“Thank you so much.” I let him go and beam up at him. “You’ve outdone yourself. I don’t know if I can ever repay you for this.”
“Will I see you tonight?” He gives a quick glance at Lyro, who shifts impatiently.
I swallow. I know what he’s asking. And I know I’ve told Rose a thousand times that what I do for Harl is nothing more than a friendly gesture. But with Lyro here, I’m very aware that if that were true, I’d be able to say yes without this gnawing feeling in my chest. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Harl’s face falls. “Tonight or...?”
“Going forward,” I confirm, hating to disappoint him. “I’m sorry.”
He swallows and nods. “I understand. He...requires supervision.” That’s not exactly why I’m saying no, but this is not the time to explain.
“I don’t require it. General Raknu requires it,” Lyro says with a surly expression. I have to roll my eyes because he sounds a whole lot like a toddler who needs supervision. My mom used to call me “Mistress Mary, quite contrary” after the nursery rhyme when I acted like him.
Harl and I share an exasperated look before he heads out with Elvis. Then I turn my full attention to Lyro, who clearly wants it even though he pretends not to. “Let’s go fix your cute little ship.”
He growls at my terminology but paces me down the passageway, his steps lightening and face brightening the closer we get.
“Happy to get to work on her?” I ask.
“Happy at the prospect of eating something that doesn’t taste like dirt,” he grumbles. “Happy that it’s now your turn to sit patiently against the wall with nothing to occupy you for hours.”
I laugh, thinking of his restless, noisy presence in the hatchery. “Sit patiently? Is that what you were doing? I seem to remember you had a number of complaints.”
Is that his mouth twitching at the corner as we enter the hangar? I’ll never know, because he quickens his steps and disappears inside his ship.
“Need my help with anything?” I call, but the only answer is the definitive sound of him closing the door...at least, as much as it can be closed with the damage it sustained. The message is clear. He does not want me inside his ship.
I can relate. I was very nervous having him around my eggs today. Maybe after we spend more time together, that mutualtrust will grow. I dust off a chair in the corner and curl up in it to wait.
At first, it’s interesting watching Unnu and the guys work, especially when the scheduled transport run leaves and they open the huge hangar doors to let a few ships slip out.
Eventually, I get bored, though. I wish I had a book. Fiction or nonfiction, I’m not picky. On Earth, I always had something to read with me to fill the spare minutes, whether it was a paperback in my purse, an e-book queued up on my phone, or a textbook under my arm.
Maybe someone will loan me a tablet so I can practice my Frathik. I wander around the hangar a bit, checking out the other ships parked there and saying hi to the Frathik mechanics who are working on them. Most of them are using their tablets to guide their repairs, but one of them is painting and lets me borrow his. He’s even nice enough to pull up a children’s story for me, one titledHome.
It’s illustrated, which is helpful for deciphering the simple text, although there is plenty in the pictures that I don’t recognize. Tapping on the words plays them aloud, my translator helpfully filling in the gaps in my vocabulary, although some words, like the names of fruits from their home planet, don’t have English equivalents. Instead, my translator supplies a sensory image or feelings.
Crisp, sweet, sun-warmed, thin-skinned.
Extinct, disappeared, gone forever.
I swallow hard when it sinks in that the story is set on Frath, a place that no longer exists, filled with plants and animals that no longer exist. This is a story of childhood that no child will ever experience, and whoever wrote it clearly knew that. They wrote it to help the new generations understand where they came from, even though they can never go back.
I want to read this to my babies when they hatch, I decide. I scroll back to the first page and read it again. This time it’s easier to decode the characters, and there are only a few words I have to prompt my translator to supply. The fifth time through, I can read it without help. When I reach the last page and see what’s written there, my tears start to fall.
Home is a word and a place and a feeling.
As someone who has lost her home, too, I wish I had more to give them than a story.
A wrapped object lands in my lap, and I look up through blurry vision to see Lyro looming over me, his dark cloak unmistakable even through my tears. I turn the crinkly packet over in my hands. “What is this?”
“Food,” he says over his shoulder, already walking away. My stomach gives an answering growl. I’m hungrier than I realized. I have a bad habit of getting caught up in things and forgetting to eat.
“Thank you,” I call after him as he disappears into his ship again. I’m not sure he even heard me. I shrug and tear open the foil packaging to reveal two thin, oblong green crackers sandwiching a strip of dried meat.
Their scent hits me in the face a second later, a green, herbal freshness from the crackers, and rich spice from the meat. Damn, I missed real food. I’ve gotten used to the Frathik ration bars and their unpleasant adequacy. No wonder Lyro turned up his nose at breakfast if this is what he’s used to.
It tastes just as good as it smells, the flavors intense and satisfying. I finish it so fast, I wish there was a second one. I doubt he’d give me more if I asked, though. I’m kind of surprised he even gave me this one.
