She didn't sit where he motioned her. Something about not wanting to seem easily managed.  Pliable.  Like dough.  After all that had happened, she had to remember her power.  She had to reserve what little she could.  That much she knew.

He pleaded once again.  This chair?  Not that he knew if she could understand anything he said.  It was hopeful, at best, that the words in his mind would cross the physical distance between them and imprint images upon hers.  Like their drawings.  Or photography.  Their Polaroid camera magic he'd seen.  He waited for her to find the signal.  Tried again.

But still she didn't sit near.  Tessa.  Looking everywhere but his way- at the soft but firm chairs that mimicked something they called memory foam.  Out the windows- at the expanding darkness and sudden bursts of intense light.  When she turned to the left, he caught her eyes reflected in the silica glass and thought them to be wet from crying.  Are you sad?  Do you want to go back?  Not that the option existed anymore.  And had he not been where he was, Tessa wouldn't exist either.  He imaged what it felt like to lose all members of his family, his home, his land.  He remembered the sound of her shrieking screams, how hard she kicked and punched and clawed his shell-like skin.  But his was the last rescue ship.  He had to get her aboard. 

What used to be the Indian Ocean.  There, the crumbling pieces of Tanzania and Malawi.   Remnants of the only continent they'd had.  While he flew, she watched the incineration with both hands over her mouth, body rocking back and forth, soundless. He knew they needed contact and comfort in times like this. Why he'd offered the closer seat.  Why he tried.

She kept her head down and her eyes closed the rest of the way.  It was hard, but fast travel.  Once they got close, gravity did its job and the vehicle rocked as it fell to land.  He hoisted Tessa out of the chair and looked at her straight on, willing her eyes to open, offering what he knew repelled, but could be used as human hands.  Trust me. He sent the message over and over again.     

With a loud pop and a sigh, the hatch released.  Tessa jumped, eyes ajar.  She covered her ears.  Shook. He tried his message again as the side door opened. She backed away, terrified, as the landscape revealed itself.  Like glass over fire-colored water below, like heavy chunks of floating rock above.  Traps everywhere she looked.  Don't breathe, she told herself. 

But when the blue mist filled the cabin and Tessa could hold her breath no more, she inhaled.  And found she could.  Then, gulping large breaths of air, she turned his way.  Her eyes inquisitive.  And she clutched what he held out, and let him lead her down the ramp, into the light of two suns, out over the orange colored land.