“Maybe later,” Wells said. “And, um, thanks.”
When it became clear that Kendall wasn’t going to leave on her own, he asked for her help spreading the bad news about breakfast. She seemed disappointed that Wells didn’t want to come see her handiwork, but set off with a smile, pleased at being useful to Wells.
After Kendall had trudged back to the cabin to relay the bad news, Wells reached into his pocket for the crumpled protein packet left over from the day before. He glanced at Sasha. Her skin was paler than it’d been when they’d captured her the day before, though Wells wasn’t sure whether that was from stress or hunger. Still, they couldn’t let her starve. She’d done nothing wrong, and it was cruel to treat her like a prisoner of war.
“Hey,” Wells said cautiously, holding out the protein packet. “Do you want some of this? You must be pretty hungry by now.”
Sasha stared at it for a moment, then looked up at Wells. “What is it?” she asked hoarsely.
“It’s protein paste. Haven’t you seen it before?” She shook her head. “Try it,” he insisted. “Hold out your hand.” He squeezed the rest of the paste into Sasha’s palm, then smiled as she dipped a finger into the paste and brought it to her mouth, wrinkling her nose.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” she admitted, taking another dab. She finished the protein paste, then wiped her hands together. “But I know where you can find food—real food.”
Wells eyed her suspiciously. “Really?”
Sasha nodded. “I’ll take you there, if you’ll let me out of your camp.”
He paused. Strategically, they needed to keep her prisoner until they got Octavia back. Even if she was telling the truth about the rogue Earthborns, Sasha could turn out to be an important bargaining tool. He couldn’t risk losing her by falling into a trap. “What’s to keep you from running away?” Wells asked.
“You can tie my hands again, if it’ll make you feel better,” she said. “Listen, I’m only trying to help. And eat,” she added. Her stomach growled loudly in agreement.
“Okay,” Wells said slowly, surveying her face for any sign of treachery. “I’m just going to round up a few people to come with us.”
“No!” She locked eyes with Wells. “It’s not going to be a free-for-all. I’m trusting you to take only what you need, and just this one time. Deal?”
Wells hesitated. The others would be furious if they knew he’d let Sasha leave the camp, even if it was to help them find food. But then again, being a leader sometimes meant doing what you knew was right, even if it made you unpopular. That was one lesson his father had never let him forget.
“Happy birthday!” Wells’s mother singsonged, walking out of the kitchen carrying what looked suspiciously like a cake.
“How did you do that?” Wells asked, his voice full of wonder as he watched his mother place the white, frosting-covered confection on the table. There were even candles on it—twelve of them—although they were unlit. Candles were even more difficult to find than sugar and egg essence. If his mother lit them at all, it would only be for the briefest moment.
“Magic,” she said with a smile. “Don’t worry about it. I didn’t do anything illegal. Your father will have nothing to worry about.”
Unlike some of the other Council members, Wells’s father was incredibly strict about adhering to every detail of the Gaia Doctrine, the set of laws the Colony had laid out when they first launched into space. Just a few minutes earlier, while hurrying home from tutorial, Wells had seen Councilor Brisbane walking along A deck carrying two bottles of what was clearly black-market wine.
Wells stared longingly at the cake. Maybe there would even be enough left over to bring a piece to Glass. “You’re sure he won’t mind?” He didn’t know what the Chancellor would object to more: wasting resources on something with questionable nutritional value like a cake, or recognizing a birthday at all. The ancient tradition made too much fuss over one person, exaggerating the importance of the individual when, really, it was the species that mattered. A new life was always something to celebrate, but in the Chancellor’s eyes, there was no reason to give someone a false sense of their own importance once a year.
“Of course not.” His mother sat down in the chair next to him. “Although, there’s no reason this needs to be a birthday cake. It could be a ‘congrats for being the highest-ranked student for the third year in a row’ cake. Or a ‘hooray, you finally cleaned your room’ cake.”
Wells grinned. “Is Dad going to be home soon?” The Chancellor generally worked late, coming home after Wells was already in bed. He’d hardly seen him at all the past week and was excited that the three of them might get to spend the whole evening together.
“He should be.” She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. “I told him we were having a special dinner in honor of his very special son.”
As she scooped salad into bowls, his mother asked him about his tutorials. He told her a funny story about a boy in his class who’d asked how many dinosaurs died during the Cataclysm. “Why don’t you start eating,” his mother said, when Wells’s stomach growled loudly.
Through the windows, the circadian lights were beginning to dim. His mother didn’t say anything, but her smiles became a little tighter, her laughter a little more forced. Finally, she reached over and squeezed Wells’s hand. “I think your father must’ve gotten held up. Let’s dig in to that cake now, okay?”
“Sure,” Wells said, doing his best to keep his voice cheerful, although he purposefully avoided his mother’s eyes. The cake was rich and sweet, but Wells was so focused on keeping his disappointment from his face that he hardly tasted it. He knew it wasn’t his father’s fault. As the Chancellor, he wasn’t just in charge of the well-being and safety of everyone in the Colony. He was responsible for the future of the human race. His primary duty was ensuring that the species survived long enough to make it back to Earth. Whatever was keeping him at work took precedence over his son’s birthday.
He felt a pang of guilt as he imagined his father sitting alone in his office, his face weary as he pored over the latest round of troubling reports, unable to appreciate the priceless relics that made the room Wells’s favorite place on the whole ship. He wouldn’t stop to look at the stuffed eagle, or take a moment to admire the painting of the dark-haired woman with the mysterious smile. The only relic he might catch a glimpse of was the pen holder inscribed with the ancient phrase Non Nobis Solum Nati Sumus. “We are not born for ourselves alone,” a quote from a Roman writer named Cicero.
The door opened, and Wells’s father walked in. Even though he was clearly exhausted, his back was straight and his stride purposeful. He looked from Wells’s mother to the half-eaten cake on the table and sighed. “I’m sorry. The Council meeting ran later than expected. I couldn’t get Brisbane to sign off on the new security measures on Walden.”
“That’s okay.” Wells rose to his feet so quickly, he jostled the table and sent the dishes teetering. “We saved you some cake.”
“I still have some more work to do.” He kissed Wells’s mother on the cheek and gave Wells a curt nod. “Happy birthday.”
“Thank you,” Wells said, wondering if the hint of sadness in his father’s eyes was just his imagination.
The Chancellor disappeared into his study before another question arose, uninvited, in Wells’s mind. If his father had been tied up with Brisbane, why had Wells seen the Council member hours earlier on A deck?
Wells’s stomach twisted as an unfamiliar and uncomfortable realization passed over him.
His father was lying.
“Okay,” Wells said, nodding at Sasha. “But if it’s just the two of us, I’ll need to tie you to me, so you can’t bolt once we’re in the woods.”
“Fine.” She stood up and extended her hands.
Wells winced when he saw the red sores on her wrist where the rope had rubbed her skin away. “I’ll use the metal cuffs this time. They’ll be less irritating.” He fetched the cuffs from the supply tent, then took some bandages, which he wrapped around Sasha’s right wrist before locking one of the cuffs to it. He paused a moment, then snapped the other cuff to his own left wrist, taking care to tuck the key deep inside his pocket. “Ready?” he asked. She nodded, and after glancing around the clearing to make sure no one was watching, he led her across the tree line, shortening his step when the bite of the metal let him know he was moving too quickly.