"Well, it's a step in the right direction," said Clementine, reaching for her cello case. "I'd rather he be able to start rehearsing right away, but --"

Zack jerked on her arm and pulled her body against his.

"Hi there," was all she managed to say before he gripped the sides of her neck and kissed her.

Earth as Clementine knew it was long gone. It had been struck by an asteroid three times as big as the one that killed the dinosaurs and was now an inferno of molten rock and scalding ash -- and that was the best case scenario. If it had been knocked off its orbit, there was a very good chance that all life would not merely be drastically reduced, but completely erased, turning her former home world into a chunk of barren, dead rock.

But all of that, at least, made some sort of sense.

Kissing Zack -- the wimpy kid she used to bury in his sandbox, the kid she had water gun fights with -- made no sense at all. She might have described it like she was dreaming, but never in her zaniest dreams had she ever fantasized about Zack Crayden. It was just too out there. She'd even seen his dick twice when they were kids. That tiny worm couldn't possibly be the hard bulge prodding the inside of her hip.

And the fact that she was enjoying it -- that the heat radiating from his body was penetrating the thin layers of clothing between them and curling inside of her, gathering, tightening between her thighs, making her core pulse with its own volcanic stirrings -- that was the most mind-blowing part of all.

Still kissing her feverishly, Zack slid his hands down her skin, slipping the straps of her tank top off her shoulders. Hot shivers broke out all over her body, leaving goosebumps in their wake. The unbidden image of her parents walking in, discovering them like this, flashed through her mind, and the thrill of the forbidden only heightened her pleasure.

He grabbed her chest tightly in his hands, squeezing until she drew a sharp breath. The exquisite pain sent another surge of molten pressure into her core, adding to the mounting tension, demanding release.

But when his fingers hooked over the top of her shirt, digging into her breasts, a siren went off in her head. Her hands, which had found their own way into his hair, leapt down and latched onto his.

"Wait," she said -- or rather, tried to say. Her voice was lost, passed over for more pressing physical needs. Zack closed her mouth with his own, his fingers slipping deeper under her shirt. Although she knew they needed to stop, she couldn't prevent her moan when he found her nipples, simultaneously giving them each a hard pinch.

"Zack." It was meant to be a warning, a way to tell him to stop, but it was too soft, too wrapped up in her desire.

"Zack, I --"

But he simply sealed in her halfhearted protests with his lips. One hand continued massaging and pinching her breast, lifting it out from beneath the confines of her shirt and bra, while the other slid down her stomach. The fire burning between her thighs raged even hotter, and when he cupped and squeezed her crotch through her leggings, the shockwave of bliss that coursed through her was as if her body itself were crying out for him.

Tearing away from him, she stumbled back. Dizzy and disoriented with desire, she tripped over the chair behind her. She managed to catch her balance and hastily tuck her boob back into her bra.

"Woah," she said with a laugh. Zack wasn't laughing. He wasn't smiling. He was watching her like she was a baby bunny and he was the cat deciding whether or not to eat his prey or continue toying with it.

Maybe I wouldn't be smiling either if I had a lump in my jeans like that.

"Look," she said, "I'm cool with whatever this..." She pointed back and forth between the two of them. "...is, but I'm not ready to go all in yet."

The hunger in his eyes didn't diminish, but he turned his back to her and took a few steps away. Moving slowly, giving them both time to cool down, she picked up Daisy and moved to stand beside him.

"So where is your dad really?" she asked.

Staring straight ahead, he said, "He had to go to his dealer's and asked me to get you."

That was surprising. Clementine had figured her mom told Mr. Crayden about seeing them getting close, and that was why he'd been getting her after rehearsal and not Zack. Although, Mr. Crayden did love Clementine like a daughter, and probably wouldn't mind if she and his son got together.

"Well thanks for coming," she said, "and for the groping."

He still didn't smile, only cast a glance in her direction and then started walking off stage.

She followed, joining him in front of the door to the transport. With a smirk, she said, "Maybe next time I'll do the groping."

"Come on, Tiny! Tierney's report is coming on!"

"Be right there," said Clementine -- at a normal volume. No matter how many times she'd pointed out the fact that her room was no longer a set of stairs away, her dad still shouted as if they were back home.

She finished up the page she was on and then put Daisy away. A slight breeze -- the same breeze that had been blowing ever since they arrived -- made her sheet music flutter. Snapping the cello case shut, she looked out the window.

The sky was full of the same oranges, reds, and pinks of an Earth sunset, and there were even pinpricks of light in the darkest corners, giving the illusion of stars. Or were those real stars? Could the Relicans make the ceiling transparent and show them real space? The speck of hope that arose at the thought was quickly brushed aside as Clementine remembered what Tierney had said about the cart essentially being a big black metal ball. She doubted even the Relicans had technology advanced enough to make metal see through.

Despair constricted her heart as she watched the setting digital light display leave the endless rows of identical houses in the gathering darkness. The Relicans had done an admirable job making the cart look and feel like Earth, and sometimes Clementine could convince herself that was enough. That light over there? Totally the sun. The dark crumbly stuff beneath the grass? Definitely dirt. The air's warm enough for summer clothes? Then it must actually be summer.

But there was one sense that wouldn't be fooled.

If it's sunset, why aren't the crickets chirping? whispered a voice in her ear. If it's summer, why aren't the ducks quacking on the Little Calumet River?

No, she couldn't pretend. The silence proved she wasn't home. And everything that looked so much like Earth only served as a painful reminder that she'd never be there again.

"Tiny!" called her mom. "Your food's getting cold."

"Coming," Clementine said, rubbing away her tears. Luckily none had fallen, but she didn't want her mom opening the door before she was able to get her brave face on again.

After a long sigh and a check in the mirror, she left her room and joined her parents and Mr. Crayden at the dinner table. Through the large picture window in the living room, she could see a light on in the house across the grassy street, the space between them growing darker every moment. With little else to do, everyone on the cart watched Tierney's updates when they aired.

Well, almost everyone, Clementine thought, glancing at Zack's empty chair.

"Only twenty-one seconds to go," her dad said, rubbing his hands beside her with excitement.

"We can all see the clock, Dad," Clementine said, gesturing to the TV and the screen-sized digital clock counting down to zero. If it weren't for the frozen image of Tierney in the background, it would look too much like the countdown to a bomb going off, but her grinning at the camera removed the ominous nature of the dwindling numbers.

"How was rehearsal today?" asked her mom.

A flash of heat pulsed through Clementine at the memory of Zack's kiss, and her eyes flitted once again to the lone empty chair at the table. Though his absence from dinner wasn't unusual, she couldn't help but be disappointed that he wouldn't want to start spending more time at home -- more time with her -- after that overt show of affection.

She looked back at her mom, who was now looking at Zack's spot as well.

Ugh. There was no way to hide anything from her mom.

However, maybe Clementine could at least delay the inevitable...

Stuffing her mouth full of green mashed potatoes, Clementine gave her mom a big grin and nodded, making a show of her chewing.

"Maybe I'll try to leave a little early and see the tail end of one of them" said her mom, returning her smile and taking a small bite of her own.

Her dad, completely oblivious to the battle of wills taking place beside him, began counting down with the clock like it was New Year's Eve.

"Ten, nine, eight..."

Mr. Crayden counted with him. "Join in, Mona!" he said with a grin, but she kept quiet, her eyes on Clementine.

Even though Clementine doubted the make out sessions with Zack would turn into a recurring event, the thought of her mom popping up unannounced made her stomach churn.

"That'd be cool," she said, hoping her casual tone sounded convincing as she took another bite. "Like when?"

"Five, four, three..."

"I might not even be able to," said her mom with a shrug. "We'll see." The gleam of amusement in her eyes told Clementine she better be alert and on her best behavior for the next few weeks.

"Zero!" her dad and Mr. Crayden cried out triumphantly.

Tierney's smiling face suddenly became animated.

"Hi everybody," she said. Clementine smiled. Tierney had started her first two weekly updates from Lota with "My fellow humans," and the content had been equally as formal, stiff, and boring -- a lot like Tierney herself. But in her last letter, Clementine had told her big sister to loosen up and be more casual; she'd actually listened -- for once.

Did she take my advice about giving her series a cool name too?

"She's so beautiful," said Mr. Crayden, in his sweet, paternal way. Mona hushed him, and he shot Clementine an exaggerated grimace before looking back at the screen.

He was right, of course. Even wrapped up in a parka, with her cheeks red from the cold and her long dark hair hidden beneath one of those lined hunter's caps with ear flaps, she still looked gorgeous. Clementine loved her sister, and she even liked her most of the time, but it was still annoying how beautiful she was. All the time. Without even really trying.

"Welcome to the third installment of the Lota Updates," said Tierney, standing in front of a snowy landscape of rolling hills.

Lota Updates?

I said a cool name.

"Slowly but surely our new home world is shaping up," continued her hopelessly unimaginative sister. "This is the site of what will become one of the first smart communities in New Canada, designed by a commission of urban planners and Relican relocation specialists. Fans of the Lord of the Rings will be thrilled to live in these Hobbit-like houses," she gestured to the hills behind her, "which are built partially underground. Not only will this community include residential areas, but commercial locations as well. Pathways -- both above and below ground -- will eventually connect all homes and structures, creating a completely self-contained smart community."

Clementine was only half listening, trying to come up with a better name for the report.

Lota Logs? No, too Star Trek... Chronicles of Lota...?

"Last week -- when it was summertime," Tierney continued, her breath clouding in front of her smiling face, "we spoke with Samantha Jarra and Fralaka Frobipdantiwa, who are leading the teams identifying edible native plants. Today we move indoors to learn more about this smart community and those tasked with its design and construc--."

"We interrupt this report for breaking news."

A man's voice jolted Clementine out of her thoughts. Instead of Tierney, a male news anchor was gazing sternly back at her.

"What's this?" asked Mr. Crayden, but Mona shushed him again as the anchor continued.

"We have just learned that the Vice President, scheduled to arrive in sector fourteen today, has gone missing."

As if all of America didn't know what he looked like, a still of Vice President Grant appeared on the screen as the anchor went on.

"He was last seen on a tunnel transport at 2:55 this afternoon. President Freeland released a statement one hour ago, saying that she has requested assistance from the Relicans to determine if there has simply been a technical malfunction. Local law enforcement also released a statement, saying they have no cause to believe this is the result of foul play. We will broadcast new information as it comes available. Again, the Vice President..."

A hard silence had filled the dining room, all four of them sitting still, forks hovering in mid-air. Clementine was the first to recover.

"That tool deserves to get trapped in a transport," she said, taking a bite.

"Clementine," her mom chided, though with little edge.

"What? Like he doesn't?" Clementine replied.

Though Tierney hadn't been able to share the classified details, she'd admitted to them that her and the President's conveyance from Earth had gone awry because of the Vice President, ending with the President injured and both of them on the Irral instead of the cart. President Freeland had since joined humanity on the cart, but her statement only said that there had been a timing miscalculation, and she'd been injured falling down some stairs in the dark. Clementine wasn't sure who believed that, but surely no one in their house did.

"There's still no reason to be disrespectful," said her dad.

"You've got to earn respect" said Mr. Crayden, who didn't know about the conveyance debacle, but didn't like the VP for his policies. "That man," he pointed at the screen, where the picture was still showing, "only respects money and power. People like that get no respect from me." He gave Clementine a small nod, and she smiled back at him, grateful for his support.

"We've got to stick together," her dad responded, "now more than ever. Humanity is at a crossroads, and we've got to decide if we're going to become better than we were, or --"

The sudden, ear-splitting crash of glass made them all jump out of their seats. Her dad grabbed Clementine and pulled her against the bathroom door, the farthest wall from the front of the house.

The front picture window in the living room had been smashed. That same, constant breeze filtered through the jagged remnants, ruffling the pale yellow curtains. Shards of glass made the living room floor and furniture glitter.

Mr. Crayden leapt out the front door and rushed outside into the dark night. Wayne crouched down and picked up a hunk of metal pipe amid the debris. When he read the note tied to it, his face turned dark red.

"What does it say?" Clementine asked.

"It doesn't matter," said her mom. "Only ignorant words can come from ignorant people."

Clementine turned back to her dad, but he was staring intently at the broken window, as if he could will it to reassemble.

"Dad?"

He looked back at the note, then at her, then at Mona, but Mr. Crayden walked in before he could say anything -- if he was going to say anything.

"Too many of these damn little boxes to hide in," he said, wheezing a little. Seeing the pipe in Wayne's hand, he said, "What do these bored kids have to say that couldn't be said to our faces?"

When her dad still didn't answer, Clementine walked over and reached for the pipe. He gripped it tightly, but when she met his eyes, he sighed and let go. It was thick and heavy, about the length of her forearm, and made of the same bluish metal as the tunnel transports. Who could be stupid enough to damage the ship that was keeping them all alive?

Someone who throws it through a window, I guess.

A shoelace was wrapped around the center, piercing through a piece of lined paper, giving the surreal impression of a label on a present.

Flipping the paper over, she read the message out loud, scrawled in surprisingly neat penmanship.

"'Burn on Earth, Relican slut.'"

Her dad's face darkened into an angry maroon while her mom went pale, shaking her head. Mr. Crayden stood frozen by the door, concerned eyes darting between each of them.

Pushing down her panic and doing her best to sound dismissive, Clementine said, "You'd think, flying through space on an alien ship, that hoodlums would try to be more imaginative than the old menacing-message-through-the-window trick."

Though no one smiled, her words broke everyone out of their shock. Her dad took a deep breath, his skin slowly returning to its natural color. Mr. Crayden stepped outside and started talking to a few people who had heard the crash and come to investigate.

"I'll call the police," said Mona, but she only took a step towards the sightscreen before stopping again, a visible wave of fresh concern passing over her. Tierney was still in the middle of her interview, cheerfully unaware of the insults literally being hurled at her.