Bechimo
Dock A
Theo was asleep. At least, she was pretty sure she was asleep. Only there was a voice just behind her shoulder, asking her questions about—Tolly Jones?
“No, never met him before.”
“He says he’s not kin, just shares some genes from ’way back in the Old Universe.”
The voice opined that the sharing of genes was the basis of kinship.
“I don’t disagree,” Theo told it, “but what he thinks counts, too.”
The voice suggested that it was possible to make a decision based on a substandard set of facts, and to change that decision upon receipt of a superior fact-set.
“Still, nobody ought to be forced into kinship, if they don’t want it.”
That, the voice allowed, was very true. It thanked her for sharing her impressions and her thoughts, and it would now leave her to sleep.
In her bunk, Theo sighed, and shifted, curling closer under the blanket.