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is over. No one must find her here.”
    That was the last time Pet heard Madam’s voice.
    The groomer bundled her into a pod and forced her into a seat. He strapped her in, left her and launched the unit the moment it was sealed.
    Pet held onto the straps that held her in place as the corkscrew effect spun her away from the ship. Once clear of the artificial gravity, she settled down and waited for the pod to stop moving. It rocked a few times before the roar of an atmosphere echoed in the chamber. When the roar stopped, turbulence took over until the pod struck the ground and skidded in a bone-jarring finale.
    Shaken and bruised, Pet unbuckled the restraint harness.
    The supply kit and backpacks were designed for Marcovians. Pet had neither the four arms nor the width of shoulders required to carry them, so she grabbed a water bottle and checked the monitor before moving to the hatch. Everyone on a spacecraft had to know how to use the escape pods, even pets.
    She should be scared, she should be terrified, but the monitor showed her a habitable world and breathable atmosphere. If she was careful, she could find something to eat and if she was smart, she could find somewhere safe to hide.
    She blew the hatch open and hung onto the interior supports as the pod rocked from side to side. Pet took a few cautious steps out of the pod and smiled slightly as the grass tickled her feet.
    A few steps outside of the pod, she turned in a full circle to get her bearings. The pod had wedged into a huge mushroom field and it was those fungi that had brought her to a safe halt. Two suns glowed in the sky and no moon was visible in the daytime sky.
    Pet thought about what she should do. If she wanted to be retrieved, she should stay with the pod, but if she wanted freedom, she should run. It took her less than three seconds to make up her mind and without a look back she grabbed her water bottle and hiked directly south of her crash site.
    Pet scowled as she munched a piece of leaf. She knew it was safe, but she couldn’t say how she knew. She put over two kilometres between herself and her crash site before she stopped to make a shelter. Not knowing when sunset would fall, she needed to make either a shelter or a fire, or both.
    Pet was shocked at her skills. She hadn’t had a life before the Marcovians and now, she found her hands competent at tasks she had never imagined. While her mind was reeling, her body knew just what to do and it made her a shelter lined with moss and arched with saplings covered with leaves.
    A few times, she found herself chewing on bugs and while the taste was repugnant, a quick sip of water washed it down.
    By the time the suns were fading, she had a fairly snug place to live for a few days while she worked on surviving and trying to plan for an unforeseeable future.
    Late in the night, a bright light woke her and she crawled out of her habitat to see the ship exploding outside of the planet’s atmosphere. With relief and not a little nervousness, she tucked herself back into her makeshift bed and slept more deeply than she had in years.
    * * * *
    Over the course of three weeks, she managed to move herself five kilometres south of the pod and felt secure that even if they did come looking for her, they would not find her without her seeing them first.
    Her skin refused to brown under the suns and to her chagrin, the metalwork that had been adhered to her flesh would not give way no matter how many time she bathed in the nearby lake.
    Pet had time to think as she foraged for her meals and no matter how hard she tried to remember, she could not bring her life before the ship into her thoughts.
    She remembered being a child and in training on the ship, but if she racked her brain, she never remembered being small or growing up. The conflict in her memories worried her and she spent a good portion of her day trying to break through the block in her mind. She had gone from being a child to being an adult in