Free Nova by Margaret Fortune

exception of Michael, and yet even I can see that they . . . work. I can’t think of any other way to describe it. They work, though they’re not the most traditional of families. Everyone has a place, a niche within the framework that makes up their little unit; each is a piece, and together they make up a whole. I wonder if I was ever part of a family like that.
    Common sense comes rushing back, and I shake my head. As far as I know, I’m nothing more than some lab experiment, fabricated in a research facility for one purpose alone. As though someone like me ever had parents. As though someone like me ever had a family. What was I thinking?
    Yet somehow the idea doesn’t feel quite as ridiculous as it should.

    After dinner, Michael walks me home. He has to, to help me carry all the stuff his grandmother sent with me.
    I peek over at Michael, struggling to peer around the big box in his arms, and grin. Taylor only meant to send an extra piece of cake with me. “For later,” she’d said with a wink. Only somehow the cake made her think of the extra pillow in the hall closet, and the pillow made her recall the blanket no one was using, and just like that, a small food container morphed into a good-sized packing box. I tried to refuse the items—didn’t I have a perfectly good sleeping roll down in the bay?—but Taylor insisted, and I didn’t know how to refuse.
    We enter the SlipStream station and take a spot on the platform to wait. Michael sets the box on the bench and drums on the top, seemingly content to wait in silence, but all I can think about is the ride here, the way my clock lost seconds, and nervousness tightens my stomach. I cast about for something to say to distract myself from the edginess.
    “Your gran’s really nice.”
    Michael’s fingers still for a moment. “Yeah, yeah she is. She’s been really great to Teal and me.”
    “Has she always lived on New Sol?”
    “Just about. Her family emigrated here when she was only a kid.”
    “So how long have you been staying with her?”
    Michael tenses, a guarded look on his face. Then he takes a breath and releases it with a whoosh. “It’s okay, Lia, you can ask. I know you must be wondering what I’m doing here. On New Sol, I mean,” he clarifies at my confused look.
    I’m not, but I nod anyway.
    “It’s not what you’re probably thinking.”
    As if he would know what I was thinking any more than I would know what he
thinks
I’m thinking. Which is to say, I have no idea.
    “Okay,” I answer, not having anything better to say.
    “My parents aren’t dead. I know you probably didn’t want to ask because—” He jerks his head at me, and I realize he’s thinking of my parents.
    No, not my parents.
Lia’s
parents.
    “Oh.” I duck my head, not sure how to answer, which he takes for a yes.
    “It wasn’t supposed to be this way,” Michael continues. “At least, I don’t think so. When Mom got promoted to first officer on Stella Station and we left Aurora, it was still supposed to be the four of us, just like always. Dad’s request for reassignment had been accepted, and we were all going to live on the station together.”
    “What happened?”
    Michael shrugs. “Well, we were all together for a while. Then the war happened. They discovered New Earth, and the fighting started up all over again. They needed experienced officers in the field, so they reassigned Mom to a ship of the line. For a while we lived with Dad, going with him whenever he got reassigned. We moved three times in two years, until finally they assigned Dad to the
Victor’s Prize
as communications officer. Warship—no civilians allowed. You know what the last thing he said was, before he left? He said his place,
his duty
,” Michael spits out the words, “was with the fleet. And off he went.”
    His fingers toy with something in his pocket. “Of course they wouldn’t let Teal and me stay by ourselves, so we were shipped off here to live with Gran. That