Laryn Rising

By Jenny Baxter

Conditioned to abuse and control, Laryn is also incredibly determined to protect her family and keep them together—even if it means risking the unknown and leaving behind Earth, and all the technology and security it holds.
Every aspect of life is dictated for citizens of the Federation’s lowest class, so Laryn and her sisters—despised misfits in the genetic caste system—are shocked when the Feds give them a choice: stay and face separation and the dangers of communal housing, or join a group of colonists traveling to a pastoral colony on the distant planet of Nequam.
‘Pastoral’ is just another word for primitive—a concept Federation citizens can hardly comprehend—but Laryn and her sisters decide to risk the unknown and board the colonial transport ship bound for frontier life.
Quickly discovering that freedom means responsibility, they struggle to learn the skills required for a life of self-sufficiency. All of it is overwhelming, but nothing compares to the difficulty of sorting out the social and emotional challenges of their new culture.
For Laryn things become even more difficult when a man slips past her carefully built defenses, and she is soon faced with the impossibility of choosing between the love of a man and the security of her family.
Wrestling with her priorities and struggling to choose between her sisters and the newly-discovered wonder of love, it seems to Laryn that both sacrifice and loss are unavoidable as the Speedwell hurtles ever closer to her new home.
Unpredictable and emotionally charged, Laryn’s story is about self-discovery and the harsh realities of choice. Desperate to find where peace and accountability meet, she must choose—but how will she decide?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jenny Baxter
• Release date: Sep 28, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301370931

Book preview

Table of Contents

Setting

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Afterword

The Sequel

About the Author

Acknowledgement

Book Club Questions

SETTING:

James Town – A pastoral society located just west of the great mountain range of the Northam continent. The original colony of the James Town Venture, it was established as an alternative, experimental society based on the social, religious, moral, and political principles of the ancient country known as the United States that had been located on that same continent. James Town’s existence is tolerated by the Federation only as long as the society remains primarily primitive, and agrees to live without power or other modern forms of technology.

James Town Venture – Started by a group of disenchanted citizens of the Federation 350 years prior to the time of this book, they established the James Town Colony and secured Nequam. The James Town Venture is the governing body over the colonies of James Town and Plymouth, and over the transport ship the Speedwell.

Federation – The collective of urban states scattered across the Northam Continent. Each individual Federation State has a rigid genetic caste system, based on the ideals of Divine Selection discovered and propagated by a man named Voust over four hundred years earlier. Each Federation is made up of Industrial areas, urban housing for the two lower classes, the equivalent of suburban housing for the Select, or Government class, and is surrounded by a green belt of reserved wilderness. There are only seven Fed States on the Northam continent, with vast sections of land void of any human habitation between the Fed City States. James Town is the only other society separate from the Federation in all of the Northam continent.

Nequam – Latin for worthless, it is the name of a small, unwanted planet secured by the founders of James Town over three hundred years before the time of this book. Plymouth, the thriving sister colony of James Town, is located on Nequam. The two colonies share a common goal of someday leaving Earth forever and establishing a joint society on the new planet. Even Nequam, however, was only procured from the Federation with the understanding that it too would remain pastoral, never posing any threat to the Federation. If it is ever found to be advancing technologically by the Feds, Nequam will be destroyed.

Northam – The North American Continent

Plymouth – The sister colony of James Town, located on the planet of Nequam. Established there two hundred years earlier, it flourished while James Town was able to send large populations of immigrants every ten years or so. Now it is only once every twenty-five to fifty years that James Town is able to collect a group of colonists large enough to fund such ventures.

Speedwell – The name of the James Town Venture’s colonist transport ship. It is large enough to house four complete townships of colonists, their livestock and stores for the eighteen-month journey, and the hired crew from the Federation.

PROLOGUE

JAMES TOWN, NORTHAM CONTINENT

With his eyes on the rough-hewn beams of the James Town Assembly Hall, Kieff Lawler stayed out of the heated discussion going on around him but quietly considered the different sides of the issue at hand.

James Town has come too far to consider such risks! a councilman across the floor from him shouted, jumping to his feet with his fist in the air. Kieff didn’t know him well, but from their brief acquaintance he wasn’t surprised to hear the man take a conservative stance. The founders of the James Town Venture willingly traded technology, electricity, and every other aspect of the Federation’s advanced society for the right to govern themselves, and we cannot risk contaminating our way of life with Federation leftovers! he insisted to the room at large, pounding the table for emphasis. Just consider the sins of the Federation; they use genetic selection to control and segregate their citizens. While we have always allowed those who sought escape from such ideals to join us, it’s now being suggested that we bring a whole population of Federation citizens into our midst regardless of what they believe. The risks are too great, and there must be another way.

The Federation was the formidable government that ruled all of the Northam Continent. It had taken hold after the Hundred Years War, it had morphed into an oppressive, tyrannical state with a genetic caste system and a complete disregard for the humanity of its lower classes. Kieff himself had never been anywhere near a Federation city state, but he was confident that his own simple life as a citizen of James Town’s pastoral society was far superior to any technology the Federation had to offer. He didn’t really know much about technology, but the simple, sustainable life of James Town suited him very well, and he understood the councilman’s hesitation in doing anything involving the Federation or its population at large.

Well, we have to do something, a woman several seats down from Kieff argued. We can’t simply give up 350 years of hard work and sacrifice because we’re scared of taking a chance. Everyone knows that James Town won’t last forever—eventually the Federation will implode, or someone else will take over, and when that happens life as we know it here in James Town could be over. I say we consider all of our options.

She was right and Kieff knew it. The councilman’s point wasn’t without merit, but in the end James Town had to do something to help, or all would be lost. Plymouth, James Town’s sister colony located on the distant planet of Nequam, had no other resources, so if James Town couldn’t help them then no one could. And as the councilwoman had pointed out, the future for James Town was Plymouth, since someday the James Town Venture would leave Earth behind and settle for good on Nequam. No one knew when that day would come, but in the meantime James Town had managed to send groups of colonists to Plymouth whenever they could muster the funds and people to do it. Secretary Florian had arrived from Plymouth that very morning to start the year-long process it would take to get 12,000 colonists, their livestock, food stuffs, and every other necessity ready for making the eighteen month voyage to Nequam. Her first action had been to call a Full Session and inform everyone of the disaster that had struck Plymouth in the years since James Town's last communication with the distant colony. The news had been devastating, and Kieff could still hear Secretary Florian’s account of the tragic story ringing through his head.

Everyone—every person old enough to comprehend, she had begun, needs to understand that the entire future of the colony of Plymouth has been threatened. Fifteen years ago a deadly virus attacked our female population. I’m not a scientist and can’t explain why it limited itself to female genetics, but while most of the older girls and women survived, two thirds of all females five-years-old and younger perished.

Silence had cushioned the room as the implications of her announcement had begun to settle.

Now, she had continued, "there is a serious shortage of marriageable young women, and unless a solution can be found the colony of Plymouth’s population and moral foundation are both at risk. Something must be done, or our great efforts at colonizing Nequam will be lost. For over two hundred years the people of the James Town Venture have gone to great expense and sacrifice in an effort to populate and stabilize Plymouth. Families have been separated, and loved ones have been all but lost as our good ship the Speedwell has transported thousands upon thousands of our people to a new life on Nequam. To fail now—to watch an entire generation of our young people fail to contribute to our population—that is something I cannot stand by and witness."

That was when she had launched the suggestion that had caused the room to descend into chaos. No doubt to an outsider like Secretary Florian the suggestion of recruiting young women from the Federation’s lowest class seemed an obvious solution. To the people of James Town—many of whom were the descendants of those who had fled the tyrannical and grossly immoral Federation—the suggestion was intolerable. Almost as soon as the words had left the Secretary’s mouth, citizens of James Town had been on their feet expressing their outrage and disbelief.

Kieff was wondering if the meeting could ever be salvaged when the large double doors swung open. A hush fell over the entire assembly, and heads turned to see James Town’s Senior Councilman Boulder’s messenger boy arrive with someone in tow. Kieff had noticed when the Senior Councilman had sent the boy out, and now realization dawned as he recognized the tall, dark-haired woman with bronzed skin standing just inside the doors. She looked very much like many of James Town’s own citizens, but everyone from the colony knew who she was. Her name was Dizha Hope, and she was a former citizen of the Federation’s Popular class, the lowest class of their genetic caste system.

Kieff himself was a representative council member from one of James Town’s small outlying townships, and consequently he was fairly uninformed when it came to matters of the Federation and its citizens—who still trickled in to the colony from time to time. Even he, however, knew of this woman. Unlike the typical Federation recruits, Dizha had escaped the Federation on her own and had nearly died of starvation and exposure as she had wandered around in the uninhabited outlands of Northam. She had been found and rescued by a James Town hunting patrol two years earlier, and her arrival had made news all through the colony. Bringing her in was a stroke of genius.

Most of those who managed to break free of the Federation were from the Middler, or middle class. As a Popular class citizen Dizha would be able to give Secretary Florian a solid understanding of what recruiting a large population from that class would mean—and why it would pose such a danger to the morality that served as the backbone for the James Town Venture’s republic style government. The Venture’s younger colony on Nequam might be in jeopardy, but surely there was a better solution to the problems they were facing.

Looking Miss Hope over, Kieff could see she was terrified. Nonetheless, she stood her ground, waiting for Plymouth’s Secretary of Colonial Affairs to address her. She’d come a long way in the last two years.

So, Secretary Florian said after looking the girl over curiously, you escaped from the Federation?

Dizha nodded her head.

Were you planning on coming to the colony here at James Town when you left?

No, Dizha replied. I didn’t even know it existed when I escaped.

Secretary Florian raised her eyebrows. Then where was it you were planning to go?

Anywhere. I didn’t care if I died as long as I got out of the Federation.

Was your life there so bad?

Dizha held her gaze in silence for a moment. It wasn’t a life. It was a miserable existence of control and abuse. It was slavery.

You sound as if you’ve been well educated at the very least. I’ve been led to believe that the young women of your class are practically barbaric.

Oh, we’re educated, Dizha replied. Every pop, er, Popular class citizen, that is, receives a very thorough education from the Federation for the first fifteen years of their life. In many ways my education surpasses that of your own people.

Is it true what they have said about your lack of knowledge concerning ‘life sustaining activities’?

Miss Hope, Councilman Boulder interrupted, why don’t you give Secretary Florian a detailed report of what a typical day was like for you as a Popular class citizen of the Federation. Then perhaps she can better decide if any of the young women from the Federation are ready for the primitive life of the colonies.

The dark head nodded, turning back to the Secretary. The lights would come on in my cell when it was time to wake up, and after I ate my first meal from the dispenser I would put in my mandatory minutes of exercise on the machine. Then I would take the rail to the production center for a twelve hour shift monitoring the programming for a section of the production line, with two breaks for my next two meals. After work I would return to my cell, do my second exercise set, eat my fourth meal, drink my tonic, and surf the Fednet until the lights went off.

The Secretary looked intrigued, but she didn’t look shocked. And are those the only things you ever did?

The girl nodded. For the most part.

Well what about your meals and your clothes, cleaning and other things? When did you take care of them?

I didn’t. Pops don’t eat food. We eat ‘flash-frozen reconstituted dietary supplements specially designed for the optimal caloric and nutritious intake necessary for sustaining an ideal physique’. Every night I hung my jumpsuit in the sanitizer, and other pops in charge of structural sanitation would run the bots that cleaned the buildings.

The Secretary’s eyes widened a bit. And did you have friends? Did you socialize with the other citizens from your class during your work day?

I avoided all interaction with other pops, came the immediate reply. Some was inevitable, like during my commute to work, but for the most part I kept to myself and tried to keep from becoming a target.

What about the claims I’ve heard about the sexual immoralities of your society? Are they true? Do things like that really go on?

Dizha shuddered. Yes, most pops in my district attended the pop clubs once a week.

But not you?

No, never. I was an undesirable in the Federation. A misfit. Issue, or regular pops, don’t tolerate misfits. I was just lucky that my infraction wasn’t too noticeable.

And what is this ‘infraction’ that makes you a misfit?

My eyes, the girl replied. They’re too light. Eyes are easier to hide than some other infractions, but eventually they get noticed, and that made me a social outcast. Even the walks and the rail can be dangerous for misfit females like me—going to a pop club would have been suicide. I was lucky I didn’t have to learn that the hard way.

But why? What happens in these pop clubs? What makes them dangerous?

They aren’t necessarily dangerous for regular pops I suppose. I mean, I’ve heard lots of females who claim to like what goes on there. It doesn’t sound enjoyable to me, but then I wouldn’t know.

Well, what is it that goes on there? Secretary Florian asked again.

Females flaunt themselves and compete to be taken by a male. Or males.

The Secretary’s face blanched at the implication. Oh. Well then, she replied.

You see, Secretary, what we’d be dealing with if we tried to bring along young women from the Federation, Councilman Boulder broke in kindly. I understand our dilemma, and I realize that the fate of the entire Venture may rest on our ability to supply Plymouth with more marriageable young women, but I’m afraid that women like that….well, the remedy could be worse than the disease, as the saying goes.

But Councilman Boulder, there must be a way. Dealing with the tragedy of losing so many of our infant daughters was enough of a setback for Plymouth. Now we’re dealing with a large population of single young men running loose with no possible hopes of either marrying or producing the children we so desperately need to strengthen our numbers. The prognosis is a death sentence for a family-based society reliant on a strong moral foundation. You say you haven’t the resources necessary to send us any more girls of your own, and I respect that. Nevertheless, something must be done. Are you sure there isn’t a way to make the Federation option work?

With such huge risks on either side, I can’t see that it would be the one worth taking.

For a moment Secretary Florian looked defeated, but then Kieff saw her rally.

Well, what about Miss Hope? She wasn’t a frequenter of these establishments. Surely there are more misfits like her in the Federation who stayed away from these ‘pop clubs’.

The Council turned in a body toward Dizha, looking for an answer to this question. Kieff could tell she found their scrutiny uncomfortable as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, but after tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear she answered the question.

There are others. Misfits avoid the clubs, but very few would be suitable for what you’re looking for, since they’re generally targeted and beaten down until they’re useless. But there are other pops who don’t like the entertainments at the pop clubs—so I’ve heard.

And these others, Secretary Florian continued, are they also considered ‘undesirable’ by the Federation?

I suppose so, Dizha replied. The Feds want us to go to the pop clubs, and encourage us to, and that means they have a reason why they think we should. The Feds have a reason for everything—every Fed citizen knows that. There isn’t an aspect of a pop’s life that isn’t deliberately designed to achieve something, whether it’s to convince us we’re closer to being animals than we are to being human, or to remind us that they completely control our destiny.

So it’s safe to say that young women who fail to conform in these areas are less desirable than others? the Secretary prompted.

Dizha nodded her head. Yes, I think so.

Councilman Boulder, Secretary Florian continued, turning back to the Sr. Councilman, I understand that James Town makes it their business to know what goes on in the different Fed cities. Do you by chance have any idea how we would target a group of these undesirable females? Particularly those who have shunned the immoral practices of their class? If that were possible we could make the Feds an offer. Perhaps they’ll be willing to let us take some non-conforming trouble-makers off their hands.

The Sr. Councilman leaned back in his chair. You know, I think we just might be able to do it. Meeting adjourned until I have a chance to gather some necessary information, he said, sounding the gavel.

It took an entire year to get the James Town Venture’s colonial transport ship the Speedwell ready for the eighteen month voyage back to Nequam. Twelve thousand colonists from James Town would be accompanying Secretary Florian and her staff on their journey back to James Town’s sister colony of Plymouth, and thanks to a hard-won negotiation, they would be accompanied by over five hundred young women of the Federation’s Popular class—most of whom were unwanted by the Federation for their failure to appreciate or participate in the general immorality pushed on them by the Feds.

Kieff had been elected as the Head Councilman of one of the four colonial townships leaving on the Speedwell, and he knew how difficult it had been to secure the women from the clutches of the Federation. Although certain specifications had been made—and primarily met—there had been a few exceptions forced on the colony, such as an unwanted member of their Select class, and several misfits who had failed to be quelled by their fellow Popular class citizens.

Kieff wasn’t sure exactly what this meant, but as a Head Councilman he hoped the colony’s plans for integrating the Federation’s unwanted citizens into colonial society would work. There was no doubt it would be a difficult undertaking, but it had to succeed, because failure stood to take down too many things with it.

CHAPTER 1

Laryn looked up through the semi-darkness at the black sky above her. There was a glass ceiling between her and the open air, of course, and for the millionth time in her life she wondered what it would be like to be exposed to the actual night. She’d felt open air every year of her childhood when the Popular class children took their annual tour of the Government Section where the Selects lived. She knew that even there, where the breezes blew and the sun could be felt, it was still a controlled atmosphere, but at least it wasn’t the constantly re-circulated air she was breathing now. Always, when she was on the walks at night, she wondered about these things and whether or not night air would feel any different than other air. Surely the darkness changed things somehow, and the absence of the sun to warm it would transform the atmosphere of night into some more mysterious, ethereal thing.

Laryn was startled out of her thoughts by a group of female pops who were heading straight for her. It was clear from the looks on their faces that she was their target, and as they marched toward her she attempted to change her course enough to get out of their way, but braced herself for what she knew was coming.

Look Lonna, the ugly little misfit freak is clogging the walks. Hmmm, what should we do about it?

Run her over.

By this time they were practically on top of her. Laryn forced her eyes forward as the second girl rammed a shoulder into Laryn’s chest. It was a hard hit, and knowing the pops were looking for a payoff Laryn went ahead and let a grunt escape. Having long before learned the futility of showing any kind of resistance, she looked down, catching herself before she lost her balance and forcing her feet to continue down the walk. Refusing to acknowledge the assault by rubbing her chest or faltering in her steps was Laryn’s own little personal rebellion, but that was all she dared allow herself.

Looking around, she saw the walks were much more populated than usual, even for Leisure Day. The realization made her start, and putting her head back down she picked up her pace. If Laryn had any choice in the matter she would never be out in public at all on Leisure Day—let alone on the walks. But lately she’d had no other option. Saving the credits it took to ride the rail meant a few more hours of electricity every week, and that was the top priority even if it meant taking the walks home and working an extra shift.

Today’s shift had ended a bit later than usual, and despite herself Laryn felt a chill up her spine at the number of other pops she saw entering the walks. A glance at her wrist compute confirmed that it was quite a bit past the time she preferred to be home. At least it was night, and even though the walks were never as dark as the black sky above her, the few lights there were kept it dark enough that most shouldn’t notice the reddish-brown color of her hair.

Most misfits were only off by a shade or two in one area—hair not quite black, eyes too light, skin too light, etc.—but Laryn was an anomaly. A freak of nature. A mistake. Her hair wasn’t only not-black, it wasn’t even brown. It had too much red and warmth in it for that classification. Often times she’d wished it could at least be a color commissioned by the Feds like her sister Halla’s was, even if it would make her more of a target in other ways. But instead of being one of the coveted shades of Select-status red, or even red-blond like Halla’s, Laryn’s hair missed both marks. Too red to be brown, too brown to be red, she was a true misfit whose genetic profile didn’t fit anywhere into the Federation’s class system. Her blue eyes made it worse, and the smattering of freckles across her cheeks made her fair skin even more freakish. Freckles were a genetic flaw that was virtually non-existent, and she considered them an even worse trial than her hair. At least no one would see her freckles in this light.

Looking up she saw another group of pops heading her way, and this time they were males. Usually there were no males sharing the walks during female commute hours, but Leisure Day was an exception. Bigger, stronger, meaner, and more of a threat, after one look at them Laryn made a split-second decision and veered onto another walk. The detour meant passing the pop club, but it would be a shorter route. As she saw the club looming down the walk, Laryn gave an involuntary shudder. She had no desire to even think of what would happen to her if someone were to drag her in there. She’d experienced what happened to misfits in a club several years earlier, and it was a memory she chose to keep in the farthest reaches of her mind.

As she drew closer she saw that two middler guards—obvious members of the Federation’s middle class by not only their uniforms, but by their height and the dark brown color of their hair—were already patrolling the walks outside the club. Knowing they wouldn’t do more than glare at her, and that other pops would keep any abuses down to insults and suggestions in their presence, she relaxed just a bit as she hurried past.

Thank you, she whispered as she turned onto the walk that would lead to her building. It was even darker here in this older section of the city, and it was unlikely she’d meet anyone else since so few people lived in her area now that the Feds were shutting it down. Her gratitude, however, wasn’t aimed at the Feds like a good pop’s should be. Instead, it was directed toward some unknown entity Lilla had always referred to as Fate. Like most pops, Laryn had no use for the old belief that the Federation was some god-like thing to be constantly worshiped and thanked. In a few days it would be Worship Day, and like every other pop Laryn would subject herself to the weekly mandatory propaganda of the Feds—saying her worship verses, and chanting the anthems—but she wouldn’t believe any of it.

Belief in the divinity of the Federation had dwindled to almost nothing among the Popular class despite the Federation’s attempts to sustain it. Lilla and Padric had always said it was because of the re-education policy. Padric had long told her that knowledge was the key to freedom, even if it only existed in her mind, and she was beginning to understand the truth of his belief. Her final thought as she entered the lift to her dilapidated old flat, was to wonder if he’d been right about everything. She hoped he had been, because that meant the re-education of the pops would also be the Feds undoing regardless of their attempts to break down and isolate the Popular class into a collection of individuals with no emotional ties or allegiances. As she thought about what the Feds were about to do to her life, she couldn’t help thinking their plan seemed pretty successful. From the looks of things, the fall of the Federation could never happen soon enough to save her little world.

She entered her flat with a sigh of relief. The three rooms were small and outdated, and the worn out cleaning bot in their wall compartment left much to be desired—but it was home. For how long she couldn’t be sure, but compared to the pop cells in the communal housing, the little flat looked more and more like paradise. The door opened into the exercise room, and Laryn smiled at the sight of her youngest sister Miri exercising on their cardio machine. Halla was nowhere to be seen, but before Laryn could panic at the thought of her fair-haired younger blood-sibling being out on the walks, Miri answered her question.

She’s in the bunkroom.

Laryn’s breath came out in a rush. It would be very dangerous for Halla to be out at this time on Leisure Day since even the darker atmosphere would never hide her renegade genetics. Their usual commutes were fairly safe—relatively speaking—because the pops they passed on the walks and rode the rails with daily were accustomed to their misfit genetics, and didn’t generally spend too much energy bothering with them.

Leisure Day was something else entirely. Laryn was just thankful that Halla’s way with people and amazing head for numbers had managed to win her some protection from the middlers who supervised her. Not wanting to see one of their most productive employees out of commission, they were very careful with her schedule and made sure she only commuted when traffic was at its lowest. Whether or not anyone would ever admit it, productivity trumped even genetics, and no middler supervisor wanted to risk their numbers going down.

Laryn’s wrist compute beeped at her, and without looking at the small screen she knew it was a reminder that it was past time for her next caloric intake. Taking the walks home meant that she rarely ate her evening calories within the optimal time range. She moved across their small main living area to the ration dispenser and scanned her compute at it. A light flashed, and a sealed container popped out. Without even looking to see what it was Laryn opened the reconstitution oven, shut the door, pushed a button, and leaned against the wall to wait for it to turn into something edible.

Bleh, Halla said, making a face as she walked over to the water dispenser. What wonderful thing are they giving you for your evening calories tonight?

Hmmm, Laryn said, removing the reconstituted meal from the oven and examining it. It says here that the protein is chicken, the carb is potatoes, and the produce is pina colada.

Right, Halla replied. And I’ll bet it looks just like the three globs of ‘whatever’ that you ate for your afternoon calories—with possibly a slight color variation. Why do they even bother to call it anything besides protein, carb, and produce? It’s not like any of us have the slightest idea what chicken is. And what in the name of Voust is a pina colada?

Halla! Miri hissed, coming over to stand by Laryn. You know it makes me nervous when you curse like that. You never know when they’re listening, and I don’t want either of you to get in trouble.

Sorry Miri, but I can’t help it. I mean, we’re real people and we deserve real food. You should smell some of the things that come out of the govvie side of the processing center where the middlers work. I would do anything to taste just one little bite from their—

Bakery, Laryn supplied, rolling her eyes. We know Halla, we’ve heard you say it a million times. Look girls, I’d love to chat but I have to eat my delicious meal and then do my time on the machine.

Refuel so you can burn it off. That’s about all our food is good for, Halla said, a note of disgust in her voice. I will forever regret the day they moved me to the food processing center and exposed me to mass amounts of pop-ration glop. And frankly, sending me to the ordering office wasn’t much of a favor either since now I have delicious real-food smells to torment me all day. How’s a pop supposed to stand their food after smelling the bakery twelve hours a day?

It’s your fault for being such a good worker, Laryn reminded her, picking through her rations. No one wishes you’d been assigned to a job doing data entry at home like Miri more than I do. You’ve ruined food for all of us.

What are you thinking about over there Miri? Laryn asked a few moments later when she noticed her dark haired younger blood-sibling staring at the wall. She was pretty sure she already knew, since Miri was toying with the implant on her arm that assured no pop or middler could get pregnant without the Feds’ say so.

Oh, Miri replied, just how much I wish I had the proper classification for being a surrogate. I can’t help thinking it must be a wonderful, amazing thing to have an infant grow inside of you.

Yeah, and they probably give you better food when you’re incubating one too, Halla added from the table where she was drinking her evening tonic.

Ignoring Halla’s comment, Laryn considered Miri silently for a moment. With her almost black hair and light brown eyes, Miri was the closest by far to a standard Popular class citizen, but there was no way she’d ever be considered as a surrogate. All three of the girls had the kind of renegade genetics the Federation was trying to stamp out.

Do you really think you’d even want to do something like that? Laryn couldn’t help asking. I know Lilla incubated each of us, but…

Miri sighed. She was lucky if you ask me. Everything that she and Padric managed to do from contracting, to having three blood-offspring and choosing to keep us, are things I would like to do. If I could, I would do all of those things.

Laryn shuddered. You’re forgetting an important detail Miri. Males. They aren’t like Padric anymore. I know twenty-five years doesn’t seem like that long ago, but the Federation is good at what they do. We’re more than lucky to have each other.

A serious silence followed this statement, and the three girls sat staring at each other. Finally Halla spoke.

How long do we have now? Any idea, Laryn?

Laryn sighed. It’s hard to say. Between this housing sector being shut down and the cell-housing mandate, it’s probably just a matter of whichever one they get to first. But I’d say we don’t have too long.

Do you think we’ll become like the rest of them?

Laryn didn’t need Miri to clarify her whispered concern, because all of them knew she was talking about the other misfits. Laryn took a breath and did her best to speak with confidence.

No Miri, I don’t. We might not be together—we might never see each other again—but we’ll always know we still love one another. We will need to be strong though, because it’s not going to be easy.

It’s going to be terrible, Halla stated with finality. I’ve occasionally managed to get along with other pops one at a time, but I can’t imagine being thrown into a cell-hall with hundreds of them all at once. Hopefully it won’t be as bad for the two of you, but there’s no pretending they won’t want to break me. We all know what my hair and eyes symbolize to them.

Laryn felt a twist in her stomach as she looked back into the clear green eyes of her blood-sibling. If it wasn’t for the fact that she had the lean slenderness and height of a pop, Halla could easily pass for a high-order govvie, and Laryn had been worrying about it ever since they’d been notified of their impending separation. Her blood-siblings exceptional memory and head for figures might get her protection at work, but even if the change in housing didn’t mean a new work assignment, there was no way her supervisors could protect her once she was living in a cell hall. As a general rule, the lighter the coloring the more abuse a misfit took, and Laryn knew things would be bad for Halla.

Look, you two, Laryn said, feeling her determination to hold them together surge, it hasn’t happened yet. We’ve managed to stick together this long despite losing Lilla and Padric, Fed credit cuts, power outages, and everything else they’ve thrown at us, so let’s not give up.

Halla gave Laryn a look that was dangerously close to pity. Laryn, you might just have to accept it, you know. Miri and I are both more than aware of how hard you’ve worked since Padric was taken, and we’ll always love you for that. If it wasn’t for you we would have been separated then. You’ve done everything you could through the years, and I don’t want you to burden yourself with guilt or more responsibility if we don’t find a way out of this.

Lying in her bunk later that night, Laryn tried to calm her anxiety. Wishing she could fall asleep and escape her worries for a while, she overheard her blood-siblings talking out in the living area. Halla’s voice came to her first.

Miri, you know you’ll probably do all right. You look more like a pop than either of us.

It’s nice of you to try to cheer me up, Halla, but the truth of the matter is I’m still more of a misfit than most of the others. The few I knew in Fed school and the one’s I see when I do have to go out usually only have one offense. My coloring might be close, but I’m off on my hair, skin, and eyes.

Miri, your skin is very close. It’s hardly even noticeable.

It’s not that close, Halla. You know they’ll notice.

For several minutes there was silence, and Laryn thought maybe their conversation was over. She was lying there trying not to think about any of it when Miri spoke again.

I don’t want to end up like the others, but I’m afraid. I see the way they creep along the walks and cower on the rail, and it makes me want to cry. Their clothes are always torn and dirty, and we always hear about how most misfits don’t last very long once they’re out of Fed school. From the way they look I can believe it. I don’t know whether starvation or beatings are more common, but it doesn’t matter in the end. Both are terrible, and either way once they are considered too weak or beat down to work they disappear.

The same thing would have happened to us if we’d been moved into the cell-halls right after school. They get bullied there, and no one cares. School was bad, but at least when we were children they didn’t let the others do anything truly damaging.

So what’s supposed to save us now?

Laryn could hear Halla’s sigh.

I don’t know, Miri. I only know that I’d rather have them beat me to death in the first month then end up broken like that. I plan to go down fighting.

Every muscle in Laryn’s body was tense as she lay there listening with clenched fists. There wasn’t a part of her that didn’t want to rebel against the picture Halla had just painted, and although she felt pride at hearing her blood-sibling’s determination to keep them from de-humanizing her—and knew she’d feel the same way if it came down to it—in her heart Laryn refused to accept defeat. Squeezing her eyes shut, she could still hear Padric’s voice defying Federation rules and using the word ‘family’ as he implored her to keep her blood-siblings with her and out of the Fed’s pop cell-halls. She smiled as she recalled how he and Lilla had always used the term ‘girls’ to refer to the three of them, rather than the accepted ‘females’ or ‘fems’.

She’d been sixteen at the time, and the two of them had been sitting up past curfew talking. At first it had just been a conversation about remembering. As if afraid she could somehow forget, Padric had once more reminded her about the more than coincidental chain of events that had led up their strange blood-set/family even being in existence. Lilla had been a misfit middler. In the second year of the Federation’s move to create an official middle class there had been a handful of such mistakes. With the platinum hair and blue eyes of a high order select, Lilla had been shuffled off to a factory where she had met up with a misfit pop who had the coloring of a middler. Laryn could still remember how beautiful she always thought Lilla had been with her white-blond hair. But that was back when pops and middlers could still contract. A year or two later and workplace segregation separating males and females would have already made even their meeting an impossibility.

And then they’d had four short years to produce their three misfit offspring, as the Feds began tightening their control over the Popular class. Only a month after the birth of Miri, the Federation took away all reproduction rights so they could begin fine tuning the Popular class genetics. Most pops had already stopped contracting or electing to reproduce by that time, so Lilla and Padric’s strange misfit blood-set was a complete anomaly in the present day Federation.

We planned the three of you, Padric had said with her favorite smile. Shortly after your birth we could see how much prejudice the Feds were building against misfits, and we didn’t want you to struggle through life alone. So we gave you blood-siblings. Sisters.

And then he’d told her. I’m sick, Laryn. It’s no surprise, you know. All the pops who work in the chemical plant get it eventually.

The news had shocked her, and she had urged him to get help. Everyone knew the Feds could fix the sickness if it was caught soon enough.

Padric had simply shaken his head. The ‘fix’ involves sending me away, and I would have had to take that option over a year ago if I’d wanted it to do any good. If I had done that before one of you left Fed school, you girls would have been shuffled directly into cell halls. You know I couldn’t have let that happen. I had to wait until I could transfer our housing over to you.

So you’ve known all this time? You’ve known you were sick, and you didn’t say anything?

There wouldn’t have been any point, would there? he had replied. It only would have caused you girls more worry. But now you need to know because my time is running out.

What do you mean ‘running out’?

I mean I won’t be able to hide it from them much longer. As soon as they realize I’m sick and discover how advanced the illness is, my value will be terminated.

Lying there in her bed, Laryn could still feel the same sense of horror and shock wash over her. At the time she had been unaware of this particular Fed practice, and it had come as a horrible blow.

What does that mean, Padric? What do they do when someone’s value is terminated?

I’m sorry, Laryn, he had replied, smiling at her softly. It isn’t in the best interest of the Federation for them to feed unproductive pops. We’re expendable, I’m afraid.

And Lilla? Was she really transferred, or was her value terminated as well?

Padric’s sad smile had been answer enough, and Laryn’s world had grown a little smaller in that moment.

It was only a week and a half after that conversation that Padric had been taken. There was no warning given, no chance for goodbyes, nothing. He went to work one morning and simply never came home.

Laryn could never forget the sacrifice he had made so that she and her blood-siblings could stay together, and the memory of it pained her every day. More than anything else it had made her determined to fulfill her responsibility of keeping them together—no matter what the cost. Four years later, lying in her bed listening to her blood-siblings discuss what would happen to them if she failed, she realized that this task had become her sole purpose; the thing that gave meaning to every moment of her existence. Keeping them safe had been a part of her life for as long as she could remember. Keeping them together was what drove her each day. She knew in her heart that if she failed to succeed her life would mean nothing.

CHAPTER 2

Laryn’s job maintaining power circuits and plumbing lines in the Fed city’s old sewer network was extremely taxing. She worked with a crew of pops who tolerated her only because of her high productivity, and she strove to work harder and faster than anyone else, knowing they’d turn on her the moment she lost her position. So when her compute pinged with an incoming message the next morning, she couldn’t afford to stop and see what it was about.

The unexpected communication teased her all day, but Laryn ignored it until she found a moment alone on the rail home. Knowing she needed to stay vigilant of the pops around her, she didn’t dare to more than glance at her compute, but she was very surprised by what she read. The urge to keep reading was strong, but there was nothing issue pops liked more than a misfit caught unaware, so she put her hand behind her and considered the