He tried to negotiate. ‘Ras and I are going to the waterball game on second day. We have plans.’

Mom’s mouth tightened. ‘We think a break from Ras might be a good idea, too.’

That did it. Kip exploded. ‘This wasn’t his fault!’ he said. It was totally Ras’ fault, but that wasn’t the point. ‘Stars, you guys are always hating on him.’

‘I don’t hate Ras,’ Mom said. ‘I’m just not sure he’s—’ She looked up at the ceiling, thinking. ‘It’d be wise for you both to take some time to think about the kinds of choices you’ve been making.’

‘This is bullshit,’ Kip muttered.

‘Hey,’ Dad said.

‘No, it is,’ Kip said, getting louder. ‘It is bullshit. Look, I’m sorry I messed up tonight, but the only – the only reason I went along – the only reason we went there is because there’s nothing to do. It sucks here. What am I supposed to do? Go to school, do chores, learn how to do a job that’s basically more chores?’

‘Kip—’

‘And now you don’t even want me to have friends.’

‘Oh, come on, Kip.’ Mom rolled her eyes.

‘Of course we want you to have friends,’ Dad said. ‘We just want you to have friends that bring out the best in you.’

‘You guys don’t understand,’ Kip said. ‘You don’t understand at all.’ He pushed away from the table and walked off.

‘Hey, we’re not done,’ Mom said.

‘I’m done,’ Kip said. He went into his room and punched the door switch behind him.

‘Kip,’ Dad called through the metal wall.

Kip ignored him. Stars, fuck this place. Fuck these stupid rules and stupid jobs and fuck being sixteen. He was getting out. The day – no, the second, the very second the clock hit his twentieth birthday, he was hopping on a transport, and he’d be gone, university or not. He’d find a job somewhere. He didn’t care where or what. Anything was better than this. Anything was better than Mom’s lists and Dad’s stupid voice. Anything was better than here.

Behind his door, he could hear them still talking. Kip knew listening in would only make him madder, but he put his ear up anyway.

‘Maybe I should go talk to him,’ Dad said. ‘Y’know, just me and him.’

‘He doesn’t want to talk to either of us,’ Mom said. ‘Or were you not here for this conversation?’

‘But—’

‘Let him be,’ Grandma Ko said.

Mom sighed. ‘He’s so impossible right now.’

‘Yes, well,’ Grandma Ko said. ‘You were a dipshit at that age, too.’

Kip snorted. ‘Love you too, Grandma,’ he grumbled. He flopped down onto his bed and buried his face in his pillow, wishing he could erase the entire day. Dammit, Ras, he thought, but he wasn’t mad at him. Well . . . kind of. But not, like, a forever kind of mad. He knew Ras hadn’t meant for it to go wrong.

He rolled over onto his side and groaned. Seriously. Zero hour on day 23, standard 310. Once that hit, he was out.

Sawyer

‘Nervous?’ Oates asked as they headed down the walkway.

Sawyer gave a sheepish smile. ‘It’s a job interview. Have you ever not been nervous at one?’

Oates chuckled and clapped Sawyer’s shoulder with his mech hand. ‘Don’t worry. The boss is gonna love you. I mean, unless she hates you.’ He winked. ‘She’ll tell it to you straight if she does.’

They continued along. Ships of varied size coasted slowly by. The shuttledock was a complicated stack of layers and levels, all built over a century prior, once Exodans found themselves with other places to go. Sawyer felt as if he were standing in the middle of the sea, watching creatures migrate past – little lively ones, modest middling beasts, and ponderous behemoths everything else made way for. He remembered his mom taking him to the planetside docks on Mushtullo, making up stories about where each ship had gone and was going. The memory came with a familiar sting, but it was a hurt he’d long ago learned to shelve.

Oates led him to a dock designated for mid-size ships – merchant vessels and small cargo, mostly. They walked past thick bulkheads, slim atmospheric fins, hand-hacked tech upgrades, every design as different as the last. Sawyer eyed the names with enjoyment. Out of the Open. Take-A-Chance. Good Friend. Quick and Easy. The Better Side of Valour.

‘Here we are.’ Oates gestured Sawyer ahead. ‘Home sweet home.’

Sawyer looked up at a nondescript freighter – dull grey plating, big engine, somewhat rough around the edges. It wasn’t as flashy or added-to as some. It didn’t stand out. But to Sawyer, that was a good thing. Flashy tech would’ve been intimidating, and too much of a penchant for modding would’ve worried him. This ship appeared solid, functional, and looked-after. All you wanted in a spacecraft, really.

He spotted the ship’s registry info, printed by the open entry hatch.

THE SILVER LINING

Registration No. 33-1246

Asteria, Exodus Fleet

‘Do you live on this ship?’ Sawyer asked.

‘Pretty much,’ Oates said. He walked through the hatch; Sawyer followed. ‘I see my folks when we’re docked, but it’s easier to keep all your stuff in one place, y’know? Nyx, though – that’s our pilot – she splits her time between this home and a home-home. Her ex’s hex. They hate each other, but they’ve got a kid, so. Y’know. You don’t have kids, right?’