Normally, Dee would pick sunset as her favourite hour to be aboveground. Just look at it now. The disappearing sun making all the pointless rafters of the old dome glow that brilliant orange, and reds and pinks chasing each other across the food meadows.

   Except Dee doesn't want it to be sunset already. She hasn't finished yet.

   She stretches out back muscles she hadn't even realised were stiff. That'll happen when you've been darning a tear in the bottom of your pack as big as a chasm. Had Dee been smart, she would have repaired this at the end of last season. Instead, she'd thrown her pack in the corner and figured Future Dee would deal with it.

   Future Dee would like to have a serious talk with Past Dee.

   The wind smells like cold dust and frigid rock. This winter is hanging around like an annoying cricket, but Dee's past ready to be out and about again.

   Well, except for the state of her pack - obviously - but she's working on that.

   She's not alone in leaving her prep to the last minute, because she's up top with Aram, who's also mending her pack. Seriously, it's not clumsiness or inattention - the rocks out there are sharp and all you have to do is pop your pack down a tad too hard, or misread the wind strength and take a tumble at the end of a kite, and boompha, your pack is torn. And it's not like you've got the time to do the fancy fixes out there. So you have to do the best you can, and figure you'll fix it proper back at Davinci.

   Eventually.

   Eventually just happens to be the night before the Gardening season starts again. Dee focuses back onto her stitching.

   'Ow!' Aram glares at her bone needle, a bead of blood oozing from her forefinger. 'You nasty old--' 'Got you again, did it?' Dee asks.

   It's not like Dee isn't sympathetic - that new needle of Aram's is super sharp - it's just that this is the fourth time since they came up this afternoon that Aram has  stabbed herself. Dee is on the edge of wondering: isn't it in the human condition to learn from experience? And if that's the case, is Aram failing at evolution here?

   Aram, however, has another theory entirely. 'I bet you this needle is from Tiu. She always hated me.'

   'She hated everyone. Besides, Tiu only died . . .' Dee stops and looks away. Tiu died almost two orbits ago, which is actually perfect timing for this brandnew bone needle. Aram grins.

   'Aha - you think it came from her too!'

   'Look, it's just a needle, no matter what it's made out of.'

   'Easy for you to say, you've got a metal one.'

   It's true. Her pride and joy when it comes to darning. And sure, that doesn't seem fair . . . but honestly? Aram loses her needles. All. The. Time. Whereas Dee actually uses the needle pouch on her pants  - who would've thought, those things work - which is why she's now been entrusted with a metal one.

   Dee decides it's a fabulous time to change the subject. 'Where are you heading out to tomorrow?'

   'Same same. Oh, except I've also been given one of Maja's sites. You know how she is, she won't be able to Garden again.'

   Dee does know. She focuses on her needle for something else to think about. She's almost finished. Stitch, stitch, loop and overstitch. And she's done. She packs away the needle and leftover thread and, when she's sure her voice won't wobble, she says, 'I've been given one of Maja's sites as well. I suppose they've all been picked up by now.'

   Aram shakes her head. 'I overheard them saying there's not enough of us to cover all that have come up lately. Three of Maja's will be abandoned.'

   Dee gasps. 'But they can't do that! They'll be lost if they're not tended!'

   'And who'll tend them, then? You? When you've got so many sites, so far away that each round you barely make it back in time for the next one?'  

   Dee looks away. There's a reason she's always late, but not even Aram knows about it.

   'You need to face facts, Dee. There are more people dying than babies being born in the Futurechambers. Eventually our sites will have to survive without us. If they can.'

   'No! We're going to make it. There are lots of Futures--'

   'Not as many as there used to be,' interjects Aram.

   'And we've got a few young Ys down in the Futurechambers--'

   'Yeah, two Ys are going to repopulate this whole planet.'

   Dee looks away. She can't think like that. Has to believe they'll make it.

   But Aram? She started life as a Future, the best and most precious people in Davinci. Her genetics are unique enough that she'd been selected as one of the few allowed to breed the next generation. But then Aram's bloodmother had birthed a miracle - a precious boy, a Y  - and suddenly Aram's genetics weren't wanted at all. She'd been promptly booted up to the pridechambers.

   That would hurt no matter who you were, right?

   Aram's been fixated on one useless hope for several orbits, and Dee bets she's searching for it now. Dee can certainly spot it. Rising in the eastern sky. A star, kind of blue in the deepening twilight. A star, but it doesn't twinkle like the others.

   So, not a star at all. A planet.

   'Do you think they'll ever send Phase 2?' Aram whispers.

   Dee sighs. 'Earth? No. If they were going to send it, it would've come when they promised it, way back at the start.'

   Aram's face hollows in the gathering gloom, and Dee could stab herself with a bone needle.

   'Hey, look,' she says. 'Maybe they did send it, maybe it's out there somewhere, waiting for us to find it. Maybe we'll stumble over it this season! But it doesn't really matter. Because we can do this even without it. Every time I'm out there, my sites are more balanced. Every baby the Futurekeepers deliver to us is better adapted to this place. We can do this!'

   Aram's hands are crumpled in her pack, threatening the already questionable integrity of her newly made stitching. Abruptly she throws it to the red dirt. 'This is pointless! I'm going to ask Bahram for a new one.'

   Dee looks at Aram, at the abandoned bag. 'Let me try.'

   Twilight is on the way out by the time Dee finishes repairing Aram's pack. The stars are brighter, the crickets have finally got it together and are chirping with gusto, and the temperature is plummeting.

   Well, this is Mars, so that last one's a given.

   'Here you go,' Dee says.

   Aram takes the pack back with the slow limbs of a half-frozen invertebrate, hugs her coat tight. 'Thanks. Let's go back under.'

   Dee nods and shivers, despite her coat, resecuring a smooth wooden button that had been letting shards of cold in. Aram and Dee bundle up their gear and crunch across dry winter grasses to where the tunnel entrance glimmers. They're the last ones up here, and that smoky smell of almost-extinguished wick is everywhere once they enter the tunnel.

   'You did a super job on my pack. I reckon it'll make it through another round now,' Aram says.

   Dee shrugs.

   Aram aims a sideways glance at her. 'I guess you got so good at mending packs because you tear yours open so much.'

   'I don't . . .' Dee stops when she gets close enough to the next lamp to see that Aram is grinning. 'Oh, you're a newton sometimes!'

   Aram laughs, pulling Dee into a sideways hug as they descend.

   'Can you start out with me tomorrow like usual?' Aram asks. 'If this wind sticks around, it should work for both of us.'

   'Sure thing. Though . . .'

   'What?'

   'I don't know, I've grown taller over winter. Maybe you won't be able to keep up with me . . .'

   Aram laughs again. 'You'll be eating my dust, little sis!'

   'You two will be eating nothing at all if you don't hurry.' The voice comes from the semi-dark of a side tunnel, making them both jump.

   'Herdesher!' Dee and Aram try their best to mask the bags they're carrying.

   Herdesher might spend the warm seasons tending the food meadows, but during the winter she's Davinci's only teacher. And, as usual, she's totally not fooled. She tilts one eyebrow. 'Last-minute preparations?'

   'No! No, we were just . . .' Aram's voice trails off like she can't think of any excuse Herdesher will buy. Nor can Dee.

   Dee sighs. 'We forgot to mend them over winter.'

   Herdesher holds out her hands and Dee passes over her pack. Herdesher inspects it like she's marking an essay on the different theories for Earth Abandonment.

   Finally she straightens. 'This has been well repaired. Good work.'

   Dee's mind floats. Herdesher's belt is decorated with a massive seven badges. So she'd know shoddy repairs if she saw them.

   Herdesher smiles at Dee's expression. 'Quickly now, pop these back in your pridechamber and go light your reverence candles. You don't want to start the season with bad luck. And get something to eat!'

   'Herdesher?' Aram says. 'Um, about our packs . . .'

   Herdesher smiles. 'You've repaired them in time. I don't think we need to say anything about it to Bahram, do you?'

   Aram grins. 'No. Thank you!'

   'Now go!' Herdesher makes a shooing motion with her hands. 'I was about to say I'll miss you while you're Gardening, but now I'm not so sure!'

   Dee and Aram take off downwards at a run. The air thickens as they descend and Dee wrinkles her nose. Dee sports a healthy list of adaptations and beneficial gene sequences - better than most, actually. One of her handiest is her nose. Well, not her nose so much as her sense of smell.

   Dee can smell water when it's hidden at the bottom of an old crater on her downwind side. That's handy.

   She can smell Aram before her pridesister even knows she's stinky. Though perhaps that's not quite so handy.

   But she can also smell what she swears is the residue of the fusion reactions that ripped through Mars's core centuries ago, warming it to habitable levels. The stinging stink swarms through many of the tunnel systems. When she's out Gardening, tunnels are easier for her to find than a cricket on your hand. She simply sniffs them out.

   If Dee spares a thought for Phobos, her bloodsister - usually only when she spots her being taken for a walk with the Futures  - she wonders how her twin can stand all the stink, way down in the Futurechambers.

   As if thinking about them makes them appear, when Dee and Aram enter the dining chamber  - panting  from running all the way - a small group of precious Futures are seated at the far end. Eating whatever special food Futures get to eat.

   Their Futurekeepers hover around them. All exFutures themselves, faces saggy in the flickering light of the reverence candles. One of them could be Dee's bloodmother. Or Aram's. But Dee's got seven pridemothers who all love her, so who cares about blood?

   The Futures themselves are all young - from a little girl barely able to feed herself to a woman with pale skin and tired eyes.

   Watching them, there are two things that hit Dee like a cricket plague. Firstly, one of the Futures is a Y. His name is Marte and she's sure he's Aram's bloodbrother - and therefore the reason Aram was sent up to the prides. Dee very rarely sees a Y, but she recognises this one. Frankly, that's not hard. There have only been two born in her entire lifetime. Something about a nasty mutation on the X chromosome, that Dee would probably understand if she bothered to listen in class.

   It all hinges on how girls have two X chromosomes, which means they should have a healthy backup in case they inherit the mutated X. So girls are the standard. Everyone up in the prides is female.

   But boys only have one X - the other one's a Y chromosome - so there's no backup X chromosome if they inherit the mutation. Ys are almost unheard of now. And if the Ys stop being born, that's the end of Davinci. You can see why Dee would recognise one of the few that exist.

   The second thing she notices is that the Y is talking to Phobos.

   When identical twins are born, the smaller, weaker baby is always called Deimos. And, just like the moons, the larger and faster sister is named Phobos. Every Phobos becomes a Future, but you don't need to preserve two sets of the exact same genes, no matter how good they may be.

   So every Deimos joins the prides.

   Dee hasn't seen Phobos since the start of the winter, when she spotted her out catching sun under the only unbroken radiation panel remaining from the old dome. Phobos wears her hair even longer now, making it obvious she's never kited with the wind at her back.

   But that's about all that's grown about her.

   Dee grew out of everything she owned this winter, limbs shooting out like sweet potato runners. But Phobos seems to have withered.

   Dee stands frozen in the entryway. Across the cavern, Phobos looks up. Sees Dee. Her eyes widen. They're staring. Then a Futurekeeper taps Phobos on her shoulder, and she finally looks away.

   Dee's blood is pumping like she's just jumped a trench in a headwind.

   She's consumed by the clear realisation that if the Futurekeepers were to assess the twins now, in the same way they did at birth, they would no longer pick Phobos as the biggest, or the strongest.

   Not by a long shot.

---

Excerpted from Mars Awakens by H. M. Waugh
All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.