Reached

is.
    And why is the Plague in so many places? The largest cities, all sick at the same time? Shouldn’t it take longer to spread, instead of exploding everywhere at once?
    That’s a question for Xander. I wish I could ask him.
    Indie glances over at me.
“No,”
she says. She knows what I want to do. She knows that I want to try to get to Cassia anyway.
    She’s right. That
is
what I want to do. And if it were me by myself, I’d risk it. I’d try to outrun the Rising.
    But it’s not just me.
    “Many of you,” the Pilot says, “have been paired with someone you know. This was intentional. We knew it would be difficult for those of you who still have loved ones within the Society to resist taking the cure to your family and friends. We cannot compromise the efficiency of this mission, and we will need to bring you down should you try to deviate from your assigned course.”
    The Rising is smart. They’ve matched me with the one person in camp I care about. Which goes to show that caring about
anyone
leaves you vulnerable. I’ve known this for years but I still can’t stop.
    “We have an adequate supply of the cure,” the Pilot says. “We do not have a surplus. Please don’t waste the resources many have sacrificed to provide.”
    It’s so calculated—the way they paired us up, the way they’ve made just enough of the cure. “This sounds like the Society,” I say out loud.
    “We are not the Society,” the Pilot says, “but we recognize that we have to save people before we can free them.”
    Indie and I stare at each other. Did the Pilot answer me? Indie covers her mouth with her hand and I find myself, inexplicably, trying not to laugh.
    “The Society built barricades and walls in order to try and contain the illness,” the Pilot says. “They’ve isolated people in quarantine in the medical centers and then, when space ran out, in government buildings.
    “These past few days have been a turning point. We confirmed that the numbers of those fallen ill have reached a critical mass. Tonight, Match Banquets all across the Society fell apart, from Camas to Central and beyond. The Society kept trying to reconfigure the data, right up until the last moment, but they could not keep up. We infiltrated the sorting centers to accelerate the problem. It wasn’t difficult to throw the Matching into disarray. There were silver boxes with no microcards and blank screens without Matches all across the Provinces.
    “Many people took the red tablet tonight, but not all of them will forget. The Match Banquet is the Society’s signature event, the one upon which all the others rely. Its fall represents the Society’s inability to care for its people. Even those who did forget will soon realize that they have no Match and that something is wrong. They’ll realize that people they know, too many of them, have disappeared behind barricades and are not coming back. The Society is dying, and it is our time now.
    “The Rising is for everyone.” The Pilot’s voice drops a little as he repeats the motto, becomes deeper with emotion. “But
you
are the ones who will begin it.
You
are the ones who will save them.”
    We wait. But he’s finished speaking. The ship feels emptier without his voice.
    “
We’re
going to save them,” Indie says. “Everyone. Can you believe it?”
    “I have to believe it,” I say. Because if I don’t believe in the Rising and their cure, what hope is there for Cassia?
    “She’ll be fine,” Indie says. “She’s part of the Rising. They’ll take care of her.”
    I hope that Indie’s right. Cassia wanted to join the Rising, and so I followed her. But now all I care about is finding Cassia and leaving all of this behind—Society, Rising, Pilot, Plague—as soon as we can.

    From above, the rebellion against the Society looks black and white. Black night, white barricade around the center of Grandia City.
    Indie drops us lower to prepare for landing.
    “Go first,” our commander tells us. “Show the others how it’s done.” Indie’s supposed to land the ship inside the barricade on the street in front of City Hall. It’s going to be tight.
    Closer to the earth. Closer. Closer. Closer. The world rushes at us. Somewhere, the Pilot is watching.
    Black ships, white marble buildings.
    Indie hits the ground smoothly, greasing the landing. I watch her expression. It’s one of closely guarded triumph until the ship stops and she glances over at me. Then she smiles—pure