She smiles. “The worst part about driving a small, archaic clunky craft like mine is that everyone sees you coming. And the best part is that nobody sees you coming, if you do it right. I can get into places like I’m invisible. Listen, pick up tech, scavenge. Ah”—she coughs—“ah, sometimes, emancipate things from others.” She gives me a sidelong glance. “That they could do without, and which I need.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re a little vecking pirate.”
“Liberator,” she corrects me with a grin.
“Mother Earth. Is that—what is that?” She presses herself to the glass of our craft, her whole body quivering with excitement.
“That’s a homestead dome.”
“The honeycomb shape of the metal—that’s genius. If I could just get the materials, I’d like to do that back on Jes…” She breaks off, and her body freezes. One second she was vibrant, now she’s stone. Flat.
By the one true Zandian Star, I wish she would forget the deathtrap planet she came from and find a purpose here.
She sits back down and looks out the window, quiet.
“What would you do?” I make my voice low and enticing, as if I’m trying to coax over a small animal.
I don’t expect her to answer; she usually avoids talking about her old life. But this planet rotation she surprises me.
“I’d create homes with that shape. See how the form is automatically load bearing? It’s weatherproof and durable.”
“What kinds of homes do you have now? There?”
“Haven’t you been to Jesel before? I know Zandians have dropped off humans in the past.” She sounds a little sarcastic. “Interesting that what is my entire life is a footnote in yours.”
“Me, personally? Solar cycles ago, yes. But not often. And not recently. Our captain’s mate is from Jesel. He rescued her from a pack of human males who were dragging her by the hair and forcing themselves on her. Repeatedly.”
I watch Mirelle turn pale. It’s a low blow, but I know her home planet may harbor free humans, but it’s a wild, lawless place, unsuitable for civilized community.
“Yes, that happens,” she chokes. “Women are greatly outnumbered by men, as they are here,” she volleys with a pointed look.
I ignore the jab. “It’s odd that you were there the whole time, and we never knew.” How could the universe have hidden her from us?
“We stay off the radar.” She nods. “Underground cave homes.”
“So how do you live?”
“Things have changed,” she allows. “Our homes are made of mud bricks, typically, or thatched. We live rough so we can focus our energy on craft and technology.”
“Sensible.” I nod. “As long as you don’t need to worry about elements or animals.”
“There aren’t many predators on Jesel.” For some reason, she pales.
“Yes?” I sense this is critical. I reach out my hand, hover it above her arm, but don’t touch her.
She shakes her head. “The important part is that you have to be stronger than the challenges. Never give up, even when it’s hard.”
“Were dangerous creatures accidentally imported?” There’s something she’s not telling me, and I’m curious. I want to know why her face is so serious, her shoulders tense.
“Life is always importing something dangerous. The question is how you handle it.”
She’s regained her composure, but at some cost. I can see that her arms are tight, as is her whole body. “And on Jesel, I can handle things.” She presses her nails into her palms so hard I think she might cut her own skin.
She keeps talking about going back to Jesel, but veck, the idea is also tearing her up inside for some reason. I know the place isn’t safe at all, and clearly, she’s had some bad interactions there.
“I feel like you’re talking in circles.” I rest my hand on her arm. Stroke. I reach down and uncurl her fingers, run mine over the little half-moon indents she’s created in her flesh.
“What kind of predators do you have here?” She allows me to open her hands, but looks away.