“What does that button do?” Anya asks.

I try to figure what she’s pointing at. “Cameras on the back of the ship.”

“What about this one?”

“Heat map. Doesn’t work great anymore.”

“And this one?”

“Those fire up the guns in the wings.”

“Oooo!”

“Don’t touch.”

“Damn.”

“Anya, do not say damn!” Yvonne hollers from the washroom. She’s currently using all my hot water.

Anya stares at the bunkroom door, whispering, “How did she hear me?”

“Beats me.”

From his little cot above the control panel, Bat snickers. We’re heading to Zar, and he’s quite happy about it. There’s food, after all. Lots and lots of different foods from all over the galaxy. If I’m being honest with myself, I’m pretty thrilled about that aspect myself. If it wasn’t coupled with the the trip being to figure out if Zane and Lalia are indeed my family, I’d be having a lot more fun. 

But now a pit just sits in my stomach. It was easy to ignore when the siblings were just causing me trouble, following me around, or we had other issues to deal with. Now, other than keeping our heads down and ensuring no one notices us who might report it to Captain, there’s nothing to do but find a place that’ll test my DNA file off the record.

I could’ve put it off, technically, with Zane’s conversation about us retuning to their home planet—my home planet—to see if anything jogs my memory. But the only thing worse than the idea of finding someone to test my DNA is the idea of meeting two people who may or may not be my parents. If it turns out I am their family, it’s going to be bad enough having to meet them with…who I am. And how I look. I certainly don’t want to visit if I don’t know the truth.

Though I’ll admit, Zane and Lalia barely flinched at my appearance and certainly don’t mind touching me. The people who raised those two are bound to be decent. At least, they’re bound not to fling themselves out of the way when I approach.

But I’m not ready for it. And asking Bat his opinion didn’t help. He told me he’d back me up no matter what. Which is sweet, sure, but not helpful with the decision.

I reach up and pet his ear.

“Why can’t we fire the ship guns at anything, there’s nothing out here?” Anya asks.

She’s sitting cross-legged on a section of the console containing no buttons or switches or screens, and I stare at her levelly. Which doesn’t do much. She stares right back. I sigh.

“Because that’s a waste, and shots are expensive. They run out quicker than a pistol.”

“Well, next time we land can you teach me more target practice?”

A few weeks ago, I probably would’ve argued just to argue with her, but there’s not much use. I enjoy target practice, and she’s fairly good at it for being so awkward with her new arms. “Fine.”

“Can I get a gun at Zar?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re ten and I don’t trust you.” I take a glance at the closed washroom door though my bunk room. “And also because I think your sister would skin me alive.”

Anya giggles. “She’s like half your size.”

“Possibly. But she has a level of rage I simply have never reached.”

“That is bull and you know it.” Yvonne appears from around the edge of the washroom door. She’s wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around her torso, which I wasn’t exactly expecting. Her curly hair is flattened out and dripping water. Looks like she jumped right out to come argue with me. Which would be hilarious if my face wasn’t turning hot.

“You’re using my towel,” I say, ignoring how my voice sounds.

She levels a glare at me, “They’re all your towels.”

I shrug.

“And you have the worse attitude I’ve ever encountered in my life. I have never reached your level of pissed off, so don’t give me that.”

“You mean like the sabotaging-someone’s-ship levels of pissed off?”

“Huh?” Anya asks.

Yvonne puts her hand on her hip, which actually moves the towel a bit up. “Are you going to use that in every argument where I have a better point than you?”

“Very probably.”

“Who’s ship did you sabotage?” Anya asks, giggling all over again.

I tell her, “Mine. Because she was mad I wasn’t taking her to Amerov to find you.”

“That’s not why!” Yvonne turns her back and stalks into the washroom, calling. “It was because you were taking me two weeks in the opposite direction of Amerov!”

“Either way,” I say, turning back to Anya. “She kicked a pebble into the crystal in my engine. Which means we had to stop on Taloon. Where she caused an explosion.”

Yvonne’s voice rises an octave. “Ya know, you always bring up my screw ups and conveniently forget yours!”

Well, obviously.

I glance up at Bat. He’s happily flapping his ears.

We’re solidly out in the dark of space, about a day from the farming planet we spent nearly a week on. Anya was thrilled about getting the money for her bird eggs, though I’m sure she has access to much more than a few hundred credits back home. It was endearing. 

But we’re not near any planets. I purposefully scouted out a path as far from any civilization as possible. There are hardly even stars here, just faint pinpoints of light in the distance, and definitely not anything hospitable. The only place which may have people is a set of nearby moons I vaguely recall are mined for some mineral, but the rocks themselves are inhospitable. The operation will be small, and we can keep away from it.

If we can avoid as many people as possible, there’s less chance anyone can report us to Amerov. I’ve already figured that once we get this situation with Zane and Lilia resolved and the princesses back home for that bounty—somehow without getting caught—Bat and I can head out to uncharted space for a while. I’ve never been, just skirted the edge of the galaxy a few times, but Amerov has no control out there. Registered cyborgs rarely venture there. Sure, it’s hell to survive with so few people and many unexplored planets. But that means no one will find us. And we can always come back.

Bat’ll be happy with the adventure.

With her new limbs and a definite level of comfort with us, Anya is no longer staying quiet in her chair and doing nothing more than staring. I don’t get much time alone as it is having two humans in my already small ship, but she follows me everywhere. If I read in my bunk room, she comes and sits on the foot of the bed. If I’m cooking, she tries to help. If I’m doing a puzzle, she works on picking up the little pieces with her new fingers. I’ve taken to having my old boxing bag set up in the belly of the ship where the pod used to be stored. She sits in the corner and watches me practice. It’s difficult not to be self conscious with a pair of human eyes always on me, but she so nonjudgemental it’s impossible to tell her to go away. 

I’ve never had a problem telling any human to go to hell, but I can’t so much as move Anya out of the way without feeling bad.

This month has been entirely too much.

Bat still hasn’t allowed the little girl to pet him, but he’s accepting any food she offers her. I’ve never seen him let another person pet him, certainly not a human, but I’m certain he’s going to eventually give in. He likes attention, even if it’s only from me.

For the most part, Anya’s stopped asking him prying questions now her curiosity about where he came from has been satisfied. Not to say she hasn’t been asking me questions, but that’s a whole other set of drama.

Yvonne hasn’t said much about the situation, but I can tell she’s enjoying herself. She set out to get me to bond with her sister for whatever misguided attempts at helping her, and she got what she wanted. It’s no use annoying her about it. As much as I hate to admit it, when she’s happy, Yvonne is perfectly pleasant to be around. The snark doesn’t stop, but that would be entirely too awkward if it did, so I don’t care.

She emerges from the washroom much more dressed than she was last time, shirt tucked into her shorts. It’s not particularly warm in the ship, but it isn’t cold either. I stare at her bare feet. She painted her toenails purple. Eyes weren’t enough I guess.

My comm beeps. 

I glance at the blinking blue light, meaning to ignore it—Zane and Lilia still call me multiple times a day from following just behind in their ship—but it’s not them.

I squint at the map. There’s a ship nearby. Out here?

Muttering to myself, I pull up the map, zooming in to get a better look. They’re still a ways behind us, but probably close enough they’re aware of me if I’m aware of them. My heart leaps into my throat at the size of the ship, dozens of times the size of mine, nearly as big as Captain’s.

Keyword being nearly. It’s not Captain’s ship. I squint again. My eyes aren’t bothering me at the moment, but something about the shape of the ship on the radar looks…familiar.

“No way,” I mumble. 

Bat jumps to the panel, head cocked at the map. He looks up at me and back down, clueless.

“What is is?” Yvonne asks, leaning an arm against my shoulder so she can lean down and get a better look. Heat floods up my neck where she touches me, which is a ridiculous way to reaction.

“I know that ship…I think,” I tell her.

“Is it Captain?”

“No.”

“Who is it?”

I lean against the chill glass of the viewport and take a look at the shimmering dot of the approaching ship in the distance. “A problem.”