roots

Just like that, I was part of the crew. Stuck with the worst jobs, the smallest bunk, and no real Runs. I didn’t know any better. Learned to keep my head down and work hard, avoid getting dumped at the nearest dock. That threat eventually lost meaning, and Havers lost the annoyed tone in her voice when she called me “kid.” She taught me how to live like a Runner, how to plot a course to escape Feds, make deals, shoot double-crossers. Under her stern tutelage, I learned when to keep my mouth shut and when to break fingers.
Waller eventually let me fly his ship, and I’ll never forget the first time I pulled off a jump that made him lean back in his chair and exhale a string of Arabic curses. The look of pride on his face immediately calmed my rattling nerves, the amazement on Havers’ made me want to do it again.
Terence cut my hair, taught me to shoot, and fed me until I surpassed Havers in height. Beautiful Nawra never cared much for me, despite Ollie’s urging. Ollie was the mother of the ship, keeping us safe beneath his wings. He protected us all, in one way or another. He and Havers were sisters, or perhaps cousins, and when Sandy left for the military, Olivia had stowed away to watch over her. I never knew the whole story, and it pains me that it could be lost, and that I never really asked.
But I was young, then. I wanted to learn, to explore and see more each day. After almost two years I felt as if I needed to move on. Fly with other crews. I didn’t know then that other crews were not like the one aboard Bernice. Not every place was as welcome, as kind. The others must have known, but they let me go. Havers told me I’d always be welcome on her crew. Ollie smiled at me sadly, for him it must have been like sending his child out into the world.

In all my voyages, I’ve never seen any of them again. Scattered reports and Govweb flags, a few lines from Ollie here and there, when he could still track me. I don’t know why I’ve never tried, why I didn’t go back to them when I needed to go somewhere. I turned instead to the void, to the ferocity and desperation of Running. Was it pride that kept me from clutching their line when I was drowning? They were, in a very real sense, my family. They gave me everything, including my name, and I gave nothing in return.

It seems the only habit I’ve developed is a penchant for abandoning my family and never bothering to return. I’ve pushed forward, and forgotten. Of all the knowledge I’ve accumulated, the knowledge that I am a hypocrite is the most painful of all.