. She wouldn’t have let the place get so empty and quiet, probably.

He could see the door he wanted was slightly ajar, as soon as he came up the stairs. Arai would definitely have closed it when she left. Why would the kid keep it open? Maybe he was in the showers.

Kim pushed the door open wider.

The boy sat on the bed, his back against the wall, knees pulled up to his chest. He looked even smaller than Kim remembered, not wrapped up in layers of blankets and sheets.

His name is Bo, Kim reminded himself.

“Just do what you’re here to do,” Bo said, without looking up. He was wearing underwear and a uniform shirt too big for his shoulders.

For a moment Kim was lost for words. How did Bo know he’d come here?

“You should know,” Bo went on, before Kim could ask him what he meant, “I asked them to pick someone else.” Bo closed his eyes. “I did everything I could. So, whatever you’re going to do, just… just do it. I won’t fight.”

Fight?

Bo wrapped his arms around his knees. “The place where I grew up, they told us about people meeting each other again after they were dead.” He sounded like he was holding back tears.

Kim didn’t remember any stories like that from his own childhood. He wished they’d told him the dead all go somewhere else and hang out with each other, instead of staying to watch over the living.

“I miss her so much,” Bo said. “I thought I could do it myself but I… I’m glad you’re here.”

The words didn’t make sense for a second, but then everything shifted, like the room rearranging itself in front of Kim, and suddenly he understood. Bo had been sitting here waiting for someone to walk in and… reunite him with Sol? Throw him out the window? Beat him to death? Kim tried to find something in Bo’s face to make it not true.

Did he keep the door open on purpose? Did he send Arai away? Did he spend the morning sitting here, waiting, preparing himself? This was why a kid couldn’t be a Key. In a few years Bo would still be young and inexperienced, but he wouldn’t be… like this. Probably. Whatever the new Head was thinking, she was wrong. Why couldn’t anyone at the Compound see that?

“Bo,” Kim said. “I just came here to talk, I swear.”

Bo shook his head. The full weight of his resigned expression, his passive posture, was making Kim’s chest feel hollow.

“You hated her,” Bo said. The morning light from the window accentuated the dark circles under his puffy, red eyes. “You were happy she’s dead. And having me is even worse.”

Kim should have made a plan before coming here. He should have thought about what he’d say. He took a deep breath and tried to think. Arai had probably gone to the Compound for food, she wouldn’t leave a kid in this state alone for long. Even she wasn’t that stupid. Kim didn’t have a lot of time.

“Sol’s been running this place since I was your age,” he said, finally. “I… I don’t have any answers, Bo.” How would he have reacted to becoming a Key as a kid? Worse than Bo, probably. “Yes, I didn’t like a lot of what she did. But that doesn’t matter anymore, you’re not her.”

Kim turned and closed the door. It didn’t click shut but at least no one passing in the hallway would see him. Talking like this in the middle of Sol’s building was bad enough.

“Arai…” Kim tried find the right words. Sol had snapped Bo up so quickly he didn’t know anything about the district. Certainly if he thought anyone would risk killing a Key for the greater good at a time like this. Kim had to get through to him. “You can’t trust Arai. Sol didn’t.”

That got him a sharp look.

“You know that better than I do,” Kim said resolutely. “She’ll be gone in two years, and you’ll stay here with the rest of us. For a long time.”

“She’s got friends,” Bo said, looking back at his knees. “I… I can’t.”

Yeah, Arai was friends with sixthyears she knew from the Palace, and the elders who were about to leave. “I could help you make friends, Bo. I know people. People who won’t enlist in a year. People who could help you run things.” Eventually, at least. Kim couldn’t quite imagine how it would work. But anything was better than having Arai in charge. Kim thought about telling Bo what the foreign Key had promised, but he couldn’t do that without revealing other things. Trusting the kid with a secret was out of the question.

Bo let out a loud sob. “I hate it here,” he said, the words slurred through the tears. “Worse than the Palace. Every morning I keep waiting for her to open the door.”

Kim felt like his chest was slowly cracking open. How many days of waking up in this room did it take before Bo decided to do the district a favor? What had this kid done to deserve this? Nothing. Just like Tyen, just like half the people Kim knew.

“Let me…” Kim said, swallowing, trying to find the words. “Let me protect you.”

Bo shook his head, wiping at his eyes. “Arai protects me.”

The frustration made Kim take a step closer to the bed. If he sat down it might make Bo flinch, but he could still reach out. He put his fingers, hesitantly, on Bo’s exposed knee.

There was noise coming from the hallway, footsteps approaching.

Bo looked up at Kim. He didn’t look angry or surprised. His eyes were deep brown, like Dej’s, except filled with something soft and vulnerable that Kim wasn’t used to seeing. He looked fragile. Kim could see why Sol chose him.

“I just want everything to go away,” Bo said.

“You can’t just give up,” Kim told him, in the most certain tone he could muster. “Tell Arai you need to sleep somewhere else, somewhere with other people.”

“Sol gave up,” Bo said, looking away.

The footsteps in the hallway were coming closer.

Kim shook his head, clenched his fingers around Bo’s knee. It couldn’t end like this. The kid was desperate for something to believe in, some kind of hope, but Kim was out of ideas. “Let me see you again,” he said. “Please. Tell Arai you want to talk to me.”

Bo stared at him for a moment, uncertain, before nodding halfheartedly.

The footsteps were right outside the door now.

Kim was out of time.

 

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“I want a new uniform,” Elad said.

Vrei sighed. She’d probably end up skipping lunch for this.

“Brand new,” Elad went on. “Like yours.”

“You know that’s a special allowance,” Vrei said. “They requisition it without even asking us. I can’t get you one.” The truth was, Vrei probably could, but Elad hadn’t said anything useful so far. At least the fact that she was willing to talk about this here, in a small empty classroom in the middle of the Compound, with people walking by, meant she couldn’t know about the fence.

Vrei rose from the workstation, the idle screen flashing a pale pink. It was important to let Elad feel heard. “I promise I’ll help you get a newer uniform,” she said.

She heard Olin getting up from her chair too.

Elad frowned. “I thought you wanted information.”

Vrei shrugged. “Just trying to make sure everything’s good for Transfer Day.”

“Well there’s some junkie running around telling everyone you owe her. That she’s untouchable.” Elad crossed her arms over her chest. “Sound good to you?”

Now it was Vrei’s turn to frown. “What junkie?”

“Brand new uniform, Vrei,” Elad said. “I’ll be an elder in a few days. I’ve been sleeping on the worst mattress in the district for two years, I deserve this.”

That wasn’t true either, though Vrei vaguely remembered complaints about a mattress a while ago. Elad could have found lots of ways to swap with someone though, if she’d wanted to.

“I agree,” Vrei said. “And I wish I could help, but I don’t make the rules.” And someone running around spreading nonsense was definitely not worth lying to Michael.

“She threw up all over the hallway a few days ago,” Elad said. “The fourthyears came to get me because they couldn’t tell if she was lying about you owing her. Took an hour to clean up. Imagine that during the Shutdown.”

If only spontaneous vomit was Vrei’s biggest problem. If Michael saw the fence and she didn’t have a story ready the new Head would probably demote her on the spot.

There were also no fourthyears in Elad’s building.

“Who came to get you?” Vrei said.

Elad stayed silent. She sat behind a screen that flashed black-and-white, casting periodic shadows. An exam paused in the middle.

The trouble was, Vrei and Elad didn’t have a lot of friends in common. Vrei had made sure to keep the older residents on her side since she became Key, but none of them were close friends. She tried to run through the networks in her head, see if anyone she knew lived or slept with or partied with people in Elad’s circle, but every name she came up with was too distant. Elad didn’t have too many friends, and trying to get this information through a complicated chain of manipulation and gossip would take too long. A last resort would be to ask an elder for help, some of them had more authority with the residents than Vrei, but Elad was too old for that to work.

“I can maybe get you a shirt,” Vrei said. “Maybe.” She could tell Michael hers was destroyed, bring in some rag to prove it. “I can’t do better than that.”

Elad let out a huff. “I have a friend who lives in 81. I was over there for a game while the room on the second floor was occupied? The fourthyears saw me and figured I could help, I guess. I told them that junkie girl was probably lying.”

“What room?” Vrei said. “What do you mean occupied? One junkie was occupying it?”

Elad rolled her eyes. “It was when your First kicked everyone out. The weekly thing with her boy at 81? Fourthyears live in that room.”

When had Vrei asked Olin to kick anyone out of a room in that building? She tried to remember, glancing at Olin.

Olin who suddenly looked like she wanted to melt into the floor. Vrei felt a sense of wrongness spreading through the room.

“She was yelling something,” Elad went on, about the girl. “About knowing all your secrets, how you owed her forever. Supposedly it was that pale, skinny girl who hangs out with that weirdo you used to live with.”

Olin’s boy. That had to be Zher.

“The one with the broken nose?” Vrei asked, forcing herself to focus on the junkie in question.

“Yeah! She stole a blanket from my room once,” Elad grumbled.

Vrei remembered the girl. Her room wasn’t far from the fence, though she had no idea how often the girl slept there. She was one of the regular absentees on the monthly Compound attendance reports. Vrei wouldn’t be surprised if she spent most of her nights passed out outside on the sand.

She wanted to ask what Elad had meant about Olin, who else knew about the weekly “thing”, but it was time to go.

“You promised,” Elad said, again, before letting Vrei leave the room.

Vrei nodded. “Good luck on the test.”

“It’s Emergency Field Med 3352,” Elad said, cringing. Vrei gave her a sympathetic expression. The Field Med exams were all a nightmare.

Olin followed Vrei into the hallway in silence. “I was going to tell you,” she said, once they were far enough from Elad.

“It doesn’t matter,” Vrei said. She should have seen this coming. Olin had been getting worse and worse for weeks.

But the lie, that hurt.

Vrei couldn’t think about that now. Not until after the Shutdown, not until she figured out the fence. She just hoped Olin could function until then.

“I just wanted a little quiet,” Olin said, still trailing behind, as if afraid to catch up. “I’m so sorry.”

“Find Kir,” Vrei said, turning a corner and heading towards her office. She couldn’t be the one to calm Olin down right now, she was too annoyed. On top of everything, her First hiding things from her was just too much.

“Kir?”

“The girl Elad was talking about,” Vrei said. “Her name is Kir. Find a way to get her sober, I need to talk to her.”

Olin didn’t respond. Vrei walked a little slower, and Olin didn’t try to stay back. The silence between them felt awkward, but they walked together until they reached Vrei’s office.

“I…” Olin shook her head. “I just needed a little break, but I’m fine now. I swear.”

“Later,” Vrei said, mostly to herself. She took a step closer to the doors and they slid open. “Just find Kir.”

Olin took a step back, still looking haunted.

Vrei stepped inside her office and let the doors slide shut.

 

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Ebie was late.

The sun was almost gone, leaving behind a gray light that wouldn’t last for long. The building she needed was on the outskirts of the district, far away from the Compound gate. She ran up to the third floor, past kids and secondyears clustered on the stairs. If she’d been here an hour ago there would be less people, less eyes, less questions, but without Len she could barely keep up with her schedule.

The room closest to the stairs on the third floor of this building was the smallest one in 942. Not all the buildings were the same, but this particular one had a room that was half the size of a normal one, with enough space for only two bunk beds. Ebie’s favorite explanation was that they’d buried bodies in the walls during the War and then had to plaster over them.

When she pushed the door open three startled faces greeted her. Good, nearly a full house.

Two people were playing stones on one of the bottom bunks, and a girl sat by the window in her underwear, holding a torn boot.

Ebie didn’t wait for one of them to speak. “How is he?”

One of the guys playing stones was the first to recover. “Better, today,” he said uncertainly.

Ebie had to see for herself.

She didn’t bother closing the door again. She went past the showers, to the room at the end of the mostly dark hallway.

She opened the door carefully, trying to be as quiet as possible.

Currently the room had only one occupant. The boy was lying on the bottom bunk by the window, same as the last time she saw him. He was asleep, blanket draped over his legs, mouth open on the pillow. At least he looked better than two days ago. His eye was still swollen shut, his arms were mostly bruises, but his chest rose and fell easier, without the little rasps of pain Ebie remembered. At least she could be grateful for that.

She grabbed the doorframe and took a step back. This was all Vrei’s fault. Ebie had done everything humanly possible to prevent this. Nothing this violent had happened in the 942 since Ebie’s first few months as Key, when people were still testing her. She’d made sure younger residents couldn’t be magically found injured anymore, with no one to blame. She’d given up so much to make it happen, only for Vrei to let this shit back into the 942 with her negligence.

Ebie forced herself to take a breath. It was late and she felt the frustration and anger threatening to overwhelm her. She needed to sleep.

She closed the door gently.

The boy would recover. She had a plan and it would work. No one would find out and Len would be safe and everything would go back to normal. She tried to keep those thoughts in her head on the short walk back to the room by the stairs.

Inside, no one was playing stones anymore.

“You’ve been changing his bandages?” Ebie asked, closing the door behind herself.

“Before first bell,” said the girl holding her torn boot. She’d put on a shirt while Ebie was gone. “And as soon as we get back from the Compound.”

Ebie believed her. They boy’s bed was clean—no blood or drool on the sheets.

“We’ll move him tomorrow night,” Ebie said. “I’ll help you get him to the Compound. You’ll hand him over to someone else.” She rubbed her palms into her eyes, trying to make them ache less. “Now let’s talk about what you owe me.”

“Wait,” said one of the guys on the bed. “We thought—”

Ebie looked up just in time to see the other guy silence him with a hand on his knee.

“This is just basic clean up,” Ebie went on. Her legs ached, though she’d spent most of the day sitting. “You still owe me for letting this happen in the first place.”

“Ebie, we don’t even know who did it,” the girl said. “He was out by the fence alone, yes, but this… Secondyears—they’re practically kids. They’re always doing something stupid—”

“You’re the oldest people in this building,” Ebie interrupted. “You knew what that meant when you took this room.”

“I begged you for a year!” said the guy who’d been silent before.

Ebie remembered. He’d told her all kinds of touching stories about why he and his three friends had to live alone together, why this room was made for them.

“It was just a fight,” the girl said. Ebie remembered her too, from the Palace. They’d never been friends, but she was one of the people everyone assumed would be a Key one day. She used to be a good little politician when they were younger. Definitely more impressive than Ebie.

“In this building there’s practically a brawl over the showers every morning!” the girl went on. “Come on, Ebie.”

“He can’t walk!” Ebie said, hearing her voice rise. She forced herself to take a breath. “He’d cost us a week of vouchers, if we had any left. He’ll be in recovery for months. It was your job to watch him. All of you. If you can’t prevent shit like this, then you’re useless to me in this building. I can find someone else to take this room who’ll make sure the secondyears don’t murder each other.”

The girl nodded, appeasing. “We can try to find whoever did this. Wouldn’t that help? Probably someone from this neighborhood—”

“No,” Ebie said. “There’s no time for that.” There would never be time, because making this public would mean Len finding out, and she couldn’t risk that. “Fights like this don’t just happen. Everyone in this building is counting on you.”

“We know,” said one of the guys on the bed. His fingers were clenched around three stones of different colors.

“You’re out of this room after Transfer Day,” Ebie said, turning to leave.

“You can’t do that,” said the girl. “Please.”

“If you don’t disappoint me again until then,” Ebie said, “I’ll consider putting all of you in the same building.”

She left without looking back. The stairs were still crowded, the sky outside was a dark grey. She still had at least three hours of paperwork to go over.

 

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2 Days Until Transfer Day

Kim was lying in bed, back pressed against the wall. Tyen’s fingers brushed lazily against his hair. There was something comforting about the lack of space, Tyen’s arms too tight around him, the room a little too hot. It forced Kim out of his head.

They’d have to get up soon.

Kim wasn’t looking at the door until he registered the quiet. The sliver of hallway visible through the half-open door looked frozen. Two boys in the middle of an argument were staring at something. A girl stood still with a towel half wrapped around her head.

Then Kim heard the sound of steps, echoing against the stone floors. A few people, walking together.

He felt Tyen tense against him.

People were moving out of the way, letting someone pass. The steps came closer and closer, until finally the door opened fully, revealing… Bo.

Dressed in the kind of brand new uniform Sol used to wear. Clean, his hair pulled back from his face. Only the puffiness of his eyes reminded Kim of the boy at number 8.

Arai stood behind him, next to two elders. Kim wondered what she’d promised them to drag them all the way out to this neighborhood.

Arai spoke first. “The Key wants to talk to you,” she locked eyes with Kim. “Alone.”

This was going to turn into a mess. No way to avoid it. Kim hadn’t told his friends about asking to see Bo again, didn’t tell them what state Bo was in. It hadn’t seemed important. If Bo summoned him, there would be hope. Otherwise, they were stuck with Arai.

But now he needed everyone to get out, no questions, no arguments. This opportunity was precious, and Arai would use any excuse to make Bo leave. A few months ago Kim had watched her laugh while two elders described tying a boy’s ankles to his bed every night. It was a miracle Bo was here at all.

Kim climbed out of his bed, trying not to wince at Tyen’s worried look. Dej was in the shower, which was good. He looked over the room. Three of his roommates looked back, all frozen in the process of getting dressed.

Kim turned to face Arai. “Yeah,” he said. “Of course.”

It had probably been Arai’s idea to come here so early, instead of letting Bo talk to Kim at the Compound, like a person. While Kim’s friends grabbed whatever they needed and walked out, giving Kim stares that ranged from annoyed to excited, Kim pulled on a pair of clean underwear and his nicer uniform pants.

Tyen was the last to leave. He looked from Bo to Arai to Kim as he pulled on his boots, not saying anything. Nothing bad could happen, Kim reminded himself. Arai had dragged two elders here, but that was nothing compared to how many people in this building were on Kim’s side.

Tyen gave Kim’s hair a quick kiss before walking out. Kim hoped he’d find Dej before she could barge in.

After everyone was gone Bo stepped inside the room, followed by Arai. Kim should have known she wouldn’t let them talk alone.

“I want to offer you a… a deal,” Bo said, as Arai closed the door. “You get what you want, I get what I want, everybody…” he took a deep breath, “everybody wins.”

That definitely sounded like an Arai plan. “What do you think I want?” Kim said.

“I don’t know,” Bo shook his head. A few delicate strands of hair fell down his neck. “Anything. Whatever you say. Double mattress, a new room, extra food rations.”

“Right,” Kim said. “So, I help you, me and my friends get whatever we want, and she stays in charge?” He didn’t look at Arai.

“Yeah,” Bo said, looking relieved.

“No deal,” Kim said. “She’s not a Key, Sol picked her.” And Kim would stab himself before he let Arai keep running things Sol’s way. Nothing was worth that. “It’s me or her, Bo.”

Arai pushed away from the stretch of wall she’d been leaning against and took a step closer to Kim. “You can’t be his First,” she said, in a tone that a week ago would have made Kim shiver. “You know even less about this job than he does.”

“Me or her,” Kim said, not taking his eyes off Bo.

“You’ll get all the perks,” Arai said. “You don’t want the responsibility, trust me. This place is falling apart.”

“I know!” Kim looked at her despite himself. “I’m glad you noticed.”

Arai shook her head and took another step in Kim’s direction.

Kim wasn’t afraid. Not here. Arai couldn’t drag him away from this building, not anymore. His heart was pounding, but he’d spent too many years making sure not to look her directly in the eyes to look away now. He couldn’t see what Bo was doing, and in that moment he didn’t care.

“A Key died, you piece of shit.” Arai’s voice was quiet, and when she moved Kim couldn’t help a flinch. Before he could draw air into his lungs again he realized she’d taken a step back.

“I’ll be outside,” she said, before opening the door and then slamming it shut.

“Please,” Bo said. “I need you.”

It was too much. Kim couldn’t focus. The right words were on the tip of his tongue but the drumming in his chest made concentration impossible. “I won’t help you keep everything the same,” Kim said, finally.

Bo nodded. “We’ll change things.”

“With her?” Kim said.

Bo’s face looked like it was about to crumble. “I can’t do this without her.”

It made Kim remember the boy curled up on a bed, waiting to die.

“I can’t,” Bo said. He looked like he wanted to say something else but his mouth wouldn’t form the words.

Kim rubbed his hands over his face. Every part of him screamed that Arai would keep things running Sol’s way. In three days they’d get new kids from the Palace and Arai would make sure they knew their place. Except with Sol gone, the new elders wouldn’t listen to Arai. Sol didn’t restrain them much, but it was something.

Kim could feel Bo’s eyes on him, but he didn’t want to look up. He wasn’t ready. He couldn’t handle Arai and Tyen and keeping his grades up and trying to keep the district functional and doing favors for foreign Keys. He just couldn’t.

But the alternative… Everything was chaos right now, but when things settled, after Transfer Day, it could get worse. Much worse. Especially for people like Tyen.

Kim gave himself one last deep breath before deciding.

“Housing stuff,” he said, finally. “Can I be in charge of that, instead of Arai?”

“Yeah,” Bo said, wiping at his eyes.

“And Compound attendance?” If Kim was in charge of the records—however that worked—he’d have leverage with the new elders.

“Anything,” Bo said. “Just, please, I want…” he trailed off again, eyes on the door handle.

“Tell me,” Kim said. If this was going to work he needed Bo to trust him. To like him. If Arai kept being his crutch Kim would be back where he’d started in a month. “What do you want?”

“A life.” Bo sounded hoarse. “After.”

Of course. The one thing Kim could offer. The real reason Bo was here.

Kim took a step closer to Bo, until they were centimeters apart. “You’ll get that. I promise.”

Bo closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around Kim’s body. His cheeks were wet against the skin of Kim’s collarbone.

He was so young. Kim wasn’t ready, but this boy… how did they pick him? Why?

“Thank you,” Bo whispered.

 

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Vrei spent her morning arguing with a bunch of thirdyears about the ugly drawings on the walls of their room. She usually asked her friends for help with the rounds before the Shutdown, but this room had been cleared twice and there were still rumors of “decorations” floating around. Or rather, scratch marks traced with a mixture of sand and juice from the mess hall.

She had to admit the animals in the pictures looked pretty realistic, but the drawings had to be wiped off. The scratches were unfixable, but without the colors Michael might not realize they’d been trying to get artistic. She’d had to explain for the fifth time that covering everything up with piles of clothes and pillows won’t work. Then she had to stand and watch them clean the walls for real.

It was easier to promise they could fill in the colors again after the Shutdown. That and coming here before first bell, when they were in a rush to get to the Compound, made the argument shorter.

Olin came to find her when there was hardly any color left on the walls. She still looked like Vrei had caught her smashing workstations.

“She’s conscious,” Olin said.

It didn’t matter, Vrei thought on the way to Kir’s building. Compared to Sol, to the fence, to the new Head, this little lie was nothing. Olin had never lied before, Vrei was pretty sure. She worked hard and she was loyal. She never said no when Vrei asked her to do things and she remembered times and dates and details better than Vrei did. She was allowed a few perks, occasionally, like kicking some fourthyears out of their room. She’d earned it.

So why the lie? Why hadn’t she just told Vrei she needed a room? Why turn it into a secret, make Zher lie along the way?

By the time they got to Kir’s room it was past first bell, and Kir’s roommates were all at the Compound.

Kir was still in bed, looking worse than the last time Vrei saw her. There were dark, puffy circles under her eyes and red spots all over her face and arms. She looked weak, probably from spending the last day thrashing and sweating out the sau, but she wasn’t high anymore. Vrei usually dragged people to Susanna long before the sau poisoning got that bad.

Vrei dragged a chair over to Kir’s bed and sat down. “I’m glad you’re awake.”

Kir’s eyes met hers. At least they seemed focused and clear. “I didn’t do anything.”

“No one’s saying you did,” Vrei said. “I only wanted to ask you about a rumor. You’ve been telling people I owe you?”

Kir tried to sit up higher but her arms wouldn’t hold her up. The area around her bed was clean—no clothes, no dirty laundry. She’d clearly been sleeping somewhere else for a while, before Olin tracked her down.

“No, no,” Kir said. “I never said that. I just said I have something for you. A present. You’ll understand when you hear it.”

Vrei could hear Olin’s sigh, close to the door. She didn’t have to look to know she was rolling her eyes. It stung, that Olin had been keeping her own secrets lately.

“Who helped you deactivate the fence?” Vrei said, focusing back on the real problem. “How did you do it?” It was a gamble, but Kir wasn’t a good liar when she was like this.

“I wasn’t even there.” Kir shook her head frantically. “It wasn’t my fault.”

Finally. Having the lie out in the open was a relief. “Yes, you were,” Vrei said. “You’ve been on a bender since it happened. I need the facts, Kir.”

Instead of answering Kir turned her face to the wall and drew in air like a sob.

Vrei wondered if people did this to Ebie. She couldn’t imagine anyone trying.

“I don’t have time for this,” Vrei said. “I need to know what you did to the fence.”

“I was… I was high,” Kir said, after a long pause. Her voice was muffled by the wall. “I don’t remember.”

Vrei leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. Kir was clearly waiting for an offer, for Vrei to say she wouldn’t be punished. But Vrei couldn’t make that kind of promise until she knew the full story.

There was another way this could go.

“I can’t just send you to rehab,” Vrei said. “It’s the third time this year. Susanna won’t take you.”

Kir looked up, eyes dry and hopeful.

“She’ll want something drastic,” Vrei went on. “To prove it’ll stick.”

Kir took slow, labored breaths, eyes glued to Vrei. Her face was still sweaty. It would take another day for the sau to be out of her system completely.

“I could recommend,” Vrei said slowly, as if considering every word, “sending you to the Palace.”

Kir didn’t make a sound but her face looked like Vrei was offering to break her legs with a mallet.

“A structured environment,” Vrei went on. “The chores will give you something to do. It won’t even be that hard, at your age. I’m sure they’ll make an exception and let you skip classes for a while.”

“You can’t,” Kir said, quietly.

Vrei put her hands in her pockets. “I don’t want to,” she said. “But you won’t help me.”

“Please, Vrei,” Kir said. “I have something better to tell you. Something valuable. The fence is… it’s over.”

Vrei looked at the ceiling. She hated when people made her angry. She smoothed her hands down the buttons of her shirt and got up.

“No, wait!” Kir said. “There was a… locker. Or, I don’t know, like a closet, in the Compound. It was just this panel sticking out of the wall, and it had all this stuff inside.” She swallowed, and Vrei could see her trying to sanitize what came next. “We took it, just to try. We were going to bring it back. It was mostly broken or something, it didn’t do anything.”

That was clearly a lie, but Vrei would have to deal with that later.

“There was this stick, it worked on electronics,” Kir went on. “It turned off a workstation, it made the gate open. But it always fixed things too. The workstations were all fine,” Kir added in a hurry. “But then it… it broke, I guess. I don’t really remember. The fence was just… not there after we used it. I don’t know why.”

Fantastic. Vrei gave herself a moment, let the information arrange itself in her head. Until now some part of her had been hoping the fence was fixable somehow, but no, she had to accept that Michael would see it. It was only a question of what she could come up with to make it sting less. A story about junkies and stolen Compound property couldn’t be it.

She had to find everyone who’d been with Kir that night, make sure the stories added up. Find out what else they’d managed to damage. Vrei bent over, took a long breath, tried to focus.

There was too much to do and too little time until the Shutdown. She had to concentrate on the essentials. “The tools,” she said. “Where are they?”

Kir looked at the wall again. “We buried them. Somewhere behind the building, I don’t know where exactly.”

She had to dig them up, or at least try. If things went wrong she could use them to show Michael she had things under control. She turned to Olin but they’d clearly been thinking the same thing. Olin nodded before opening the door. She could start rounding up their people so they could start digging.

“Who else was with you?” Vrei said, once Olin was outside.

Kir shook her head again. “We all blacked out. I barely remember what happened. It… it was a long night.”

More lies. Vrei could get Kir to spit out the details but it would take an hour at least. Vrei already had so much to do. She’d come back tonight, see if she could get anything out of Kir then.

Vrei stood up.

“Wait,” Kir said, with a new urgency. She struggled to sit up. “I can help you get more vouchers. I know about something you can use.”

Vrei needed to get back to work. This nonsense had lasted long enough.

“You remember Cecilia?” Kir said, as Vrei turned to go. “You remember when she left? You let me go to her retirement party?”

Vrei did remember. Most people preferred to saw off a limb rather than spend time with their fluff minder, but Kir got a personal invitation. Michael had given special permission to a few of Cecilia’s favorites. Vrei certainly wasn’t invited.

“She said I reminded her of her own kids,” Kir said, sounding desperate. “She used to tell me things. Like, about this boy, how he couldn’t stop crying the whole year he was in the Palace. Cecilia even let him sleep in her rooms for a while. He used to scream whenever anyone touched him, used to have fits, in the middle of kitchen duty, anytime someone got close. Susanna doped him up for a week and he still came out wrong!”

“Amazing,” Vrei said, opening the door. Kir’s bargaining was usually better than this. The sau must have really fried her brain this time.

“Listen!” Kir said. “He’s a First now. At one of the other districts.”

Vrei couldn’t help but turn around. “Wow. This is better than that time you tried to pass an exam by pouring soup on the screen.”

What did Kir even know about other districts? The only guy who was a currently a First was Len, who looked like he could break a building in half. Vrei couldn’t imagine him crying himself to sleep for months at the Palace. And the idea of Ebie picking someone like that?

“The other Key is keeping it a secret!” Kir said. “You can use it when you fight over vouchers, right? I’ve got so many stories you could use.”

So that was the connection. Vrei shook her head. It was original. No one had tried to bargain with her before with information about other Keys.

“Vrei, please,” Kir said.

“If you manage to stay clean until the Shutdown,” Vrei said, stepping into the hallway. “I might reconsider sending you to the Palace.” Kir was probably too weak to get herself a pipe in the next few hours, but who knew. Vrei needed her sober until she came up with a plan. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

She went down the stairs, walking towards the Compound. She needed a private meeting with Michael.

 

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Ebie wandered the dark streets of 942. She was dizzy, but not so much that she couldn’t stay upright.

It was done, finally. Classes were officially over and the workstations were all powered down until after Transfer Day. Ebie couldn’t force herself to stare at the walls of her office anymore.

She still had reports in the morning, and a meeting with the Head, but she’d gone over every detail, every room, every resident, and the district was ready for inspection. She walked, looking up at the stars, enjoying the quiet. For once, she had nowhere to be.

Tomorrow would be a long day, and the day after would be even longer. She had to sleep. Her eyes hurt when she blinked, a sharp pain that made her tear up. The darkness helped, like a soft blanket. The last days were always the worst.

She stopped in front of number 14. Parties weren’t allowed the night before the Shutdown, but the smell of sau was so strong it had to be coming from some get-together. She thought about ignoring it, walking more, until her body eventually gave up and surrendered to tiredness, but… this was Leo’s building. Leo had always been responsible. She’d never had to take care of problems at 14 ever since he moved in. He was one of the few people she’d slowly learned to trust.

And now he was two days away from becoming an elder.

Still, she had to be sure. Everything had to be perfect for tomorrow.

The smell was coming from the first floor. Ebie walked slowly, until she saw the open door, third on the right. Inside the dark room she could see over a dozen people, strewn across the floor. No one was touching the beds, which was probably Leo’s design. The room was mostly quiet, with people lying on top of each other like limp dolls. When Ebie stepped inside the smell of sau was so thick it made her cough.

She spotted Leo slumped against the wall by the window. He didn’t seem unconscious, which was a good sign. Maybe she could just turn and leave? Trust him to make everything presentable by morning? She was too tired for a confrontation.

She was startled by the sound of clapping. It was Leo, up on his feet, stepping over hands and feet to come closer to her. A few people joined in, slapping their palms together, apparently all looking at her.

“Come on,” Leo said, when he came close enough to see Ebie’s confused expression. His smile looked apologetic. “We made it through another year. You got us through it.” He bent down, picked up a pipe someone was holding and offered it to Ebie. “I promise everything will be clean by tomorrow.”

She hadn’t smoked in months. Between classes during the day and Key stuff at night she rarely had the time. Especially when she had to do all her exams early, weeks before everyone else, so she could focus on Transfer Day.

She could leave. She probably should. It wasn’t a good idea, getting high in public. But her legs felt so heavy, and tomorrow was important, and her body wouldn’t let her fall asleep for hours. She could feel her brain buzzing with restless energy.

She took the pipe and stepped over three arms and a stomach to sink into the corner of the room. Hunched over, legs pressed to her chest, she took a long hit. The smoke felt bitter on her tongue, and then sweet. Another hit and breathing felt easier. Like her lungs were unfolding, taking in more air.

She closed her eyes. In a few years it would be her last Shutdown. She’d have someone to train as a replacement. She wondered if she’d be sad when she stepped on the shuttle. People always said the sadness hit you right at the end.

She inhaled through the pipe again. It was too weird to think about.

The walls and the furniture were starting to blend together. Everything was spinning but not in a way that made her nauseous. In a pleasant way, like mild turbulence. At least she could still tell the wall against her back was solid. She took another hit. Around her there was nothing but darkness, soft and inviting, and in front of her… in front of her was Len.

He was hunched over too, like the room wasn’t big enough to contain him. The thought made her smile. He was probably imaginary. She’d been seeing him a lot when she closed her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Len said, and the smile slid off Ebie’s lips.

The Len in her head would never open with that.

“Should I go?” he said. His face turned away and Ebie’s arm shot out to stop him. She grabbed nothing but air but Len’s face came back.

“Stay,” she said.

“Am I forgiven?” he asked. The sound of his voice was making something solid form in her throat. Breathing was getting harder again.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” she said. The thing behind her back didn’t feel so solid anymore. She took another hit.

“You should sleep,” he said.

“I know.” She didn’t know how to explain that her room might as well have been at Central Processing. Her limbs were too heavy to move.

He gestured for the pipe and Ebie handed it over. He took a long hit, bending his head back and blowing smoke at the ceiling.

“Are you real?” Ebie said.

He smiled. She’d missed his smile.

“Come on,” he said, drawing his arms around Ebie. She hugged him back, but then the room really started spinning. The pipe was gone and so was Leo and she couldn’t feel the ground under her feet anymore.

But Len was here, warm and solid. She didn’t care about anything else. When she opened her eyes to see the door to her room she realized her arms were around Len’s neck, and his were holding her up. No part of her was touching the floor. She let him fish the room key from her pocket. Moving was still too much work.

He put her down on the bed, gently, like she was a pillow. She grabbed his arm when he tried to pull away.

She’d managed to keep everything quiet, do all the favors and deals and disgusting things she hated, and it was done, however tomorrow went. She’d gone behind Sol’s back, and Vrei’s. She’d paid the price she had to.

She needed Len back now.

He helped her peel the uniform off when her fingers wouldn’t cooperate, and then climbed in next to her. The bed felt crowded again, but it was like every muscle in her body could finally stop straining.

She rested her head on his shoulder as he settled, with his back against the wall. The room was too hot for a blanket, but her body felt cold from the sau. She remembered smoking it as a kid, how it made the weather more bearable before she got used to it.

Len pulled something soft over both of them.

She didn’t know whether her eyes were open anymore. The darkness was everywhere and Ebie wished she could just sink into it and never wake up.

Sol was staring at her from the floor. She was lying still, right next to Ebie’s bed. Her eyes were bigger than Ebie remembered, and there was blood slowly dripping out of her nose. Ebie tried squeezing her eyes shut a few times, until finally the floor was back to being clean stone.

“I’ll always protect you,” Ebie whispered against the skin of Len’s arm. Whether he was real or imaginary, he had to know.

She could feel his even breaths, chest puffing up on every inhale. “I know,” he said. “I love you too.”

 

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1 Day Until Transfer Day

Claudia found it astonishing how slowly new information spread through the school. News of her trial broke before she’d opened her eyes that morning, and yet it wasn’t until after breakfast that she could tell all the adults she encountered had seen the footage. The bulletins were full of pictures of the carcass of Claudia’s ship, official statements from her former subordinates taken from the court records, even holopics from the funerals.

No one said anything outright, but by noon Claudia was queasy from the awkward silences, the averted eyes. Her entire staff looked like they were trying to wrestle their questions to the ground. No one in this school had deluded themselves that she’d been sent here as a promotion, but they hadn’t expected her to be this big of a disaster.

The only person who seemed to be unchanged was Michael. Handing her the daily reports and going through her schedule, his tone was devoid of the insolence she’d almost grown accustomed to. Claudia didn’t have the mental energy to piece together why that was. Perhaps he was afraid of what she might do to him, now that the she had nothing to lose.

After breakfast, Claudia ducked back into her quarters for a few glasses of the precious liquid she’d brought with her. It was better to do that, she thought, than try to survive the day sober. The grand tour of the school would begin in an hour—she needed her strength.

She drank until the images she’d seen on the news that morning, that she kept seeing whenever anyone gave her one of those cautious, apprehensive looks, dulled and faded. Until she could look at the drab walls of her room and see nothing but the usual depressing decor. She wondered how soon she’d get her new orders. They probably wouldn’t let her stay here. Even in a place this backwards, she couldn’t be allowed to fill a senior role.

The worst part was, Claudia thought, she wouldn’t change anything if she could go back. She’d been given a covert retrieval mission, supplies in the buffer zone, abandoned during the War. She’d personally overseen navigation, spent weeks double-checking intelligence to make sure she’d have a clear route. Even the fact that all her precautions failed and they did end up running into a patrol ship from the other side shouldn’t have mattered. Her ship was supposed to have a civilian signature. Nothing Claudia could have controlled caused the mistake.

And the firefight, after… well. When she first woke up, in the hospital, she thought perhaps the death toll would be enough for the diplomats to smooth it over. Martin’s life alone could be considered a fair market price for avoiding another war.

She put the bottle to her lips again.

Claudia could have spent the rest of her life rotting here—she’d made her peace with that, mostly. But now… now a public trial was inevitable. She had to appreciate the irony—all that secrecy, and what they’d ended up with was a spectacle.

The fact that no one had informed her, given her a heads-up that the information had leaked… it made the outcome nearly certain. No one wanted to touch her now that she wasn’t just mildly toxic but a full blown nuclear disaster.

Claudia took one last sip before getting up. She was late for her next meeting.

A sixteen year old acting like she was entitled to Claudia’s professional attention was hard to take seriously on a good day, let alone when the girl in question was asking Claudia for a preposterous favor. A meeting, scheduled weeks in advance, just to ask that her XO be allowed to skip the grand tour of the school. Claudia wondered if this was a ruse, if the girl had wanted something else entirely but was trying to draw Claudia out, see how far she could push her to ignore protocol.

“The answer is no,” Claudia said. Did the children even have access to the broad information networks? Technically not, but Claudia wouldn’t put anything past Ebie.

“Michael’s already approved it,” the girl said, as if that meant Claudia should follow suit. “I’ve been leaving him in the district since the first year I was Key,”

That sounded likely. Claudia could easily believe the previous heads of this school let the students bend the rules any way they wished. If Ebie had hoped to catch Claudia unprepared, she was about to be disappointed. “If the other Firsts can do it, so can yours.”

The girl seemed lost for words for a moment. When she regained herself her expression was a far cry from her usual sullenness. “Please. He’s so exhausted by this point, If I drag him through the Shutdown I won’t get any help on Transfer Day. I need this, as a favor.”

Ebie normally had an odd, detached way of doing business. The sudden solicitousness was highly suspicious. “There’s no haggling in this office,” Claudia said. “You could send him to medical, but you haven’t. Now you expect me to make an exception so you can continue hoarding vouchers?”

The girl took a deep breath, as if trying to come up with more arguments. She clearly hadn’t anticipated Claudia’s resistance. She’d thought the morning bulletins would turn Claudia into a cowering idiot.

“If there’s anything—” Ebie began, but the door interrupted her, opening with a chime and revealing the head doctor’s face.

Claudia was already tired of her perpetual cheerfulness. She wasn’t looking forward to prison, or wherever they sent her next, but at least she could be certain after this post there would be fewer annoying underlings to deal with.

Susanna looked from the girl to Claudia. “I’m sorry, should we postpone?”

“No,” Claudia said, and then looked at Ebie. “Your ten minutes are up. Get out.”

The girl grabbed the edge of Claudia’s desk. “Colonel, please, let me just—”

“Get out,” Claudia said again, in the tone it had taken her a decade to perfect, the one she used to discipline her officers.

The girl got up, surrounded by a halo of violence. Claudia watched her carefully, almost hoping she’d do something, give Claudia an excuse to burst.

But no further response came. The doors slid shut and Susanna sat down. Claudia pretended to look at the numbers on the sheets Susanna pulled up and nodded along.

This day would be without end.

 

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Vrei’s hands were shaking. She smoothed her spare uniform, freshly back from the laundry, for the third time since getting dressed. She tried not to walk too quickly. The sun was already out, though it wasn’t as oppressively hot as it would be in a few hours. Sweat stains before the Shutdown even started were a bad idea. She needed to feel her best to make this work.

“It’ll never happen again, just so you know.” Olin said, after a short silence, walking beside her. “I’m sorry. I’m strong now, I promise.”

“Was it Zher’s idea?” she asked, because it was the one thing she had to know. Were her friends lying to her too?

It took a moment before Olin answered. “No. Not really.”

Vrei kept walking, looking straight ahead. She shouldn’t have asked. There was no place in her head for this today.

Of course Ebie and Len were already waiting when Vrei and Olin got to the Head’s office, even though Vrei had made sure to come early. When the doctors and maintenance workers and every other adult finally showed up the Head announced the first district to be inspected would be the 745. Vrei tried to hide her sigh of relief.

Ebie’s district looked even better than last year. Every floor was polished, every bathroom looked like it had been cleaned a few minutes ago. No matter what building Michael picked the people in every room stood next to their beds, backs straight, hands behind their backs, and only talked when spoken to.

After the 745 it was the 331’s turn.

The Shutdown had always seemed stupid to Vrei, before she became a Key. Even the Head had to know none of the districts really looked like this. It took a few months of Key meetings before Vrei understood.

The Shutdown was currency. It wasn’t about the day-to-day, it was about Vrei proving she was in control, that she could be trusted. For a year she’d have to fight for resources, ask Michael for favors, propose things, and all people would remember was the Shutdown. The better her district looked, the more power she had.

As they progressed through the buildings Vrei’s heart threatened to tear out of her chest. Her skin felt warm and clammy. Olin took over explanations and answers to Michael’s questions, like they’d rehearsed. Vrei needed some breathing room. She wouldn’t be able to pull off the lie if Michael’s attention was on her the whole time.

As they got deeper into the district, for a moment it seemed the Head would stop the inspection before they got to the fence. She looked half asleep and more annoyed with every moment.

“A few more, Colonel,” Michael said, as if he too could see her patience was running low.

Vrei felt her throat close up. She forced herself to keep walking.

Susanna was the first one to notice the hole, after everyone else had gone inside a new building. She gasped and grabbed one of the nurses, making the Head come outside, followed by Michael, and then Vrei was pushing ahead of everyone and running towards the fence.

“Stop!” she heard Michael yell, but she kept running. There were footsteps behind her and then someone grabbing her and pulling her back. It was Arai. Vrei struggled, but not too hard. They were only a few steps ahead of the others.

When Arai let her go Vrei collapsed on the ground, landing on her palms in the dust. She stared up at the fence with her mouth open before burying her face in her hands. When she looked up everyone was huddled around her. She pushed one of the nurses away when he tried to take her pulse.

“This…” she said, letting her nervousness affect her breathing. She looked up at Michael. “This… I don’t know… It wasn’t here yesterday.”

She climbed to her feet and came closer to the fence, slowly. Behind her she could feel everyone brace themselves. She ran her hand next to the shimmering blue wires, right next to the edges of the hole, before Olin grabbed her and pulled her away again.

Vrei didn’t struggle this time.

“It’s my fault,” Olin said, letting her go. She sounded a little stiff, but looked believably devastated. “I should have done another round this morning. I’m so sorry,” She turned to the Head and looked at the ground. “The Key didn’t know. I should have… I should have tried harder.”

That definitely sounded rehearsed. Vrei tried to make up for it. “It’s my responsibility,” she said, looking at Michael. “I… I don’t know how this happened. It’s my failure.”

Michael didn’t say anything. He came closer to the fence, examining the damage. The Head was quiet too. Probably waiting for him to decide what Vrei deserved.

“When did this happen?” Michael said, finally, turning to face Vrei.

“I don’t know,” Vrei said, trying to sound lost and overwhelmed. “It had to be last night or this morning.” She let her tone become more solid. “I’ll find out. I swear, I’ll find out.”

“A little late, don’t you think?” Michael said. He was frowning. She had to let him get angry. He liked to be right and liked it even more when people groveled. Vrei usually had other ways of getting what she wanted, but this one she had to play safe.

“I’ll turn this place upside down,” Vrei said with conviction. “I’ll find whoever did this, Michael. I’ll… I’ll find out why.”

“And how,” the Head said, startling Vrei. “They didn’t chew through steel and current.”

“I’ll find out,” Vrei said. “I’m just…” she buried her hands in her hair again, hiding her face. She rubbed her eyes against her arms, to make them seem redder. “I don’t know how this happened,” she said, finally, looking up at Michael again. “I don’t know how we can keep going. I just… I’m sorry.”

She looked at the ground, at Michael’s shoes—dark green, not like her blue uniform boots—and waited. He could call off the Shutdown, say they’d move on to the 945, which would mean he blamed Vrei for this. She wouldn’t get another chance to show him the district and the last thing he’d remember would be this.

“All right,” Michael said, exchanging a look with the Head before turning his eyes on Vrei. “I think we can proceed for now.”

“I swear, I’ll find out what happened,” Vrei said, not letting herself look up. “You can demote me right now, I won’t sleep until I fix it.”

She already had a plan to dump the tools Kir had buried in the kitchens tomorrow. No one would blame the fluffs, and beyond that every district had access. She’d send Kir to Susanna, let her start rehab, let Michael cool off for a few days before bringing him a confession. A junkie, alone, an accident. Everything about the problem would be taken care of already. It was the only way Vrei could get her reputation back.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Michael said. He didn’t smile, which would have been ideal, but he didn’t seem angry either. “Let’s go.”

The longer they stayed in the district now the better.

She kept up the act for the rest of the tour. She needed to seem distracted, angry, restless. She had to show Michael that there was no space for him to be any of those things too. They passed by Kir’s building and kept walking, and Vrei’s shoulders felt lighter for the first time in days. It wouldn’t have been a disaster if Michael saw Kir now, clean and presentable. He probably wouldn’t remember her. But it was easier that he hadn’t. It gave Vrei more freedom to spin whatever she had to, later.

Stepping out of the 331, finally, back into the Compound, felt like a rush. Vrei let herself get lost in the group, letting someone else take the lead. Her body felt like she’d been running for hours. It didn’t hit her until she was stepping out of the gate that it was Sol’s turn now.

She could barely focus, but to her eyes the 945 looked the same as the year before. The streets reasonably clean, the people all tucked away in their buildings. Vrei didn’t feel ready. There had been so much to do, she hadn’t considered this part. She didn’t remember where Sol lived, so with every new building she wondered if there would be a lock at the end of a hallway. She stayed close to Olin. Walking together felt better, somehow. She tried to catch Ebie’s eye, but Ebie was dealing in her own way, as usual. Her face was serious and heavy and she only had eyes for Len.

Inside the rooms and bathrooms things were worse. The younger residents didn’t know how to answer Michael’s questions and Arai didn’t always know to step in. The Head frowned at the dirty tracks and disheveled beds. Bo was mostly quiet.

It was selfish, but Vrei couldn’t help but feel lighter with every new flaw. The worse the 945 looked, the less Michael would remember the fence. How could he punish her in a year when Sol’s district looked like this?

And no one expected Bo to know how to wrangle everything. Michael wouldn’t punish him, but the mess still made Vrei look better in comparison.

She probably deserved every horrible thing Ebie had ever said about her for thinking like that.

After the districts the Head inspected every part of the Compound, not that it mattered. It wasn’t like anyone would be punished if the medical equipment or the cooking machines or the maintenance gadgets were broken.

The last stop was the Fluff Palace. Since the Keys had no access to it, Vrei only saw it once a year. The fluffs seemed to get younger every year, arranged in orderly semi-circles next to their beds. Looking over the endless rows of bunks in giant, windowless rooms. Vrei couldn’t believe she’d ever felt at home here.

Another thing she couldn’t believe was how much Bo looked like one of them. He was small for his age, but seeing him next to the boy Vrei usually saw cleaning the soup dispensers was disturbing. Arai looked more embarrassed than she had at the 945.

After that Michael took them to dinner, in a large room that was usually locked, next to the Head’s quarters. Firsts weren’t invited. Vrei hugged Olin, letting herself breathe for a few seconds.

The worst was over. Whatever happened, Vrei had done everything she could.

She was the last one to step inside. Most of the seats around the giant table, cobbled together from smaller desks, were already taken. Ebie looked like she wanted to strangle someone and Bo looked like he was waiting for someone to strangle him, but Vrei was too tired and too hungry to care. It was dark outside and she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Michael smiled while everyone unwrapped the bowls of food, waiting here since the morning, and didn’t look at Vrei specifically, which was a good sign. She wanted to be on his mind as little as possible.

Somehow the food at the end of the Shutdown always tasted better, fancier than Vrei was used to. Maybe it was that the fluffs knew it was their last day before transferring and did something weird with the machines.

The nurses passed around a bottle of clear liquid that smelled sweet and tasted like vomit. Vrei took a few gulps and pushed her glass aside. She could feel herself get lightheaded already, like after half a pipe of sau. She had to stay sharp enough to keep her food down, not look too disoriented. Michael couldn’t see her letting go.

She got up when Michael started shaking hands with everyone. She felt dizzy. Maybe she’d eaten too fast, maybe she drank more than she should have. Maybe it was the lack of sleep catching up with her. She could barely stand up straight while everyone said their goodbyes. She saw Ebie roll her eyes impatiently and finally walk out without waiting for Michael to officially let them go. Bo was stuck between too many people—he’d probably stay until the end. Vrei couldn’t afford to. She had to go back and check on Olin.

She managed to get out of the restricted staff area and into 331’s section of the Compound, but after that the corridors became impossible to keep track of, even though she knew them by heart. She realized she’d made a detour when the gate, leading outside, didn’t appear where it should have. She turned back. She had to be close to the exit. Another turn left and two more corridors and she found herself next to an emergency door. Suddenly the map clicked in her head—instead of being by the gate she was by the border, where her district connected with Ebie’s. She’d missed a turn a long time ago, but now she knew how to fix it.

There was a sound coming from somewhere. Heavy breathing, like someone was hurt.

No one could be in the Compound at this hour. If Kir had managed to sneak in somehow, or one of her junkie friends, Vrei would toss them at the Palace before the new fluffs even got off the shuttle. She checked a few of the nearest classrooms but they were empty, and the sound got weaker the farther away from the emergency door she got.

She thought about Sol, about waking up to Michael’s message, running to the Compound before sunrise. She thought about the moment when she realized Sol was really, really dead. She remembered feeling like the world had shifted while she was asleep and she could no longer find her place in it.

She came closer to the door, swiped the card and watched the heavy barrier go up.

Someone was lying on the floor, curled up in a ball. Vrei could see blood stains on their uniform. Before she could come up with a plan her mind recognized the nose, the hair, the chin. The size of the body.

She knew that face.

Once the door was all the way up Vrei knelt down. Len’s uniform was full of sand, torn in places, like he’d been crawling on the ground. The blood was coming from scrapes all over his face and arms.

He smelled like he’d smoked half the sau in the 745.

Vrei wondered if Ebie knew he’d be celebrating like this as soon as she was gone. He was sober just a few hours ago. And what had he done to his face?

Vrei tried to unbutton his uniform, check for other injuries, but as soon as her fingers moved past the first button his body convulsed. Len shoved himself away, violently, hiding his face.

“It’s me,” Vrei said, moving closer to him. He should be able to recognize her, even with the sau.

Len’s back was against the wall of the corridor. He didn’t move as Vrei leaned closer, but she could hear him murmuring, saying the same words over and over. She could make out “please” and “I’ll do anything”. He kept repeating himself faster and faster, like a broken workstation.

Vrei sat back on her heels. He was too big and too heavy, she couldn’t force him to go anywhere. Finding Ebie would take hours. She didn’t know the 745, especially in the dark. Getting her own friends to help would take even longer.

She’d never seen Len like this. Never thought it was possible.

Vrei looked down the empty corridor. The lights in the Compound never went out. There were no sharp objects around, no windows, no sau, and the gate would be closed until morning.

“Don’t tell her,” Len’s voice said, and Vrei looked down. His face was still hidden between his arms, but his hand was crawling towards her ankle.

Vrei rose and took a step back.

That made Len look at her. His eyes were red, his bottom lip was bleeding. He looked scared.

Kir’s words rose up like sau smoke behind her eyes.

“Please,” Len said. “Don’t tell her. Please.”

He couldn’t mean Ebie. If she didn’t know he was here already she’d find out soon. Although… Firsts could keep secrets sometimes. Vrei knew that firsthand.

She swiped her key through the lock and watched the barrier go up again. She was already late to check in on Olin and her friends. Len was safe, and if he didn’t want to move, she couldn’t make him.

He’d be fine here. She’d talk to Ebie tomorrow.

 

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