"Did Inlan make it to rehearsal today?" asked Clementine's mom, walking around the empty classroom and doing a quick check to make sure none of the kids had forgotten anything around their desks. Clementine, sitting at her mom's desk and working on the concerto, glanced up. Like the Irral -- and everything else the Relicans built -- the walls and ceiling were metal, and the floor iron grate. But three of the walls had large patches of the same fabric as the transport panels, which could be used as whiteboards or TV screens. Her mom had set the one on the back wall to show a big grassy field, similar to what would have been visible from her classroom back on Earth.

"No. I brought the first movement of my concerto in for him to look at, but I haven't heard anything from him since Thursday."

Since we kissed.

The memory of that moment snapped the tight cord of pleasure within her, but she dismissed it. Clearly she'd only been attracted to him because he was off limits. Now that she'd achieved the satisfaction of breaking the rules, she wasn't interested anymore. Besides, Tierney had already brought a Relican over to the dark side. And as Steph so artfully reminded her when Inlan dropped her off, Clementine had no interest in following her sister's footsteps.

"How is the orchestra taking it?" asked Mona, switching off the back panel.

The nature scene, along with the cardinal Clementine had been watching flit about the branches of a tree, blinked out of existence. "They're mutinous. I've been pushing so hard for the Dvorak, but now that we actually have a concert date, they want to scrap it and do Beethoven instead. The Fifth," she clarified, disgust dripping all over the word. "Like that's not the most overplayed piece ever. I might be talked into Seven, but Five? Did we leave our imaginations back on Earth?"

They packed up their belongings and went into the windowless hall. A few other teachers were at the far end, getting into a transport. When one of them saw Clementine and her mom, he called, "We'll hold it for you."

Mona put her hand out, stopping Clementine from hurrying forward. "We'll take the next one," she said. "Thanks though. See you tomorrow."

Clementine gave her mom a questioning look, but instead of explaining why they wouldn't share a transport, Mona asked, "How are you taking it?"

"Taking what?"

"Inlan not being there."

Ah. That's why.

Her mom had figured out something was going on between them. But how? Inlan had barely looked at her when her mom was around. Well, if she was going to try and talk her out of it, she could save her breath.

"It sucks, obviously. Without Inlan, there's no Dvorak."

Mona didn't respond, entering their destination into the transport panel. Someone less versed in the ways of her mother's interrogations may have thought the subject was over, but Clementine's chest remained tight, knowing there was more to come. They stepped into the transport, and she eyed the fake sky through the fake window, wishing it were real so she could climb to freedom.

"These are for you."

Her mom was holding something out to her. It looked like a handful of... were those lollipops? Where were the sticks?

A scalding heat rushed into her face as she realized what they were.

"Condoms?" she cried out, mortified. "Where did you even get those?"

Her mom wasn't the least bit embarrassed, although thanks to her Italian and Comanche parents, her dark complexion rarely revealed her blush. Why did Clementine have to take after her Irish-Polish father?

"Anne and her husband have been using condoms for years," Mona said.

Clementine covered her face, wishing she could evict that very unwelcome image from her brain.

"She never got a tubal ligation, and didn't like birth control," her mom continued, "but now she hasn't gotten her period in almost a year, and your father and I don't need them because of his vasectomy, so --"

"Oh my god," Clementine groaned. "You know you're scarring me for life, right?"

Her mom smiled, but with more concern than amusement. Extending the fistful of condoms to her again, she said, "Tierney didn't have to worry about it, but you do."

Right. Their parents never had to worry about Tierney accidentally getting herself knocked up.

When Clementine wouldn't take them, Mona opened Daisy's case and dropped the dozen or so condoms in. Clementine almost asked why her mom thought giving her condoms at this specific juncture was necessary, when it dawned on her that this may not be about Inlan at all.

Had her parents heard her and Zack? How much had they heard? Knowing that they may have been listening -- or, probably more accurately, trying not to listen -- to them fool around made Clementine queasy, retroactively erasing all pleasure she had derived from those nights. But if they had heard, why didn't they stop them? Well, she was twenty years old. Maybe they figured she was at the point where she had to make her own choices.

"I'm still a virgin," she blurted, for some reason feeling it important that her mom know that.

Her mom's eyes widened slightly, but there was more doubt than relief in them, proving that she had irrefutable evidence to the contrary.

They didn't speak again until the doors opened, but before Clementine could throw herself at them, eager for this conversation to end, her mom intercepted her with a hug.

"I love you," she said, rocking her like she'd done ever since Clementine could remember, "and I trust you. I just want you to have the tools you need to be safe."

"I love you too," said Clementine, "despite your malicious attempts to give me night terrors with your overshare."

As they exited the transport, they joined the mass of commuters on the ramp. Two police officers and two Relican Squad members stood at the station entrance. In the three days since the cart had blacked out -- that had been oh so much fun, stuck in a transport pod with Mr. Crayden, who started sobbing that he'd never see his son again -- the Relicans had assigned security personnel in the event of a Vreem incursion. The President had insisted on police officers joining them, ostensibly to keep any Humans Right sympathizers from causing trouble, but from the suspicious frown the closest officer was giving the tall bronze Relican beside him, Clementine wondered which side he'd pick if a fight did break out.

"Mrs. Dawson!"

Clementine looked around for the source of the woman's voice, and saw the police officer on the other side of the ramp waving at Clementine's mom.

"Lieutenant Sara, hello!" replied Mona. She steered Clementine over to stand beside the petite but muscular officer. "Clementine, this is Lieutenant Sara Duzowski. She visits the school every year during safety week. Lieutenant, this is my daughter. She founded an orchestra here on the cart."

"Wow," said the officer, who was shorter than Clementine. She barely came up to the elbow of the giant silver Relican beside her, although her snug uniform bulged with almost as much muscle. "Although with your family, I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you're a community leader."

"She makes it sound more impressive than it is," said Clementine. "All I did was knock on doors."

"That's the best way to get something started," said the lieutenant.

The silver Relican had been ignoring their conversation, staring suspiciously at the group of peace activists in the square. Oh yeah, they sure looked like troublemakers, sitting or lying down in meditative poses, with their signs supporting global unity planted in the ground.

"Excuse me, are you in Protection?" Clementine asked him.

Surprise softened his hard expression as he turned to her, but he recovered quickly, giving her a suspicious nod.

"Tell Onaka that Clementine Dawson says hi, will you?" she asked with a broad grin.

"Is that someone your sister knows?" asked Lieutenant Duzowski.

Did I say anything about my sister? thought Clementine, though years of practice kept the annoyance off her face. Can't I know a Relican without Tierney being involved?

Clementine looked back at the grassy square, and recognized one of the protesters. Welcoming the excuse to leave, she said, "I'm going to go say hi to Mr. Crayden."

Without waiting for her mom to reply, she walked over.

"Hi there, angel," said Mr. Crayden, lifting a hand to block the afternoon sun. "You joining our peace rally?"

"Rally?" asked Clementine. "More like sit-in, I think."

He smiled down at the rainbow hemp blanket he and two other people were sharing. "Someone has to show the Relicans that there are plenty of us who are thankful for what they've done for the human race. Those dumdums who keep starting fights do not represent the best of humanity."

"And you do?" asked Mona, coming up alongside Clementine and giving him a teasing smile.

"Not by a long shot," he said, uncharacteristically grave. "A man with as many regrets as I have couldn't be the best of anything."

Clementine exchanged a glance with her mom, hoping she would have some words of comfort for him, but before either of them could say anything, a voice shouted, "The Vreem are a lie! Don't accept Relican tyranny!"

A woman stood on the roof of the tunnels station, waving an American flag at the same time that a parade of men, all wearing black and many of them masked, came marching into the square.

"Show us the truth! Stop the secrets!" they shouted in unison. Several of the men worked together to carry a large effigy of a Relican on their shoulders, which the real Relicans standing beside the station eyed with confusion. The police officers were standing by as Lieutenant Duzowski spoke into a walkie-talkie.

The lethargic peace activists jumped to their feet, replying with their own cries of, "Peace now!" and "One universe, one race!"

"Come on," said Mona, taking Clementine's arm and pulling her away.

Clementine jerked her arm back. "We should stay and support the peace movement," she said, lifting her hand in the peace symbol as she spoke. "We can't let them win."

"This is going to get violent. We are not staying here."

The men in black had stopped not far from the contingent of hippies, and were shedding the oversized Relican dummy from their shoulders. Many of those who had been going into or coming out of the busy tunnels station were gathering around the square, while others joined one of the two groups of protesters.

"This won't end well," said Mona. "We are leaving. Now"

"Your mom's right, angel," said Mr. Crayden when he saw Clementine's reluctance. "It would hurt my heart if you got caught in the middle of this. You can do more good with your music than you can here."

The crowd around them was growing rapidly, and soon it would be too dense to move easily. The two Relicans and three of the four cops had moved in, and Lieutenant Duzowski was talking to one of the men in black. The effigy was now tied to a chair, and several men held out lighters, preparing to set it on fire.

"Idiots," Clementine muttered, though her breath was starting to turn shallow. The relaxed atmosphere was now agitated and strained, reminding her of the riots back in Chicago.

"Stop the lies! We're not slaves!" the woman on the station kept screaming, though her voice was hardly audible now over the competing cries of those on the ground.

"Stop the violence! You'll kill us all!" a woman near Clementine called out.

"Fine," said Clementine, shouting to be heard, "but you're coming too." She jabbed her finger into Mr. Crayden's chest. Those around them were pressing in so close that a man tripped over her cello case and fell against her. Though it was a harmless thing, and he apologized right away before resuming his protests, it only heightened the certainty that things could spiral out of control at any time.

He shook his head. "I'm staying here. I'll be home later to give you all the details."

"Now, Clementine!" shouted her mom, grabbing her arm again and leading her away.

Clementine didn't resist, but she looked back at Mr. Crayden, intending to beckon him once more to follow. But although they'd only gone a few steps, the crowd had already closed in around him.

Someone in the anti-Relican contingent let out a piercing shriek, followed by the cracks of two gunshots.

Screams rent the air, and the thick crowd began stampeding in every direction. The smell of smoke reached Clementine, but she was too afraid of being trampled to risk looking back to find the source. Running slightly hunched over to keep her cello on her back, she couldn't see where they were going through the swarm of people. She clung to her mom's hand, trusting her to lead them to safety.

Someone barreled into Clementine from behind. She scrambled to keep her balance and lost her hold on Daisy. Spinning around, she saw her cello being carried away, disappearing into the crowd.

"No!" she cried, dropping her mom's hand and racing after it.

She couldn't lose Daisy. She'd lost her home, her life, her planet; losing Daisy would be too much. Plus her concerto was in there. It was almost halfway done, and her only copy was in that case.

She followed the glimpses of purple through the panicked mob until finally she broke free of the throng and saw Daisy disappearing into the tunnels station. The police and Relicans were nowhere to be seen -- in the middle of the crowd, probably.

Racing into the tunnels, she saw the man who had taken her cello standing in front of one of the doors, waiting for a transport.

"Give that back!" she yelled, her voice echoing in the metal space.

Several men in black outfits were there too, but they were loading into other transports and ignored her cry. The man turned, and she skidded to a halt at the bottom of the ramp.

"I remember you," the man said with a sneer, his knife pointing straight at her.

Clementine remembered too. Southern accent, leather jacket: the mugger from the transport. She looked around the station for help, but everyone had already left.

"I'll be takin' this now," he said, holding Daisy up. He cast a mocking scan around the empty station. People were still running in the square, and Clementine prayed someone who could help her would come down, but no one did. "No boy to protect you this time."

"Why do you have to be such an asshole?" she demanded, her fear giving way to anger. "We're all in the same shitty place eating the same shitty food. Why does everybody insist on being so..." Her panicked, furious brain couldn't come up with anything better than, "...shitty?"

The man gave a harsh laugh, then narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, his gaze traveling down her body and making her feel underdressed in her tank top and shorts.

"Stuck up bitches don't talk like that," he muttered to himself.

The pendulum of her emotions swung back to frightened, and she stepped back. "At least let me get something out of the case. Not the cello," she added, though it pained her to think of leaving Daisy behind. "I have some music in there that I can't get anywhere else. Please let me take that."

The door opened behind him, and a dark smile crossed his face. "Aw, hell. You can have the whole thing back. A mouth like that deserves it."

A trap. So obviously a trap. Everything about his smug demeanor, and the way he held Daisy out like a hook on a fishing line, was screaming at Clementine to run away. She could rewrite the concerto. She could find another cello... maybe.

He laughed again and tossed it at her feet. Clementine cringed as it slapped the floor.

"Go on, take it," he said, "before I change my mind."

She dove for it as he spoke, hoping to catch him off guard. But as her hands gripped the handle, he lunged for her, seizing her wrists and swinging her around.

"Help!" she screamed as he shoved her into the transport. Daisy's weight unbalanced her and she fell, whacking her head against the metal wall. She caught a glimpse of movement back in the station, but then the transport doors closed, and the man's knife was once again directed at her.

"Oh yeah," he said, with a sneer, "I'm gonna have fun with that dirty mouth."