Zoe's Tale

“She is going to be very upset about that,” Mom said.

 

“I don’t intend to be away long enough for her to miss me,” I said. Mom didn’t say anything to that.

 

“I wrote her a note,” I said, finally. “It’s scheduled for delivery tomorrow morning. I told her what I thought I could tell her about why I left. I told her to talk to you about the rest of it. So she might come by to see you.”

 

“I’ll talk to her about it,” Jane said. “I’ll try to make her understand.”

 

“Thanks,” I said.

 

“How are you?” Mom asked.

 

“I’m terrified,” I said. “I’m scared I’ll never see you or Dad or Gretchen again. I’m scared I’m going to screw this up. I’m scared that even if I don’t screw this up it won’t matter. I feel like I’m going to pass out, and I’ve felt that way since this thing landed.”

 

Jane gave me a hug and then looked to my neck, puzzled. “You’re not taking your jade elephant pendant?” she said.

 

“Oh,” I said. “It’s a long story. Tell Gretchen I said for her to tell it to you. You need to know about it anyway.”

 

“Did you lose it?” Jane asked.

 

“It’s not lost,” I said. “It’s just not with me anymore.”

 

“Oh,” Jane said.

 

“I don’t need it anymore,” I said. “I know who in this world loves me, and has loved me.”

 

“Good,” Jane said. “What I was going to tell you is that as well as remembering who loves you, you should remember who you are. And everything about who you are. And everything about what you are.”

 

“What I am,” I said, and smirked. “It’s because of what I am that I’m leaving. What I am has been more trouble than it’s worth, if you ask me.”

 

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Jane said. “I have to tell you, Zo?, that there have been times when I have felt sorry for you. So much of your life has been completely out of your control. You’ve lived your life under the gaze of an entire race of people, and they have made their demands on you right from the beginning. I’m always amazed you’ve stayed sane through all of it.”

 

“Well, you know,” I said. “Good parents help.”

 

“Thank you,” Jane said. “We tried to keep your life as normal as possible. And I think we’ve raised you well enough that I can tell you this and have you understand it: What you are has made demands of you all your life. Now it’s time to demand something back. Do you understand?”

 

“I’m not sure,” I said.

 

“Who you are has always had to make room for what you are,” Jane said. “You know that.”

 

I nodded. It had.

 

“Part of that was because you were young, and what you are is so much larger than who you are,” Jane said. “You can’t expect a normal eight-year-old or even a fourteen-year-old to understand what it means to be something like what you are. But you’re old enough now to understand it. To get an appreciation for it. To know how you can use it, for something besides trying to stay up late.”

 

I smiled, amazed that Jane remembered me trying to use the treaty to stay up past my bedtime.

 

“I’ve watched you in the last year,” Jane said. “I’ve seen how you interact with Hickory and Dickory. They’ve imposed a lot on you because of what you are. All that training and practicing. But you’ve also started asking more of them. All those documents you’ve had them give you.”

 

“I didn’t know you knew about that,” I said.

 

“I was an information officer,” Jane said. “This sort of thing is my job. My point is that you’ve become more willing to use that power. You are finally taking control of your life. What you are is starting to make room for who you are.”

 

“It’s a start,” I said.

 

“Keep going,” Jane said. “We need who you are, Zo?. We need you to take what you are—every part of what you are—and use it to save us. To save Roanoke. And to come back to us.”

 

“How do I do it?” I asked.

 

Jane smiled. “Like I said: Demand something back,” she said.

 

“That’s unhelpfully vague,” I said.

 

“Perhaps,” Jane said, and then kissed me on the cheek. “Or maybe I just have faith that you’re smart enough to figure it out on your own.”

 

Mom got a hug for that.

 

Ten minutes later I was fifteen klicks above Roanoke and climbing, heading for an Obin transport, thinking about what Jane had said.

 

“You will find that our Obin ships travel far more quickly than your Colonial Union ships,” Hickory said.

 

“Is that right,” I said. I wandered over to where Hickory and Dickory had placed my luggage and picked out one of the suitcases.

 

“Yes,” Hickory said. “Far more efficient engines and better artificial gravity management. We will reach skip distance from Roanoke in a little under two days. It would take one of your ships five or six days to reach the same distance.”

 

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