Atherton #3: The Dark Planet (No. 3) by Patrick Carman Page B

gaze at the forsaken wood in the pale morning
    light was to see the shattered remains of what once was. The
    trees were last to go. They looked for all the world like a stand
    in the deepest part of winter, or a burned-out forest reaching
    helplessly towards the sky. It was the smog that made a person
    realize the trees could never return. It snaked through grey
    limbs, strangling their trunks. And somewhere in there were
    monsters of a kind Commander Judix couldn't think of without
    trembling.
    She rolled away from the window and opened a cooling unit.
    There was a small plastic bottle of milky water inside and she
    removed it, mixed in two spoonfuls of white powder from a
    container, and gulped it down. It left a chalky white film that
    made her compulsively chew and lick at her waxy lips until the
    feeling went away. There were small bars of food in the cooling
    unit as well, and she took one, eating it without the slightest
    emotion.
    Commander Judix rolled in front of a mirror and pinned up her
    brown hair. She hadn't washed it in nine days, not because
    there was no water, but because the thought of having it dry and
    brittle after a good scrubbing was almost too much to bear. After
    five days her hair was soft as silk. She could run her fingers
    through it for hours and not tire of the feeling. Soft hair was
    something she could control, a small but meaningful pleasure
    she hated giving up.
    Looking again at the time, Commander Judix decided there was
    probably enough of the early morning left to ride down the
    corridor to Dr. Harding's laboratory. She hadn't been there in so
    long, but things were getting desperate. Against her better
    judgment she couldn't help but maintain enough hope to at
    least check the old lab every few weeks. What if the blip
    returned and Atherton came back online?
    "I wonder what bad news today wil bring?" she said. She didn't
    have to wait as long as she'd expected for trouble to arrive.
    Already she could hear the familiar sound of footsteps coming
    down the corridor that led to the Silo. From the distinctive long
    stride and a light step, she could tell that Hope was coming.
    Remember who's in charge here. Don't let her push you around.
    Commander Judix rolled to the door and opened it.
    "I won't let you take them. They're too young."
    Hope had long since given up saluting or offering any other
    signs of respect. As far as she was concerned this was not the
    president or the supreme ruler. Station Seven was no longer a
    command post doing important scientific work. It was an outpost
    of the apocalypse like all the others. Some of the old rules of
    behavior simply didn't apply.
    "You're calling a little early this morning, don't you think?"
    "You can't have them," Hope declared. She was a tall, graceful
    woman with black skin. Her hair was very short and peppered
    with white. She had the fierce eyes of a mother protecting her
    children.
    "We have no choice," said Commander Judix, engaging her
    chair. Hope jumped out of the way as it passed by and started
    toward Dr. Harding's laboratory.
    "Don't do this, Jane," said Hope. She watched as Commander
    Judix's chair stopped, spun around, and motored back. Hope
    had called the commander by her first name, something she
    hadn't done in a very long time.
    Commander Judix looked up at the tall woman in front of her
    with icy resolve. "We agreed that if you stayed you wouldn't
    make trouble. Coming over here-- badgering me this way at six
    in the morning--and calling me that name ... it's a lot of trouble all
    at once."
    Hope knew she was on shaky ground. She commanded almost
    no power at Station Seven, less it seemed as time had gone on.
    She had come to the Station as a doctor, but it was the children
    who made her stay long after almost everyone had fled. It was
    Hope's job, in the face of so much darkness, to keep the
    youngest abandoned and orphaned children of the Silo from
    dying before her eyes.
    "You told me you'd never go below 4200," said