Sybil grabbed Cress’s elbow and yanked her in the opposite direction. Cress gasped and stumbled after her.
“Do not look at them,” said Sybil.
Cress frowned. Her arm was stinging but she resisted the urge to rip it out of Sybil’s grip. “Why? Who are they?”
“They are members of Artemisia’s families, and they would not appreciate being gawked at by a shell.” She dragged Cress down a ramp to the dock’s main floor, releasing her elbow once they were separated from the aristocrats by the svelte forms of the spaceships. It was disconcerting to be walking on the glowing floor. It felt like walking on a star. Cress was so distracted that she crashed into Sybil when she came to an abrupt stop.
Sybil looked down at her, lip twitching, and didn’t respond to Cress’s hasty apology. She just turned and nodded to the guard, who opened the door to a small podship. It couldn’t have fit more than three or four passengers, but while it was small, it was also luxurious. A faint strip of lights curled around the ceiling. A holograph node was projecting the image of a burbling water fountain in one corner. The benches behind the pilot were covered in a fabric that made the blankets in the dormitories look like animal feed sacks.
Sybil gestured for Cress to get in, and the invitation was so unexpected that Cress could only stand and stare at the podship’s interior in disbelief. “Really?” she whispered. “I’m … we’re leaving Artemisia?” She felt momentarily dizzy—with elation, but perhaps also a bit because of the blood taken before.
“We are leaving Luna,” said Sybil. “Now get in.”
Cress’s mouth ran dry. Leaving Luna? It was more than she had dared to hope. A ride in a spaceship. A real trip into space. The other shells would be so jealous.
Pulse hammering, she climbed into the ship and settled into the farthest seat. Sybil sat facing her and immediately switched off the fountain holograph, as if she found the sound annoying. The guard took the pilot’s seat, and within moments Cress could feel the subtle hum of the engine vibrating through the soles of her feet.
Her mounting excitement was met with almost equal amounts of anxiety as the ship lifted, hovering over the other stationary vehicles. It began to glide toward the massive exit. Mistress Sybil still hadn’t given her any indication as to what this new job was that she was meant to do. Though she had managed to successfully complete every task given to her before, she could sense that something was different about this one. Bigger. More important.
This could be her chance to prove to Sybil—to everyone—that she was more than just a shell. She was valuable. She deserved to be a citizen of Luna.
She couldn’t fail.
With a shaky breath, she pulled her hair over one shoulder and began twisting the ends around her wrists. She’d thought of cutting it a year ago, but the other girls had talked her out of it. They told her how beautiful it was, how lucky she was that it grew so thick and strong. They said she would be crazy to cut it, so she didn’t. Now she supposed it had become a sort of security blanket for her. She often caught herself fidgeting with it when she was nervous.
The massive doors had opened, making the entire dock rumble, and now they were sitting in a holding chamber, waiting for the doors to seal closed again before they could be released into space. The anticipation was choking her.
She was leaving Luna. Leaving Luna. Never in all her dreams had she thought that she, a lowly, forgotten shell, would have the chance to see life beyond Luna’s protective biodomes.
But here she was, only nine years old and setting off on her first great adventure.
The enormous, ancient metal doors cracked open and slowly, slowly peeled back. They revealed the barren white landscape of Luna first, crater-pocked and desert-still. And beyond them … beyond the horizon … beyond Luna …
Stars.
Stars like she had never seen, had never imagined seeing. The sky was alive with them. And in their midst, proud and beautiful and right before her eyes, was planet Earth.
Their ship began to coast forward again, gradually at first, but picking up speed as they abandoned Luna’s weak gravitational pull and soared away from its surface.
Cress didn’t realize she’d put her hands on the windows until her breath fogged against the surface. She pulled back, revealing two handprints that perfectly framed the blue planet.
Sybil’s cryptic words churned in her head. Was she taking Cress to Earth?
It would indeed solve all the issues Cress had pointed out with regards to spying on the Earthens. She had to get closer. She needed better equipment and more time, but mostly she needed to close the physical distance between them.
Was Sybil asking her to be a spy? Earthens wouldn’t suspect a child like her, and she was a shell—perfectly suited to fit in with the ungifted Earthens. She could infiltrate government databases. She could commandeer every media feed on the planet. She could obtain secrets from every government official and private comms from every citizen. She could be the best spy in Lunar history.
And best of all, she would no longer be just a shell, trapped in a dormitory and forced to give blood every four weeks. She would have a blue sky. She would walk with bare feet on real grass. She would splash through ocean water and climb to the tops of skyscrapers and go to the theater and dance in the rain and—
She noticed Sybil watching her, and only then did she realize she had an enormous grin on her face. She smothered it as quickly as she could.
“How long will it take to get there?” she asked.
“Hours,” said Sybil, unclipping a portscreen from her white thaumaturge coat. “Your first objective will be to access the notes from the weekly meetings between Emperor Rikan and his advisory cabinet. I suggest you begin planning how you will accomplish this.”
Cress pressed her lips together and nodded eagerly, her thoughts already churning with ideas. No doubt the meeting had an android secretary recording the notes, possibly even taking an audio or video recording, and as long as that android had net connectivity …
She leaned her head against the bench and turned to look at the planet again while she mulled it over—coding and security hacks buzzing through her thoughts.
Stars, but the planet was beautiful. More breathtaking than she’d imagined it. The projected images from the holograph nodes didn’t begin to do it justice. How it sparkled and glowed and moved, always moving, the wisps of clouds always churning. It was as though the planet itself were a living organism.
She started to hum as she thought and dreamed and planned. She hummed a lot when she was working. It helped her channel her thoughts sometimes, but today her thoughts were too disjointed to be focused. How different her life looked from just this morning. How quickly everything had changed.
The journey passed in silence but for the quiet tap of Sybil’s fingers on the portscreen and Cress humming to herself. The pilot never spoke. It was almost as if he weren’t even there, but then, that’s how all the guards acted. Invisible. She didn’t blame them. Working for Mistress Sybil often made her wish she were invisible too.
Her gaze reattached to Earth. It reminded her of a lullaby one of the older girls had taught her years ago, one that Cress still loved to sing to the children at lights-out.
Sweet Crescent Moon, up in the sky,
Won’t you sing your song to Earth as she passes by?
Your sweetest silver melody, a rhythm and a rhyme,
A lullaby of pleasant dreams as you make your climb.
Send the forests off to bed, the mountains tuck in tight,
Rock the ocean gently, and the deserts kiss good night.
Sweet Crescent Moon, up in the sky,