Moon (Glimpsing Stars, 1.5) Read Online Free PDF

for a while. We have cause to believe a significant
number of them have escaped to a refugee camp near the port.”
    My
hands tremble as I clutch the tin cup to me, hardly daring to hope. “Let me
help. I know her. I worked with her for over a year, sat right beside her that
entire time. I could be a great asset to your efforts.”
    She
looks me over, considering. Then she sets her tea cup down. A small, thin smile
plays across her lips. “We are putting together a special team to find
the camp...”
    I
stop breathing as I wait for her to finish.
    “I
do think you’d be a good fit, Moon.”
    I
exhale in a rush, smiling at her as she stands. When she walks to a small storage
cupboard in the hallway, my smile begins to fade. I know what she keeps in
there.
    She
returns, holding in her hand an electric prod. It is used to subdue children in
the Asylums. But here, in her apartment, it is used for other purposes.
    “I
think you’d be a good fit for the new team...but I might need a little
convincing,” she says, walking slowly forward. “Why don’t you undress for me?”
    I
do as she asks. I transpose Vika Cannon’s face with Miss Adams’s and take
comfort in the knowledge that it’s only a matter of time before I exact my revenge.
For everything I have had to endure to ensure my safe passage, I vow: Vika
Cannon will pay.
    Afterward,
I shiver as I make my way to the bus stop in the acid rain. Electrocution has
that effect on me—my body tremors for hours afterward. But it’s worth it,
absolutely. I’d do it over again, many, many times without pause for what Miss
Adams has offered me tonight.
    I
have been assigned the lead position on the team that will track Vika Cannon’s,
and the other Rads’, whereabouts; the team that will put an end to at least one
refugee camp. All of those abhorrent relics of society—Nukeheads and Défectueux—who
should’ve been killed a long time ago, saved by deluded ingénues: the Radicals
and their helpers.
    The
Rads and their pathetic underlings don’t understand the basic concept of
survival. Because of some twisted sense of righteousness, they doom hundreds of
us, healthy citizens, to a death we should not have to face. The refugees eat
food that could’ve gone to healthy citizens; they sneak on to the ships and
escape to China, souring our relationship with the Chinese government, making
life more difficult for the legitimate émigrés who go there. But now I can stop
them.
    And
if—when—I am successful, when Vika Cannon is dead, I will be guaranteed a spot
on a ship to China. This is everything my mother had wanted for herself and for
me, her only faithful daughter.
    I
stand shivering in the bus shelter but inside, my blood sparks as if the prod
has electrified it somehow. Before I travel to find Vika Cannon, there is one
loose end I must tie up. It has been a long time coming.
    I
climb aboard a bus, letting its vibrations lull me as I ride into the gray heart
of Ursa. The bus pulls up opposite my mother’s apartment building. Clusters of
Nukehead children idle in the alleys, peeking out at me like crabs, only to
scuttle away into the darkness when I glare at them.
    I ascend
the steep stone steps to Mother’s apartment and knock on her door. When she
answers, her hair is wild, her eyes are mad. Her uniform is rumpled and
stained; it’s clear she hasn’t washed it or changed in a few days. I wonder
what she’s been telling the people at work. Surely she hasn’t been going in in
this condition; she would’ve been reported by now.
    She
grasps my arm and pulls me in, locking the door after us. I do not know why she
bothers; everyone has a master key they can use to gain access to any apartment
at any time.
    “Is
there any more news? Do they have a spot on a ship for me?” Mother asks, her
eyes darting around my face. There is no stillness about her anymore—every
muscle twitches, even when it is supposed to be at rest. Her apartment has not
been cleaned in some