“Sure,” Zeerid said, and set her down in it. “The controls are right here. They’re intuitive, so—”

She manipulated the controls and was off and flying before he could say another word. He just watched her go, smiling.

“Hello, Nat,” he said.

His sister-in-law looked worn, too young for the lines on her face, the circles under her eyes. She wore her brown hair in a style even Zeerid knew was five years out of date. Zeerid wondered how he must look to her. Probably just as worn.

“Zeerid. That was very nice. The chair, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Zeerid said. “She seems to be enjoying it.”

Arra flew the hoverchair after some greenbeaks and they fled into the water.

“Careful, Arra!” he called.

“I’m fine, Daddy,” she said.

He and Nat stood there, next to each other but with an abyss between them.

“Been a while,” Nat said. “She needs to see you more often.”

“I know. I’m trying.”

She seemed to want to say something but held off.

“How’s work?”

“I am a waitress in a casino, Zeerid,” she scoffed. “An old waitress. Work is hard. My feet hurt. My back hurts. I’m tired. And our apartment is the size of an aircar.”

He could not help but take all of it personally. “I will try to send more.”

“No, no.” She waved to punctuate the words. “If it wasn’t for the credits you do send, we’d go hungry. It’s not that. I just … feel like I’m on a treadmill, you know? Can’t stop running but I’m going nowhere.”

He nodded. “I hear you.”

Arra called to him. “Look, Daddy!”

She flew the hoverchair in a tight circle, laughing the whole way.

“Careful, Arra,” he said, but smiled.

“Wait until you’ve got the hang of that, Peashooter,” Nat said.

They stood together in silence for a time. Then Nat’s voice turned serious. “How did you afford the chair, Zeerid?”

He did not look at her, fearful that she’d see the ambivalence in his face.

“Work. What else?”

“What kind of work?”

He did not like the tone of the question. “Same as always.”

She turned on him, and the stern expression on her face channeled Val so well he almost crumbled.

“You’ve been sending us one hundred, two hundred credits a month for almost a year now. Today you show up with a hoverchair that I know costs more than the aircar I drive.”

“Nat—”

“What are you into, Zeerid? You have this ridiculous hat on, armor.”

“The same—”

“Do you think I’m blind? Stupid?”

“No, of course not.”

“I can guess at what you do, Zeerid. Arra has already lost her mother. She can’t lose her father, too. It will crush her.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said.