“He sneaked onto the orbital train?!” Tzarif’s eyes were as wide as the headlights of a railrunner. 

“No, don’t be stupid.” Robert rolled his eyes. He was already pissed off about the whole situation, but his friends’ reactions made it even worse. “He sneaked onto the cargo carrier, where the crew found him after they had already jumped into the subspace. There was no way to go back, so they had to take him to Mesa. Once here, they put him on the orbital train.”

“Why bring him to the planet?” Anka frowned at her expression, mirrored on her interface screen. She was trying to conceal a huge pimple on her chin. “Why not take him back to the system he came from?”

“Well, it will take like three weeks for the ship to depart, right? Most of the crew came to the planet too, so it’s just waiting before he can be shot back upwell.”

At least, this is what Robert assumed. ‘He will be living with us for a time being,’ his mother said. So, it was probably until cargo ships in orbit started departing, loaded with minerals and metals from the orbital train. It would depart in two weeks, and maybe they’d take the boy with them. Or, possibly, a bit later on a shuttle, but all the shuttles were private, and Robert had no idea how much such a trip could cost. It was probably more credits than he’d ever seen in his life.

Hoffmans’ house was one of the half dozen narrow two-storey buildings squeezed in the end of the alley. They were close enough that you could jump from the second floor window of one to the roof of the kitchen of the other, or you could have a hefty plank bridge between the two for safer traversal. In the evenings, lots of local kids hung out on the roofs, where adults would not get to them easily. (For the same reason that Robert was no longer allowed on the kitchen roof proper, even though he was confident his leg fell through the tile that one time because it was old and shitty and not because he was too heavy. Still, he had a long ‘serious talk’ with Hershel about ‘being aware of your own capabilities’. Funny, how Hershel was the only brother who took after their mother when it came to body type, and the only one who felt the need to lecture Robert about fatness). 

Today, the hang-out spread between Hoffman’s kitchen roof and Auerbachs’ second floor and backyard extension’s roofs. Robert sat in the frame of their attic window while other kids moved between him and Tzarif’s bedroom window on the other side.

“Are they looking for his parents?” Ehud didn’t lose any of his nervous energy after the earlier escape from trouble. His house was on the opposite side of the alley, but it was pretty easy to get to Hoffmans’ house jumping from roof to roof, no climbing required. Currently, he was re-lacing his sneakers, much faster than anyone here could ever do even with two hands.

“I assume they do.” Robert rubbed his face with a sigh. “Someone had to report him missing right?”

“Does he remember his address?” This was from Uwe, who was not allowed to be here due to being 6 years old and yet. “What planet is he from?”

“I have no…clue.” Robert held back an expletive. “My mom was sure he couldn’t talk, and then when everyone left for a minute, he actually did talk to me, but about a completely unrelated thing. And when they were back and tried asking him questions, he just smiled and stared at his feet.”

“Is he weird in the head?” Tzarif leaned in and whispered, making a dramatic expression. “Like granny Lapka down the street?”

Anka turned around and threw a plastic wrapper at him. “Oi! She is just old, dumbass.”

“I’ve seen her talk to the potted plants on the porch.”

“Old and lonely.”

“I’ve been next to him for, like, 10 minutes, I have no idea.” Robert shrugged. Honestly, he hoped they could talk about anything else. If Tzarif was so keen on finding more info about the new member of their household, he could let him play on his interface in the meantime.

But it was not to be. As more kids joined the little gaming circle and started to set up a server, Robert got called downstairs. He turned around on the windowsill, closed the window behind him, and climbed down the ladder to the top landing of the stairs. The door to his room was open, and he could hear his mom talking softly inside. He walked over to the doorframe, hands in the pockets of his shorts, and leaned in with a pout.

As he expected, to fit in the new bed, they moved most of his projects. The workbench was now squeezed into a corner while components and scrap were piled on top of it without any regard to how it was supposed to be stored. He would have to spend a whole day organising it again. The new bed was smaller with one broken leg, propped by an old shuttle condenser (also taken from Rob’s things, what the fuck). The boy was sitting in the middle, hands on his knees, smiling faintly. Golda sat at the edge of Robert’s bed, two being so close now, that she almost touched Nikolai’s shins with her knees. In a tone he hadn't heard from her in years, she was explaining to the boy their plans for tomorrow: visiting the local doctor, dropping by the school for evaluation, and going to the market to buy a couple of things they failed to source from neighbours and family friends.

“You called?” Robert rolled from heels to toes. He knew he was frowning, and, honestly, it was more than justified. Nobody asked him about this whole crap.

His mother straightened and looked at him disapprovingly, all the softness gone from her face. “Yes. I want you to show Nick around the house and make sure he brushes his teeth before bed.”

“What, he doesn’t know how to do it?!”

Golda got up and stepped closer, dropping her voice to an angry whisper. “I don’t know. But he talked to you earlier, so maybe he’ll do it again, okay? I want you to take some responsibility for once in your life, Robert! It’s tough for all of us.”

“Well, maybe you should not have ta-”

She put her hand over his mouth, eyes sparkling with anger. “Do. Not. We’ll talk about it after he goes to bed, is that understood?”

Robert glared at her, huffing angrily into her palm for a good minute before he nodded. She stepped around him and left the room.

He threw himself onto his bed and kicked his feet up, propping them against the corner of his workbench. He glared at the ceiling. He hated being called irresponsible. He was plenty responsible! He took garbage to the sorting plant every other day. He picked up eggs from Mrs Landau on Fifthday mornings before school. He fixed their media screen last week! (He may have broken it first, but that was an accident.) Nobody cared about all the ways in which he was really responsible for his age. 

Whatever. Wha-te-ver.

“You shouldn’t put your feet on the table.”

Robert startled and turned to stare at Nikolai who was looking at Robert’s feet and clearly fighting a fit of giggles.

For fuck’s sake, what was this guy’s deal? He had to be weird in the head.

Robert tapped the heel of his foot over the edge of the desk. “This is not a table, this is my workbench. I can do what I want with it.”

Nikolai finally burst into laughter. He tried hiding it behind his palms, covering half of the face and turning away. Yet, he sounded so carefree, so full of amusement, Robert couldn’t help but smile too.

“Okay, here's the first thing you have to learn.” Robert sat up cross-legged and patted the empty spot on the workbench. “This is my space. You are not allowed to touch anything. This stuff is dangerous and expensive. I’ve spent half of my life gathering and trading and fixing and-”

“Can you show me the translation processor? I promise not to touch it.” Nikolai pointed with a finger at the middle of the scrap pile.

Robert stared. “-and… what?”

“Translation means movement of the ship in space, not languages. That processor takes pilot’s inputs and-”

“I know what it is.” He shook his head, baffled. “How come you know what it is?!”

The change in expression was minimal, but Robert definitely noticed it. Nikolai was still smiling, but it was no longer genuine. Just a polite smile so as to not make others angry. He didn’t want to answer. Or, maybe, he didn’t know the answer. No, this boy wasn’t weird in the head. Or, at least, not as weird as it seemed before.

With a huff, Robert reached for the processor and pulled it out, sending the rest of the scrap to the floor. It didn’t matter, most of that stuff wasn’t operational. He threw it to Nikolai, who caught it, barely, with an adorable ‘meep!’.

“You can have it.” Robert smirked. “It’s junk. Its memory was fried, and even if I were to replace the chip itself, I have no firmware to deploy. A fun thing to tinker with, though.”

Nikolai held the hemisphere with the tips of his fingers, slowly turning the device around. “You could…” He raised his eyes to meet Robert’s and immediately looked back at the processor. “You could write new firmware?”

“That would be crazy hard.” Robert chuckled and leaned back. “I don’t even have the full schematic of this thing, like inputs and outputs, and which functions can be performed inside the architecture. You’ll probably have to write a compiler first…”

“They have compilers on the power control chip over here. Looks intact.” Nikolai tapped a tiny bump on the side of the processor. Robert could only stare, speechless. “It probably understands STRATI. I can code in STRATI.”

“You can code in STRATI at 10?!”

“I’m 12.” Once again, Nikolai met Robert’s gaze. This time he held it for a second longer before looking away. He was smiling, genuinely, and slightly blushing. He seemed to be pleased with the reaction.

Robert’s brain was about to explode. He never had a talent for code outside of the most low-level stuff. He could probably write basic chip-level functions and a compiler to go with it, but STRATI? The stuff they used to write some of the most advanced big data systems, like those for subspace travel and economics forecasting? It was incomprehensible. Either this guy embellished his true skill level, or he was a true prodigy.

“Did they teach it at your school?” Robert finally asked.

“A little bit.” Nikolai was quieter now. He trailed his finger over the serial number etched on the processor’s scratched casing.

“What system are you from again?”

There was no answer. Well, it seemed like anything about his past was an undesirable topic.

The room was silent once again. Yet, Robert didn’t feel good about it. He tapped his fingers on his knees, trying to come up with something else to say. Something else to show this strangely knowledgeable kid. But his curiosity wanted to pry more about his background. Did all schools outside Mesa teach STRATI to kids, or was it some kind of special talent program? If the former, was there a way to apply to those if you were from Mesa? Could Robert escape this dumpster of a planet one day?

Hm, what was that earlier about responsibilities?

“Right, I should show you to the food prep area and the sanitary room.” Robert got up and stretched. “Better not give my mom more reasons to yell at me, right?”