Halley
Something’s different about Keelo and Eot.
They’re not arguing, though they’re not talking much at all.
We got up with the suns, ate breakfast and packed up our camp in relative silence.
But I do keep catching them sneaking furtive looks at each other, and I wonder if it’s because Eot caught Keelo masturbating to him and me having sex or…
did something else happen, when I was asleep?
I might have asked, except I’m acutely aware of Rin.
Probably she can also tell that something’s different.
Or perhaps our silence is suspicious. Either way, she’s glancing between the three of us, even after Keelo lifts her onto a saddle and mounts up behind her—once again monopolizing the fastest bimor.
After an hour of travel with nothing but my own thoughts for company and a lot of inappropriate questions I can’t ask in front of a minor, I fill the awkward silence with more fun weather facts.
That conversation slowly deteriorates into Rin asking me random questions about Earth and humans, a topic she takes an interest in, particularly when I have to confess to all the things we haven’t yet invented—space travel that could get humans farther away from our own planet than the back side of our moon, intergalactic communication, hover crafts, edible vaccines and plastics that near-instantaneously disintegrate when they reach the end of their life.
It’s dusk when their ship comes into view, sitting on the horizon exactly where we left it. The bimors speed up, sensing they’re close to home, and the last half hour of the journey hardly seems to take any time at all.
Eot slides out of his saddle and opens the paddock gate for us—if you can call a fenced-off section of sandy desert a “paddock.” The bimor step through, rejoining their herd, and it takes a bit of jostling for Eot to get in a good position to lift me down too.
The most welcome sight is the metal trough, set against one side of the farmhouse.
It’s filled with water, and our mounts, having said their hellos to their friends, stick most of their faces into the water, swallowing massive mouthfuls.
I guess those gelatinous cubes we were feeding them weren’t as good as the real thing.
Watching them drink makes me thirsty for water that isn’t gritty with sand, and I’m acutely aware of how much I still need to shower.
This last day of travel did nothing to make the smell any better.
Even if Eot claims he likes it, I’m thinking that’s because he’s more focused on the scent of my panties than of my armpits.
According to my own nose, it’s a situation which could only be improved by a lot of soapy water and a generous slathering of moisturizer.
When the farmer comes out to greet us, Keelo presents him with the trikon’s skull and the missing tracker.
Rin stares at him with the same amount of subtlety every eight-year-old lacks.
I can’t really blame her. The farmer’s looking seriously worse for wear, his arm still in a sling and his thigh wrapped in bandages.
He can’t walk without the help of a stick, and the gouges across his neck and shoulders, which were looking red five days ago, are today looking like they’re probably infected.
Make me twice as grateful that my guys didn’t actually have to do any fighting, if that’s the type of injuries a trikon can inflict.
Also makes me a bit guilty. Sure, Keelo and Eot did their job, but…what if another trikon is tempted to attack the farm because there’s water here and no water left in the ravine?
The tiny hairs on the back of my neck rise, and the gut feeling that I’ve missed something important settles in my stomach as heavy as a stone.
There’s nothing I can do about it now, though.
And it’s not like the farmer doesn’t know about the risks that come with living out there.
It’s his own choice to stay—at least that’s what I tell myself.
“Come on, Rin.” I tap her lightly on the shoulder to catch her attention. “Why don’t you claim the first shower?”
She lights up at that suggestion, and we return to the ship. Sand covers most of the internal passageway, no doubt blown in by the wind.
It’s strange coming back to a place where I hardly spent any time and yet feel settled and safe in.
“I bet you’re pleased to be home,” I say to Rin, thinking about how pleased I am to be back, regardless of how uncertain my future might be.
“Home…” Rin repeats, using her fingerprint to unlock her bedroom door. Then she turns to face me, arms folded across her chest. “Are you Eot’s mate?”
Oh boy. Should’ve seen this coming.
“No.” Not technically. Not officially.
Under the scrutiny of her survey, I instantly crumble. “But I’d like to be. If that’s okay with you,” I hurriedly add.
I’ve spent so long worrying about how Keelo will react, I guess I forgot about possibly also needing Rin’s permission.
If she doesn’t give it, would I stick around anyway and hope she changes her mind given more time, or would I remain on Lyd?
I surreptitiously cross two fingers. Please let her not be remembering the time I made her cry.
“What about Keelo?” she asks, still blocking the open doorway to her bedroom.
“Well…” I’ve taken enough tests in my academic career to know this absolutely is one. “I’m hoping I can be Keelo’s mate too.”
Her gaze remains unwavering, and this is where my lack of experience with kids fails me. Again. Do I tell her the truth, or do I lie?
She’s smart. Really smart. She’ll work it out for herself sooner rather than later.
“Maybe Eot will be Keelo’s mate as well. Maybe.” I stress that last word. “If Eot gets his way.”
There’s a long pause in which I try and fail to imagine what thoughts are going around her head. Then, painstakingly slowly, she nods.
“Very well.” She sounds more like a magistrate passing judgement than an eight-year-old as she steps aside, allowing me to follow her into her room.
I’ve got to cover my mouth with a hand to stop from showing her my grin, because I’m pretty sure I passed the test. Possibly the most important test of my life.
“Hey, I have something for you,” I say between the cracks of my fingers, wanting to immortalize this moment forever in both our memories.
“See this? It’s a fossil of some long-dead animal that used to live in the river before the mud turned to stone.
” I pocketed the piece of shale on our first day in the ravine, thinking it would make a pretty keepsake, then promptly forgot about it until now, when it’s suddenly the only thing of any importance I own and can give away.
Barely larger than a coin, the fossil is this planet’s version of a fish—or, more likely, the long-ago ancestor of all fish. The detail is so clear that it’s possible to see where the tiny scales overlap each other.
After a close examination, Rin ceremoniously adds the fossil to her box of sparse treasures.
I long to hug her but content myself with a gentle squeeze of her shoulder and a closed-mouth smile I hope doesn’t look too much like I’m trying to hold back tears.
Then I escape into the bathroom, shamelessly drinking from the cold-water tap while she rummages through her secondhand clothes to find something she wants to get changed into.
“Let me help you with your hair.”
It takes a few minutes of me struggling to untie the threads at the ends of her braids, but eventually she’s showered and dressed in fresh clothes, her hair dripping onto the floor.
She only remembered to wash it because I called instructions through the closed bathroom door, and when she emerged, I inspected her scalp to make sure she did a good job.
“Excellent work, sweetheart. And now it’s my turn.”
I don’t care how hot it is outside, I’m never having a cold shower, so I stand under steaming water and watch as the half ton of sand I’ve been carrying about my person is washed down the drain.
I kind of wish I would take my own braids out, but that’s a big job—bigger than how much energy I’ve got to spare—so I leave them in for now, frothing soap between my hands and using my fingers to massage my scalp over and around the braid roots.
A silk sleeping bonnet and pillowcase are the least of my worries. Still, a girl can dream.
Two full-body scrubs later, I’m basically a new person.
Unfortunately, I can’t find any cream or balm among Rin’s few belongings, but the soap by itself is doing a heroic job of restoring some elastin to my skin, and I don’t feel like my cheeks are going to split into a thousand cracks the next time I smile.
I dress in a spare set of Rin’s clothes—pants and a tunic whose legs and sleeves I’ve got to roll up several times so I can see my feet and hands.
They’re even bigger on me than on her, and I make a mental note to suggest to Eot and Keelo that the next time they’re at a market to shop for some kid’s clothes that’ll actually fit her.
She deserves bright colors, instead of these washed-out browns and greys.
My clothes I leave hanging over the basin of her sink to drip dry, meaning I’m not wearing my bra or panties—and it’s a pleasant change to not be dressed in the same clothes I’ve worn for more than a month, even if I do look like a shapeless blob, my breasts, waist and hips hidden somewhere under all the excess fabric.
Rin’s sound asleep when I emerge, curled in her hammock with her wet hair soaking into her blankets.
I check her temperature with a hand to her forehead, like how my mom used to do for me, and she feels comfortably warm, so I leave her in peace. She’s probably pleased to be getting some quiet time to herself after so many busy days.