The first thing she felt was hunger. A visceral, animal hunger that forced open her eyes, impatient and urging. Lydia groaned and stretched on her bed.

​

How long had she been asleep? Her entire body seemed to hurt. Her abdomen hurt the worst—she felt like she’d been sick and had healed far too slowly. But her legs and arms ached as well. And she had a headache. She pulled the sheets from her legs and stumbled from the bed. The dim red light in her sleeproom revealed everything to be exactly as it was when she’d gone to slee—

Actually, she didn’t remember coming into her sleeproom at all. She pressed her forehead. Yes, that was right. The last thing she remembered after the test was falling unconscious in the acc pod.

 

The test.

 

Lydia sighed deeply as everything rushed back in. Dome 4. The forest. The cabin. The garden.

 

Ror.

​

She sighed again and shuffled to her washroom; a tiny compartment set in the wall across from her bed. She showered quickly in the hot water and dressed in a clean pair of boring grey pants and a grey shirt. Then, she climbed down the ladder—the sleeproom and washroom were themselves in a slot in the Hab wall. Everything was tight and compact on the ship.

 

Lydia shuffled along the cool floor of the Hab and stopped at the cupboard where there were dried fruits and nuts she could get to. She grabbed the first can she could find and started stuffing almonds into her mouth.

 

Verity appeared, watching her carefully. “Are you still angry at me?” she asked when Lydia didn’t greet her.

 

“What happens if I say yes, and what happens if I say no?” Lydia grumbled through the food in her mouth.

 

The blue eyes blinked, and Ver used her slow apologetic voice. “Lidi. You knew the first test would be challenging. I explained the procedure to you on multiple occasions. You agreed you would focus only on the task at hand and attempt to ignore emotion and passion. Don’t you remember that?”

 

Lydia clutched at the countertop. “I barely remember anything, Ver. I feel like I’ve been asleep for a week. What did you do to me?”

 

“I explained that as well, before you passed out in the acc pod. Acclimatizing to the Dome’s atmosphere is actually easier than re-acclimatizing to the Hab. It’s fascinating, and there’s a complex scientific explanation for it but I’d risk a guess that you don’t want me to bore you with it this morning—”

 

“Please don’t.”
          

Ver nodded, “I sedated you in the acc pod and then brought you in to the Hab when you were in a state to sleep. And if you’ll drink

that—” she gestured to a cup of red-black liquid on the counter “—you’ll feel a lot better.”

 

Lydia drank the space soup, as she called it—she’d had the vitamin medley before—and finished the nuts in her hand.

 

“I’m guessing you won’t let me just do nothing for a day or seven?” she asked the android without looking directly into the glowing blue eyes.

 

“Unfortunately, I cannot. Test two is already prepared. And I think you’ll be pleased to know that you get to see another dome today.”

 

Lydia didn’t show it, but seeing another dome definitely piqued her interest. Plus, the space soup was already working and the aching in her arms and legs was fading. Ver let her finish the drink, and then they crossed the floor to the pod door. When it opened, Lydia stepped in. Sitting on the bench, she decided it would be good to be distracted anyway. She needed something else to think about.

 

The door closed behind them and, like before, the white smoke seeped in from the ducts along the floor. Lydia felt the dizziness and the vibration of the room and tried to just breathe through it. Fifteen minutes or so passed—it was impossible to tell with the drugs clouding her mind—and the vents stopped spitting smoke. Lydia’s head cleared as soon as the air did.

Ver opened the other door and Lydia stood, eager to see what awaited.

 

The hatch on the other end was already opened. Inside, she could see bright sunlight, and blue sky. Holding her breath, she climbed the ramp and emerged into a biome that looked nothing like the forest in Dome 4.

 

Lydia looked around the enormous space. She was in a dry, hot landscape with little plant life. The terrain around her was orange-brown and red-brown sand and rocks, and the horizon was visible in all directions. Because the space in the center of the dome had no forest to obscure the distant walls, she could see across the entire dome. The black field generators in between sections of dome wall were visible too, and because the magnificently realistic simulation around them was so complete, it looked like she was in a real desert, and a giant dome cage had been dropped above her. Again, she felt like she’d been transported to a real planet. And there were distant mountains incorporated in the illusion!

 

Lydia followed Verity along a path away from the hatch. Behind them, the field blurred the air like in Dome 4. As they crossed the sand and stone, Lydia felt heat coming up from it. She understood that with no trees to cast shade on the ground, everything heated up from the sun’s light. And stars, was it hot. She felt herself beginning to sweat in her armpits and on her back already. Looking ahead, she didn’t see any cabin but saw a drop-off ahead.

 

They reached the edge of the drop-off—which Lydia could see was only a few yards high—and then climbed down a sort of ramp, sort of stairway that had been carved into the flowing red stone. At the bottom, Lydia saw the dwelling. And it wasn’t a cabin like the last one at all. Instead, it was a squarish cement hut with smooth walls nestled up against the stone. It matched the colors of the stone, and a shade canvas was stretched from its front to the ground in front of the doorway. Lydia admired the smart use of the terrain. The hut used the stone shelf as a wall. The little home nestled up against the stone overhang perfectly.

           

They approached the front door and Lydia’s next suitor stepped out.

           

“Hello,” the boy said. Lydia’s breath caught when she saw his frame in the door. He was about the same shape and height as Ror. But when he stepped into the light, the similarity vanished. He had jet black hair, and it was cut short on his head. He wore plain shirt and shorts like Lydia did. His face was soft and nonthreatening, and he seemed a little nervous, if not worried. But he was fairly attractive. His arms and shoulders were toned in a way that was appealing to Lydia. And she found his face sufficiently handsome. They introduced themselves—his name was Shaw—and Verity disappeared up the stairway.

           

Lydia followed Shaw into the hut. A small wooden table and wooden shelves held items similar to the forest cabin—basic cookware and foodstuffs—and the floor was smooth stone. There was a single bed big enough for two, and another black pyramid-shaped speaker identical to the first set up against one wall.

           

When then entered the cabin, the speaker activated.

           

“The test today is simple, and not unlike your first test, Lydia. However, I will still explain it, since Shaw has only recently been awakened.”

           

Lydia watched the boy listen to Verity’s instructions, which were indeed identical to the instructions from her test with Ror. Replant a crop—this time it was a sweet potato crop—in the prepped plot near the dwelling, tend it each day and wait for confirmed germination of the seeds. And in the meantime, make sure their pairing was satisfactory. Shaw never looked at Lydia while Verity spoke. He just tapped his fingers on his thigh and stared at the speaker. Lydia listened to him tap his fingers rapidly and watched him scowl into the speaker. She thought he seemed a little intense. Finally, Ver finished.

           

Shaw turned to Lydia. “Did you pass your first test?”

           

Lydia paused. “Um, yes. We did.”

           

“Good,” said the boy sternly. “Because I intend to pass mine, and I hope you’ll contribute with seriousness and efficiency.”

           

Lydia stifled a snort. She’d been right. He was definitely an intense type.

           

“We’ll pass,” was all she said, and Shaw turned and stepped out into the blazing sunlight.

           

Lydia smiled to herself. Just as with Ror, meeting another human had been a completely unpredictable experience. She wondered how long it would take her to warm up to Shaw.

​

​

---

​

​

She never did.

           

Shaw turned out to be as colorful as his clothing. He didn’t talk to Lydia except when necessary to coordinate their efforts in the garden. On Day One, they worked away the afternoon in silence, ate a bland meal in silence, and went to bed in silence. Even the decision to share the bed he seemed to make without her. When it was dark and they’d eaten, the boy simply climbed under the sheet—warm blankets weren’t needed in the desert biome—without a word about it. He just slid all the way to the wall and left a space for her. So, she shrugged and climbed in with him. And they didn’t touch during the night.

           

The next four days had passed in much the same manner, though Shaw did finally reveal a shade of a personality. One that was private, mellow. Through a single conversation that stretched an entire day, Lydia learned that… well, basically nothing. The boy didn’t seem to have any passions, except to pass the test. It was important to him to be considered a viable candidate for head of colony, and nothing else seemed to matter. He didn’t even have an interest.

           

And so Lydia courted instead the desert.

           

Though the number of plants here was a meager fraction of those in the forest, the desert had its own beauty. It was raw and stoic in a way the forest could never be. Every red stone and pile of sand, and each of the lonely flowers and cacti were examples of resolution and endurance. In the desert, everything struggled to survive. And the things that did live—hardy little black beetles and twitchy red ants, prickly cactus towers and spindly plants with scrawny leaves—lived quietly and without fanfare. Lydia spent the hours walking the perimeter of the dome, counting the ants and beetles that crossed her path, or perched on the stone ledge above their hut, watching the sim on the dome show her patches of white clouds meandering across the eternal blue sky. Occasionally, Shaw would join her on the rock and watch the sky with her, though he rarely had anything to say. And Lydia grew tired of driving a bland conversation by herself, so she allowed the abiding silence.

 

A couple of times, she asked Verity questions about the desert, partly just to have someone to talk to, and also because Lydia was curious to know how much the android saw and heard of the tests. Ver responded to her only if Lydia asked a relevant question that she couldn’t answer herself. But she responded no matter where in the dome Lydia was. And one night, when Lydia was inside the hut, she asked the speaker what kind of fruit she was holding. Verity then asked her to describe it, explaining that she couldn’t see into the dwellings in order to preserve some level of privacy.

​

Lydia shelved that curious bit of information.

​

Finally, the day came when the sweet potato plants sprouted. As before, Verity was waiting by the garden when she and Shaw emerged in the morning.

​

“Well done, Lydia and Shaw. Your crops have begun to grow. You passed the test.”

​

Lydia watched Shaw as he received the news. The boy visibly relaxed and smiled for what Lydia was certain was only the third time in five days. He looked at Lydia.

​

“We did it!” he said, with more energy than she’d seen from him yet. He looked genuinely relieved.

​

She returned the smile. “We did. Well done.”

​

Then Verity asked the question. “Do you consider yourselves compatible and consent a child?”

​

“I consent a child,” replied Shaw.

​

“I consent a child,” Lydia repeated, impatient to return to the privacy of the Hab.

​

“Consent is recorded.”

​

Lydia nodded awkwardly to Shaw and followed Verity out of the desert.

 

​

---

​

​

And so, Lydia began her new life.

​

The morning after a test, she awoke in her sleeproom in the Hab feeling sick and achy, her legs sore and her abdomen sore and her head sore. Then, with a space soup to wake her up and dull the pains, she entered the acc pod for white smoke dizzy time and then climbed up into one of the four domes on the ship. After her first two tests in Forest and Desert—she now called the domes by the name of their biomes; it was simpler—she passed a test in Valley and Jungle.

​

Valley was open like Desert, with a soft, grass-covered hillside forming the landscape and the entire dome ceiling was visible above her, also like Desert. A few trees and shrubbery were planted around a brick-walled dwelling in the center, and some distant mountains—though of a different shape and color than those in Desert—were depicted in the illusion.

Jungle, however, was another beast entirely.

​

And Lydia loved everything about it.

​

It was like Forest in that the foliage inside was thick and obscured the dome and the field generators. But in Jungle, Lydia lived in the trees. The hatch opened on a raised platform which led her into the thick of the jungle canopy to a treehouse built around the massive trunk of a single tree. Even the garden was in the trees—the whole thing hung from the branches and was connected to the treehouse with a system of suspended bridges and platforms. In Jungle, the plants and flowers grew in every color imaginable, and creatures filled the branches night and day. Besides more varieties of birds than Lydia had ever seen in all her vids, she’d seen snakes and frogs and from afar, a tiny group of monkeys! It was also hot like Desert, but a different kind of hot. A wet hot that kept Lydia sweaty night and day.

​

The first time she’d been to Jungle, she’d felt something close to the wonder and amazement that Forest had given her. And the suitor, a boy named Doon, had been likeable enough. Plus, the test had been two-fold: Lydia and Doon had been instructed to both plant rows of mango—an exquisite fruit Lydia loved at once—and to breed chickens. On its own suspended platform near the garden box was a walk-in cage for the chickens, and Lydia and Doon had been tasked with feeding and watering the birds until a certain number of the eggs they laid had hatched into chicks. Lydia had enjoyed the extra challenge, and she found caring for animals fulfilling in a way different from growing crops. And she found Doon’s presence pleasant, if unexciting. So, the test had been enjoyable overall.

​

But as soon as she’d completed a second and a third test in each dome, the tests began to bleed together and Lydia found herself losing track of time.

​

“How many days have we been doing this, Ver?” she asked the android one morning in the Hab, trying to ignore the deep exhaustion she felt from her most recent re-acc—that was what she called the post-test re-acclimatization that she swore took more out of her than transferring atmospheres should.

​

“You have passed eleven tests. Four in Valley, three in Forest, two in Jungle, and two in Desert. All have yielded a successful crop.”

“And a potential mate,” said Lydia. All of Lydia’s suitors had approved the pairing, so she’d done the same.

“Indeed.”

​

Lydia approached the wall and looked at three hung diagrams of the ship that almost entirely covered one of the Hab’s walls. After she’d seen all the domes for the first time, the posters had appeared. They showed illustrations of the layout of the ship. The Hab was in the center, surrounded by four domes drawn in the color of their biome and with marks that represented the dwelling and garden. The diagrams were inaccurate, though. Lydia knew from walking them that the domes were much larger than the images claimed. And the way the hatch in each dome connected to the acc pod wasn’t right either.

​

Lydia turned this over in her head while she sipped from the cup in her hands. The diagrams were secret keepers like Verity was. Concealing something new every time they revealed a little bit of truth.

​

Lydia turned to Verity.

​

“Why won’t you let me go back and test with any of them again? I’ve given you eleven successful pairings.” She knew the answer already. They’d been over it many times. But something about the morning had made her feel like annoying the android. She felt impassioned. And dissatisfied.

​

“Lydia,” Verity began tersely, her entire white body inhumanly motionless. “I know that you know the answer to that question, for we’ve discussed it thrice before. But I will answer again to display my willingness to engage. No, it is not permitted to retest with a past suitor.”

​

“Why not?” Lydia wanted to push the android’s buttons. “I’ve told you I’m not so sure they were all good matches anymore. I might need to try again with a couple of them to be sure. In fact, I probably need—”

​

“You cannot see Ror again.”

​

Lydia felt like she’d been slapped.

​

Why did she keep bringing it up? She knew the android would never bend. She was only hurting herself.

​

“So, you just leave him in cryo, then? He’s just wasting away in a box somewhere on the ship?”

​

“The human body does not waste away in cryo.”

​

“You know what I mean, Ver!” Lydia’s cheeks were hot and she clenched her teeth. “He’s not doing anything, is he? He’s just asleep somewhere!”

​

“I can neither reveal the workings of the ship nor divulge the whereabouts of its many passengers.”

​

“Then let me out of the Hab! I just want to walk around the ship!”

​

“You cannot do that.”

​

“What can I do then?!” Lydia screamed. She didn’t know why she was so upset this morning. But something in her was starting to die. Eleven tests—something like two months of time—working on her knees in the soil… sharing beds but never love with strange boys… waking up sick in the Hab, that unchanging, compact, sterile place where she’d lived her entire life. It was all getting to her.

​

Verity waited until Lydia had calmed her sobs. Then, the android spoke in one of her quietest voices, a voice that calmed Lydia even though she wanted to be angry. “You can continue in your valiant service to Humanity. Your sacrifices, Lydia, are of unquantifiable importance to the survival of your race. Countless are those who will owe you their lives.”

​

Lydia wiped her eyes with a sleeve and took a deep breath.

​

Verity continued, “And there are many more suitors for you to meet! All have your preferred physical characteristics. And one day, you will find a perfect match.”

​

“I don’t want any of them.” Lydia whispered, a tear slipping in between her lips when they opened, forcing the taste of salt onto her tongue. “You know that.”

​

“I know it hurts,” the android said compassionately, though Lydia knew it was just simulated. “This is why I advised you to meter your emotional connection to the suitors. Allow only enough passion to pass the test and determine compatibility.”

​

“And I’ve been doing just that. I barely even talk to most of them.”

​

“I have seen,” said Verity.

​

Lydia looked into the blinking blue lights. “Can’t you just put me to sleep too? Wake me up when we find a planet and I can be with him?”

​

“A suitable world has not yet been discovered. You are still required in the tests.”

​

“Of course.” Lydia said quietly after a long pause. “How selfish of me.”

​

​

---

​

​

It was in Desert that she first denied a pairing.

​

The night was hot and dry, like the stone and sand that surrounded them.

​

Lydia was testing with a boy named Fenn. He was very tall and had golden blonde hair and a square jaw. And he was more muscular than most of the suitors she’d met. Lydia found herself very attracted to him physically and he’d been trying hard to connect with her for three days. She didn’t yet feel a burning kinship, but it was endearing that he kept trying. She’d even let him kiss her a few times already—only the fourth suitor she’d allowed to do so.

​

It was just before bed, and Lydia was outside the hut, admiring the stars up on the dome like she tended to do on Desert nights.

Then, she heard Fenn call her in to the hut. When she stepped inside, she found him standing in the candlelight.

​

Naked.

​

“What are you doing?!” she cried, and turned away, looking out the doorway. She stumbled over her words. “Y—you know the rules!”

​

 “I know,” Fenn said calmly. “I’m not going to do anything! But… won’t you show me you? I went first!”

​

Lydia covered her eyes and turned slowly back toward him, peeking through a slit in her fingers that showed her only his face. What was happening? “No! I will not show you myself!” She shouted, angry. “Put your clothes back on!”

​

Fenn frowned. “Come on, Lydia. I’ve been nice to you for three days! We’re allowed to see each other!”

​

Lydia was shocked. She stood there frozen, and finally screamed at the boy, “Don’t touch me!”

​

And then she bolted out into the deep blue-black night. She rushed up the stone stairway behind the hut and crossed the sands until she found the hatch. It was closed, but the usual blue light above the door was on. Lydia banged on the heavy steel while the field hummed behind it.

​

“Verity, I know you’re listening and watching me!” She yelled. “I’m done with this test. Let me go home! I DO NOT consent a child! I’m done! Let me go!”

​

She banged and banged on the door until she grew tired and finally collapsed in the warm sand. Fenn had—thankfully—chosen not to follow her up onto the ledge. Lydia didn’t know if Verity would allow her to finish the test early, but she would sleep the night at the hatch door and sit there all day tomorrow if she had to.

​

When Lydia had calmed down and sat in the darkness for at least an hour, the door to the hatch opened. Verity stood there in the darkness, her blue eyes and blue arms glowing brightly in the night, painting her like some distorted woman-shaped star.

​

“You may exit the dome, Lydia. I’m sorry about that. You are aware, however, that the boy didn’t break any rules?”

​

Lydia shoved past the android and pounded down the stairs into the acc pod.

​

Verity followed and closed the door behind them. The android assured her she would never be tested with Fenn again, and Lydia breathed in the white smoke as quickly as she could, anxious to forget.

 

​

---

​

​

“Where are we today?” Lydia grumbled, rubbing her eyes as she followed Ver into the pod. After the fiasco in Desert, Verity had allowed her to rest for three days in the Hab, without any responsibilities. She’d spent the time listening to concertos and symphonies and studying forests and mountains in the vids. She even spent some time watching old vids of people speaking sign language, though what the archives had on the topic was minimal. Overall, the break was well-deserved and much needed. And though Lydia was as physically exhausted as usual, she was ready for another challenge in a dome—as long as it wasn’t Desert. And it shouldn’t be. Verity had promised her next test would be elsewhere.

​

“Forest,” replied the android. “But get ready for a new challenge. I think you’ll be pleased. Oh, and you’ll want to put these on.”
          

The android handed her a pile of garments. Lydia unfolded them. It was a thick coat and pants, both padded with layering.

“For warmth?” Lydia asked.

​

Verity replied in a sing-song voice “You’ll see!”

​

           

When she’d acclimatized, the door to the hatch opened and Lydia gasped.

           

Everything in Forest was white.

           

Cold air bit at her face and hands as she stepped out onto a light, fluffy layer of snow. She’d seen snow in the vids of course, and she knew how the seasons worked and what caused them, but she’d never once considered that the domes could simulate them. She shook her head. Almost every time she entered a dome, she was surprised anew that such a place could exist in a spaceship. It was incredible, really. She only believed it because she was looking at it.

           

“How did you change the season in the dome?” she asked Verity in awe, looking around her at the beautiful white snow that frosted every branch and bush. Most of the trees had lost their leaves so there was no canopy to fill the space in the dome. It felt almost like another biome entirely. Mountaintops were visible in the distance, though because Forest was supposed to in the mountains already, they looked much closer than the ones in Valley or Desert.

           

“It wasn’t easy,” Ver replied. “But it’s imperative that you’re prepared for a variety of scenarios.”

​

“But Ver,” Lydia pushed. “You’d have to expend an enormous amount of energy cooling the space slowly enough to trick the flora into going dormant and dropping their leaves. And the snow! It would take an enormous amount of water! Do we even store that much water on the ship? It doesn’t make sense.”

​

           

“As usual, Lydia, there’s a complicated explanation of the process that I can share with you, but it will only bore and confuse. Just enjoy the change of scenery! I thought you’d be excited for that!”

           

Lydia dropped it and admitted that she was, and the android left her to meet her suitor and begin the test.

           

Mars was the name of the boy. He had dark, black-brown skin and wore his black hair cut short against his head. He was, as usual, highly attractive to Lydia and she liked his personality immediately. From the moment they met, he didn’t try to flatter her or dominate her. He simply tried to know her. Only a few hours into the afternoon and she trusted him, feeling like they were friends and equals in the test. He was clear and calm in what he said, and he laughed a lot. Lydia knew the test would be a pleasant one, if not for the biting cold that filled the dome—it was like the entire biome had been placed in the Hab’s refrigerator!

 

There was a fireplace in the cabin for burning wood, and they used it gratefully.

           

Just before the sun set on Day Three, Lydia was walking the perimeter of the dome by herself, listening to the buzz of the field and staring through the blurry image to the forest beyond that didn’t exist. The way the snow reflected all the light from the sky distorted the field in a strange way. Once, a reflection of herself had appeared in the field for a split second, like another Lydia was standing a few paces into the trees beyond the fuzzy wall of air. But Lydia knew it was a trick of the distortion—the reflection had disappeared quickly and Lydia couldn’t find where to stand to make it reappear. Finally, she moved on.

​

A while later, when she’d rounded the dome, she entered the clearing again from the far side, lost in her thoughts. She looked up and saw that Mars was waiting in the doorway. When he saw her, he lifted both arms, paused, and then waved awkwardly with both hands.

​

“Hey Boots! I’ve heated the water for the soup,” he shouted, and she smiled at the nickname. He’d called her Boots since Day One. Apparently, she’d looked funny in the heavy pair of cold-weather boots Verity had provided her. But Lydia didn’t mind the nickname. She knew Mars meant it affectionately.

​

           

“Coming!” she called back, crossing the think snow on the ground in front of the clearing.

           

“What was that out there?” she asked, closing the door to the cabin. The fire was burning in its place, and instantly Lydia felt the relief of stepping into the warm shelter. She stripped of her heavy coat and hung it by the door.

           

“What was what?” Mars was cutting vegetables on the countertop.

           

“That funny wave you just did! What was that?”

           

“Um… I waved at you, crazy. I’m not allowed to do that anymore?”

           

“This is not a normal wave,” she insisted, pantomiming.

           

Then Mars frowned and shook his head. “Universe above, I’ve lost her. She’s been turned mad with hunger. I’ve been robbed of my dearest companion. Oh, the horror!”

           

“Ugh!” Lydia shoved him gently. “Just cut your vegetables.”

           

He laughed and sliced on. But Lydia watched him from behind, thinking.

​

​

---

​

​

           

Later that night, they were wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the floor in front of the dying fire.

           

“It’s amazing how the winter in here is so realistic, don’t you think?” she asked, looking up at him. The fire crackled in his earth brown eyes. They were sitting very close.

           

“It is,” he said quietly, returning her gaze.

           

“You really think,” Lydia asked, forming words she’d been toying with all night, “Verity doesn’t spy on us in here?”

           

Mars watched her carefully. Lydia swore she could smell his musk through the smoke of the fire. Her gaze wandered from his eyes to his lips to the opening in his collar where she could see a little of his chest…

​

“What’s on your mind, Boots?” he whispered.

​

She snapped back, remembering Verity’s explanation that it was important they have some privacy in the dwellings. But Lydia knew that even if the android wasn’t watching, she was listening. Lydia glanced at the speaker across the room and chose her words carefully.

​

“I guess,” she whispered, tracing her finger along Mars’ jawbone. “I just don’t like to think she’s watching when I kiss you like this.” She pressed her lips to his cheek so softly it made no sound. Mars closed his eyes and let her do it. Then he kissed her back while the firelight danced on them both. They went back and forth for a few minutes, kissing each other slowly and respectfully. Finally, they found their way to bed when the night was late. They’d kept the rules, of course, but Lydia would be a liar if she claimed she hadn’t wondered what the punishment would be for breaking them. She’d been strong, though, and was grateful that Mars hadn’t pushed her.

​

The final coals burned out while they lay there, and the cabin fell shrouded in black.

​

Lydia lay with her head on Mars’ chest. Her hand was in his, and he traced and tapped absentmindedly in her palm. He’d been doing that recently. She focused on the way his pecks felt against her head as he breathed. She focused on how it felt, so she didn’t think about how the herbs they’d been growing in a small greenhouse behind the cabin would sprout soon.

​

A whisper from Mars pulled her back from her twilight state.

​

“Hmm?” she grunted softly, fighting to stay awake.

​

“She doesn’t watch us in here. Only listens,” Mars’ whisper was almost imperceptible, it was so quiet, and he spoke directly into her ear. “Cameras are in the crux of the branches of the oldest trees. But not in here.”

​

Lydia nodded quickly and said nothing, thoughts spinning slowly.

​

​

---

​

​

           

They didn’t speak of the cameras the next day, though Lydia made a point to watch for them while they moved around the dome. She found them, like Mars said, perched a few feet above her eyeline in the Vs between branches on the biggest, oldest trees. They were tiny black boxes the size of a large nut. Lydia also found them up in the high corners of the greenhouse, but not inside the cabin. Even the speaker, which Lydia knew was listening, didn’t seem to have a lens anywhere on it.

           

Lydia and Mars didn’t kiss on Day Four. It seemed like they both knew it was better to begin drifting apart. And so, without ever discussing it, they eliminated displays of affection. Well, except one. Mars held her hands any chance he could get. It was strange. Lydia could swear he did it more now that they were trying to pull slowly apart. Every hour or so he would grab her hands and do the tracing and tapping in her palm that he always did. Tap in the center. Trace a curve above it. Tap in the center. Trace a curve above it.

​

Lydia let him do it. She decided it was his way of saying goodbye. She hated that they had to grow distant and unaffectionate like this, but she knew it was her best shot at preventing some of the pain of saying goodbye to him.

She would miss Mars.

​

That was not in question. He had been nothing but sweet to her.

           

But this was her life, and her sacrifice for the human race. To grow close and connect with someone only to be ripped apart by a cold android and her cold system.

​

Lydia had given up on asking to see former suitors again. Maybe they really were just asleep in cryo boxes in storage somewhere. Or maybe they were just on the other side of the wall in the Hab, relaxing in their own sleeproom with their own android. Regardless, Verity wouldn’t let Lydia see them, and she wouldn’t tell Lydia anything more. And when she did relinquish any information, it was always something cryptic. Lydia felt like some of her answers contradicted what she’d told her in training, before the tests began. Like the fact that Verity claimed there were others who used the domes and even the Hab when Lydia wasn’t there. ‘The ship must be used efficiently’ she had said. But if that was so, the other passengers’ schedules would have to revolve around hers, wouldn’t they? She’d ended a test early in Desert, and Ver had let her come right back to the Hab. If someone had been using the Hab, they would have had to leave immediately.

​

Though, it had taken Ver the better part of an hour to open the hatch that night… Which in itself was another interesting detail, since the android was supposed to be watching her at all times…

​

And there was the simple fact that Lydia had never seen another woman. Indeed, Lydia knew she must be unique on the ship. Verity claimed there were other suitor-suitress pairs that tested in the domes Lydia wasn’t using. But then, where were their Habs? The diagrams showed Lydia’s Hab taking up most of the space in the ship! But of course, Lydia knew the diagrams not to be completely accurate! Lydia rubbed her head and sighed.

​

It just didn’t add up. Lydia had simply accepted that she would be kept in the dark for the rest of the voyage. Only one thing had comforted her through all the secrecy. And it was exciting. Thrilling, even.

​

Mars didn’t trust Verity either.

           

They never spoke of it. They knew they were under constant surveillance. But Lydia could tell by the way he looked at her any time the android—or the dome, or the Hab—came up organically in their conversations. He always took an extra second to look into Lydia’s eyes for a little too long when Verity’s name came up. He never said anything or let the rhythm of the conversation be interrupted. But the message was received.

​

And it was empowering.

           

Lydia knew she wasn’t alone in this one thing. Mars had questions like Lydia did, and was smart enough to ask them only with his eyes.

           

When the herbs finally sprouted in the greenhouse, Lydia was ready to leave the snow behind. She and Mars had said goodbye already—they’d been doing it for more than a day, slowly unwinding the romantic threads of their relationship as they replaced flirting and touching with only essential interaction and conversation. They had known what was coming.

           

“Boots…” the boy began as they stood by their germinated seeds, ready to approve the pair. “Lydia… you have no idea how important your sacrifices are. Thank you for giving me a chance. I’ll… I’ll never forget you.”

           

Lydia cried but didn’t whimper or sob. Tears rolled down her cheeks, but her voice was strong and unwavering. “You’ll be a great colony leader, Mars… if we ever find a world. And a great father,” she said, trying to remain emotionless. “I consent a child.”

​

“I consent a child,” he repeated quietly.

​

And then she left for the hatch on her own. No blue plastic machine would drag her away from this boy. She’d walk on her own legs.