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“So what?”

“Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“You and Lucas.”

Ro’s face is red and I stare at it as I have for years, even though he won’t look at me. I try to decide if his face is getting redder. It’s a sign, either way. How I know what I need to do or say.

But my pride has gotten the better of me, and I feel like I have to defend myself. “
Lucas Amare
? Love? Everyone on Earth loves him.”

“So that’s a yes.” Ro scoops up a handful of rocks, throwing one out into the churning tides. The water is already so rough I can’t see anything like a splash.

“Ro. It’s not all like that. People follow him and shoot at him. Lucas is not exactly a person a girl can…” I sigh, because as I speak I realize it’s the truth. “Not me, not Tima.”

“Still not an answer.”

I take a rock out of his hand and hurl it into the water myself. I’m furious. I can’t speak, I can only shout. “We didn’t do anything. There. Are you happy? Now it’s my turn. Here’s a question for you, Ro. Since when did you become such an ass?”

Now he looks at me. Finally. When he does, his face is so open I wish he hadn’t. “Since I fell in love with a
girl named Sorrow, I guess. Should have seen that one coming.”

There.

He said it.

Love.

He loves me.

It’s out now, in the wind and the water and on the shore in front of us. And now that he has said the words, I see it, coming from him in waves that are as real and as violent as the ones in front of us that crash against the rocks, over and over again.

It’s red and pounding, distinctly Ro, but it’s something new.

It’s love.

He’s telling the truth. He isn’t confused. It isn’t what he’s always felt for me. Ro is changing.

“Doloria.”

He holds out his hand for mine.

“I need you.” His voice breaks as he says it. “Please—”

He leans toward me, bringing his face to mine. His hunger for me is overwhelming. Everything he wants wraps around me, a great cloud of Ro. A cloud of fury, like his name. A cloud of speed and sweat and grass and heat. And then—beneath it all—affection. Steady and real. The deepest, truest beating of his heart.

“Dol.”

For a moment, I forget to breathe and I feel dizzy. Like my legs could buckle and drop me to the rocks. I could drown in the waves. I could lose everything.

But I let go.

I lift my mouth to his.

We kiss.

It begins as small as everything does, but it isn’t enough. He isn’t satisfied. The heat is raging inside him, and I feel like I will burn up and dissolve into ash. I’m turning cold, even though I’m burning.

His hands fall on my shoulders, slide down my arms. He tugs at my binding.

My fingers curl into a fist. I know he needs me. I know I calm him and soothe him and even, in a way, complete him. But my arm is frozen. My arm is ice.

Ro pulls his mouth away from mine. He doesn’t take his eyes off me. I feel him fumbling at my binding. His fingers don’t seem to work, and he pulls harder. He yanks the muslin loose, frustrated.

I look away from him just as the white fabric flutters to the rocks below us.

“Dol.”

He pulls me closer to him. I try to let him take me back. I feel like a doll, like a thing.

I can’t.

I can’t bind with him, not like this. Not when it means
something more than our shared kitchen floor, our Mission childhood, our Grass brotherhood.

I don’t know enough about how I feel. I don’t know anything about myself. I only know I can’t bind with Lucas and I can’t bind with Ro. Even though there’s part of me that wants to give myself to both of them.

What’s wrong with me?

I shake my head.

“I can’t.”

It doesn’t make anything easier. The red rage isn’t gone. Neither is the love. Nothing’s gone.

“Ro. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let you kiss me.”

“You feel it too. Don’t pretend like you don’t.”

“I don’t know how I feel.”

“But I do. You’re just afraid. You don’t want to get hurt. You think if you love someone they’ll leave. That I’ll go and you’ll be alone.”

“Yes.” It’s true. I won’t deny it.

“But I’m here. I stayed. I’m the one who stayed.”

“Maybe I want everything to be the same.”

“Look around, Dol. People are dying. The whole planet is dying. Nothing is the same.”

“I know. That’s why I’m so confused.”

He looks away. Then he sighs, and picks up my binding from the rocks. Hands me the dirty fabric.

“Whatever.”

I love Ro, I always have. We love each other, which is also something he knows.

But it doesn’t seem like I should be reminding him of that right now. And that isn’t what he means, anyway.

I begin to bind my arm. I want to tie off everything. How I feel, how he feels. I don’t want any of it.

I knot the strip of muslin so hard I think the blood won’t reach my hand. Maybe it’s better that way.

“Let’s get out of here,” Ro says, chucking the last of the rocks. He watches it fly out at the waves. It’s not the peaceful ocean of our Mission beach, up the Tracks by La Purísima. This water is pounding and restless and as chaotic as the Hole itself. As angry as Ro. As complicated as Lucas. As confused as me.

“Like I said, I’m sorry.”

It’s not what he wants to hear, and I’m sorry for that too. His face looks dark, and he sighs, shaking his head.

“It doesn’t matter.” Another lie. He begins the short walk up the shoreline, and I scramble after him.

“Did you figure anything out in the Hole, at least? Or was it all just fun and games, except for the getting shot at part?”

By the time we make it back to the medical wing, I’ve told him everything. About the Icon. About how it killed the boy, and not me. And not Lucas. How we hiked up to it, and what we saw.

About Doc and Hux and Fortis and the Rebellion.

“So there is something we can do.” He stares up at the sky, the soaring top of the Presidio, thinking. “We’ve got to tell Tima. She’ll know what we need. And maybe she has access to information we can use to hit it.”

“Hit what?”

He looks at me like I’m stupid.

“For the first time in our lives, we can do something to actually help ourselves. To help everyone.”

“We have to be careful, Ro. There are only four of us.”

“Three. There’s only three of us.”

“What?”

“You’re a fool if you think Lucas is going to help us blow his mommy’s job right out of the sky.”

“You don’t know Lucas.”

He looks at me, incredulous. “Lucas doesn’t matter anymore. None of the Brass do. This is a Grass thing. I wish I was back at the Mission. I know a few people who could help.”

“We don’t even know if there still is a Mission.” My heart twists as I think of Bigger and Biggest, left behind.

“It doesn’t matter. This is our chance, Dol. We may never get another one. We have to do something. I’d get off this rock right now, except what I need might actually be here.”

His eyes are flinty, hard as steel. Not a brown-gold fleck in sight. He’s finally started to listen to the sound of
his own angry voice. He’s forgotten about his heart.

The Grassboy who loves the Grassgirl goes out with the tides. The Grass Revolutionary comes in with them.

Perhaps there is something more frightening than love, after all.

Handwritten notes transcribed as follows:

D
ECRYPTED/DECODED SIGNAL FROM INCOMING ASTEROID (UNKNOWN OBJECT
2042 IC4):

…

TARGET SCAN COMPLETE…

ADVANCED CIVILIZATION DETECTED

TECHNOLOGY STATUS…15.3X-B

INITIATE PURIFICATION PROTOCOL 1.334AXS39

TARGETS SELECTED…13

PURIFICATION COMPLETE IN 66 TPU

CONTACT ATTEMPTS INITIATED

…

C
ONTACT IS POSSIBLE
…

W
HAT IS “PURIFICATION
”??

…
WHAT DO THEY WANT?

At dinner that night, the four of us can barely face each other.

Tima isn’t speaking to Lucas or me. Ro isn’t speaking to Lucas. Lucas isn’t speaking to me. I’m not speaking to him. To make matters worse, Colonel Catallus is walking toward us. As if that wouldn’t immediately kill all of our appetites.

Lovely.

“Do you want to tell them what we found today?” Ro looks at Tima as he shoves most of an apple into his mouth. “After they ran off and left us?”

“Ro,” I say. “Quiet.”

There is nothing Ro can say in front of Colonel Catallus.
We aren’t free to talk here. He knows that.

Lucas glares at Ro.

“Not really.” Tima puts down her fork. Her plate is untouched.

Colonel Catallus gives the four of us a withering look, positioning himself at our table, next to Lucas.

“I hear you left the compound today, Lucas.” He picks up a sharp knife and stabs into a slice of meat drowning in pale gravy. “You too, Doloria. Though I have to say, I was surprised to see you take the same liberties as Mr. Amare. Not having the same—should we say,
protections
—in place that he does.”

A threat. Of course.

When he eats, I hear his lips smacking and his teeth clicking. I want to tell him to eat with his hands. It would be more civilized.

“Speaking of which, have you discussed your little adventure this afternoon with the Ambassador, Lucas?”

“Should I?”

“Immediately. Did you not see any of my messages?”

Lucas holds up his leather-bound wrist, wearily. “As if I’d dare take off my handcuffs. You’d send the whole Sympa Guard after me.”

Colonel Catallus doesn’t smile. His mouth is pressed into a thin, watery line. “She’s been trying to speak with you all evening.”

“Funny. You found me easy enough.”

“Lucas, please.”

“I’m not pleased. But I am here if she wants me.” He’s as cranky as Ro today.

“She’s terribly worried, not that I blame her. I can’t imagine any mother being happy to hear her only son ran away to the Embassy City, only to be fired on by Grass Rebels.”

I almost choke on my bread. Is it true? Is that who was shooting at us?

Colonel Catallus shakes his head in my direction. He’s not interested in me, not now. Not in the same way he is in Lucas.

I look again to the medals and ribbons on his jacket. The shiny gold wings on his lapel catch the light.

Ro sets down his mug. “They weren’t Grass.” He looks at Colonel Catallus, who glares at him.

“I’m glad you have us to be worried about your safety, Furo. That’s why I’m having you escorted to your rooms, as soon as you’ve eaten. Nobody leaves their quarters until we get to the bottom of today’s little incident.” He smiles at all of us, cold as winter. “Is that clear? Because I’ve also got a few rooms set aside for you in the Pen, if you’d feel more secure there.”

Prison. Another threat.

With that, Colonel Catallus leaves us to sulk in peace.

Tima folds her napkin and lays it on the table in front of her. “Ro, do you want to go up to my room after dinner? I’m sure no one would mind, seeing as we’re not the ones in trouble here.”

Ro stops midway through shoving half a baked potato into his mouth. “Me? With you? What did I do now?”

“Nothing. I thought we could hang out, get to know each other better. Since we had so much fun alone together, today.” Tima attempts to flutter her eyelids, but it only looks like she’s gotten a cinder in her eye. “And I say that to imply touching, in case it wasn’t perfectly clear.”

She twists her legs, and I see that she’s stitched a seam up the back of each calf. It looks like she is wearing stockings. The stitches are precise, each one like a small staple. Red and white and yellow and green. The new tattoo makes me wonder.

Tima’s losing her mind.

Ro tries not to laugh at the awkwardness of the question.

“Okay.” He’d never touch her, not like that—and not for those reasons. But Lucas doesn’t know that, and I guess Ro doesn’t mind letting him think it.

“Tima—” Lucas starts. She cuts him off.

“Great. Let’s go. We can talk. And I say that to imply, you know. Not talking.” She stands up to go.

“Sit down.” Lucas tries again. She won’t.

Ro looks from me to Tima. “Sure. We can
talk
. I’d like that.” He grins and stands too, wadding up his napkin and letting it drop onto his plate.

I shake my head. Lucas looks disgusted. “Come on, T. I said I was sorry.”

She ignores him. They disappear out of the room.

“Well?” I look at Lucas.

“Well what?” He shrugs.

“We have to go after them.”

“Already thought of that. Doc?”

“Yes, Lucas?”

“Lock Tima’s personal quarters, will you? I’m afraid I’ve left something toxic inside, and I need to warn her.” Lucas sighs and I try not to smile.

“Commencing room-scan for toxins.”

“No, no. It’s nothing that will show up on a scan, Doc. It’s—a different kind of poison. Something new. Insidious.” His mouth twists and I begin to think he is enjoying himself.

“I understand. Does this poison have a name, Lucas? I should file it in the Catalogue and Compendium of Toxins, in the Embassy Wik.”

“Yes. It’s called…
Amici Nex
.” Lucas looks at me, arching one eyebrow. “And it’s a real pain in the ass.”

Doc’s voice returns. “I see. The Death of the Friend. It is a strange name, is it not? Not at all like the others.
Oleandrin. Nerine. Nitriles. Isocyanides. Methanidiol
.”

“I know. It’s really not like anything else. It gets you when you least expect it, and it’s positively lethal.”