She kept her tears silent and unseen. Even in the cramped quarters of the storage room no one saw her as anything but calm, confident, and optimistic. She couldn’t allow herself to seem otherwise. There were too many younger mothers who looked to her for reassurance and comfort and strength.
Of course there were those who despised her as well, regardless of what she did. Julexi whispered discontent whenever she had the chance. Her husband, Pitoso, had been the first to die in the attack on the alien ship. His explosive had detonated prematurely, killing him instantly and alerting the hormigas of the attack. The battle had been a disaster after that. The hormigas had poured out of the hole the explosion had created, literally throwing themselves at the men of El Cavador.
And since it had been Segundo who had modified the explosives and prepared them for the attack, Julexi was convinced that it was Segundo who had, in essence, killed her husband and set them all on the path to ruin. Segundo was the reason why El Cavador was destroyed. Segundo was the reason why they were cramped in this hellhole of a room one step above a closet. It was Segundo Segundo Segundo.
Abbi felt no different. Her son Mono had secretly stayed on El Cavador instead of coming with her onto the WU-HU ship. Had Segundo and Victor not filled her son’s head with foolish ideas and convinced him that he was a mechanic, Mono wouldn’t have died on El Cavador with the others. He would’ve stayed with his mother where he belonged. He’d be here, alive, helping her, holding her, speaking softly to her. He was only a boy, after all. He had no business as Victor’s apprentice. He was too young. Shame on Victor. Shame on Segundo.
A few others despised Rena as well, though why exactly Rena could only guess. Perhaps they felt the need to blame someone. Or perhaps they thought they should be making decisions for the group. Or perhaps they resented how some mothers came to Rena for comfort and not to them.
Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter. Rena ignored them all. The women never confronted her directly with their grievances, so Rena let it go. Bringing it up would only escalate their complaints and divide them further. And division wouldn’t help them. Divided they might not survive.
She found the broken nav sensor at the helm and immediately got to work. It was an easy fix if you knew what you were doing. Corporate ships and stations like WU-HU or Juke had crewmen who knew next to nothing about how the ship functioned; they each had a single task, and that’s all they did. But on a free-miner ship, families couldn’t afford that luxury. Everyone had to know everything.
And so on El Cavador they constantly taught each other, shadowing each other for a day or a week, or putting together trainings and seminars. Rena knew navigation of course, but she learned all other duties as well, mining and maintenance and cooking and piloting, every chore that kept the family functioning and alive. No one stops learning, Concepción used to say. Our strength is one when our mind is one.
Captain Doashang had learned this principle quickly. Every task he had given to Rena and the other women had been completed with exactness. There was no learning curve, no trial and error; the women of El Cavador simply did precisely what was needed as soon as it was asked. Sometimes before it was asked. Wait until something’s broken, and you’ve waited too long, Segundo had said.
Rena disassembled the nav sensor and swapped out the burned component. As she worked she noticed three crewmen nearby glancing in her direction and talking quietly. They spoke in Chinese, thinking she didn’t understand them, but El Cavador had snogged Shoshan, a Chinese bride, years ago, and she and Rena had become dear friends. Shoshan didn’t speak Spanish, and the two of them had set about teaching each other their native languages. Rena still couldn’t speak Chinese to save her life, but she could pick up words and phrases here and there if she listened close enough.
“… babies screaming at all hours of the night…”
“… we can’t keep feeding them…”
“… you should talk to Magashi … problems if they stay here much longer…”
“… supplies won’t last forever…”
“… feed one clan and then everyone wants a handout…”
Rena gave no sign that she understood and kept her eyes on her work. It wasn’t the first time she had heard such things. Many of the crew resented the fact that Magashi had let the women and children of El Cavador stay. Most of the station crew was kind and generous and eager to share the food they had in storage if the women of El Cavador worked for their share. But a few of the crew spread resentment like wildfire.
We can’t stay here, Rena told herself for the hundredth time.