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  “He’s alive,” Mason said.

  “And his woman?”

  Mason fought a smile. What was it about his bossy brother that the ladies liked so much? “Levi and Jemma are married now.”

  Kosowe let her head fall back to the table. “Explain our purpose here. What do they want with my people?”

  “They’re dying, and they want you to bear them children.”

  Her eyes seemed to darken, or maybe she was simply glaring at him. “And if we refuse? They will violate us?”

  “Not like you think,” Mason said, glad to have a shred of positive news to convey. “They use technology to make you pregnant.”

  Her face paled. “Their medicine woman?”

  “Sort of.”

  “This is unnatural. Chief Kimama would not allow it. I will not allow it.”

  The door swung in, and Ciddah entered the room. “Let’s see, did I leave my chart — Mason.” She pursed her lips and snatched the chart from his hands. “What are you doing here?”

  “You’ve been keeping this from me,” Mason said.

  She shook out her hair and looked at the chart. “I don’t report to you.”

  He shouldn’t be surprised by her dispassion. “You can’t have this both ways, Ciddah. Either we’re friends or we’re not.”

  “Why should my task have anything to do with — ”

  “I will not have a technology baby,” Kosowe said, her voice cutting through the tension.

  Ciddah stared at Kosowe, her eyes moist, then grabbed Mason’s arm and pulled him toward the door. “Join me outside. Now.” Ciddah dragged him into the hall.

  “This is why you changed my schedule,” Mason said. “You didn’t want me to see them here.”

  Ciddah pursed her lips and waited for Kosowe’s door to close behind them. “Mason — ”

  “The chart says she’s here for ETP. And it says three embryos. Three?”

  Ciddah sighed and rubbed her temple as if Mason were a small child with so little understanding of the world. “We always use three if we can get three. The more embryos transferred, the higher the likelihood of multiples.”

  Another blow that threatened to knock Mason over. “You always try to create multiple babies?”

  “Of course. Now, what did you say to my patient?”

  Could this mean Shaylinn was carrying more than one child? And if the donor had been infected, that would mean multiple babies who were doomed to a life of—

  “Mason! What did you tell her?”

  Mason snapped his attention to Ciddah, whose expression looked fiery enough to melt the Safe Lands walls. “I … told her the Safe Lands would force her to bear a child.”

  “Mason!” She shoved him. She actually shoved him. So hard he stumbled. “That’s not your place.”

  He got his feet back under him and straightened his spine, trying to salvage a scratch of dignity. “I’m a medic, Ciddah. My patient asked a question. And why wouldn’t you tell her?”

  Again she moved toward him, but this time she merely shook her finger. “She’s not your patient. You do not task here at the moment. I could have you arrested for trespassing.”

  “That would most certainly mend the rift between us.”

  She closed her eyes, pressed her fingers to her temples, sighed, and then fixed her gaze on him again. “Mason, this is an honor for Kosowe. But you make it sound like some kind of nightmare.”

  “It’s only an honor to people who want it. To outsiders, a nightmare describes it perfectly, especially when you do so without their consent or knowledge. Kosowe is a human being, not an animal in a laboratory.”

  Ciddah inhaled a deep breath, as if to hold herself together. “Being a surrogate is a thing of beauty, Mason. I would be thrilled to be in Kosowe’s place.”

  “Kosowe is not you. Have you asked her if she wants to be pregnant? Or have you already denied her the choice?”

  “If you can’t assist me without poisoning the patients against me or the Safe Lands, I won’t be able to use you in the SC anymore.”

  He was already tasked to the pharmacy. “Fine by me.”

  Tears welled in Ciddah’s eyes. “Perhaps they’ll keep you permanently in the pharmacy, then.”

  “That is also acceptable.” Which it wasn’t. At all. Why was he saying such things?

  “Yes, well … Bye-o then.” Ciddah nodded and went back inside the exam room.

  Mason stood alone in the hallway a moment, morose at yet another failure on his part to befriend Ciddah, not that that was why he’d come here on his break. What good was he to his people if he’d lost his only Safe Lands source? But Shaylinn came to mind then. He owed her some answers. That much he could do.

  He walked to exam room two, lifted the blank CompuChart off the wall by the door, and went inside. The room was empty. His hands were shaking as he pulled up Shaylinn’s file, and Ciddah’s last words haunted him. This was for the best, really. He had grown far too attached to that infuriating woman.

  It took him a moment to find the date of Shaylinn’s ETP and to read through Ciddah’s notes. He found what he was looking for at the bottom.

  Two embryos transferred.

  He clenched his teeth a moment, trying to keep his head. It would not do if Ciddah tapped enforcers to remove him from the SC.

  But why two embryos for Shaylinn, three for Kosowe, and only one for Kendall Collin? Perhaps they had failed to remove three embryos from Kendall, or the others fetuses may have died during the course of her pregnancy.

  Mason took a moment to look up Kendall’s history, but he could find no results for an ETP at all. Her first appointment in the SC had been on November 18, 2087. Reason: pregnancy test.

  Kendall had gotten pregnant by natural means. Interesting.

  Mason backed the CompuChart to Shaylinn’s appointment history. The day Ciddah had confirmed Shaylinn’s pregnancy had been a Monday. Ciddah hadn’t announced it over the ColorCast because she liked to wait at least four weeks before making a pregnancy public, and the Glenrock women had escaped before then.

  Mason clicked the calendar icon and paged back to Monday, June 28. He found Shaylinn’s name, clicked on it, and located Ciddah’s notes.

  Pregnant with twins! Fortune be praised!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  Ciddah’s use of multiple exclamation points was further proof of the wall between them. She was set on repopulating the Safe Lands, no matter the method, and Mason was set on getting his women out of the Safe Lands. How could he have ever entertained thoughts of a life with a woman with such different views of love and family? He had not been thinking clearly in her presence. She had a way of intoxicating him.

  Little Shaylinn, the mother of two?

  And now Kosowe in the next room undergoing a similar procedure?

  Lord in heaven, help us fix this.

  But there was still one question left unanswered. Mason paged back to Shaylinn’s ETP appointment and looked in the little slot titled “Donor.”

  9-G1.

  G stood for Glenrock, which meant the donor was one of their own. So that Wyoming man’s sample had not been used to impregnate Shaylinn. Good. Mason’s Safe Lands ID number was 9-G25. Jordan and Levi, who’d gone to the Registration Department together, had been given the numbers 9-G26 and 9-G27.

  Mason could only guess who had been the first member from Glenrock to become a Safe Lands national. But he knew the identity of the only Glenrock man to comply with demands to be a donor.

  Omar.

  Mason sat in the air-conditioned lobby of the Westwall apartment building where he and Ciddah both lived, watching the parking lot, waiting for her to arrive. He had to make peace. For no other reason than to use her, of course — like Levi had said.

  Three shiny black cars pulled into the drop-off zone out front. The front seat passenger in the second car got out and opened the back door. Mason watched Ciddah climb out and turn to speak to someone in the back seat. She smiled as she spoke, then stepped back, revealin
g the task director general, Lawten Renzor, still in the car. Ciddah waved good-bye to him.

  Mason closed his eyes, bracing himself against the fracture that seemed to be cracking him in two. This was nothing new. He’d known she was friends with Lawten. She was likely working for him. Maybe more. It didn’t matter.

  As the procession pulled away, Mason got up and walked toward the elevator, then turned back, uncertain if he should abandon his plans to speak with Ciddah or not.

  What did she see in Lawten, anyway? Mason had found the man to be an ailing bully. True, Mason knew little about women, but he was fairly certain such traits were not highly prized in a man. Perhaps it was merely Lawten’s power, then, that Ciddah found so alluring.

  Before he managed to make up his mind, she entered the lobby. Her smile grew cold when she saw him. Not good.

  “Waiting for the elevator?” she said.

  “Yes.” Technically.

  She leaned forward and pressed the elevator button. “It might help to call it.”

  “Right. Um … Just finish your task shift?”

  “Yes, and I’m hungry.” She pushed the elevator button again.

  Mason forced the words from his mouth before he lost the chance. “I owe you an apology.”

  She looked at him then, the crystal blue of her eyes sending a chill over his body. How could one woman invoke in him such visceral emotions? Was that normal?

  “I was wrong to come to the SC today,” he said, determined to regain her good favor. “And what you do … your task in the SC … It’s not my place to intervene.”

  “Thank you.” She pushed the elevator button again.

  “Pushing the call button repeatedly will not make the elevator come faster,” Mason said. “Once the button is pressed, the call is sent to the computer that controls the elevator. Pressing the call button again does nothing.”

  She shot him a dirty look.

  Perhaps he shouldn’t have said that. “I understand if you don’t want to be friends. I simply …” He paused, searching for the right words.

  “Simply what?” Ciddah said.

  He tapped his hands against the sides of his legs. “Well, since I’ve come here, I …” He had planned to tell her she was his only friend, but such a confession seemed terribly pathetic, despite how true it might be. “I want to ask you on a date.”

  What? Where had that archaic idea come from?

  She seemed genuinely surprised by this. “Now?”

  “Friday,” Mason said quickly. “We both have the day off, and I need time to make plans.” Though he doubted a year’s worth of planning would prepare him for such an event.

  “Oh-kay …” A small smile. “What time on Friday?”

  “All day.” All day? Really? Why had he said that? “I’ll, uh, come to your apartment at eleven. Don’t eat lunch. Or dinner.” Don’t eat dinner? This was a nightmare.

  His comment induced a frown. “What should I wear?”

  What did that matter? “Whatever you like. Something … comfortable.”

  “Comfortable. Friday. Eleven in the morning?”

  “Precisely.” Then, desperate to end this infernal conversation, he added, “See you then?”

  “Okay.” She smiled a little again, looking at him strangely, as if he had food on his face. He wiped his hand over his mouth, just to check.

  The elevator opened and Ciddah stepped inside. “Are you coming in?”

  “Not now, no. I’ve got an errand to run.” A suicide to commit …

  “Bye-o, then.”

  Mason held up his hand. The elevator doors slid shut, and he let his arm fall.

  A date? What had he been thinking? He hadn’t. And there lay the problem. He only ever maintained decent conversation with Ciddah Rourke when disagreement was involved. How would they ever manage an entire day of polite conversation? Plus, he knew nothing about dating rituals. He took the stairs to his apartment to leave his SimTag behind, then went to the train station, used the spare SimTag from locker 127 to cross to the Midlands, then took the train to the Belleview exit. He didn’t stop moving until he’d reached the underground bunker.

  The door clanked and echoed in the corridor when he closed it. “Hello? Anyone here?”

  No answer came, but he heard footsteps in the main room. He found Jemma there, standing around the side of the refrigerator, pressed up against the wall as if she were hiding from him. A pot bubbled on the stove. Peculiar.

  “Mason!” She relaxed and came to give him a hug. “Is something wrong?”

  “I would ask you the same thing. Why were you hiding?”

  She rubbed her hand over her face. “Oh, Mason. We’re not supposed to talk about it in case …” She tapped her ear and mouthed, Someone is listening. Then, “Why are you here? Are you looking for Levi?”

  “I have a date. Like in Old movies. With Ciddah.”

  Jemma’s lips curved in a slow smile.

  Must she? “Don’t tease me, Jemma, please. Just … help?”

  “Is your date tonight?” she asked.

  “No, Friday.” He’d done that much to help himself, at least.

  “That was smart thinking, to ask in advance.”

  “I didn’t do it to be smart,” Mason said. “I simply knew we both had the day off.”

  Jemma took his arm and led him toward the sofas. “Mason, you can do this. If you let me tell you what to do, it won’t be authentic. Ciddah likes you and wants to spend time with you. Not me.”

  Mason pondered her words. “I wasn’t asking you to take my place.” Though she did raise an interesting point. Why had Ciddah accepted his offer? Did she truly like him? Even after all his animosity toward her profession?

  Jemma giggled and sank onto the couch with its back to the kitchen. “Sit. Let’s talk this out. You want to know how to behave, right?”

  The three couches were arranged in a C. Mason sat on the edge of the couch opposite Jemma’s, which seemed to be the only one without holes. “Mostly I don’t want to end the experience with her liking me less than she does now.”

  “Oh, Mason. That’s not possible. She can’t help but like you.”

  Her words were kind, as always, but Jemma was not familiar with Ciddah’s ever-changing moods.

  “You should take care, though,” Jemma said, lips pursed in a sudden frown. “I can see how much you like her. Is it wise to spend time with her like this? She doesn’t think like you do or believe the same things. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  Yes, these were all valid points Mason had considered time and again. “I’m well aware of our different philosophies, Jemma. Frankly, I like that she and I have much to debate. But if you’re concerned that I will become brokenhearted over this woman, don’t be. I cannot trust her, and trust matters more to me than how many lives she believes in or that she thinks copulation is equal to a game of checkers.”

  Jemma burst into laughter then, going on for so long that she clutched her sides and lay down on the sofa.

  Frustration simmered within Mason. “I wasn’t trying to be funny.”

  The door opened then, and Levi and Zane entered. Zane’s hair was flat today — no spikes — but he still wore his gold spiral nose rings.

  “Mason,” Levi said. “Jemma, what’s wrong?”

  Jemma grabbed the top of the sofa and pulled herself to a sitting position, looking over the back at Levi and wiping her tears. “He has a date.”

  Zane limped toward the couches, but Levi slowed to a stop by the tables and crossed his arms. “They do that here? I thought that was ancient stuff.”

  “Of course,” Zane said, sitting on the couch between Jemma and Mason’s. “Why wouldn’t we date?”

  “I mean date like they did in Old movies,” Levi said, making his way to the back of Jemma’s couch. “I’m well aware of how people … trade paint, as you say.”

  “What if that’s what she’s expecting?” Mason asked, suddenly twice as apprehensive as he had been. “Is that what �
�date’ means in the Safe Lands?”

  Zane rolled his eyes. “Despite what you people think of us flakers, not every Safe Lander looks to pair up on the first date. Who is she?”

  “Ciddah Rourke,” Mason said, intrigued by Zane’s missing ear. The entire pinna was gone, leaving only the tragus and the dark hole of the ear canal.

  “Okay, I know her.” Zane shifted on the couch so that the spot where an ear should be was out of Mason’s view. “She’s a quiet one. Smart. A bit pretentious. Used to see her with Renzor a lot before he became the TDG.”

  Lawten again. Mason didn’t want to hear about him. “She told me once that the men here don’t listen. That she wanted someone to care and not leave.” It seemed important, somehow.

  “Might be looking for a lifer, then, which means she’s a softie.” Zane combed his fingers through his stringy brown hair. “Okay, if it were me, I’d take her dancing.”

  A terrifying proposition. “I don’t know how to dance,” Mason said.

  “Does she?” Zane asked. “If not, you could take a dance lesson together.”

  “Oh, yes!” Jemma clapped her hands together. “That sounds perfect.”

  “No,” Mason said. “I don’t want to dance. I don’t want to make myself more nervous than I already am. I need something I can’t mess up.”

  “Why?” Levi said. “You should be focused on getting the kids out of the boarding school, not trying to make some flaker like you.”

  Unbelievable. “You told me to make her like me, Elder Levi. You said to use her to get the information I need. She’s not apt to give me information if she dislikes me.”

  Levi came around the end of the couch and sat beside Jemma. “Fine. Sorry. I forgot.” He took hold of Jemma’s hand and she leaned against him.

  “Go on a picnic — that’s what Levi always did.” Jemma kissed Levi’s cheek. “I love your picnics.” Levi turned his head and kissed her lips. Mason looked back to Zane.

  “Go on grid and look until you find something fun,” Zane said. “There’s tons to do here.”