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

seemed, something had died inside
    the woman at the window. Her moral will collapsed and she
    sank into grief. It happened on the day of the third year passing
    without a sign. A new bitterness filled her eyes, and everyone
    saw. She drove all but the most hardened away and set her
    course in a new and cruel direction. From that point on, Station
    Seven was, for all intents and purposes, abandoned and
    forgotten like so many other places on the Dark Planet.
    It was said that she had lost her soul in the making of Atherton.
    The woman at the window could have gone to another station
    and continued to lead and to work. She had certainly been
    asked. She had been president and supreme ruler in better
    times; she was brilliant, and she knew how to control people.
    But she had long ago made her choice. Her reputation was
    sullied by the failure of Atherton. In the failing world of the Dark
    Planet, this remarkable woman at the window had been
    forgotten along with Station Seven.
    Her name was Commander Judix.
    Every corner of the Dark Planet is failing, she thought to herself.
    Of those who remained, scattered on the bleak surface of the
    Dark Planet, no one went outside. And no one ever visited
    Station Seven. Dr. Harding had seen to that by filling the
    forsaken wood with Cleaners and Spikers.
    Commander Judix was the only person who occasionally
    visited Dr. Harding's abandoned laboratory at the end of a
    darkened passageway. She would allow no one else to enter.
    In the five more years that had passed without the slightest sign
    of life from Atherton, Commander Judix had taken to visiting the
    lab less frequently, a nearly forgotten disaster from a more
    optimistic time. There were more pressing matters at hand.
    And so it was that a small and distant signal could have been
    detected but was not. Inside the laboratory there was a little
    blue light blinking on a slick black surface. Soon the blue light
    would move, but would anyone from Station Seven even know
    it had appeared?
    Commander Judix sighed and touched a pale yellow button on
    the arm of her chair.
    "Shelton," said Commander Judix. "Come to the window."
    Commander Judix heard the faraway echo of approaching
    footsteps. It would be a while before the footsteps reached her.
    Station Seven was a place made for thousands, but only a few
    dozen remained. When someone moved, the place became
    haunted by the long echo of metal-soled boots on an endless
    metal floor.
    She had made a decision about the Silo and needed someone
    else to share the bad news. There was guilt over what needed
    to be done, though to be fair, this was not what kept her awake
    at night. Where the children were concerned there were always
    those who would try to oppose her. In the face of a dying world,
    Commander Judix shared no such feelings. It was a matter of
    hanging on as long as one could by whatever means
    necessary. A person's age had nothing to do with it.
    Hanging on wasn't easy, either, since the world had become
    fragmented beyond all reckoning. There were the seven
    stations, separated by great distance and failing lines of
    communication. Commander Judix hadn't formally heard from
    any of the other stations in over two years. There were human
    outposts scattered every where, gigantic metal buildings filled
    with people trying to survive in the daily onslaught of so many
    threats. One such outpost was but twenty miles inland from the
    beach where Station Seven sat alone.
    Sometimes there were stragglers--mostly children--who slipped
    into the forsaken wood and couldn't find their way out again.
    The older a person was, the more devastating it was to be
    outside at all. But there was a magic age, or so it seemed, in
    which a person could be out quite a lot and still survive.
    4200 days old and you could be outside for days at a time and
    still live. It wouldn't even bother a twelve-or thirteen-year-old.
    Before that, the human body was too fragile and there were
    awful side effects to