White Ice, Black Depths

Second Draft

Sometimes Astrid thought she remembered Earth. But she knew that sometimes her "memories" were just pictures she'd seen on her tablet screen, or in her aunt's smuggled books. She was certain, for example, that she'd never been to the Serengeti. Her parent's would have never set foot in Africa, or allowed her to.

All the same, she had memories of green, of animals that had soft fur and curled up next to her, of tall trees, of fresh air, of the sound that birds make when then fly against the wind. She knew that some, at least, were real. And it made her sad that she would never relive those experiences, particularly of the cat, which she'd cried about having to leave behind. She'd only been three. When her father had grown impatient of her crying he kicked the cat, hard, and sent it running away. That had only upset Astrid more, and when her parents, too busy with the departure to soothe her, had moved on to other tasks, her aunt Kristina had gathered her up in her arms and spirited Astrid away to a supply cabinet on the ship that had been outfitted with pillows and a small collection of books. It was Aunt Kristina's secret library, Astrid's favorite place to hide.

She flipped through the book that had been her favorite when they first took off, a picture book Kristina had picked just for her, about a baby lion whose father was killed and who had to be raised by other animals until he could get vengeance.

"You can never tell your parents about this place, okay?" Kristina had made Astrid promise. Astrid had kept the secret.

Her thoughts were interrupted by an announcement that came over the loud speaker and cut through the welded steel of the storage locker.

"One hour to Icefall."

Astrid replaced the picture book, extinguished the reading light, and left the locker. It was time to get ready. Her family, even Aunt Kristina, would be expecting her.

She arrived on the bridge in her white dress and braided hair to no greetings or recognition. People would only notice if she was missing, not if she'd been there. Aunt Kristina came in shortly after her, and smiled at her niece. "You did a good job on your braids," Kristina noticed, kissing the top of her head.

"A true Aryan girl is clean and neat in appearance at all times," Astrid recited robotically.

Astrid was the very vision of a true Aryan girl. She had blue eyes and blond hair so light it was almost white. Protected from the sun in the space ship, she didn't even have freckles.

"Hey Ghost," her older brother Michael made his appearance. He was as pale as her, but taller and crueler. He wore his hair parted down the middle, plastered so severely against his scalp that his light pigmentation gave the impression of a bleached skull. "Or should I call you Ice Princess, like the other kids? They know dad is just President, not king, right?"

Astrid merely shrugged. He'd call her what he liked, regardless of what she said.

"Or maybe they call you that because you're so aloof. Jesus Astrid, show some life." He pinched her, hard.

Astrid jumped and yelped.

"A true Aryan girl comports herself with grace and dignity at all times." Astrid's mother, Elsa, reminded her blandly.

"Michael pinched her." Kristina came to Astrid's defense.

"Boys will be boys," Elsa shrugged.

Astrid opened her mouth to complain but promptly closed it again when she heard a deep rumble, the sound of her father clearing his throat. Her family fell into ranks around her, Michael on one side, Kristina on the other, mother behind. She stood in front of her parents and stared into the lens of a camera pointed at them by one of the propaganda ministers. The minister snapped and the bridge of the fleet's flag ship was flooded with light. Astrid tried not to squint. The minister counted down and her father started talking.