to Michael. It feels strange to be a part of the circle, a link in the chain rather than a lone ring. Strange, but nice.
Michael finishes grace, and we begin passing food around the table.
“So, Lia,” Taylor asks. “How do you like New Sol Station so far?”
Aside from the fact that I failed to blow it up, just fine, thank you.
“It’s nice.”
“You’ll have to get Michael to show you around. I swear, he knows every nook and cranny in this place.”
I nod, buttering a piece of bread and trying not to let my apprehension show. Taylor asks a few more questions, trivial things, taking care not to touch on my family or my time in the internment camp. Her curiosity seems genuine, and her smile, like Michael’s, reaches all the way up through her face and beams out from her eyes. I find myself relaxing a bit, my answers becoming less studied the more I answer.
“Do you know how much time you have left here?”
I drop my fork midway to my mouth, face freezing in shock.
How did she know?
“What?”
“With Aurora still under Tellurian control, I was just wondering if they were planning to keep you all—or the Auroran refugees, at least—on the station or relocate you to one of the colonies,” Taylor says gently. “I know Michael would be disappointed to have you leave so soon after seeing you again.”
“No slag,” Teal interjects. “Ever since you arrived, all it’s been is Lia this and Lia that.”
“Seal your airlock, Teal!” Michael exclaims, looking a bit embarrassed.
“
You
seal it!”
I breathe a sigh of relief. So Taylor wasn’t referring to my clock, stopped inside my head, but to the government’s plans for the Auroran refugees. For the first time, I realize I have no idea what they intend for me. I’d never expected to be around long enough for it to matter. I shrug awkwardly in answer to the question.
Michael comes to my rescue. “They’re planning to repatriate everyone except the Aurorans back to their home planets or colonies so that the local governments can resettle them. They haven’t figured out what’s going to happen to the Aurorans yet—maybe divided up and parceled out among the various colonies, or sent to friends and family, if they have any left on other worlds. At least, that’s what one of the officers told me,” he says when everyone looks at him.
I blink. Michael asked one of the officers about me? He’s been talking about me at home with his family? I’m not sure what to think about that.
No, I do know what to think about that. Whoever Lia was to Michael, I’m still a bomb. The last thing I need is someone poking his nose into my business. I should be upset by his attention. I
should
be, but somehow upset is the last feeling I can muster for his presumption.
With the mention of the released prisoners, the conversation drifts to the war. It’s impossible to miss talk of the war, not on the transport and not on the station. Even without everything I heard on the journey here, I would still know what they’re talking about. I may not know anything about myself, but at least I seem to have a working knowledge of the world around me.
Everyone had always assumed that when we finally went to the stars, we would put all our petty quarrels behind us. That the coldness of space would kindle the warmth of brotherhood among all humankind. And who knows? Maybe if we’d found other life out there, unfriendly life, that’s exactly what would have happened. Only we didn’t. We were still alone as far as we knew—at least in our own little corner of the universe—and so we brought all of our baggage with us. Intercountry disputes became interplanetary disputes while world wars became galactic wars. No matter how vast space was, we could still find things to fight over—who would settle this planet, who would get the mining rights to that asteroid, who would dictate space lanes and trade agreements.
Out of the initial skirmishes, two superpowers eventually
Michael finishes grace, and we begin passing food around the table.
“So, Lia,” Taylor asks. “How do you like New Sol Station so far?”
Aside from the fact that I failed to blow it up, just fine, thank you.
“It’s nice.”
“You’ll have to get Michael to show you around. I swear, he knows every nook and cranny in this place.”
I nod, buttering a piece of bread and trying not to let my apprehension show. Taylor asks a few more questions, trivial things, taking care not to touch on my family or my time in the internment camp. Her curiosity seems genuine, and her smile, like Michael’s, reaches all the way up through her face and beams out from her eyes. I find myself relaxing a bit, my answers becoming less studied the more I answer.
“Do you know how much time you have left here?”
I drop my fork midway to my mouth, face freezing in shock.
How did she know?
“What?”
“With Aurora still under Tellurian control, I was just wondering if they were planning to keep you all—or the Auroran refugees, at least—on the station or relocate you to one of the colonies,” Taylor says gently. “I know Michael would be disappointed to have you leave so soon after seeing you again.”
“No slag,” Teal interjects. “Ever since you arrived, all it’s been is Lia this and Lia that.”
“Seal your airlock, Teal!” Michael exclaims, looking a bit embarrassed.
“
You
seal it!”
I breathe a sigh of relief. So Taylor wasn’t referring to my clock, stopped inside my head, but to the government’s plans for the Auroran refugees. For the first time, I realize I have no idea what they intend for me. I’d never expected to be around long enough for it to matter. I shrug awkwardly in answer to the question.
Michael comes to my rescue. “They’re planning to repatriate everyone except the Aurorans back to their home planets or colonies so that the local governments can resettle them. They haven’t figured out what’s going to happen to the Aurorans yet—maybe divided up and parceled out among the various colonies, or sent to friends and family, if they have any left on other worlds. At least, that’s what one of the officers told me,” he says when everyone looks at him.
I blink. Michael asked one of the officers about me? He’s been talking about me at home with his family? I’m not sure what to think about that.
No, I do know what to think about that. Whoever Lia was to Michael, I’m still a bomb. The last thing I need is someone poking his nose into my business. I should be upset by his attention. I
should
be, but somehow upset is the last feeling I can muster for his presumption.
With the mention of the released prisoners, the conversation drifts to the war. It’s impossible to miss talk of the war, not on the transport and not on the station. Even without everything I heard on the journey here, I would still know what they’re talking about. I may not know anything about myself, but at least I seem to have a working knowledge of the world around me.
Everyone had always assumed that when we finally went to the stars, we would put all our petty quarrels behind us. That the coldness of space would kindle the warmth of brotherhood among all humankind. And who knows? Maybe if we’d found other life out there, unfriendly life, that’s exactly what would have happened. Only we didn’t. We were still alone as far as we knew—at least in our own little corner of the universe—and so we brought all of our baggage with us. Intercountry disputes became interplanetary disputes while world wars became galactic wars. No matter how vast space was, we could still find things to fight over—who would settle this planet, who would get the mining rights to that asteroid, who would dictate space lanes and trade agreements.
Out of the initial skirmishes, two superpowers eventually
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