I lean off the branch before it can decide to get dangerous under our combined weight. I’ll either have to find a different one or lean out dangerously to grab the kid. Neither seems safe.
“Get yourself stuck up here?” I ask with the tone I try to use on Anya when she’s sad. Maybe if I mimic the humans enough, I’ll sound more like one.
The boy can’t be older than eight or nine, a little smaller than Anya, and he’s perhaps too frightened to glare at me. Or maybe he’s more frightened of me than of the fall.
“I’m going to come over and get you, okay?” I hope he understands me. Maybe they haven’t learned other languages at this age. I don’t remember any schooling, so I wouldn’t know. I certainly haven’t retained the language of my home planet.
“What are you?”
Well, he understands. “A cyborg.”
“I’ve heard about you.”
Well, he doesn’t sound too terribly frightened of my existence. “Yeah, there’s a lot of us.”
“You don’t look like the pictures in class.”
It never occurred to me school-children learn about us, but I suppose it’s wise. “I’ve been in a lot of fights. I’m going to come over there and get you, alright?”
“Are you going to drop me?”
I force myself not to smile, then remember Yvonne says I’m kinder when I do. “No.”
Easing out over the branches puts me in the view of most of the people down on the ground. Squinting, I spot the rude woman from the counter with quite the shocked look on her face.
It’s not funny, Aaron, don’t laugh.
She’s pointing up at me and saying something to the other workers. Then, she seems to spot Yvonne. Man, I hope Princess knows when not to start a fight. She’s got anger issues that rival mine, at least when it comes to people she likes. My face burn, an uncomfortable weight settling in my chest. Not for the first time today, I tell myself to get a grip. We’ll be fine as long as Yvonne doesn’t start a fight. It isn’t exactly a quick trip down for me to stop her.
Well, it could be, but I wouldn’t like it.
The nearest branch I try bows. I back off, taking in the surrounding branches. Most are thin, or not close enough to the kid to do me any good. Don’t know why the little squirt had to go so far out on such a small branch.
Bat’s eyes watch me from the thick canopy above my head. I wink at him.
“Can you move back to me?” I ask.
He shakes his head so violently I’m worried he’ll knock himself off the branch.
“Where you trying to impress your friends?” I test out the other, closer branches, unable to stop myself from glancing down. The woman is waving her hands at Yvonne, who luckily hasn’t decided to throw fists yet. A few words drift up. Probably not appropriate to say in a group of children.
The kid doesn’t answer, just clings tighter to the branch, frozen. But his bottom lip puffs out.
“It’s fine,” I mutter. “I do stupid things all the time. Problem is, if you keep doing really stupid stuff, well, you end up looking like me.”
The kid looks mortified, and it’s just a weird enough situation I’ve put myself in that it’s more amusing than insulting.
As carefully as possible, I settle for the only option I can find: kneeling on the branch I’m standing on, holding onto the thicker one above me and leaning out, I grab the kid under the arm. The branch creaks but doesn’t crack. I have a firm grip on both the tree and the kid, but he screams at the top of his lungs. Rolling my eyes, I peel him right off the brach and step back into the safety of the thicker branches, holding him against my side. His scream cuts off, his eyes wide, breaths short and startled.
Could’ve done without the screaming bloody murder, but I’ll take it.
I suppose I could leave him up in the middle of the tree until whatever help the humans have called arrives. But it seems like the incorrect thing to do now that I’m up here. And I’m definitely not waiting around for the authorities to show up.
“Alright, kid, you’re gonna sit on my back and I’m gonna climb down, alright?”
He shakes his head vigorously.
“Why not? You climbed up here, didn’t you?”
Slowly, he nods. I seemed to have scared the words out of him. As long as I scared the screaming out of him, too.
“Well, then. All you have to do is hold onto my back. That’s not so hard.”
Believe me, I like it a lot less than you do. I’m trying not to think too hard about having some random kid clinging to my back, but I remind myself again I’m doing the correct thing. I can’t leave him here alone, and I can’t stay until the authorities show up. If he starts slipping off I can grab him.
Physically, I’m good at fixing problems. So long as I’m not in too much pain. My head is only keeping up a slight ache.
I try to figure what would’ve made me do this when I was a kid, and come up with, “Think about how badass your friends are going to think you are, let’s go.”
I think Anya is having an effect on me.
Before the kid can get a chance to respond, I pick up him by his arm and maneuver him around onto my back. He grabs me in a death grip, which is what I wanted, but I’m lucky my bones and metal are enhanced. I think I’d pass out otherwise. My skin crawls, and I’d like to peel him back off, but I’ve dealt with worse things than a strange eight-year-old in the past few weeks. The sooner I get him down, the sooner I can get him off me and we can leave.
Finding the closest footholds is a little tricker going down than up—I don’t think the kid would’ve managed it—and my stomach does a little flip at the several dozen feet straight down. It wouldn’t kill me, but it wouldn’t be pleasant. And I have breakable cargo.
Eventually, I maneuver my way down, trying to not knock over any of the dozen or so kids who have congregated right where I need to drop to the ground. I gently nudge aside a small girl to get a place to put my foot—she looks half-panicked anyway—and peel the kid off my back, setting him on the ground. Several of the workers I saw earlier are trying to maneuver through the children, grabbing the boy without looking at me and dragging him into the more open area. Their faces hold concern, at least, not annoyance or anger.
The woman from the counter, on the other hand, comes puffing around the tree and stops dead. Her eyes narrow. She has a comm in her hand, and I don’t particularly like the looks of that. Over her shoulder, I see Yvonne talking to the gum-chewing young man I spotted earlier. He’s showing her something on a tablet, then she gives him a pat on the shoulder, grabs Anya from where I left her, and hauls her sister my direction.
“Let’s get out of here.” She grabs my arm. “I think the shrew over here called the authorities on you.”
The woman’s mouth pops open.
A laugh bubbles up before I can stop it. I run after the princesses into the forest backed up to the orphanage, jumping the small fence on the other side of the yard.
“Bat, let’s go!” I call, and see a flash of movement in the canopy. Let them make sense of that.
Laughing so hard it’s difficult to run, I disappear into the thick of the trees behind Yvonne and Anya.
It takes me a good few minutes to stop snickering. Which, of course, gives Anya the giggles. Yvonne looks pleased with herself.
Eventually, Anya complains about the jog so much we slow to a walk. Rainclouds hang in the air. I don’t think the local security is going to chase down through the woods the evil people who helped a kid out of a tree. We wander back in the direction of the ship lot, keeping the edge of the city just visible to my left. Sometimes, we pass houses out into the trees with paths through them, but no one seems to notice or mind us cutting through their back yard.
“Look at you rescuing children from trees—”
I hold a finger up directly in front of her face. “Do not. Tell that. To anyone.”
Bat comes scampering out of the woods with yet another unfamiliar, bright purple fruit in his mouth. “I will. And you can’t stop me.”
I’m never going to live that down.
Yvonne is grinning at me. I can’t ignore it, even when I refuse to look at her. Lalia and Zane’s easy caring for me always seemed odd and uncomfortable, but this is an entirely new discomfort settling in my chest. It made more sense when she could barely stand to look at me, let alone get too close. She touches my arm and I start a bit too much.
“Let’s just shut up and get out of here.”
I lean off the branch before it can decide to get dangerous under our combined weight. I’ll either have to find a different one or lean out dangerously to grab the kid. Neither seems safe.
“Get yourself stuck up here?” I ask with the tone I try to use on Anya when she’s sad. Maybe if I mimic the humans enough, I’ll sound more like one.
The boy can’t be older than eight or nine, a little smaller than Anya, and he’s perhaps too frightened to glare at me. Or maybe he’s more frightened of me than of the fall.
“I’m going to come over and get you, okay?” I hope he understands me. Maybe they haven’t learned other languages at this age. I don’t remember any schooling, so I wouldn’t know. I certainly haven’t retained the language of my home planet.
“What are you?”
Well, he understands. “A cyborg.”
“I’ve heard about you.”
Well, he doesn’t sound too terribly frightened of my existence. “Yeah, there’s a lot of us.”
“You don’t look like the pictures in class.”
It never occurred to me school-children learn about us, but I suppose it’s wise. “I’ve been in a lot of fights. I’m going to come over there and get you, alright?”
“Are you going to drop me?”
I force myself not to smile, then remember Yvonne says I’m kinder when I do. “No.”
Easing out over the branches puts me in the view of most of the people down on the ground. Squinting, I spot the rude woman from the counter with quite the shocked look on her face.
It’s not funny, Aaron, don’t laugh.
She’s pointing up at me and saying something to the other workers. Then, she seems to spot Yvonne. Man, I hope Princess knows when not to start a fight. She’s got anger issues that rival mine, at least when it comes to people she likes. My face burn, an uncomfortable weight settling in my chest. Not for the first time today, I tell myself to get a grip. We’ll be fine as long as Yvonne doesn’t start a fight. It isn’t exactly a quick trip down for me to stop her.
Well, it could be, but I wouldn’t like it.
The nearest branch I try bows. I back off, taking in the surrounding branches. Most are thin, or not close enough to the kid to do me any good. Don’t know why the little squirt had to go so far out on such a small branch.
Bat’s eyes watch me from the thick canopy above my head. I wink at him.
“Can you move back to me?” I ask.
He shakes his head so violently I’m worried he’ll knock himself off the branch.
“Where you trying to impress your friends?” I test out the other, closer branches, unable to stop myself from glancing down. The woman is waving her hands at Yvonne, who luckily hasn’t decided to throw fists yet. A few words drift up. Probably not appropriate to say in a group of children.
The kid doesn’t answer, just clings tighter to the branch, frozen. But his bottom lip puffs out.
“It’s fine,” I mutter. “I do stupid things all the time. Problem is, if you keep doing really stupid stuff, well, you end up looking like me.”
The kid looks mortified, and it’s just a weird enough situation I’ve put myself in that it’s more amusing than insulting.
As carefully as possible, I settle for the only option I can find: kneeling on the branch I’m standing on, holding onto the thicker one above me and leaning out, I grab the kid under the arm. The branch creaks but doesn’t crack. I have a firm grip on both the tree and the kid, but he screams at the top of his lungs. Rolling my eyes, I peel him right off the brach and step back into the safety of the thicker branches, holding him against my side. His scream cuts off, his eyes wide, breaths short and startled.
Could’ve done without the screaming bloody murder, but I’ll take it.
I suppose I could leave him up in the middle of the tree until whatever help the humans have called arrives. But it seems like the incorrect thing to do now that I’m up here. And I’m definitely not waiting around for the authorities to show up.
“Alright, kid, you’re gonna sit on my back and I’m gonna climb down, alright?”
He shakes his head vigorously.
“Why not? You climbed up here, didn’t you?”
Slowly, he nods. I seemed to have scared the words out of him. As long as I scared the screaming out of him, too.
“Well, then. All you have to do is hold onto my back. That’s not so hard.”
Believe me, I like it a lot less than you do. I’m trying not to think too hard about having some random kid clinging to my back, but I remind myself again I’m doing the correct thing. I can’t leave him here alone, and I can’t stay until the authorities show up. If he starts slipping off I can grab him.
Physically, I’m good at fixing problems. So long as I’m not in too much pain. My head is only keeping up a slight ache.
I try to figure what would’ve made me do this when I was a kid, and come up with, “Think about how badass your friends are going to think you are, let’s go.”
I think Anya is having an effect on me.
Before the kid can get a chance to respond, I pick up him by his arm and maneuver him around onto my back. He grabs me in a death grip, which is what I wanted, but I’m lucky my bones and metal are enhanced. I think I’d pass out otherwise. My skin crawls, and I’d like to peel him back off, but I’ve dealt with worse things than a strange eight-year-old in the past few weeks. The sooner I get him down, the sooner I can get him off me and we can leave.
Finding the closest footholds is a little tricker going down than up—I don’t think the kid would’ve managed it—and my stomach does a little flip at the several dozen feet straight down. It wouldn’t kill me, but it wouldn’t be pleasant. And I have breakable cargo.
Eventually, I maneuver my way down, trying to not knock over any of the dozen or so kids who have congregated right where I need to drop to the ground. I gently nudge aside a small girl to get a place to put my foot—she looks half-panicked anyway—and peel the kid off my back, setting him on the ground. Several of the workers I saw earlier are trying to maneuver through the children, grabbing the boy without looking at me and dragging him into the more open area. Their faces hold concern, at least, not annoyance or anger.
The woman from the counter, on the other hand, comes puffing around the tree and stops dead. Her eyes narrow. She has a comm in her hand, and I don’t particularly like the looks of that. Over her shoulder, I see Yvonne talking to the gum-chewing young man I spotted earlier. He’s showing her something on a tablet, then she gives him a pat on the shoulder, grabs Anya from where I left her, and hauls her sister my direction.
“Let’s get out of here.” She grabs my arm. “I think the shrew over here called the authorities on you.”
The woman’s mouth pops open.
A laugh bubbles up before I can stop it. I run after the princesses into the forest backed up to the orphanage, jumping the small fence on the other side of the yard.
“Bat, let’s go!” I call, and see a flash of movement in the canopy. Let them make sense of that.
Laughing so hard it’s difficult to run, I disappear into the thick of the trees behind Yvonne and Anya.
It takes me a good few minutes to stop snickering. Which, of course, gives Anya the giggles. Yvonne looks pleased with herself.
Eventually, Anya complains about the jog so much we slow to a walk. Rainclouds hang in the air. I don’t think the local security is going to chase down through the woods the evil people who helped a kid out of a tree. We wander back in the direction of the ship lot, keeping the edge of the city just visible to my left. Sometimes, we pass houses out into the trees with paths through them, but no one seems to notice or mind us cutting through their back yard.
“Look at you rescuing children from trees—”
I hold a finger up directly in front of her face. “Do not. Tell that. To anyone.”
Bat comes scampering out of the woods with yet another unfamiliar, bright purple fruit in his mouth. “I will. And you can’t stop me.”
I’m never going to live that down.
Yvonne is grinning at me. I can’t ignore it, even when I refuse to look at her. Lalia and Zane’s easy caring for me always seemed odd and uncomfortable, but this is an entirely new discomfort settling in my chest. It made more sense when she could barely stand to look at me, let alone get too close. She touches my arm and I start a bit too much.
“Let’s just shut up and get out of here.”
