Learning to Dance

Academy?”
“Well,” Up said, settling back on his haunches. “It’s in
the Capital, so we can take you to the refugee centre there.
You’ll have a place to sleep, food to eat. They might even
set you up with a trade, if you like.” He was trying really
hard to make it sound appealing, she could tell.
“A refugee camp?” she echoed, trying to imagine it. She
pictured rows of sleeping bags in a school gym, crying
babies, old people wetting their beds. What she wouldn’t
give for Mexico again, for her mama and her pimply
cousins and even that stupid quinceañera dress. Jesucristo,
she was going to cry. She blinked rapidly.
Up looked like he wanted to say something reassuring,
but changed his mind. “Yeah, I wouldn’t like the idea much,
either,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry I got you into this mess.”
“No,” she said. He should never be sorry. “You saved my
life.”
Up didn’t say anything, so she turned her back to him
again. “Go back to bed. I’m sorry I woke you.”
He paused a moment, as if deciding whether or not he
was okay with taking orders from a pint-sized girl like Taz.
“All right,” he said, and returned to his bunk.
Over her shoulder, she watched him go. He didn’t look
so fearsome now, pyjamas hiding most of his bulk as he
stumbled his way through the dark, but she’d seen him take
down half a dozen robots with nothing but a gun and his
bare hands, and then shrug it off like he did it every day.
Maybe he did.
Who was this Starship Ranger anyway?