Nebula

My Unusual Thief - Part 2

I was completely out of it. I could barely talk or walk, let alone ask her whether she was about to rob me blind. I had nothing she could really take, anyway. Just a few spare parts for the Presley and maybe two or three credits. She brought me onto her shoulder and we managed to walk down the rich street and back into the town.

The place she took me was just like all the others on Mars. A dome, stone building with a few holes poked in the sides for windows, a door and a doorbell. The usual template, copied all over the town a thousand times over. The outside being anything but special, the inside being much more interesting.

Because there was a family inside.

Having a proper, loving family on Mars is something was rarer than diamonds. Yet while she dumped me on the sofa; bleeding and bruised and battered, I could tell that this was a place that was overflowing with love.

It's the little things. A picture of a family holiday here, a postcard there. But it also had a smell... a presence of people who cared about each other. It was weird after so long. Alien.

Although what was weirder was that none of them were there. It was just her, all alone. She just helped me right off the bat. Bandaged me up, applied some cream, damp vinegar cloth - the works. It hurt, sure. But the sweet aftermath of the healing creams and plasters gave me enough strength for me to find my voice.

"Hi."

She was short. At least a foot shorter than me, but still having that look of being younger than I was. That was weird. I'd never seen her at school. I saw the shirt that was clearly a size too big, jeans with a dozen or so holes in them and sneakers that should've been replaced ten years ago. But the dots weren't quite connecting.

"You okay?"

The accent was Australian. Which was strange - I'd never met an Aussie before. I didn't think many of them lived outside Earth. Yet here she was, the voice of a stuck up prick but smothered in red dust like the rest of us.

"Yeah."

She grinned. Her teeth weren't perfectly white, her face hadn't any surgery. She was completely and naturally dirty and smelly. I bet half the street could've worked that out by that reek.

"You gonna rob me, then?"

"You don't fuck around do ya, rich-kid?"

"No." I hissed. "And don't call me that."

"And what if I do? You gonna roll over and play dead?"

"I'll make you play dead if you're not careful."

"Ooh, so scared."

I didn't like being mocked like this. Anyone who dared usually didn't stay on their feet for long. But I couldn't really afford getting beaten up again, so I tried to be civil. It was excruciating.

"Okay, let's do this again." I muttered under my breath. "I'm Rach."

"Rach?" She shrugged. "Nice name."

"It's not."

"Nah, it is pretty shit actually, thinking about it." She smiled. Again. "Fishing for compliments ain't gonna work on me, sister."

"I wasn't."

"Yeah, whatever you say. Name's Pigeon."

Now it was my turn to take the piss: "Pigeon? And you say my name's shit?"

"Yeah, hah-hah. I know it's not a great name. But it's the only one I'm giving, take it or leave it."

"Alright then, Pigeon. Why did you do that?"