My voice was going fast. I took another drink of water and managed to get the words out. "We have to go someplace where we'll all be happy. I won't go anywhere that makes you angry or sad, Douglas. I like seeing you smile."

The corners of his mouth twitched at that—and then he did smile. "Yeah," he said. "I noticed I was doing a lot more smiling." He patted my hand. "Okay. We'll talk about the colonies tomorrow."

" Why not now?"

"Because there's something else we have to do first. If you're up to it. Do you want to see Mom and Dad?"

" Huh?"

"I told you they were here. They came to see you in the hospital. Don't you remember?"

" I thought I hallucinated that."

"Well, that explains it. I was wondering why you hadn't said anything about them. The judge has a restraining order on them. They can't approach any of us without our permission. They were in the back of the courtroom—on opposite sides—but I guess you didn't see them. They asked to see us tonight. I said it depended on how you felt. What do you want to do, Charles?"

I took a breath. Part of me didn't want to see them, didn't want to have anything to do either of them ever again. But part of me missed them terribly.

"I feel I should tell you—" Douglas looked uncomfortable again. "They're trying to have Judge Griffith's ruling set aside. Their argument is that she wasn't being impartial. Her tribe has a financial alliance with Mickey's tribe. And because Mickey caught us on Luna, they're arguing that she was just helping to kidnap us. Now how do you think Mom and Dad put those pieces together?"

" Fat Senor Doctor Hidalgo?"

"Probably. So, do you want to see them or not?"

" I kinda miss 'em."

"They haven't changed. Well—that's not true. They're both real sorry about everything."

" It's a little late for sorry. Besides, you know what Mom always says, 'Sorry is bullshit. Don't do it in the first place.'"

"Yeah, Mom always had a way with words. All right, I've asked you. I've kept my promise. I'll tell them you don't want to see them."

" No. I do."

He looked surprised.

" Both at once."

"You sure?"

" Yeah."

"The doctor said not to stress yourself—"

" After everything we've been through, seeing Mom and Dad will not be stressful."

MOM AND DAD

Mom looked tired. Dad looked exhausted. I wondered what they'd been through. Probably hell. We'd disappeared off the Line, we'd been on a cargo pod heading toward Luna for three days, they hadn't known which one or where it was coming down. We'd crashed somewhere into Luna, no one knew where, and all that anyone could tell them was that if we were still alive, we were hiking naked across an airless, barren, desolate, empty, unpopulated, ugly, frozen and heat-blasted landscape. And then when they did hear of us, first it was a false alarm and we were still missing—and then we were down with ammonia poisoning and in the custody of a bounty hunter.

All things considered, they were taking it very well. They passed Bobby back and forth between them, hugging him and making a big fuss over how big he'd gotten and how strong he was here on the moon, until finally Douglas got annoyed and told Bobby to stop showing off, lifting tables and chairs with one hand.

After the greetings, after everybody had settled themselves, Mom spoke first. "I'm sorry that I slapped you, Charles. That was wrong. I knew it was wrong even as I did it, but I was so hurt and angry and … and … never mind, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done it."

And she still hadn't said it. What she could have said, should have said, before we ever got on the outbound elevator. I felt the disappointment growing, festering again. Why couldn't she just say it? Why couldn't she just look me straight in the eye, and say, "I love you, Charles." And at the same time, I already knew that if I asked her why she never said it, Mom would just blink in puzzlement, and say, "But I do. You shouldn't have to ask. You should just know."

Yeah, I should just know. But I still wanted to hear it anyway.

She was right, though. Sorry was bullshit. It didn't change anything. Seeing her now, hearing her apologize, didn't change anything at all. It just made me feel worse. Because I had expected something more than she was able to give. That was my fault, I guess. I had brought my expectations into the room.

Dad was different. He handed me a memory card. "I brought you something. The Coltrane Suite.And some other recordings I know you like. Dvorak #9. Copland #3. Barber's Adagio for Strings.Russo's Three Pieces for Blues Band and Orchestra.Hoenig's Departure from the Northern Wasteland.Marin Alsop conducting the BBC Philharmonie in Saint-Saëns' "Organ" Symphony.And a whole bunch of other stuff. I didn't know if you had copies with you."

" Thank you, Dad."I turned the card over and over in my hands. It looked remarkably innocent. Hell, it looked just like the memory cards we'd plugged into the monkey. And look what trouble those had gotten us into. Maybe these would help get us out of some of that trouble.

I started by trying to clear my throat. That triggered a spasm of coughing, and both Mom and Dad leapt for the water pitcher. "Thank you. I have something to say to everyone. Douglas, please come sit over here. Bobby too."I waited till everyone was settled. Bobby parked himself in Mom's lap, Douglas sat opposite Dad.

" Remember what we were just talking about? About colony bids?"Douglas nodded. "Remember what I said? I want us to go to a place where everybody can be happy. Not just you and me and Bobby. But Mom and Dad too. And even Mom's friend, if she wants to come. And Mickey too. Whoever wants to come with us."

Douglas was frowning—like I'd blindsided him with a decision without talking to him about it. But if I'd talked to him about it, he'd have fought me. This way, I avoided the fight. I said, "Douglas, we can't stop anyone from emigrating to the same colony we choose. Mom and Dad are going to follow us. You know that. So let's leave our arguments here on Luna, and let's choose a world where everyone can fit. A place where Dad can make his music and Mom can have her own garden and you can have whatever you want too. A place where we don't have to fight all the time."

"That would be nice, but it's unrealistic," Douglas said. "You know what kind of a family we are, Charles. We don't leave our fights behind. We take them everywhere we go."

" NO, we don't!"I had to wait until the coughing eased. I took another drink of water. "We didn't fight in the cargo pod, and we didn't fight hiking across the moon, and we didn't fight climbing the crater wall, and we didn't fight on the train when we were all disguised, and we didn't fight in the ice mine— oh, wait a minute, yes we did— but we didn't fight in the ammonia tube. We took care of each other. Because it mattered. Because we didn't have a choice. Maybe, we should stop choosing to fight—" And then I had to stop to cough again. But I'd made my point, and Douglas had gotten it. Everybody had. Even Bobby.

Mom and Dad and Douglas talked about it for a while, very calmly. They discussed it back and forth across my bed, and I listened back and forth between them. There wasn't much else I needed to say. All that was left was for everyone to agree to this idea—or not.