These Broken Stars(79)

“Of course not. It’s a pleasure to assist you. I can see you’re hanging on my every word.”

“You seem uncooperative, Major. You’re a highly decorated soldier. Your conduct doesn’t match the favorable reports on your file.”

“I suppose appearances can be deceiving.”





TWENTY-EIGHT




LILAC



FOR A WHILE WE FORGET WHAT HAPPENED last night and explore the building, working together again. Seeing an intact structure, something man-made, is electrifying. I try to imagine what my home looks like, my city, the buildings that touch the clouds and the cars on the skyways, and my mind draws a blank. I think if I were to somehow transport myself there now, it’d be overwhelming.

There’ll be a generator inside this building, somewhere, and if we can get that working, I can get everything else working. Tarver insists there will be a communications system inside—though I’ve never been to a planet in any phase earlier than advanced settlement, he tells me that stations like this are common, and all alike.

Communications equipment would mean a way to send a signal. A way to get Tarver back to his family, where he belongs, even if I’m not so sure I want to rejoin the world anymore. And if there’s any justice or decency in the galaxy, he’ll get home in one piece.

I want so badly to tell him why I said the things I said when we first met. Why alienating people is one of my greatest talents. But to tell him would be to betray my father. To show Tarver just how monstrous I am. And so I bite my tongue, and try to ignore the way the truth is building inside me like water under pressure.

Let him hate me, and think I hate him back. It’s safer for both of us.

We don’t talk, but the silence is still easier than it has been. Neither of us asks why this place was abandoned, or what it was originally for. It’s large enough that it can’t just be to house monitoring equipment. It had to hold people at some point.

We haul on the doors, pry at the shutters over the windows, go so far as to attempt to bash our way in with a rock. The building is solid, despite its neglect, and sealed up tightly. We discover a shed not far away with a broken-down hovercraft inside. A quick look tells me it was probably broken even at the time this place was occupied. We poke around under the hood for a little, checking out the hopelessly gummed-up plugs and leads, then Tarver moves on to inventory the rest of the shed, leaving me to examine the circuitry.

He gives me a running commentary on what he finds: rusted tools, lengths of rope, cans of oil and glue, tanks of fuel in the back. Paint cans and a shovel in the corner. Drills and saws with plugs. This place once had electricity, then, which confirms my guess that there’s a generator somewhere.

I wonder if some part of my brain will always look at things, now, and try to think of how they might be useful. If they’re worth their weight, being carried from a wreck. I can’t help but wonder if I’ll always think of ways rope or oil or rusty hammers could save someone’s life.

When I finally pry the circuit board’s cover off to find half the circuits missing, it takes me only a few moments to realize the entire thing is useless. I slam the hood of the hovercraft down, and when Tarver looks at me, he sees the frustration in my face and doesn’t ask. We head back out into the clearing, circling the building again, this time armed with tools. We set to work attacking the shutters, prying, trying to find a weak spot.

“At least you’re human after all,” Tarver says lightly. I’m still nursing the wounds from his rejection as I glance at him, expecting it to be a jab. He glances back, trying half a smile, and I realize it’s an olive branch instead. “We’ve finally found circuits you can’t fix.”

He looks so tired, so weary, despite his weak attempt to bridge the gulf between us. I suppose I would be too, if I were him.

I sigh, rubbing a hand across my eyes. “I wish I knew more. If I did, maybe I could fix it.”

“I still don’t understand how you know any of this. Your father’s the engineering genius, not you. I mean—you’re not the sort of person who would’ve studied circuitry and physics in school. I mean—oh, screw it.”

So much for the olive branch. Despite the temptation to leave him tripping over his words, I can’t take credit for what I know. “When I was a little girl, after my mother died, I wanted nothing more than to be just like my father. Even then I knew I was everything he had, so I wanted to be…worthy of that, I guess. I asked someone to teach me.” I swallow, feeling Tarver’s eyes on me, knowing he can sense the tension in my voice.

“Who?”