“Yes, little one?” She smiled. Children. She’d never spoken to a child before! The cadets developed in space were all born with pre-set maturity and intelligence. But she’d watched the other Earth humans interact with their young. Romy knew she should smile a lot.

“Do you kill heaps o’ aliens?” the girl asked.

The group waited suspiciously for Romy’s response.

There seemed to be some division amongst them. She worked to hide her grin. “Why yes, I‘ve killed many of the Critamal.” She didn’t mention that Knot 27 was only called to the largest battles. The battles where the commanders needed all their numbers. That they tended to pick up space rubbish on most days. That could remain unsaid.

The girl’s pigtails whipped around as she stink-eyed a tiny boy. “I tol’ you,” she withered.

The freckled boy’s face went bright with embarrassment. “How d’ya know she’s not lying, Tessy?”

It seemed like a good question to the others.

Romy spread her hands either side of her. “I could tell you how I do it?”

* * *

Atlas’s groan was audible as a fuming Tina slammed the door to his office behind her. She really lived up to the colour of her hair.

“How exactly did you make the children cry?” he asked.

Romy ran her eyes over him. Layers of dust coated him from head to toe. The hard gleam often present was gone, and a bone-deep weariness was there in its stead.

She cleared her throat. “I didn’t know they would react that way. They were asking about the Critamal.” Romy shuffled her feet. It was awful. One at a time, the young people’s eyes had welled with tears until they were all sobbing their little hearts out. “They seemed interested, so I went into more depth.”

A flash moved through Atlas’s eyes. “Tina said the kids were screaming about yellow blood and brain mush.”

Guilt made her unable to meet his gaze, though she stood to attention. “Yes. That seemed to be the beginning of the end.” Romy finally looked at him. “I feel terrible, Atlas.”

Booming laughter filled her ears.

Her mouth dropped open as Atlas lost it. Dust flew up from his muscled shoulders. He hunched forwards in his desk chair, going silent in patches with the strength of his laughter.

A few giggles rose unbidden in her throat as the sound went on. She’d never seen him laugh so hard . . . not since the beach.

Atlas pushed back a few dark strands of his hair, which had flopped over his eyes. He surveyed Romy over clasped hands. “Thank you. I needed that.”

Worry had her edging towards him. “Are you all right, Atlas?” she asked. Where had he been during the last week? He didn’t just seem tired. He seemed a little downhearted, too.

Romy crept closer.