Archive of Our Own

Amena didn't realize she'd felt as if she was holding a breath until she heard second mom's voice over the comm coming from the Preservation responder, and suddenly it was like everything inside her let go and she could get air again. It was over. She was safe.

Which was stupid, because she'd been safe for like twenty cycles. SecUnit and Arada and ART and its crew had made sure of it. Uncle Thiago had made extra sure of it. Way more than she needed.

It was weird how angry she was about Thiago checking in on her and, like, walking her around the ship and stuff. That was a horrible way to feel about her own uncle, especially since he was literally trying to take care of her. He could be a little overbearing, everybody in the family knew that. It was so anti-social of her. But some part of Amena wanted to be alone and— and independent, which she knew wasn't real, nobody was really ever independent, but she'd thought this survey was her chance to finally get out a little. Be an actual adult, not just an adult by age.

On the whole, it had been a pretty awful survey. Well, the survey had been fine. Arada had acted like she was an equal and everything. But everything after exiting the Preservation wormhole…

Amena's skin gave a weird physical crawl, like for a second she was actually experiencing stuff again. She hadn't known her body could do that.

So it had been good, hearing second mom's voice on the comm. Knowing she was here to find Amena and the others. Amena had kept it together, too, and hadn't done anything as dramatic as bursting into tears in the galley lounge. She'd felt that tingle and then controlled it with a few deep breaths. The responder had docked with ART and she'd hugged second mom and not cried then either. Arada had said Amena had done an incredible job. Everything had worked out.

She was safe. And she felt really shitty.

She was glad to be alive. But she didn't feel like she'd actually done much to contribute to that. Maybe that was the problem.

SecUnit had done most of everything, and ART, and the adults (other adults) had talked and worked and figured things out. Even the new SecUnit, Three, had joined them and immediately gone on a rescue mission. It was like everybody knew how to act in a crisis and Amena had just been trying to keep up.

Second mom had definitely done heroic stuff when her survey had been attacked. She'd saved SecUnit with a mining drill. (Though the details of that were unclear. SecUnit had just told Ēla "she saved my life with a mining drill" and nothing else.)

Amena had… talked to the grey people. And some corporates too. That wasn't nothing, she supposed. She'd kept calm despite the threats and the implants and the infection and the electrocution. She'd seen SecUnit put its hand through—

It was like she was there and it was happening again. Then she was back in the bunkroom and blinking hard, her heart hammering. She gasped in one big breath and then held it, knowing that if she didn't then the next one and the next one would both be noisy and out of control. But she held it and kept a grip on herself until she could release the air, slowly, and inhale normally.

Mostly normally.

Still feeling shivery, Amena stood up and exited the bunkroom. She'd left the big reunion claiming she wanted a sweater (then promised ART in the feed that no, its climate control was fine, she just ran cold). She'd needed the time to collect herself, because seeing second mom arrive had been so weird and Amena simply could not break down in front of her— or the PSUMNT crew, either, not if Amena wanted to ever maybe attend there. But she couldn't hide in her room like Ummi getting overstimulated and needing a nap.

On the way back to where everybody was gathered, doing introductions and explanations, she passed Three standing in a corner by the lift. She smiled and said, "Hi, Three," and it did what it usually did, which was look a little startled that she had noticed it.

Amena felt bad about that, but got in the lift without further talking. Three struggled with conversation, and it had been standing here in an empty corridor on purpose. Maybe Three had needed some time alone too.

Pretty soon after second mom arrived on the Preservation responder, things got bad on the planet again. Barish-Estranza were still being greedy evil shitty fucking corporates— there was no other way to say it, and some of the words that Amena had learned from SecUnit and Tarik felt good in her mouth, like they could turn the poison of anger into something physical she could spit out.

SecUnit had to go down to the planet, and then it had to go all the way to the polar region to find some colonists isolated at a secondary site. Second mom and Three went down too, because they were helping the warring colonists with negotiations. Everybody was helping.

Amena stayed on the responder with Uncle Thiago.

Then Thiago got tapped to join the colonist negotiation team because of his language expertise. It was a relief when he left, even as Dr Overse took his place. Dr Overse wasn't nearly as overbearing and used the time to train Amena on the responder. They couldn't actually practice deploying the weapons or tractors for risk of alarming the nearby B-E base ship that they were monitoring, but when the responder needed repositioning to account for planetary rotation or an adjustment of the B-E ship's position, Overse let her pilot.

"If you're thinking about going into survey academics, it's no good being hyperspecialized," Dr Overse said. "I mean, sure, everybody's got to have a research specialty, but the more diverse your credentials are, the better. I got into planetary surveys through wilderness survival. When we get home, you could get your atmospheric pilot's license in a year, if you really like this."

Normally, Amena thought she wouldn't have been that interested in the responder. She had only just gotten her regular driving license while second mom had been— away. But reading the manual and re-watching the training videos stopped her from sitting for long enough to freak out about other stuff in her head.

And if one of Barish-Estranza ships tried anything, Amena knew how to fire on them now. Sometimes she thought about what that would be like.

Then she would remember that there were indentured slaves like Ras and Eletra on board and firing on the ship wouldn't fix anything. Violence was a corporate way to handle problems.

(the grey person threatening to pull her ribs out and break them— SecUnit slamming the grey person against the ceiling, its hand in their chest—)

Violence was an effective way to handle problems. And Amena could do it if she had to.

Amena knew why she was worried about second mom and third mom and Uncle Thiago. She didn't act on it because it was a transparent worry, and anyway if anything had happened to them then ART would have commed immediately and told her. (She knew because she'd asked it to, and it had promised. She didn't know why third mom kept insisting that ART was a monstrous asshole. Maybe that was a joke she wasn't getting. ART had been nothing but nice to Amena. It had even seemed kind of flattered when it said it was okay for her to call it ART, after she'd sworn she didn't really think it was an asshole.)

But on top of all that, she was worried about Three. Amena had been one of the first people it met, coming off the B-E ship, and she'd promised to help it. Everybody else had people connected to them, people who cared. Three didn't have anybody.

Well, obviously Dr Arada and Dr Overse and Dr Ratthi and second mom had agreed to help, but they were all busy right now. And Amena didn't know if anybody was still looking out for Three.

So during her regular comm check-ins with ART, Amena would make sure to ask about Three. ART said it was doing fine on the planet. Amena said, "Can you tell it I hope it stays safe?" and ART returned, on the next check in, Three says your second mother and uncle are perfectly safe, and Amena said, "No— I mean, please tell it I know that, I trust it to protect them, but I want it to stay safe too. If it's anything like third mom, it's going to run right at whatever goes wrong and… I want it to be okay."

SecUnits seem to do that, agreed ART. I will make sure it knows.

According to ART, Three sent back, Acknowledge.

Amena still made sure to keep checking in. I'm learning to pilot the responder, she said, and that time Three sent back, While the negotiations are on standby, I am completing one of Perihelion's education modules on emergency first aid. I will ensure all clients remain safe.

Amena sent Three a picture of the planet through the responder's porthole, aimed at a part of the continent she and Overse had calculated contained the landing party, with the caption #foundyou. Three sent back a picture of a huge concrete structure surrounded by graceful arching ribs that didn't quite look like buttresses or any style of architecture Amena had seen before, tagged with geocoordinates and a timestamp. When Amena restrained her jealousy and wowed about how cool that was, Three sent more: everything from shots of empty agricultural fields, cracked walkways, and battered solar arrays on habitat roofs to an ag bot silhouetted against a blazing red sunset.

ART said it was okay for them to keep up the side conversation. There wasn't any word from the away team, and it had plenty of time and processing power to spare.

Maybe Amena was projecting, or maybe it wanted to feel useful too.

Third mom came back. Second mom came back. Barish-Estranza backed down.

Amena had picked at her nails until they bled.

Before it was finally time to leave this stupid system, Amena and Overse got shuttled back to ART once more for a final shower and a good meal. They'd done their best to keep the responder smelling normal and Overse had shown Amena some tricks for recombining the stock of dehydrated foods, but it was a nice change after cycles of sponge baths in the hygiene closet. Especially with another twenty days of sponge baths and slightly metallic reconstituted yams yet to come in the wormhole.

Amena took so long in the shower she felt a little guilty, but when she came out, people were still sitting around in the galley lounge chatting. Tarik and Ratthi were allegedly in the cargo bay doing final checks on the supplies PSUMNT was sending with the responder (a final apology for the kidnapping, apparently), but Dr Arada had wiggled her eyebrows a bunch when she said that.

Amena waved a little at second mom, mouthed 'I'm going,' and left in the direction of the airlock. Nobody really needed her around and anyway she didn't want anyone to look too closely at her face; it still felt a bit swollen from the shower.

"Amena," said SecUnit, before she'd gotten ten steps.

It stopped behind her and stood sideways, angled at the wall.

"I thought you wouldn't want me to make a big deal out of goodbye," Amena teased. "I don't know if second mom told you, but we actually have this tradition where when somebody leaves home for a long time, we all gather around and sing a song—"

It looked so horrified she laughed. "That's a joke."

"It's really not," Amena said. "Anyway, here." She sent it a little animated clip of a cat waving both paws with the word GOODBYE in sparkly letters.

SecUnit sent a thumbs-up sigil, which was about 80% of what it had ever sent Amena.

"Take this," SecUnit said, unfastening one of its pants pockets. Something tiny and metallic darted out to hover in front of Amena. It set down gently on her palm.

"But you need these," Amena protested. "Don't you have, like, two left?"

"Three gave me half of its drones. And ART's going to get me more. You need at least one."

In the feed, a little widget popped up. When Amena activated it she suddenly had a super close view of her own shirt taking up most of her vision. She had to squint and figure out how to adjust the camera view before it made her dizzy.

"Humans can't control as many drones as they need, but you can manage one. Just in case. For looking around corners and checking rooms."

Just in case grey people ever came for her again and SecUnit wasn't there.

Amena blinked really fast. "Just in case," she said. "I promise I'll use it if I have to. Thanks, third mom."

"Use it even when you think you don't have to. On the next idiot you decide to take home."

Amena snorted. "That's probably actually illegal. But okay."

SecUnit showed her how to land the drone under a flap of her shirt and hide it where it wouldn't get crushed.

Amena patted the fabric super lightly and said, "That's for you." SecUnit mom made a face, but it was one of those sort of complicated ones where its mouth scrunched up and its eyebrows moved around a bunch, kind of cycling through heartbroken and pleased on the way to grumpy.

"Have a good time with ART," she said. "I'll tell Ēla and the others you said hi and stuff."

"Just hi."

"And stuff."

SecUnit gave her a flat look and went back into the lounge.

Planning to go to her bunk on the responder and stay there until they launched, Amena was surprised to run into someone else standing in front of the airlock. There was no mistaking Three, even from the back: it had turned its hair bright white in a way that contrasted really prettily with its skin. Its hair seemed to have grown out, like, a lot while it was on planet.

"Three!" she called, actually pleased, even though she was sure it already knew she was coming up behind it. "Are you coming with us? That's awesome!"

Three turned to face her. Amena looked at the hatch but couldn't help using the corner of her vision to check its face. It looked tight and maybe— upset? "I do not know," it said.

"If you're coming? We're about to leave."

"I have not received instructions about where to go."

"Nobody's going to tell you," Amena began, scandalized, then stopped. "Is that… a problem?"

Three said nothing.

"Dr Overse said they talked to you about coming to Preservation."

"They did."

"And ART said you had permission to stay on board?"

"It did."

Three definitely looked stressed now, which meant there was a tiny crease between its eyebrows. It kept looking straight ahead, then darting its eyes toward her face, then away. Unsure of what to say, Amena took a chance on meeting its eyes. Three locked on like a targeting system and stood there, staring at her with that desperate stressed furrow between its eyebrows.

Oh stars. It expected her to know what to do.

Amena had a feed channel open and was halfway through a message to SecUnit, asking it to come help Three, when she stopped. She'd done that lots already, and a few messages back was a rare line of text from SecUnit that said, We talked. 3 wanted the rest of my logs and I gave them to it. It's going to need time to process stuff, so give it a break. Also, wash your socks.

Amena turned and slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor. Three loomed awkwardly over her so she patted the floor insistently until it sat too. There was a whole process of carefully folding its legs down until it had directly copied her pose. That was sort of cute and sort of sad, and Amena knew she couldn't say that it should sit a little differently for, like, variety's sake.

Hugging her knees, she said, "Sometimes it feels like everybody expects me to know what to do, but I have no idea and I can't tell them that."

Three said nothing, but it was looking at the side of her face.

"I'm excited to go home," she said. "I'm ready. This whole thing was shitty and scary and I want to go home where it's safe." Her voice broke a little and she controlled it with a deep breath, angry at herself. "I want to sleep in my own bed and download some new books and eat real food."

Three said nothing.

"You want to know what I think?"

"Yes," Three said, almost before she had finished.

"I think you should come with us. I think you'll like it— or if you don't, at least you'll be safe there." Amena looked sideways at it. She couldn't see any signs of pain, but SecUnit had been walking around perfectly fine after getting knocked unconscious and shot by energy weapons. "ART said it did surgery on you, like, yesterday? To help disguise you?"

"Yes."

Amena couldn't tell what changes had been made, but SecUnit and ART had both made kind of a big deal out of disappearing with Three into MedSys for a whole cycle. "You won't need that on Preservation. And if you hate it there, you can leave. But you'll have some time to recover and— I don't know. Figure things out." She sniffed and looked at the far wall. "I think you should come with us."

"Thank you for that information," Three said, after a moment.

Amena sat there for another minute before getting to her feet. "Okay," she said. "I'm going to go and—"

Three had stood up as well and taken a step to follow her. It was looking directly at her, then sharply turned its face forward and froze, locking up like a statue. Frowning, Amena looked right at Three's face until its eyes flicked to her again, like they always did.

"Is it okay for me to make eye contact?" she asked.

"You do not need to be afraid of me," Three said. "I will not harm you."

"I've never been afraid of you," Amena said. "I just didn't want to bother you."

Three blinked a couple times. "Acknowledge." Then it looked at the airlock behind her.

"Yeah?" Amena said hopefully.

"Yes," Three said. "I will come with you."

She couldn't help the jolt that made her bounce with excitement, even though she knew better than to jump at Three to hug it. "Yes! Okay! That's— I'm so glad. Come on! We've got to find you a good bunk before everybody else gets on board."

"I do not require space to sleep," Three protested, even as it followed her into the airlock. ART sent Amena a tap and started cycling the lock for them.

"You need your own bunk anyway," Amena said. "This thing's going to be packed and you'll want your own space, trust me. Uncle Thiago's a nightmare to travel with. Come on, I'll show you where the best air vents are."

The responder separated from ART and third mom, and got back in the wormhole. The tension between Amena's shoulder blades didn't unlock.

Second mom asked about Amena's torn nails. Without thinking, Amena lied that the air on the transport was really dry and hard on her cuticles.

Second mom gave her a look that reminded Amena she was really hard to fool, but didn't call her on it.

There were some adjustments having Three on board, and not just because it made eight people on a responder built for six (not a comfortable long-term six, at that). There was a whole tradition around feeding guests that Three had listened attentively to, but obviously it didn't need to eat. They resolved the issue by having Three take the serving utensils first and hold them for a second (taking everything it wanted to eat, which was nothing) before passing them to Amena.

(Arada had asked Three if it even wanted to sit with them at meals, because SecUnit didn't, and it had paused a really long time before saying that social protocol favoured group meals, so it would. Which wasn't the same as wanting to, but they were trying to honour its decisions. Anyway, Three seemed fine sitting politely at the table and looking at whoever was speaking like it was absorbing every word and gesture.)

Also, it still didn't sit down unless you asked it to, and had scared Uncle Thiago multiple times by standing silently in a corner of a compartment until Thiago noticed it and jumped. Ratthi said a few shocks were good for Thiago's constitution. Amena thought it upset Three to have people act like it was scary just for being there, and that was why, by day four, Three had started spending almost all of its time in its bunk space.

Second mom said quietly that it was a good thing Amena had brought Three on board and found it a bunk before everybody else had come on, otherwise it would probably have felt like it had to defer to everyone's preferences.

Amena felt uncomfortable with the praise. "I'm just looking out for it. Somebody has to."

Yeah, she hadn't stopped being weird and mean without warning. Immediately she felt bad, but second mom just gave her a measured look and nodded like everything was fine.

Amena went to bed early instead of joining in on card games in the cramped lounge/hallway that connected the flight deck and galley. Most nights it took her a long time to fall asleep, like her brain and heart started pounding as soon as she lay down. Even when she didn't have to muffle the noise of herself taking deep calming breaths, it was nice to know there was nobody else nearby on just the other side of her curtain.

It had been the best bunk on the responder when she'd picked it: up high where it was warm, and right beside a vent that ensured her air was fresh and cycled all the time. But now she was just really aware that there were three other bunks set into the walls in this little section of hall and all that separated her from the others was a curtain. She kind of wished she'd moved to the single bunk jammed behind the flight deck, which you had to crawl into and close the door behind your feet. Or the one Three had taken, which was a little capsule of space above the storage lockers that you had to climb a ladder to reach, and which was barely big enough to sit up in. Before, Amena had thought that one would be too cramped. Now she wished she had that much privacy.

Good for Three, though. She hoped it wasn't lonely up there.

Query: status.

Query: status.

Query: status.

Amena? Status?

Amena jerked awake at the insistent pinging. Her heart was racing and it took her a second to sort out the images blurring her vision. She realized she'd fallen asleep with her interface on.

There was something awful right behind her, right behind her, and it took Amena way too long to force herself to roll onto her back and touch the mattress and prove that there was nothing there. Nothing. It was a dream.

She took a slow deep breath and held it. Her sleep clothes were unpleasantly sticky with sweat. Three's messages glowed in the dark. Overse was snoring in the bunk below Amena, and so was Uncle Thiago, a little down the hall.

Hi Three, she said, careful to make sure she was really sub about subvocalizing. I'm okay.

Your vital signs show distress.

Amena winced. You could hear me?

I have a drone in that hallway.

Solicitor Pin-Lee had been really clear about where Three could station its drones and where the private areas were. The space above the door to the bunk compartment had been approved.

I was just having a bad dream. I'm fine.

Three tapped back. Amena stared at the channel for a long while, waiting for her heart to slow down.

Do you have bad dreams? she sent.

A SecUnit's recharge cycle is not like sleep. I do not dream.

Oh, that's good. She fidgeted with the edge of the blanket. You're not recharging now?

It sent her a bunch of stats, one of which was a battery charge level.

Nice.

Silence. Overse's snores changed pitch.

Three?

Yes.

What do you do at night? And during the day, while we're up?

Perihelion provided me with 37 education modules and 815 pieces of media. I am currently learning about the genetic modification of organisms for newly developing ecosystems on newly terraformed planets.

Sounds neat!

Silence.

Hey, can I ask you a question?

Yes.

Sorry, never mind. I don't want to bother you. Amena chewed on her lip because she really had no nails left to bite. She wished Three would ask— anything— but that wasn't fair. I just don't know if I can sleep again right now, and everybody else is asleep.

Dr Mensah and Dr Ratthi are not asleep.

Right, Ratthi and Uncle Thiago were rotating one of the bunks. (Arada and Overse were co-sleeping in another.) But second mom had the one behind the flight deck and could have been asleep.

For a second, Amena fought the feeling that she'd be getting up past lights out if she went out now. But she didn't have a bed time and anyway, night wasn't real inside a wormhole.

Is she busy?

Three sent her an image of second mom curled up on a couch in the lounge with a bunch of yarn on her lap.

Amena dithered until she realized she was biting the minuscule remains of her pinky nail. Then she pushed off the blankets and wiggled as quietly as possible to the ladder at the foot of her bunk. It didn't creak as long as she was really slow about putting weight on the rungs. Her slippers let her sneak silently to the door.

She did hesitate and look toward the door at the other end of the compartment, which led to the hygiene closet and the storage locker and Three's bunk. But she already knew she couldn't ask Three if it was all right for her to crawl up into its bunk and hang out for a while. It wouldn't say no, even if it felt like she was invading its space. And even though it was a SecUnit, it did look like— well— a pretty attractive person just a little older than Amena and— yeah, no, she wasn't going to do that. Even if all she really wanted was to project a movie on the ceiling and zone out with somebody else nearby.

She missed her friends so much.

She slipped into the next compartment. The galley was dark but there was a light on in the hallway/lounge. Amena drank some water and dug around until she found a net of dried mango, then shuffled into the lounge.

Second mom had obviously heard her coming, and smiled when she saw it was Amena. She was dressed in sleeping clothes and had her head wrap on, her feet pulled up and tucked under a blanket. One of the ceiling's pinlights had been focused on the yarn project in her lap.

"Daughter," she said. "Can't sleep either?"

"Nope," said Amena, settling on the other end of the couch as casually as she could, like she was just another crew member and could be up past midnight if she wanted.

Second mom just nodded. "Wormhole trips are hard on the schedule."

Amena leaned her chin on a hand and ate her mango for a while, watching second mom count stitches. "What's that?"

"A shawl," said second mom. "Allegedly." She frowned at it, silently counted stitches again, then sighed, removed her hook, and pulled out the row she'd been in the middle of. As she re-wound the yarn ball, her hook fell onto the floor.

Amena leaned down and grabbed it, to which second mom nodded in gratitude. It was made of polished wood and had pare's maker's mark burned into the blunt end, but it was an unstained lavender-grey that didn't match first mom's set of dark red hooks.

"When did you start crocheting?" Amena asked, rubbing her thumb over the hook's flat section.

"During my trauma treatment," second mom said.

Amena stared. Serene, second mom finished winding up her yarn and held out a hand for the hook.

"Why?" Amena demanded, then winced. "Sorry, I don't mean that. I mean… I didn't know you were… doing that. Not that you have to tell me. But..."

"No," second mom agreed, setting her hook back into the work and then stopping, looking down at it. "I'd meant to get at least the first few treatments done while you were gone, so by the time you were back I'd feel less… fragile. I thought that then I might be— well. Back to normal. And then I wouldn't have to worry you any more, and we could all put this behind us."

"You weren't going to tell me?" Amena did her best to keep the hurt out of her voice, but— why? Wasn't she an adult too? Obviously pare and first mom and the grandpares would all know, and probably even Adjoa.

"I didn't want to tell anyone," second mom said, and the tone of her voice made Amena look at her. She was still staring down at the crochet in her lap, shoulders hunched. She looked so small that Amena was immediately afraid. "I didn't want to worry you. You've all been through more than enough with— everything. The last thing I wanted to do was give you another reason to be upset, especially when you were going away on your first survey. I wanted you to have a wonderful time."

Amena felt her eyes stinging. "I had a great time," she lied softly.

Second mom looked at her with both eyebrows raised.

"Until the kidnapping stuff," Amena had to admit, making a face. "But before that, it was great."

"I didn't want to make you afraid that something awful would happen if you left Preservation," second mom said, and leaned forward to press her palm to Amena's cheek. "But now I suppose there's no sense in pretending that I wasn't terrified when awful things happened to me. Or when I came home afterward."

Blinking hard, Amena got up and moved to sit right beside second mom, reaching out to hug her. Immediately second mom wrapped her arms around Amena and pulled her in tight.

The hug was supposed to comfort second mom. That was really how Amena had meant it. But as she tucked in close and squeezed, the tingling behind her eyes got worse. Amena tried to breathe, but it wouldn't pass. When she tried to lean back, second mom didn't let go.

Tears started to leak out, silently at first. Amena's exhale was wet and gross. The hug got tighter. And then her chest knotted up and everything came spilling out and she started sobbing, her face pressed into second mom's shoulder to muffle the noise.

When it was over except for the way her breath shuddered a little too much on the inhale, Amena pulled away and scrubbed at her eyes. A moment later second mom was offering a tissue pulled from the pocket of her sleep clothes, which was… not a thing second mom had ever carried before. Everybody knew that pare would coddle a booboo while second mom asked, Now what did we learn?

"Sorry," Amena said thickly.

"Don't," said second mom. "If my therapist said I'm not allowed to apologize for crying, neither are you."

Amena blew her nose in little squeaks, mindful of the responder's small size. "Do I need to get a therapist too?"

Second mom looked at her evenly. "Do you?"

Amena picked at one thumb nail. "I don't know," she said. "I mean, I just feel… I wanted to apologize for being rude, earlier."

"You weren't that rude. But thank you."

Amena shrugged one shoulder. "I feel rude. I get angry all the time, over stupid stuff, like… Uncle Thiago is just trying to look out for me. He's probably stressed by everything too. But I feel like… I don't know."

She stared at the far wall rather than look at second mom again. The patience and quiet was hard to bear.

"I hate the Corporation Rim," she said. "I hate them all. The way they acted when we were all in trouble, and all they could think about was— ugh. They treated SecUnit like a thing! Like a— a gun I could point at people! And the people who attacked us, the grey people— they were so twisted. Like the remnants had got inside them and just—"

She broke off with a shudder.

"SecUnit killed some of them. It protected me," she added hastily. "It had to. But it was really— really scary. And I still— think about that, sometimes. Which is probably normal. I've been doing breathing exercises. I know what panic attacks are and I don't think I'm having them, but." She shrugged. "Sometimes it's hard to sleep."

Second mom laid a hand on hers gently, which was when Amena realized she had been picking at a ragged edge of her nail so hard it had started bleeding again. She grimaced and stuck the tissue over it. "Sorry."

"Here," said second mom. "My therapist recommended crochet to keep my hands busy when I can't sleep. It makes me have to count stitches so I can't focus on— other things."

Amena took the hook and shawl, unfolding it in her lap. It was soft and beautiful, an intricate triangular pattern of shells and windows. "I'm not good at crochet."

"Me neither," said second mom, wrinkling her nose. "Mother knows I said no to knitting. This section is just double crochet."

"What about you?"

"I've got more." Second mom reached down into the bag on the floor and held up a second ball with a smaller hook stuck in it. "I bet if I start a hat now, it'll be done before we're home."

"Then you'll always have a memory of this shitty trip," Amena joked. "Uh. I mean—"

"It's been a shitty trip," second mom agreed gravely.

They worked together for a while, Amena trying to remember how to wrap the yarn around her fingers properly while second mom cast on and started a chain. After half a row, Amena felt almost normal again, at least until she looked at her work and grimaced.

"My tension sucks," she said. "Here, you should take it back. I don't want to wreck it."

"Keep going. You won't get better unless you practice."

"My row looks different than all the rest."

"Then I'll always be able to point at it and say, this is the part my wonderful daughter made for me."

Her face hot, Amena looked down. She was pursing her mouth to hide how flustered the compliment made her.

"I love you," she told the crocheting.

"I love you too," second mom said.

They worked for a while more as Amena turned over another thought in her head. Eventually, she asked, "How did SecUnit adjust to things when it got to Preservation?"

"How do you mean?"

"I mean—" Amena poked her hook through the wrong hole and had to correct it. "I mean, it stayed with you on the station for most of the time, so I don't know what it did when it first arrived. And with Three coming home with us, I want to be able to actually help it. Not just, you know, go back to school while you figure things out."

"That's good to hear, because you actually know Three better than I do."

Amena looked up in surprise.

"SecUnit has a closer bond to me than most other humans because of what we went through together. It's not because I have any special talent in rescuing rogue SecUnits. I've just tried to be the best friend to it that I can. It sounds like you, Ratthi and Arada have been that person for Three, so… you may end up being the ones who help it figure out how to adjust."

"But I don't know anything about it!"

"Do you listen when it talks?"

Amena hesitated. "Yes."

"To everything it says," second mom added. "And what it doesn't say, and how it says it. If it's anything like SecUnit, it may hardly know how to reach out to anyone outside itself. But you could be that person for it. As long as you listen and model what you want it to learn."

"What if I fuck up?"

Second mom gave her an eyebrow that said her swear wasn't quite being ignored. "You think I didn't?"

Amena hadn't thought second mom made any mistakes ever, actually, except for having wrong opinions about curfew.

"Don't expect to be perfect. It may expect you to be. But apologise for your mistakes, and try to correct them, and…" Second mom looked at her with an expression that made Amena flush again. "Be a good friend. You're already thinking about it, so I know you will be."

Amena thought she maybe already had been. She hoped so.

"And don't assume you have to do everything alone," second mom added. "If there's an emergency, I expect to hear about it."

"Define emergency," Amena said. "Okay, okay! Joking!"

The next night, she waited until everyone was asleep again— this time including second mom— before she sent a message to Three. Are you awake?

Yes.

Can I talk to you for a bit?

Yes.

I just wanted to check how you're doing.

It sent her its stats again.

That's good. Still reading about genetic modifications?

No. I am reviewing a module on small talk.

That's a thing?

Yes. A pause. My buffer statements may identify me as a SecUnit. I have been trying to re-write them.

Like what?

"Please wait while I verify that information."

Oh yeah. What about… Hm. Um. Ah. Huh…

There was a long pause.

Those are human buffer statements, Amena added. When you don't know what to say.

Hm. Thank you.

Yeah! You got it!

In her bunk, Amena grinned and rolled onto her side. Okay, she could do this. She was doing great.

Sounds like you're getting ready for Preservation. How are you feeling about arriving?

Status: nominal, said Three. Well, okay.

You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.

I do not know what to say.

Fair. She fiddled with the medical tape around her thumb until she caught herself and smoothed it down again. It wasn't fair to keep picking at Three's emotions if it didn't want to talk, but that had been pretty much her only plan. Do you like doing education modules in your free time?

I have never had free time before.

Really? And you want to spend all your time learning?

I function best when I have as much data as possible.

Did ART give you any other kinds of media?

Three sent something called MediaCatalog.file. Inside was a painstakingly organized list of books and films with a bunch of tags so she could filter by almost anything. It was like a mini library.

You really like documentaries, she mused, scrolling through. I think I've seen the one about bears. We have some on Preservation, you know!

They are apex predators, said Three, sounding actually alarmed.

Yeah, but they're all geotagged. Ugh, and she was off track. She couldn't think of a better way to say it, so she just asked, Do you like music?

I do not know.

Do you want some?

A pause. Yes. Or maybe, because there was a trace of uncertainty in Three's feed voice, it was actually, Yes?

Amena dropped the compressed file she'd spent all afternoon curating. (She'd taken out some of the very most embarrassing music, but not all of it. Just a couple tracks she'd recorded when she was fourteen. She left in the weepy stuff because… well, she had it for a reason, and that was being weepy. Which was why Three might want it too.)

Three said nothing for a while, then tapped her feed with a thumbs up. Maybe that was just a SecUnit thing, then.

I didn't mean to just pester you with questions, Amena said, having glanced back at their conversation again. I just thought, you know. I've been having kind of a hard time and listening to a lot of music, because it helps. First mom says sometimes you just have to feel your feelings, and that's what the music's for. I thought it might be helpful for you too.

Thank you, said Three. Hard to tell if that was just it being polite.

We could listen to some together, Amena suggested, and okay, part of it was because she'd really missed streaming with her friends. If she couldn't watch a movie on Three's bunk, this was the next best thing. But part of it was because there was some stuff she actually really wanted to show Three and see what it thought. (And she swore she wouldn't let it know she was disappointed if it didn't like Halogen Sunrise.)

After a moment, thumbs up. Good enough.

Let me know when you've had enough, she said, adjusting her feed interface against the pillow. Or if you don't like something. I'll probably fall asleep in like half an hour.

Thumbs up. Yeah, that was a SecUnit thing all right.

They listened through two instrumentals in shared silence while Amena told herself to just relax. She wasn't going to pester Three for its thoughts or assume it hated this or whatever. All she asked, at the end, was, Another one the same, or different?

Different?

Okay, Halogen Sunrise it was. Then, Same or different?

Same?

Amena smiled. That's one of my favourites. So's this one.

Next time Three said, Different. She wondered if it was alternating answers. Then it surprised her by saying, Query.

Yeah?

Perihelion's MedSys has a trauma treatment protocol. Did you use it?

No. Things were just so crazy and everybody else needed MedSys more than me, and— I didn't think I needed it, anyway.

Three was quiet. You are still experiencing distress.

I guess. Amena wrinkled her nose at the synthesizers and changed the track. Are you? (Oof, Amena, way to be sensitive.)

There is no trauma treatment protocol for SecUnits.

I guess not. But you still have to feel your feelings.

After a long moment, Three tapped the feed.

Does the string activity help you?

What? Then, mortified, Amena demanded, Oh my deity, Three, you heard that?

Yes.

Amena grabbed her face and rolled over, knocking off her interface, then scrambled to grab it and jam it back on. All of that was private, okay? If you have a recording, please delete it. That's second mom's private business.

Pin-Lee did not tell me that. SecUnits didn't have much of a tone in the feed, so she wasn't sure if it was embarrassed or defensive or… what.

That's fine, I'm not mad. Just— oh shit, I'm so sorry. We were talking about you and— I swear I didn't mean to— I just want to help, okay? I'm really sorry. Oh deity. Shoot me.

I will not, Three said instantly, actually sounding alarmed. Are you unsafe?

No! Amena winced at how not-quite-subvocal that had been. No, I mean— I'm really embarrassed you heard me talking about you. I didn't think you'd be listening. I should have— I'm sorry.

Three was quiet for a long time, long enough for the song to end. Amena let it play the next one at random. Fuck, maybe she should just disconnect. When second mom had said she'd make mistakes, she hadn't thought she'd do it this fast.

I will not shoot you, Three said at last. I will not harm you.

I know that. I trust you. I'm sorry I talked about you with second mom. I promise I just want to help, and, like… not feel so useless.

It is okay, said Three. I am not upset. Thank you for your apology.

Amena hesitated. Is that the small talk module?

Yes.

You nailed it. But seriously, please tell me if I fuck up and you actually are upset. You don't just have to accept every apology.

Acknowledge, it said seriously. I am sorry I listened when I should not have been listening. I will do better in the future.

A little stiff, but you got it. Thanks.

Amena rolled onto her back again and rubbed her eye. She was actually kind of tired. The music was helping.

One more track?

Tap.

Same or different?

Different.

Different it is.