I wipe my eye roughly, even though it’s dry and cross my arms. If I were faking my emotions, that would be a good line.
The problem is that what I said is entirely true. And even if my mind is always on Jesel and the idea of getting back here, I am really starting to love it here on Zandia. The place, my mates, the people—it’s pretty amazing. I could see myself living here forever.
But I can’t. Jesel lies in me like a hard stone in my chest every time I move. A lump in my throat every time I swallow. Splinters under my nails every time I touch something here, reminding me of my obligations. My promises. That my friends are back there, waiting for me. Needing my help.
How can I just forget them and pretend they don’t exist? I can’t be happy here, not until I resolve that feeling. And I can’t resolve it. What I need to do is go back to Jesel.
But for now I push that away, and focus on the present. “I didn’t mean it like it sounded.”
“Mirelle. Of course you’ll fit in here. You already do.” Amber looks away, a little guilty, maybe thinking of how she and Kianna treat me. “Ah, I mean, if you want to, you will. Really want to.”
I nod. Then we’re all quiet, and look away from each other.
There’s my tool and my practice comm unit. I take a deep breath and pick it up. “Back to work, I guess.”
Kianna nods. Then she stands next to me. “Here, do it like this.” Her voice is low. She stands closer to me than usual, her shoulder brushing mine. I smell the odor of her hair, sweat and a hint of grass. Usually she keeps herself away, like I’m made of garbage.
She demonstrates. “See? If you angle it like this and twist, it pops out. It's a technique you need to develop.”
“I see.” I watch intently.
“And it will go faster if you open from this angle.” She turns the device over. “I’ve been watching you. You actually learn fast.”
“I felt like I was ridiculously slow.”
“This isn’t easy stuff.” She puts down the tool. “How did you learn to fight like that?”
“It’s all I’ve done, all my life.” I look at her. “It’s in my blood.”
“Can… can you teach me?” Her voice is hesitant. “I was so unprepared. Before.” She blinks hard. “I don’t like being that way.” She trails off into a whisper, her hands shaking. “I haven’t felt that way since I came here.”
“I can try.”
“Thank you.” She breathes, shakes out her hands. She types something into a comm and hands it to me. “Use this one. I’ve updated it with better training info.” She sits down and looks at me. “I used to be a cleaning and service slave for a long time, but when I was a child, I remember being free. I don’t even know what planet it was. Or if it’s even real, or just a dream. But there was a field like that, and the grass moved in the wind.”
She stares off into the distance again. “And someone held my hand.”
“Who?” I keep my voice low.
“I don’t know.” She clears her throat. “But if I push too hard, I feel like I’m forcing ideas into the memory, so I have to let it go. I don't know if I’ll ever see who it was.”
“It’s a good memory, though?”
She nods. “The best.” Then she looks at me. “And here on Zandia, I feel like I did in that moment, Mirelle. Safe. Happy. Like things are going to be all right.”
I nod. “I want to feel that way, too.”
“Except for that vipn.” She shudders. “Then I felt…” She shakes her head. “You helped us right away. Even if it meant you might be hurt.”
“That’s what I’ve done all my life, too.” I shrug. “I help other humans. It’s even deeper than my blood. I think it’s in every piece of me. Part of my identity.”
“You know, being here doesn’t mean you stop doing that.” Her gaze is softer.
I tilt my head.
She smiles. “Let's make a deal. You teach me to fight like that, and I’ll get you up to speed on the comm tech.”
“Deal.” I smile back.