I don’t know, his mother had said, gripping him tightly. Someone will look after them. You’re hurting me, Piero.

Of all her many betrayals, this one cut the deepest.

The hate, the hate, the hate. It was so powerful. This new mother of his, born from the Foxfire, knew the power of his hate. But she would never hurt him the way Mamma had hurt him.

“I will never make you do anything you don’t want to do,” Mother said. She was still hovering there, just out of sight. Perhaps he was imagining it, but it felt like she touched his shoulder. The smell of jasmine came to him suddenly, and he felt the urge to cry. The touch on his shoulder grew stronger, and he let Mother embrace him, wrapping her arms around him completely.

“I don’t want to hurt anybody,” he heard himself whisper. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

Mother hushed him. The perfume was all around him, painful and familiar, the scent of his true mother’s blouse, of her room. He had loved her little room on Earth, so small and cozy, with plush carpet faded by sunlight. Their new home on Io, cold and square and hard, never seemed to retain the smell of her, even when she was still alive.

“You’re a good boy,” Mother said, stroking his hair. It was matted with dried blood. “My heart, my heart, you must be strong, and you must listen. You may have to hurt again, but only for me. Only for our family.”

Her hands felt just like his real mother’s, and the scent of that perfume made him cry harder. She held him there for a long time. When he opened his eyes, just a bit, there was no one really there, just his own arms wrapped around him as he rocked back and forth. But when he went back into the darkness, Mother returned and soothed him.

“I should have stayed there,” Piero said softly. “I should have stayed and drowned with the old men and the dogs.”

“No, hush now, there is no time for sadness. Would you like to hear a song, my heart?” Mother rocked him harder and Piero nodded against her. Her voice was that of his mamma’s, but somehow sweeter and more melodic. “Busy the bee goes, ‘Buzz, buzz, buzz!’ Ollie the owl goes, ‘Hoot, hoot, hoot!’ and Mother goes: ‘I love you.’”

The song repeated until Piero no longer wanted to cry. He stood up straight, feeling stronger, Mother’s hand still cupping his shoulder.

“What should I do?” he asked.

“You know what to do,” Mother replied. “You’re such a brilliant boy. A mind for numbers, for codes. For secrets. The salvager is just a small problem. No challenge for such a brilliant boy.”