Free Tin Star by Cecil Castellucci Page B

have done something terribly wrong to be exiled here,” Heckleck said. “On second thought, perhaps if he’s been disgraced there is hope.”
    “He’s not disgraced. He was helping to organize the transition,” I said.
    “That’s the trouble with officers of the law,” Heckleck said. “They are always on the wrong side.”
    “Unless you can buy them,” I said.
    “I’ve been trying to buy Tournour for years,” Heckleck said. “Terribly stubborn Loor.”
    *   *   *
    The first time I saw Tournour again was at the game tables at Kitsch Rutsok’s. He had just gotten off duty. I went up to him as he sat enjoying a drink of jert juice with a female of his species. I thought he looked different. Somehow terrible and quite unlike his old self, and it was more than just his new uniform.
    “Tournour,” I said.
    He seemed surprised that I would approach him.
    I wanted to see up close if he was really changed. I couldn’t say that it was nice to see him. He had chips in his hand. I’d never known him to play the games of chance before. He had never even wagered on a hocht. But here he was, placing bad bet after bad bet. He ignored me, and instead pawed the Loor female he was with. He was laughing, but it sounded forced. I had been reading Tournour my entire time on the station, and he did not seem to be having as much fun as he was pretending to.
    And then there were his antennae, they were not pointed at the female, they were pointed away. They were pointed at me. I was keenly aware of them, like they were an extra set of eyes watching me.
    I was being ignored, and I saw that it was useless to pursue any kind of conversation with him.
    I circled back to exit.
    Tournour had followed me.
    He was tall, powerful, and, now that I was standing this close to him, threatening. I knew that no one would protect me in the bar if he went after me. He leaned in close. I was surprised at how sweet he smelled.
    “I remember the stories of when your people first came,” Tournour said. “My grandfather met a few of your firsts. So primitive were you Humans when you arrived on your generational ships. People who had forgotten what a planet felt like because they were ship-born.”
    Earth’s first true pioneers were those Humans who first traveled to the stars on generational ships. Everyone on Earth claimed to have someone who had gone on one of those generational ships. It was romantic to think that you had family in the stars.
    My grandmother, who couldn’t even remember her own name or what she had for breakfast, would talk fondly about the day that the first light skip ships piloted by aliens had arrived carrying Humans who had hitched a ride home.
    But those Humans came back to a different Earth than the overcrowded one that they had left. They were not welcome, and so they and theirs were forced back to wander the stars.
    Tournour had his intense gaze fixed on me, as though he wanted me to say something.
    “Aren’t all of us who live on the station a bit like that?” I said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve set foot on a planet. I’ve forgotten what it’s like, too.”
    “It’s pleasant,” Tournour said. “Sunlight is pleasant. The warmth of it. We have the same kind of star, you and I. Did you know that?”
    I shook my head no.
    “Such similar homes,” he said.
    He said it as though I was meant to understand something. But I didn’t.
    “A sun warms in a way that a lamp can’t. Or maybe it’s the birds,” he said.
    “So your trip back home was good?” I asked.
    Tournour grimaced. A shadow passed over his face as though he were going to say something but then stopped himself.
    “I’m back and in charge. They’ve promoted me,” he said. “That’s how it went.”
    I had my answer. He could not be bought.

 
    9
    New administrators began to take the place of the old. Aliens boasted of the changes that would be made with the fresh start. Shops reopened. Goods arrived. The ships returned—a