Romy rolled up to sit on her bed, a grin plastered on her face. “Deimos is awake.”

Thrym’s face cleared. Her knot erupted in whoops. Romy’s breath caught at the blinding joy on Phobos’s face. For the first time since colliding into Earth in their battler, he looked his normal boyish self. Like the space soldier who stole the extra chocolate cake.

Thrym caught her up in a hug, pulling her in to his chest and burying his face in her hair. She returned the hug, squeezing as tightly as she could.

“Houston said he’ll be okay.” Her words were muffled against Thrym’s shoulder, but the others heard.

“Can we go see him?” Phobos said, prying Thrym away.

He wasn’t too impressed when Romy told him to wait until morning.

“So how were your days?” she asked.

“Do you know they have permits for everything now,” Phobos interrupted. “To have children, to cut down a tree, to burn rubbish. . . .”

“Really?” Romy asked. It kind of made sense to her, though.

Thrym nodded. “The penalties are pretty harsh from what I’ve heard. Apparently, a woman was taken from here a couple of years ago for littering. Like gone. Never to be seen again.”

“Where was she taken?”

He shrugged. “Some island the Mandate controls.”

“That’s. . . .”

“Extreme?”

“Well, yeah. How did the Mandate find out?”

Phobos’s green eyes grew murky. “One of her neighbours.”

“Someone told on her?” Romy’s eyes grew huge. She shared a look with Thrym, remembering his bad feeling from a few days back.

It seemed so harsh. To be taken from your family and friends for something so simple. But at the same time, one person littering wouldn’t have an effect, but if the entire population littered, it would be global warming all over again in another two centuries.

Phobos drew a hand over his face. “It’s going to make it hard to stockpile things so we can be ready to leave when Dei is discharged. I’ve never seen such strict accountability for everything. And we grew up on the orbitos.”

“Can we get anything?” Romy asked.

The four sat steeped in thought for a while.

“I’ll be able to get some of the smaller seeds,” Phobos said with finality. “We’ll want to grow crops eventually, and some of the tiny seeds won’t be missed.”

They looked to Thrym. He stretched his arms overhead and placed both hands on his head, a deep frown between his brows. Romy hated seeing it there; he took too much upon himself, cared too much for others.

“I need more time to assess the washhouse,” he said. “There is a pile of damaged stuff that might not be missed. But I’d need help getting it out.” He nodded at Romy.

She straightened. “That probably won’t be a problem.” Romy doubted she’d even be missed.