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“And such gracious hosts too.” Patel lifts his glass. I note it’s filled with the wine Grandfather distills from grapes grown on Grandmother’s hydroponic vines. Also something reserved for special occasions.

My mother seats herself beside Captain Patel, and I allow my gaze to wander about the room, wondering how our home appears to our visitors. Probably much like the quarters on their ship. Our small living space, with its riveted metal walls and tiny windows, closely resembles the interior of a spacecraft.

“Ann,” my mother holds her glass between her thumb and forefinger like the stem of a rose, “this is Captain Connor Patel and his nephew, Dacian Keeling.”

“Dace,” says the young man. His full lower lip rolls into a pout.

I smile at him. It seems he also struggles with name difficulties. “Dace—that’s cool. Never known anybody with that name before. Captain Patel,” I nod my head. I’ve already heard his name bantered about the colony gossip mill, but it’s probably best not to acknowledge it.

“Dacian’s a scientist,” the captain says. “I brought him along on this trip primarily for his own good. He’s conducted research and exploration on each of the planets we’ve visited.”

“A modern-day Darwin?” My father leans forward to pass a platter of roasted vegetables to our guests. “Sorry, there’s no meat. Not very practical here, you understand.”

Patel’s short black hair gleams with blue highlights under our solar lamps. “Quite all right. I’ve been a vegetarian all my life.”

“My uncle grew up in India,” says Dace, spooning a heaping pile of vegetables onto his plate. “With my mom, who still lives there. I was born there too,” he adds, between bites.

So Dace passes the one-hundred-percenter test. I’ll have to tell Emie.

“Does that mean Dacian’s mother is your sister?” Mom taps Patel’s arm with her slender fingers. “There’s some goat cheese there, to your right, if you eat dairy.”

“Yes, sister. Our parents have passed, so it’s just Nadia and me and Dacian.”

“What about your dad?” My father asks, directing his words at Dace. “What does he do?”

The boy stabs a carrot with his fork. “Disappears.”

“You have cattle?” Patel asks, reaching for the plate of cheese.

“Goats,” says my grandmother. “Brought the cloned genetic material with us and grew our own. Cows are too difficult.” She shrugs. “Too large, too particular about what they eat.”

“You still clone copies?” Dace’s eyes brighten with interest.

“No, we let nature take its course now. Easier.” My grandmother spoons roasted sweet potatoes, carrots, and endive onto her plate. “But we preserve some of the original genetic material, of course. One never knows what will happen. Best to be prepared.”

“Chickens too,” I say brightly, then stare at the vegetables on my plate. Stupid comment. Typical. When I get excited I tend to jabber.

“Really?” Dace’s tone makes me lift my head and look at him. “But you don’t let them mingle with the native animals, do you?”

Grandfather snorts. “Aren’t any. Well, none of any consequence. Insects of some kind, a few lizard-like things. Nothing else we’ve ever found. Doubt Eco will offer you much to study, Dace.” He takes the vegetable platter from my grandmother and sets it on the table. “But no, we don’t let our livestock mingle with the native environment. That’s why we have the domes.”

“Yeah, I saw those.” Dace taps his fork against his plate. “I’d like to go out and take a look, though, all the same.” His eyes meet mine. He does have beautiful eyes. I can just imagine Emie’s reaction. Perhaps I’d better warn Dace about Kam’s territorial nature.

“As a matter of fact, I have a proposition for you—well, for anyone in your colony who might be interested.” Patel leans back in his chair, flexing his muscled arms.

“Oh, and what might that be?” My mother stirs the food around on her plate. In my head I urge her to eat, but I know she’ll only take a few bites.

“Well, I obviously need a few parts to repair my ship. Thought you might have something lying about that I could use. I’m willing to barter some of my cargo—and I also need a favor.”

Grandmother eyes the captain with what I’ve always termed her interrogator look. “What kind of favor?”

“Nothing extreme, or illegal.” Patel turns to my mother on those last words and grins with very white teeth.

My mother smiles in return. “Well, that doesn’t sound like much fun.”

I peek at Dace from under my lowered eyelids. He’s shoveling food into his mouth, studiously ignoring the adults.

“Just what is this favor?” my father asks, as he chops his vegetables into tiny pieces.

“I need someone familiar with Eco to escort Dacian around the planet. Not the whole place, of course. I know that’s impossible. But show him around the nearby area and keep him safe while he conducts a bit of research.”

“And what are you willing to exchange for this favor?” Dad lays down his knife. “It could be dangerous, you know. We don’t like anyone wandering too far afield. Things happen.”

He glances at my mother, whose smile has evaporated. Mom’s parents were geologists who died before I was born. Also a geologist, Mom rarely uses her training, preferring to solve disputes as part of the colony’s governing council.

“I could make it worth someone’s while,” says Patel, scooping up the last remnants of sweet potato with a piece of flatbread.

“How so?” My mother toys with her silver bracelet. I remember when Dad traded a fan motor off one of the abandoned terraforming machines for that piece of jewelry. It was a gift for one of their anniversaries.

“At the end of the run. Headed back to Earth once we get repairs made. Have a bit of room on the ship, and enough provisions with some of your produce loaded onto the Ada. Could take a few people back with us.” He glances around the room, his eyes taking in our bleak, cramped living quarters. “If anyone’s interested.”

I catch his eye and stare into his strong-featured face. Perhaps he can read the naked desire in my eyes. Perhaps everyone can. “How many people?”

“Oh, four or five.”

“And you just need someone to act as a guide for Dace?” I catch a glimpse of my grandfather’s disapproving gaze.

“That’s it. Of course, I want to offer this opportunity to the entire colony, you understand. But I’m thinking perhaps a young person would be best. Someone around Dacian’s age.”

Dace looks up from his plate and stares at his uncle. The pout is back.

“That’d be perfect,” I say, as my father’s foot presses over mine. “I can tell the other kids tonight.”

“Would you?” Patel turns to my mother, his eyes alight. “What a charming daughter you have, Ms. Cooper. So helpful.”

“Yes, isn’t she?” My grandmother shoots me a fierce look.

Mom pushes back her half-empty plate and stretches languidly. “Ann is quite clever. Pity her talents will be wasted here on Eco.”

“Now, Tara, let’s not start that.” Dad wipes his mouth on one of our carefully hoarded cloth napkins.

“Not many options for a girl with brains and ambition around here.” My mother looks over at Connor Patel. “It’s really a shame. We work to survive, you know. Subsistence living, they call it. I call it a pity, especially for a girl who wants much more from life than mere survival.”

Patel’s gaze is fixed on my mother’s face, which glows pink as a sunrise. My grandfather coughs loudly.

“No one’s talents need be wasted if they’re employed in good, hard work.” Grandmother stands, throwing her napkin across her empty plate. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some fruit grafts that need my attention.”

“At this hour?” asks my father. One look from Grandmother and he falls silent.

“Anna-Maria, if you’re finished eating, perhaps you could assist me?”

“Bien. But if Mom needs me to clean up?”

My mother waves her hand in dismissal. Her bracelet jingles as it slides down her slender arm. “Thank you, dear, but your father will help me. Run along.”

I glance at Dace as I push back my chair and rise to my feet. He returns my look with a stare that examines me as if I were one of his specimens. “Nice to meet you.” I bob my head at the two men before following my grandmother out of the room and into the hall that runs between the rows of family quarters.

“How long do you think we’ll be?” I ask Grandmother’s rapidly retreating back. “I said I’d tell the other kids. They’re probably in the rec hall. I can catch them all at once.”

“Niña tonta—I don’t actually need your help. Just wanted to get out of there,” she calls over her shoulder.

“So why’d you ask me to come along? I could’ve talked to Dace some more.”

Reaching the door that leads outside, my grandmother turns to me. Her face is shadowed in the dim light of the hall. “Ann-Maria Solano, I know what you’re up to. I know how desperately you want to leave Eco. But listen to me carefully, nieta—just getting our family to Earth won’t do it.”

“Won’t do what?”

“Make her love him.”

I stare at my grandmother for a moment. Shoving open the door, I stride past her and into the cool, dark night.

As I make my way toward the recreation hall, I consider my grandmother’s warning. She thinks she knows better than me, but in this case she’s wrong. I’ve heard my parents fight often enough to know it’s my mother’s hatred of Eco that fires their arguments. Grandmother should know that too, since she lives with us, but I think she’s just in denial. Like my dad, she isn’t really interested in leaving Eco.

But I’m convinced Earth, with all its problems, has to be better than here, where nothing ever happens and nothing changes. No wonder it drives my mother nuts. If we were all living on Earth, where there are new people, fresh opportunities …

I hear footsteps and spy a shadow starting to spread around me. I spin about and come face to face with Dacian Keeling.

“Sorry. My uncle was being a bit of a jerk.”

I flip my braid over my shoulder. “Not really.”

“Yeah, he was. Checking out your mother and all.” Dace shrugs. “He does that sort of stuff all the time. It doesn’t really mean anything.”

“I didn’t think … ” I observe the unfettered honesty in Dace’s eyes and shut my mouth.

“You did. It was pretty obvious. But don’t worry—Connor won’t do anything stupid. He’s a pretty good guy, really.”

“He must be. Bringing you along just so you can be a researcher, or whatever.”

“Naturalist, actually.” Dace scuffs the tip of his boot against the hard ground. “It’s mostly rock, the surface?”

“Mostly.” I examine his narrow face, bleached to beige under the solar-powered outdoor lights. “How come you’re not in school, then? University, I mean. Don’t you need a degree to be a real scientist?”

“Well, duh.” Dace studies me for a moment. “Sorry, you probably don’t know how difficult it is these days.”

“To go to college? Why? Most everything’s digital. I mean, our access to the ’sphere is kind of spotty sometimes, but even I can trade with spacers for educational holodiscs.” I lean against one wall of the dairy, which backs up onto the rec building.

“No, I mean it’s hard to get in—officially. Sure, you can take classes through the ’sphere and holodiscs and all, but to get a real degree, something that matters, you have to be accepted into an actual university. And that’s almost impossible, unless … ”

“You’re rich?”

“Yeah, or your family has the right status. Most of the spots get passed down, parents to kids, or whatever.” Dace hugs his arms to his chest. “My family isn’t wealthy, and we sure as hell aren’t important. So the only way I can grab a spot is if I present some pretty spectacular research and snag one of the few scholarships.”

“Oh, that’s why you’re traveling with your uncle? Smart.” I examine him more closely. “Cold? Should’ve warned you—nights on Eco can get chilly. Come on, let’s pop inside.” I motion toward the dairy.

“It isn’t locked?” asks Dace.

I flip the latch and push the door open. “Locked? What’s there to steal? And where would anyone take it?” I lead him into the dark confines of the pasteurization room. “Steal something on Eco and everyone will know it’s gone in twenty minutes—and figure out who took it in thirty.”

“That’s so weird.” Dace perches on one of the empty metal milk cans. “Where I grew up, nobody could keep track of anyone else’s business. Way too many people.” He glances around, taking in the gleaming vats and metal tubing. “How’d you get all this stuff, anyway? I thought your grandparents and the others were just dumped here.”

“No,” I say, sitting on the milk can next to him. “NewSkies had the infrastructure for the colony set up before they sent anyone to live here. And for the first few years they supplied everything needed. After that,” I sweep back the hair that’s sprung free from my braid, “well, the colonists had to make do. They stripped some of the terraforming equipment for parts. Now we keep everything going by being very careful and immediately repairing anything that breaks. And trading, of course.”

“You barter produce for stuff from passing ships?”

“Pretty much. Sometimes we even let go of old equipment parts, but only if we don’t see any future use for them. And we do have a couple 3-D copiers to replicate certain parts, if we can scrounge enough scrap metal or plastic.”