We’d been wandering through the jump port for hours, stopping, it seemed, in every Duty Free shop in the place. I had always hated shopping, and shopping with Mom was worst of all. She could go for hours, trying stuff on, wanting feedback. Anything to be the centre of attention. And today, she and Dad seemed to be celebrating. He’d bought her a Martian Emerald necklace for way too much money. A thoughtful, “congratulations on ruining the kid’s life” gift.

“Jason,” Mom said, not even glancing back at me, “do you see the sign for Eta Cass?”

“What? You care what I think, all of a sudden?”

Her gait checked slightly, but she didn’t turn. “Jason . . . stop pouting. We’re moving, it’s done . . . . Get over it!”

I bit back an angry response. It was the perfect word for her, but not one I liked using.

Pouting. This from a woman who’d been known to throw things around the unit if she lost in the office pool.

Pouting. As if.

After a few seconds, she seemed to think better of her words—or her tactics, at least—and dropped back beside me, putting her hand on my arm as we walked. I could feel her looking at me, with that look, the one she used when she wanted to get something from a man. That she thought to use it on me made me feel nauseous. “Now dear, come on, you might like it!” she said, squeezing my arm gently. I tried to pull away, but she tightened her grip. “I hear it’s a beautiful planet, with lots of sandy beaches, and warm weather! There’ll be kids your age! I’m sure you’ll enjoy having friends!”

She paused to wait for my reply.

Friends. Yeah, that was exactly what I needed. A classroom full of people who’d known each other their whole lives, and me walking into the middle of it. Thanks, Mom, for thinking of me.

“Yeah, whatever. Fuck it.”

“Jason!” Dad growled, spinning so abruptly that I nearly ran into him, and Mom into me. “I thought I told you to not talk to your mother that way! This mad-at-the-world bit is getting really old! Just . . . ” he paused to seethe; then: “Grow up!”

“Sure, Dad,” I replied, looking away. “Whatever.”

When I looked up again, they were walking off. I stared after them for a few seconds, then pulled out my datapad and called up a floor plan for the jump port. “Uh, Dad?” I called to them, looking at the projection. “The gate for Eta Cass is three levels down, near the cargo terminal.”

They stopped, and Dad turned. “What?” he said.

“The gate, it’s three levels down.”

They started moving back toward me and my holomap. “That can’t be,” Dad said, his tone implying I was either lying or stupid. “None of the high traffic gates are on the cargo level.”

“Then I guess I’m not the only one who doesn’t want to go to Eta Cass.”

“Don’t be a smart-ass,” he said. “Let me see that.” He pulled the datapad from my hand and examined the holomap closely.

“See? There it is,” I said, pointing to the big glowing red arrow marking our destination. He seemed to need several more minutes of study before he caught on.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” he muttered.

“What is it, Honey?” Mom asked, hooking her arm around his and snuggling up to him.

“Nothing. Just . . . nothing. Don’t worry about it.” He straightened up and handed the pad back to me. Smiling at her, he said, “It’s three levels down. There’s a lift about a hundred metres ahead.”

He hugged her close and they walked off together. I cleared the display, and followed.