but there were plenty of eager volunteers grasping at the chance, regardless of the risks involved.
Madeleine Robinson had signed up within hours of hearing the offer.
The chance seemed too good to be true—and exactly what she and her family needed. She and the boys had only to spend a few weeks on a random planet—like a camping trip far from any other human being—then write a report and receive a substantial bounty. After facing so many crises, Madeleine didn’t know any other way her family could survive.
They were among the last groups to trickle aboard the final shuttles for the Ildiran warliners, but they were used to that; the Robinsons had never been first in line. Carrying their packs, Derek and Jacob jostled each other, as brothers always did. At seventeen, Derek had been forced to become the man of the family, but he was still too young for it. When Madeleine looked at her older son, she felt an ache in her heart that she hadn’t done better by him. Jacob, thirteen, was still very much a boy at heart, but he’d had to give up his childhood after the accident, and all the blame.
Her boys were smart, good-natured, and resilient; they had learned how to be. She knocked a strand of her auburn hair away from her face and trudged behind them up the ramp. The two boys bumped shoulders, pushing each other one direction, then the other, as they jockeyed for position in line for the Ildiran shuttle. They pretended to be excited about the new adventure, but she knew they were both nervous.
Derek adjusted his duffel. “You sure we have enough equipment to last us for a few weeks, Mom?”
“We’ll make do,” she said. “This is all we have.”
It was her understanding that the Ildirans would provide some supplies, depending on conditions on the planet. During their brief survey, the Robinsons would have to be self-sufficient on an unexplored world, but they had been taking care of themselves for a long time.
Beside them, TZ, their good-natured compy, shuffled along, carrying a load more than twice his size. Containers and packs had been tied together, stacked on the little compy’s shoulders. His servos whirred as he plodded one step after another, never complaining. “As soon as we enter the shuttle, Madeleine, I can go fetch another load.”
“I wish we had another load to bring, TZ.”
“Thank you for taking me with you, Madeleine. I realize it would have been in your best financial interests to sell me.”
“We’ll never sell you, TZ. You’re too useful.” Realizing that sounded cold, she added, “And you’re part of the family. Family has to stick together.”
A long scrape marred the purple synthetic skin on the compy’s left arm, where a fast courier vehicle had sideswiped him a few months ago. The frantic courier didn’t want any police report made, any insurance claims filed, and he had paid Madeleine more than enough to pay for the repairs to the compy’s skin. She had accepted the money, but used it for food instead. Now, noticing the scar on TZ’s arm, she regretted her decision, but it was the only decision she could have made.
Her husband, Duncan, had been killed in a spaceport loading-dock accident two years ago, crushed by a runaway piece of equipment that had also killed two bystanders. The accident was horrific enough, until the investigative team determined that it was Duncan’s fault. Because of his culpability, Duncan’s benefits were stripped away, and Madeleine received none of the insurance payment. Then the families of the two dead bystanders sued, and in the legal aftermath, Madeleine and her family had lost everything.
Now they needed to get on their feet again, to make a new start.
She was tired of people looking at her accusingly, blaming Duncan—and, by extension, his family—for the deaths of two innocent people. Didn’t they understand that her family had lost just as much? No matter who had been responsible for properly securing the cargo equipment,