Just then, a buzzing sound fills the cockpit.
“What’s that?” Isabella asks.
“Someone wants to communicate with the ship,” I tell her.
“Someone? Who?”
“Someone from Earth.”
“Oh. You might want to answer.”
“I doubt that. They’ll want to know why we’re flying, and I just see it causing more issues than it’s worth.”
“Strol…”
“You really want me to answer?” I ask. “That’s playing by the rules. Daredevils give rules the fingers.”
“I know that, but…”
I grit my teeth. I haven’t thought anyone would notice us since we’ve been living essentially in a bubble for so long, but that’s clearly not the case anymore. The message must be from Earthlings, which would make them either government or military, and I can’t have either side learn who I am.
With a sigh, I open the line of communication.
“Yes?” I say.
“Unidentified ship, please identify yourself.”
“This ship doesn’t have a name,” I return.
"What are your numbers?"
“Doesn’t have numbers either.”
“How can a ship not have numbers? This is ridiculous. You must land at once. Come down, and we will—”
“We won’t.”
I close the communication line, don’t bother to look at Isabella, and hightail us out of there, pushing every bit of speed from the ship. An Earthling plane comes into view behind us. Was it that plane that hailed us? Or did someone else send up the plane? Either way, it doesn’t matter because I have my ship zoom away so fast that I leave the other plane in my dust.
It takes a bit of time for my heart to stop racing and for me to risk slowing down. A minute passes, another, and there’s no sign of that plane.
Good.
With a wink to Isabella, I go back to doing crazy stunts with the plane, and by the time the sun sets, I figure it would be safe to go back to the scrapyard. After all, I’m not sure where else I could land the thing.
Isabella unharnesses herself, but she doesn’t stand up. She just stares at me. “That was insane,” she murmurs.
“I’m glad you liked it.”
“I loved it. It gave me a bit of insight into…”
“Into what?” I asked.
“Into the war.”
She looks away, but then she turns back, and her face is entirely open. There's a pain in her eyes, but she's not suppressing it.
I hold my breath. What is she going to say next?
“Strol, ask me about my parents,” she says in an even tone.
“Isabella, I would love to know about your parents.”
“I have no idea who my dad is,” she says.
“I’m sorry.”
“Never met him. I don’t even know his name, so I doubt Mom ever cared for him. Maybe I was the product of a one-night stand. Or maybe she loved him, but he cheated on her. Maybe he ran off when he learned she was pregnant. I have no idea. He might even be alive, but I have no way to look for him, not that I want to.”
“I really am sorry.”
She waves my words away. “Not your fault. Not mine either. My mom’s maybe, but I learned early on not to ever ask her any questions about him. She wouldn’t get sad or mad. She would just shut down and not talk to me, not even look at me. I hated that, so I stopped asking.”
“What about her? What else are you willing to share?”
She eyes me and slowly grins. “I shouldn’t share anything with you.”
“You don’t have to,” I protests.
“Believe me, I know I don’t have to,” she drawls, “but I might as well since I’ve been yapping anyhow. “My mom was a fighter.”
“What kind of a fighter.”
“A fighter pilot. She fought in the war with the Grots.”
“Did she?”
“Yes.”
“She’s an amazing woman.”
“She really was. She was injured severely, but when I was about five, her old injury took a turn for the worse, and she couldn’t walk.” She hesitates. “Five days before you showed up, my mom died.”
“Isabella.”
“It’s all right. I… I’m okay. I am.”
“That’s why you’re so rebellious,” I suppose.
“I don’t need you to try to understand every little thing I’ve ever done with my life,” she says sharply.
“I’m not trying to,” I protest. “I’ll say this much. The only time I feel truly alive is when I’m doing something daring.”
“Yes,” she murmurs slowly. “Yes, that’s exactly it. I… There’s peace. Mom didn’t want me to do anything with the military. Her getting hurt really affected her, and that she couldn’t walk…”
“That’s why you’re so efficient at making fires and cooking and hunting,” I say.
“Yes. Mom had a decent amount of money from the government and military because of her efforts in the war, but she didn’t want to use it. She kept it for a rainy day.”
“But the rain never came,” I say.
“Exactly.” Isabella shrugs. “I’ve never been much for money, but after Mom died, I… my first instinct wasn’t to just do whatever I wanted. I didn’t want to spend her money, and I still don’t. I haven’t spent a single cent of it.” She blows out a breath. “I wanted to join the military.”
“Did you try to?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“And?”
“Does it look like I’m in the military?” she asks dryly.
“No, but if you were in the military, you would be the sexiest member.”
She scoffs and rolls her eyes, but she’s grinning. “I failed the mission.”
“What mission?”
“A training mission. There was a rule I broke, but it saved a life, and I have no regrets for what I did. Sometimes, it’s necessary to break the rules.”
“Yes, sometimes it is.” I cross over to her and crouch down beside her. She remains sitting yet, and I touch her hand. “Rules are sometimes meant to be broken, but hearts aren’t meant to be.”
“Why are you talking about hearts?” she asks, sounding almost angry. She goes to remove her hand, but I hold on tight.
“I don’t personally know loss like you do, but I do think that your
