The conference lasts another hour with no more interruptions. Michael reads the conclusion of the treatise, and Orcher asks for any questions. To my relief, there are only brief comments. Then we’re free to go. Michael powers down the projectors and people noisily exit the conference room, carefully keeping space around Captain Fallsten, who hasn’t let Glacia leave yet. Beside me, Orcher sighs and rubs his face in his hands.

I leave without looking back, but I know Captain Fallsten won’t be happy with anything Orcher is about to say. The crowd surrounds the elevators, but I continue past it and take the ramps instead. I’m going to Glacia’s room and I’m going to wait for her. My mind is racing, replaying the scene in my head. It was cruel.

I lean against the wall in Glacia’s private hall. One of her hall mates—a tall girl with light brown hair—walks in and glances at me before going inside her room. She wasn’t at the treatise conference, and doesn’t know what happened.

Finally Glacia shows up. She doesn’t see me at first because she’s looking down, muttering under her breath. In the shadow of her face, I can see the trails of tears. She sniffles and wipes them dry with the cuffs of her sleeves.

“Glace.”

She snaps her head up in surprise and stops in the middle of the hall.

“What are—”

But she doesn’t finish, because I do the first thing that pops into my head: step forward and hug her. This takes her even more by surprise. Her breath catches in her throat, and it’s a long time before I feel her arms pressing back into me. She’s warm, and soft, and her hair ripples over my hands. Her chest shudders with her heavy breathing, and her heartbeat quickens, thudding between us. It’s the first time we’ve ever touched—ever truly touched. Not the body slam at the Hologis tournament, not the accidental bumps while we walked around the Embassy, or in the halls of Secondary.

We are friends.

This is real.

Chapter Twenty

Wake up, shower, eat breakfast. Walk to the Bridge, drink coffee. Head to Floor 7 and gather station data. Move to Life Support and analyze readings. Go back to Floor 7 and filter data. Go back to the Bridge, hand over the data, and stare up at the belly of the Drake, counting the blinks of the lights, a constant rhythm. Blink. One, two. Blink. One, two. Blink.

“All right, I’m done.”

Orcher stands and waits for me at the top of the ramps. It takes me longer than it should for me to follow him. We walk down the ramps and out the Bridge, then ride an elevator to Floor 11. As always, the doors lining this corridor are sealed shut. The station’s steady hum thickens the air, our footsteps dull thuds.