Aftermath - Ann Aguirre [127]
From that point on, my attendance at school was sporadic at best. I didn’t mind; I loved ships, and I loved the freedom. Even dealing with an AI for lessons didn’t deter my determination to join the academy, as soon as I realized I met the criteria to be a jumper. But what worked for me wouldn’t suffice for Sasha.
Time to forget that idea and resign yourself to what’s possible.
“Out here.” March leads the way to a table out on the balcony.
The servo-bot is already setting the food out; this rectangular model with food-prep capacity inside reminds me of the ones on Ithiss-Tor. I wonder if they’re already in wide commercial production off world. Well. Maybe “already” isn’t the right word. I keep forgetting how long it seems like it’s been, and how long it’s actually been. Different time streams, different ’verses.
We sit down to eat, and Sasha has to be coaxed to speak. He’s shy with me, still, worried that I’ll prove more important to his uncle, whom he calls Dad. I don’t blame the kid for feeling insecure. He’s never had anybody who belonged to him before; he went straight into crèche-rearing because of his unusual gift, and he was five turns old before March found him. So he’s pretty scared right now. What if March stops loving him because of me?
“Tell her your good news,” March prompts him.
“I took top marks in the control competition.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
Without meeting my eyes, he explains, “It’s a program at school that tests how well we can manage our abilities.”
“Good job.” With TK like his, it’s imperative he can handle the pressure of the gift, and for his sake, I’m glad he doesn’t have to deal with the constant influx of people’s thoughts, like March.
“My teacher says kids in the state homes don’t have as much support as me, so that’s why I won.”
“She’s probably right.”
“How long will you be here?” Sasha asks, after the food is gone. Then, with a nervous glance at March, he adds, desperate for approval, “You can stay as long as you want.”
Anything, as long as you don’t ask Dad to go away with you again.
“That’s kind of you,” I reply.
My heart breaks a little more.
As we leave the table, the bot clears the dishes, and March takes Sasha off for their bedtime ritual. On the balcony, I stand and stare at the stars, trying to imagine what it would be like, living here, seeing the same constellations in the night sky. But I can only think of what waits beyond the atmosphere, all the wonders I’ve yet to see.
As I’d known when he asked me to join him, I can’t imagine this life, the one he’s chosen, as mine. And it’s time to tell him so.
CHAPTER 42
“He’s a beautiful kid,” I say. “You’ve done a great job with him.”
Sasha has been asleep for about an hour, after three stories and two drinks of water, and now March and I stand on his balcony overlooking the lights of Tyre, the jewel in the newly crowned emperor’s throne. Maybe this one will last longer than six months in the cutthroat Nicuan political climate. I never dreamed he would settle here when this world drove him crazy—nearly cost him everything—but Sasha’s school is here, and he’d do anything for the boy.
“Thanks. I love him more than anything.”
That’s not news. I can see it in their interactions. All kids should have that, and it’s wrong that they don’t. I wouldn’t alter the situation for a billion creds. Would things be different now if I’d gone to Nicuan as soon as I was acquitted? Impossible to say or know.
Five fragging turns. I still can’t get over that. I’m standing with March, seeing the echoes, and he’s lived a lot in that time—resigned his military commission, given up flying, and become responsible for another human being.
Thing is, we always knew I wasn’t meant to settle down, and that’s exactly what he’s done. Granted, I wasn’t around to give him an alternative, so he had to do what was best for Sasha.