“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.
The only reason I was getting some time with Savitri at all was that through a clever combination of whining and guilt I had convinced her to take her lunch break with me. Even then she had brought her PDA and spent half of lunch going over manifests. She was even excited about that. I told her I thought she might be ill.
“I’m sorry you’re bored,” Savitri said, back in the present. “You might want to hint to your parents.”
“Trust me, I did,” I said. “Dad actually stepped up, too. He said he’s going to take me down to Phoenix. Do some last-minute shopping and other things.” The other things were the main reason for us to go, but I didn’t want to bring them up to Savitri; I was moody enough as it was.
“You haven’t come across any other colonists your own age yet?” Savitri asked.
I shrugged. “I’ve seen some of them.”
“But you haven’t spoken to any of them,” Savitri said.
“Not really,” I said.
“Because you’re shy,” Savitri said.
“Now your sarcasm comes back,” I said.
“I’m sympathetic to your boredom,” Savitri said. “But less so if you’re just marinating in it.” She looked around at the observation desk, which had a few other people in it, sitting or reading or staring out at the ships docked at the station. “What about her?” she said, pointing to a girl who looked about my age, who was looking out the deck window.
I glanced over. “What about her?” I said.
“She looks about as bored as you,” Savitri said.
“Appearances can be deceiving,” I said.
“Let’s check,” Savitri said, and before I could stop her called to the other girl. “Hey,” Savitri said.
“Yes?” the girl said.
“My friend here thinks she’s the most bored teenage girl on the entire station,” Savitri said, pointing at me. I had nowhere to cringe. “I was wondering if you had anything to say about that.”
“Well,” the girl said, after a minute. “I don’t want to brag, but the quality of my boredom is outstanding.”
“Oh, I like her,” Savitri said to me, and then waved the girl over. “This is Zo?,” she said, introducing me.
“I can talk,” I said to Savitri.