Jane got a canteen from her satchel, and filled it at the side of the water. The flying animals watched her, but left her alone. There was enough water for everybody, Jane guessed. She made a face as she watched the stinky shiny water flow into the canteen. Gross. She did not want to drink that stuff at all. But Owl said the machines on the ship could clean up real real bad water, the worst water. They could clean pee, even. Jane was real interested to know how that worked.
She sat down by the water hole, watching the animals. Everything was still big and strange and wrong, but this . . . this was kind of good. It was good to be out of the ship, and the air was warm. The sun did that, Owl had explained. The sun was the big light in the sky. Owl had told Jane it was very very important to not look right at it. Jane wanted to real bad, but she listened. She didn’t know what things could get her in trouble, and she didn’t want to make Owl angry. Owl had not been angry, not even once, but she was kind of like a Mother in the way she was built. Jane thought maybe the Mothers had been good like Owl once, but then the girls did so much bad behaviour that the Mothers got extra angry and stuck that way. Jane decided she would work real hard to be good and not make Owl angry. She didn’t want to make Owl go wrong.
One of the flying animals walked close to her. Real close. Its big black eyes were so so dark against its weird orange skin. Jane didn’t move. She put her hand on her weapon and held her breath. The animal moved its head like it was thinking. It sniffed at her shoe. Then it walked away, head bouncing as it went. Jane let all her air out. Okay. Okay, that was good. Good and interesting. Maybe the flying animal had been interested in her, too. She liked that idea.
The animal walked over to a group of more animals, who were . . . were they eating? They looked like they were eating. But what were they eating? It wasn’t a meal, of course, but it wasn’t like a ration bar, either. It was something coming up out of the ground – purple, smooth, kinda soft-looking, all wavy and interesting shaped. It was stuck to the ground, and to some of the scrap nearby. It wasn’t an animal, but it made her think of animals in a way that she didn’t understand. Not an animal, but not scrap or a machine, either. Something else. And the animals were eating it.
Could she eat it, too?
Owl had been real clear about not eating stuff out there, and Jane knew better than to just put her hands on a component she didn’t recognise. She let go of the weapon, put on the work gloves (even though they were way too big), and got the pocket knife. She walked over to the group of animals. They moved away real fast. Jane stopped. Had she scared them?
‘I’m not bad,’ she said to them. ‘I just want to see what you’re eating.’
She crouched down and poked the purple stuff with the point of her knife. Nothing happened. She blew on it. Nothing happened. She looked at the little holes where the animals had been biting it. She held her knife best as she could with the big gloves, and cut off a piece. The stuff didn’t bleed. She looked at it real close. It was white inside, and solid. No bones. She really wanted to taste it, but after the water, she knew it was smart to listen to what Owl said. Owl knew so much.
She put the piece of purple stuff into her satchel. It was a good time to go back, she thought. The sun was making the air real hot, and the skin on her arms kind of hurt. It was more red than usual.
Jane 64’s face had been red, too, red and puffy and wrong and scared and—
She heard a rattling sound. The knife in her hand was shaking. She was shaking. She wanted to go back to Owl. She wanted to go back right now. Owl had said she could come home if she felt bad, and she did feel bad, so she would.
The animals started making a lot of noise. Most of them were running or flying away. Jane turned around. Two dogs stood there, watching the one thing that hadn’t run away. Watching her.
Her stomach hurt and her eyes burned. She wanted to be back with Owl. She wanted to be back in her bed – her bed, with 64. She wanted a meal cup and a shower and not dogs. But there were dogs anyway, and they were making quiet angry sounds.
Her body wanted to run, like it had when the Mother stared at her through the wall, but there was no good place to go. The water hole had scrap all around it. The only way out was past the dogs. She didn’t think she could run by them without them being able to bite her.
‘Help,’ she said, real quiet. ‘Owl, help.’
But Owl was too far.
She switched the knife into her other hand and grabbed the weapon rod. She took a step back, shaking bad. ‘Stop,’ she said, trying not to cry. ‘Go away.’
One of the dogs came closer, getting loud, teeth all wet.
‘Go away!’ she yelled, kicking a piece of scrap toward it. ‘Go away!’
The dog made a louder sound. It ran at her.
She tripped backward, but she remembered to point the weapon at the dog, and pushed the button as it jumped and opened its mouth of teeth.