Zoe's Tale (Old Man's War, #4)(11)

Hickory peered out again at the silhouettes of my parents. "She could have said so in the house," it said.

I shook my head. "No," I said. "Look how she's looking up. Before Dad came out, she was doing the same thing. Standing there and looking up at the stars. Looking for the star our new planet orbits, maybe. But what she's really doing is saying good-bye to Huckleberry. Dad needs to see her do it. Mom knows that. It's part of the reason she's out there. To let him know she's ready to let this planet go. She's ready to let it go because he's ready to let it go."

"You said it was part of the reason she's out there," Hickory said. "What's the other part?"

"The other part?" I asked. Hickory nodded. "Oh. Well. She needs to say good-bye for herself, too. She's not just doing it for Dad." I watched Jane. "A lot of who she is, she became here. And we may never get back here. It's hard to leave your home. Hard for her. I think she's trying to find a way to let it go. And that starts by saying good-bye to it."

"And you?" Hickory said. "Do you need to say good-bye?"

I thought about it for a minute. "I don't know," I admitted. "It's funny. I've already lived on four planets. Well, three planets and a space station. I've been here longest, so I guess it's my home more than any of the rest of them. I know I'll miss some of the things about it. I know I'll miss some of my friends. But more than any of that... I'm excited. I want to do this. Colonize a new world. I want to go. I'm excited and nervous and a little scared. You know?"

Hickory didn't say anything to this. Outside the window, Mom had walked away a little from Dad, and he was turning to head back into the house. Then he stopped and turned back to Mom. She held out her hand to him. He came to her, took it. They began to walk down the road together.

"Good-bye, Huckleberry," I said, whispering the words. I turned away from the window and let my parents have their walk.

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"I don't know how you could possibly be bored," Savitri said to me, leaning on an observation deck rail as we looked out from Phoenix Station to the Magellan. "This place is great."

I looked over at her with mock suspicion. "Who are you, and what have you done with Savitri Guntupalli?"

"I don't know what you mean," Savitri said, blandly.

"The Savitri I know was sarcastic and bitter," I said. "You are all gushy, like a schoolgirl. Therefore: You're not Savitri. You are some horrible spunky camouflaged alien thing, and I hate you."

"Point of order," Savitri said. "You're a schoolgirl, and you hardly ever gush. I've known you for years and I don't believe I have ever seen you involved in a gushing incident. You are almost entirely gush-free."

"Fine, you gush even more than a schoolgirl," I said. "Which just makes it worse. I hope you're happy."

"I am," Savitri said. "Thank you for noticing."

"Hrrrumph," I said, rolled my eyes for extra effect, and applied myself to the observation deck rail with renewed moodiness.

I was not actually irritated with Savitri. She had an excellent reason to be excited; all her life she'd been on Huckleberry and now, finally, she was somewhere else: on Phoenix Station, the space station, the largest single thing humans had ever built, hovering above Phoenix, the home planet of the entire Colonial Union. For as long as I had known her - which was for as long as she had been my dad's assistant, back in New Goa, on Huckleberry - Savitri had cultivated an air of general smart-assery, which is one reason I adored her and looked up to her. One has to have role models, you know.

But after we had lifted from Huckleberry her excitement from finally getting to see more of the universe had gotten to her. She'd been unguardedly excited about everything; she even got up early to watch the Magellan, the ship that would take us to Roanoke, dock with Phoenix Station. I was happy for her that she was so excited about everything, and I mocked her mercilessly for it every chance I got. One day, yes, there would be payback - Savitri taught me much of what I know about being a smartass, but not everything she knew about it - but until then it was one of the few things keeping me entertained.

Listen: Phoenix Station is huge, it's busy, and unless you have an actual job - or like Savitri are just in from the sticks - there is nothing going on. It's not an amusement park, it's just a big dull combination of government offices, docks and military headquarters, all jammed into space. If it weren't for the fact that stepping outside to get some fresh air would kill you - no fresh air, just lung-popping vacuum - it could be any big, faceless, dead-boring civic center anywhere humans come together to do big, faceless, dead-boring civic things. It is not designed for fun, or at least any sort of fun I was interested in having. I suppose I could have filed something. That would have been a kick.

Savitri, in addition to being insensibly excited not to be on Huckleberry, was also being worked like a dog by John and Jane: The three of them had spent nearly all their time since we arrived at Phoenix Station getting up to speed on Roanoke, learning about the colonists who would be with us, and overseeing the loading of supplies and equipment onto the Magellan. This didn't come as news to me, but it did leave me with not a whole lot to do, and no one much to do it with. I couldn't even do much with Hickory, Dickory, or Babar; Dad told Hickory and Dickory to lay low while we were on Phoenix Station, and dogs weren't really allowed the run of the station. We had to lay out paper towels for Babar to do his thing on. The first night I did this and tried to get him to take care of business, he gave me a look that said you have got to be kidding. Sorry, buddy. Now pee, damn it.