Phobos scowled. “It still doesn’t change the fact that we don’t know how secure we are.”

Romy collected their dishes and tipped them into the sink. “Well, even if we change our minds, it doesn’t hurt to be prepared, does it?”

She heard a thudding noise and a grunt. Glancing back she saw Elara had kicked Phobos in the shin. There was a crash and Phobos tackled her to the ground.

Thrym chose that moment to walk in the door. He hardly cast a glance at the other two—this wasn’t unusual for them. Instead, he kicked the door closed and reached under his T-shirt to drag out some stolen goods.

Romy took them from him. “From the damaged bin?” she asked.

He nodded, leaning past her to grab a roll. “I snuck in after last bell. Everyone is at the Hull.”

There was a jacket and a pair of warm pants.

She took them to her mattress and stuffed them in through the slit they’d made there last week.

No, she thought. It never did hurt to be prepared.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The orbito was clinical white and rigid efficiency; Earth was none of that. Even if something began as white here, it would soon be coated in the red dust swirling in the air.

Romy sat on the steps of the weaponry building watching the Earth humans go about their jobs.

There was no strict order to the business of the day. You woke with the early bell. Started work with the mid-morning bell. You ate three times. And you finished work with the final bell. Everyone had their individual roles. Everyone pulled their weight. Everyone knew what was acceptable. There was no obvious greed.

Romy couldn’t sense the disquiet like Thrym had. But she trusted it was there, knowing she tended to overlook these kinds of things. She did notice that the gaze of the settlement’s people was often drawn to the Mandate’s ever-playing hologram. It showed the same images as the first time Romy saw it; the happy family, the happy children, the happy elderly. It was blatant mind-washing poacher poop, but the people here didn’t seem to see that. Often as not they’d smile as they passed it, pausing to appreciate the pictures.

The Mandate used the flickering projection to maintain a presence in Jimboomba. But they were only silly pictures, weren’t they? The more time that passed, the less she thought about the threat of the Mandate lurking over them. Maybe Knot 27 could stay here and become part of the settlement.

“‘Scuse me, lady.”

Romy turned to see a gaggle of small children. A largely toothless, pigtailed girl stepped apart from the others.