The silence is painful. I open my mouth, thinking I’ll be able to say something, but no words come out. Yala glances between the three of us, expression passive. It’s not as if she has any investment in this, but I wish she’d stop making direct eye contact with that bright gaze of hers.
“What?” Zane asks.
She gives him an exasperated look. “There’s no match between the two of you. You’re not related.” She points her finger between me and Zane.
Oh.
Well.
I suppose that’s that, then.
If I had a plan on what I was going to do or how I would react if this was the outcome, I don’t remember it. Again, I try to think of something to say, anything, but my jaw doesn’t want to unlock, and I can’t look at them, anyhow.
Yala hands me her tablet and I take it automatically before realizing what she wants. Right. To pay her.
“That’s not possible,” Lalia says, one of them finally moving as she gets up off the stool.
Yala looks at her dryly. “Sorry, lady, but ran it three times to be safe. You’re not even remotely related. I don’t know what to tell ya.”
Zane is silent. When I finally dare to glance at him, his expression is stone. Unreadable. No emotion whatsoever. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this way, and it frightens me a bit. He looks like an entirely different person, both siblings do. I stare at the tablet instead, wondering if they can hear my heart attempting to push its way out of my chest. I don’t know what I wanted to see in Zane’s expression, anyway. Numbly, I open the tablet back up to pay the woman—just because we didn’t get the result we wanted doesn’t mean she doesn’t get her money. She did her job.
“That’s not possible,” Lalia says, and I wince at the rising pain in her voice. “He’s the only kid ever taken to Amerov. I mean, there aren’t any more out there.”
Yala shrugs. “I’m sorry, I barely know how Amerov works. Maybe you got the wrong one?”
Kinda a harsh way to put it, I think but don’t bother to intervene.
Lalia starts shaking her head. “Maybe test him again. Test him against me? It’s not possible, okay? It’s too much of a coincidence. They took him in August and there were no other kids—”
“March,” I mumble.
Both siblings start as if remembering I’m here, their faces snapping to me. All at once, all three of them are staring directly into my eyes, and I feel as if I’m being gazed at by strangers.
Lalia asks, “What?”
“I was taken to Amerov in March. I remember, because it took me three weeks to be able to see again, and there were flowers blooming on Amerov. The only time they bloom there is early spring. Never past the summertime. Amerov is on the same season schedule as Hytha, only off by a few weeks. I remember looking that up. I didn’t leave Hytha in August.”
My voice sounds far away, not remotely recognizable. Too calm and factual, an echo behind my mechanical ears. What would be the proper human reaction to this? I don’t know, but I don’t think I’ve ever known. Maybe I’ve never been human. It certainly feels that way. It’s not as if I came from anyone. Maybe I’m like Bat, a science experiment of pulled-together parts, and I’ve never understood and never will.
In all the agonizing over the siblings and their parents, all the rationalizing and inspecting the coincidences and the resemblances, I never stopped to consider the date. The damn date. The easiest, most solid piece of evidence we would all know without testing or hunting down someone on Zar after weeks of headaches. It isn’t even as much concrete evidence as the DNA, but it feels as if it is. Final nail in the coffin, and all that.
Not a single bit of blood between me and them. Not a single reason for any of us to be in one another’s lives. Just three strangers, two of them who lost some brother out there, and me who’s never had anyone.
I know without bringing it up that their brother—their Aaron—he’s long gone. There were no other kids on Amerov. Not only would Audra have mentioned it when I asked—there would’ve been no reason not to—but Captain has always acted like I’m the oddball in the situation. These people are nothing to me, so there’d be no reason for them to act as if I was the only child on Amerov if I wasn’t. Not a single reason. If anything, they probably would’ve put us together to compare how we each reacted to our cyborg parts.
And if there was another kid there, another Aaron even if they changed his name, Zane and Lalia would’ve found it when they broke into Amerov’s records in the first place. There’s a reason they came looking for me: I was the single and only option.
But I suppose I’m human enough to know my rationalizations won’t be enough. These two will want more closure than my certainty, my logic. I can give that to them, even if today ends up being the last day they ever see me.
Doubling the money I’m transferring to Yala, I hand back the tablet and say, “You can hack Amerov flight logs…find their brother for them, figure out what happened.”
Dropping the tablet into her hand, I head for the door before she can speak. Zane doesn’t attempt to stop me, he doesn’t so much as move or look my direction. I’m not even certain he knows I’ve passed him by. Lalia says my name and reaches toward me before I shrink away from her, yanking open the door and slamming it shut.
Foul city air has me coughing, and I shove the mask back up in place before my eyes start watering from all the nasty air and hacking up a lung.
I take the walkway further down into the heart of the city instead of back toward the hangar. I don’t want to talk to Yvonne or Anya. I’d like to pick up Bat, but calling him up and having him leave the ship would be a terrible idea. I’ll talk to him about it later. It isn’t like he can say anything to me that’s going to help. Nothing to say.
It’s all over and there’s nothing to say.
Really, what other outcome did I expect? I knew this was the truth from the first time Lalia brought it up to me on that unnamed jungle planet. I went off and let myself act like it was something that could happen. I let myself believe it, and I knew better. I knew better. It’s not as if this is an outcome I wasn’t expecting. They annoy me anyway. Their parents didn’t even like me, not really. They crowd into my ship and take up my space and have zero respect for personal boundaries or anything else. And really, after today, I have no reason to ever see them again. It isn’t as if we’re genuine friends. I don’t have genuine friends. Those two were looking for their brother, and they got me. They made the best out of it, sure, but no one wants to be stuck with me when they don’t have to be. They don’t have a ship of their own right now, but they can buy transport back to Hytha. I don’t mind paying if they don’t have the money for it. I can’t leave them here in this place, especially with Zane still walking gingerly, but they have no reason to stay in my ship any longer.
I’m never going to see them again.
Someone in the narrow alleyway bumps into me, shoots me a scowl, then hurries off when they see my face. There isn’t even that much to see with the respirator in place. Suddenly irritated with the straps of it still hanging around my neck, tightened around the back of my head, I snap it off and toss it in the nearest gutter I step across. It cracks on the metal stairs. A few breaths later and I’m accustomed to the air. I’m not human—I don’t need the thing.
I’ve walked farther than I realized, and I don’t know where I am. It doesn’t matter. I still have my tablet, and it’s not as if there’s a planet to get lost in. Eventually, all these streets will lead back to some major landmarks. And I’m not going to run across anyone who can or would want to actually take me in a fight.
If they really wanna try, let them.
Kicking a scrap of trash metal down the street, I watch it bounce into a wall and down another alleyway. Glancing in, I hear rushing water and the unmistakable scent of actual living planets. Here, they smell rotting and foul, but when I lean in, the space is empty. Not wanting to bump into any more humans, I drop down into the tunnel.
It’s some sort of drainage area, massive and leading on until my eyes no longer pick it up. For the most part, I’m getting heat signatures from the city’s warmth, but the gravel beneath my boots and the river running along the opposite wall is cool. Nothing shaped like people or animals, but some spongey, foul-smelling plants that manage to sprout up where there’s water. Sunlight has never so much as touched this place, but they’re growing nonetheless, perhaps in just the frail artificial lights on the top of the tunnel, or by some other way alien plants can cling to life in such hostile environments.
I glance into the water, but it’s dark and swirling, miserable as the greenery. Kicking a pebble into its depths tells me it’s fairly deep. I take out my pistol, aim it at a point along the opposite wall, then think better of playing target practice down here and stuff it back in its holster. It’ll echo, and possibly go through the wall and hit something vital. I still don’t want to draw attention to myself. Technically, we should be getting out of here as soon as possible. I shouldn’t have wandered down here. Yvonne and Anya are still in the ship. They’re safe as they can be here, but would be much safer out in space.
I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose and crouching near the river without actually touching anything.
Get up and go back to the ship, Aaron.
I’m going to have to tell Yvonne what happened. Somehow worse, I’m going to have to tell Anya. She’s gonna look at me with those giant, innocent eyes and ask me why. Why aren’t they my brother and sister? Why is their real brother gone? Why did something like this happen? And I’m not going to have a single answer. Yvonne, at least, will know I have no answers and even less patience.
Yvonne’s gonna know I’m upset, and that I shouldn’t even be, and she’s probably not going to judge me for it. And I hate that.
Bat, who sits on Zane’s shoulder and lays on his pillow watching over him when he’s hurt, is going to look at me and not say anything. And I’m not going to have anything to say in return.
My breath hitches and I bite the inside of my cheeks until that hurts worse than my throat. This is the second time this week one of these stupid humans has nearly made me cry, and I’ll be dammed if I do. I knew this was the answer we were going to get. I knew it, and I let myself ignore it.
Of all the stupid fucking decisions I’ve made, this one takes the cake.
I try to remind myself that every minute I spend down here, not at the ship, is dangerous for the princesses. Yvonne can probably take care of herself. So can Bat. But much less so when they have that little girl to protect. And a spaceship is not foolproof.
Get up, Aaron.
I get up, brushing my pants though I hadn’t touched them to the slimy rocks. Glaring at the opposite wall until I think I can force myself to do the correct thing, I turn and stomp back out the way I came.
The silence is painful. I open my mouth, thinking I’ll be able to say something, but no words come out. Yala glances between the three of us, expression passive. It’s not as if she has any investment in this, but I wish she’d stop making direct eye contact with that bright gaze of hers.
“What?” Zane asks.
She gives him an exasperated look. “There’s no match between the two of you. You’re not related.” She points her finger between me and Zane.
Oh.
Well.
I suppose that’s that, then.
If I had a plan on what I was going to do or how I would react if this was the outcome, I don’t remember it. Again, I try to think of something to say, anything, but my jaw doesn’t want to unlock, and I can’t look at them, anyhow.
Yala hands me her tablet and I take it automatically before realizing what she wants. Right. To pay her.
“That’s not possible,” Lalia says, one of them finally moving as she gets up off the stool.
Yala looks at her dryly. “Sorry, lady, but ran it three times to be safe. You’re not even remotely related. I don’t know what to tell ya.”
Zane is silent. When I finally dare to glance at him, his expression is stone. Unreadable. No emotion whatsoever. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this way, and it frightens me a bit. He looks like an entirely different person, both siblings do. I stare at the tablet instead, wondering if they can hear my heart attempting to push its way out of my chest. I don’t know what I wanted to see in Zane’s expression, anyway. Numbly, I open the tablet back up to pay the woman—just because we didn’t get the result we wanted doesn’t mean she doesn’t get her money. She did her job.
“That’s not possible,” Lalia says, and I wince at the rising pain in her voice. “He’s the only kid ever taken to Amerov. I mean, there aren’t any more out there.”
Yala shrugs. “I’m sorry, I barely know how Amerov works. Maybe you got the wrong one?”
Kinda a harsh way to put it, I think but don’t bother to intervene.
Lalia starts shaking her head. “Maybe test him again. Test him against me? It’s not possible, okay? It’s too much of a coincidence. They took him in August and there were no other kids—”
“March,” I mumble.
Both siblings start as if remembering I’m here, their faces snapping to me. All at once, all three of them are staring directly into my eyes, and I feel as if I’m being gazed at by strangers.
Lalia asks, “What?”
“I was taken to Amerov in March. I remember, because it took me three weeks to be able to see again, and there were flowers blooming on Amerov. The only time they bloom there is early spring. Never past the summertime. Amerov is on the same season schedule as Hytha, only off by a few weeks. I remember looking that up. I didn’t leave Hytha in August.”
My voice sounds far away, not remotely recognizable. Too calm and factual, an echo behind my mechanical ears. What would be the proper human reaction to this? I don’t know, but I don’t think I’ve ever known. Maybe I’ve never been human. It certainly feels that way. It’s not as if I came from anyone. Maybe I’m like Bat, a science experiment of pulled-together parts, and I’ve never understood and never will.
In all the agonizing over the siblings and their parents, all the rationalizing and inspecting the coincidences and the resemblances, I never stopped to consider the date. The damn date. The easiest, most solid piece of evidence we would all know without testing or hunting down someone on Zar after weeks of headaches. It isn’t even as much concrete evidence as the DNA, but it feels as if it is. Final nail in the coffin, and all that.
Not a single bit of blood between me and them. Not a single reason for any of us to be in one another’s lives. Just three strangers, two of them who lost some brother out there, and me who’s never had anyone.
I know without bringing it up that their brother—their Aaron—he’s long gone. There were no other kids on Amerov. Not only would Audra have mentioned it when I asked—there would’ve been no reason not to—but Captain has always acted like I’m the oddball in the situation. These people are nothing to me, so there’d be no reason for them to act as if I was the only child on Amerov if I wasn’t. Not a single reason. If anything, they probably would’ve put us together to compare how we each reacted to our cyborg parts.
And if there was another kid there, another Aaron even if they changed his name, Zane and Lalia would’ve found it when they broke into Amerov’s records in the first place. There’s a reason they came looking for me: I was the single and only option.
But I suppose I’m human enough to know my rationalizations won’t be enough. These two will want more closure than my certainty, my logic. I can give that to them, even if today ends up being the last day they ever see me.
Doubling the money I’m transferring to Yala, I hand back the tablet and say, “You can hack Amerov flight logs…find their brother for them, figure out what happened.”
Dropping the tablet into her hand, I head for the door before she can speak. Zane doesn’t attempt to stop me, he doesn’t so much as move or look my direction. I’m not even certain he knows I’ve passed him by. Lalia says my name and reaches toward me before I shrink away from her, yanking open the door and slamming it shut.
Foul city air has me coughing, and I shove the mask back up in place before my eyes start watering from all the nasty air and hacking up a lung.
I take the walkway further down into the heart of the city instead of back toward the hangar. I don’t want to talk to Yvonne or Anya. I’d like to pick up Bat, but calling him up and having him leave the ship would be a terrible idea. I’ll talk to him about it later. It isn’t like he can say anything to me that’s going to help. Nothing to say.
It’s all over and there’s nothing to say.
Really, what other outcome did I expect? I knew this was the truth from the first time Lalia brought it up to me on that unnamed jungle planet. I went off and let myself act like it was something that could happen. I let myself believe it, and I knew better. I knew better. It’s not as if this is an outcome I wasn’t expecting. They annoy me anyway. Their parents didn’t even like me, not really. They crowd into my ship and take up my space and have zero respect for personal boundaries or anything else. And really, after today, I have no reason to ever see them again. It isn’t as if we’re genuine friends. I don’t have genuine friends. Those two were looking for their brother, and they got me. They made the best out of it, sure, but no one wants to be stuck with me when they don’t have to be. They don’t have a ship of their own right now, but they can buy transport back to Hytha. I don’t mind paying if they don’t have the money for it. I can’t leave them here in this place, especially with Zane still walking gingerly, but they have no reason to stay in my ship any longer.
I’m never going to see them again.
Someone in the narrow alleyway bumps into me, shoots me a scowl, then hurries off when they see my face. There isn’t even that much to see with the respirator in place. Suddenly irritated with the straps of it still hanging around my neck, tightened around the back of my head, I snap it off and toss it in the nearest gutter I step across. It cracks on the metal stairs. A few breaths later and I’m accustomed to the air. I’m not human—I don’t need the thing.
I’ve walked farther than I realized, and I don’t know where I am. It doesn’t matter. I still have my tablet, and it’s not as if there’s a planet to get lost in. Eventually, all these streets will lead back to some major landmarks. And I’m not going to run across anyone who can or would want to actually take me in a fight.
If they really wanna try, let them.
Kicking a scrap of trash metal down the street, I watch it bounce into a wall and down another alleyway. Glancing in, I hear rushing water and the unmistakable scent of actual living planets. Here, they smell rotting and foul, but when I lean in, the space is empty. Not wanting to bump into any more humans, I drop down into the tunnel.
It’s some sort of drainage area, massive and leading on until my eyes no longer pick it up. For the most part, I’m getting heat signatures from the city’s warmth, but the gravel beneath my boots and the river running along the opposite wall is cool. Nothing shaped like people or animals, but some spongey, foul-smelling plants that manage to sprout up where there’s water. Sunlight has never so much as touched this place, but they’re growing nonetheless, perhaps in just the frail artificial lights on the top of the tunnel, or by some other way alien plants can cling to life in such hostile environments.
I glance into the water, but it’s dark and swirling, miserable as the greenery. Kicking a pebble into its depths tells me it’s fairly deep. I take out my pistol, aim it at a point along the opposite wall, then think better of playing target practice down here and stuff it back in its holster. It’ll echo, and possibly go through the wall and hit something vital. I still don’t want to draw attention to myself. Technically, we should be getting out of here as soon as possible. I shouldn’t have wandered down here. Yvonne and Anya are still in the ship. They’re safe as they can be here, but would be much safer out in space.
I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose and crouching near the river without actually touching anything.
Get up and go back to the ship, Aaron.
I’m going to have to tell Yvonne what happened. Somehow worse, I’m going to have to tell Anya. She’s gonna look at me with those giant, innocent eyes and ask me why. Why aren’t they my brother and sister? Why is their real brother gone? Why did something like this happen? And I’m not going to have a single answer. Yvonne, at least, will know I have no answers and even less patience.
Yvonne’s gonna know I’m upset, and that I shouldn’t even be, and she’s probably not going to judge me for it. And I hate that.
Bat, who sits on Zane’s shoulder and lays on his pillow watching over him when he’s hurt, is going to look at me and not say anything. And I’m not going to have anything to say in return.
My breath hitches and I bite the inside of my cheeks until that hurts worse than my throat. This is the second time this week one of these stupid humans has nearly made me cry, and I’ll be dammed if I do. I knew this was the answer we were going to get. I knew it, and I let myself ignore it.
Of all the stupid fucking decisions I’ve made, this one takes the cake.
I try to remind myself that every minute I spend down here, not at the ship, is dangerous for the princesses. Yvonne can probably take care of herself. So can Bat. But much less so when they have that little girl to protect. And a spaceship is not foolproof.
Get up, Aaron.
I get up, brushing my pants though I hadn’t touched them to the slimy rocks. Glaring at the opposite wall until I think I can force myself to do the correct thing, I turn and stomp back out the way I came.
