Page 179 of Alien Burn

He took her up the exterior stairs above the old service sheds. The viewing rail had been replaced since he was a child, and the deck had a new non-slip surface. Beyond it, the dark-side sky stretched clear above the industrial haze.

Sereya stopped at the top step.

“Oh.”

He let her look.

The stars were sharp here, away from the brightest refinery lamps. The asteroid belt made a faint, broken sweep across them. She walked to the rail and tipped her head back until he could see the line of her throat above her coat.

“You kept coming here?”

“When I could.”

“After your mother died?”

He nodded.

“Sometimes before.” He leaned beside her. “She knew where to find me.”

Sereya put her hand over his on the rail.

He had spent so long describing Adelada through what followed her death. The accident. The protocols. The work his father had done.

Standing here, he remembered her climbing the stairs and complaining that he always chose places designed to ruin good shoes.

He told Sereya that.

She smiled.

“Did you choose somewhere else?”

“No. She changed her shoes.”

They stood together while the machinery worked below them. His comm rested against his wrist. His lead knew where he was. If someone needed him, they could reach him.

For now, no one called.

“The last time I watched the sky from a roof,” Sereya said, “I kept thinking I should have gone downstairs sooner.”

He turned toward her.

She shook her head gently.

“I know. I'm trying to learn it.”

He waited.

“I wanted another memory.” She looked up at the stars. “One where I get to come down when I'm ready.”

He took her hand from the rail and held it between his own.

“Then we stay until you're ready.”

She stepped close. He opened his coat enough to draw her into its warmth, and she settled against him with her cheek over his heart.

Below them, his father's crews changed shifts. His comm remained quiet.

Sereya lifted her face.