The drive back to Naug was uneventful. They returned their Chariots to the hangar and left their suits in the nearest vacant hatches recommended by the CIG. Johns bid the three of them farewell with the promise that he’d let Zed know the second he had something for him to get started with.

  The next morning, Zed woke up as sore as he’d ever been in his life. After months of zero and then low gravity, he realized he had become a total pansy, and a few hours in a turtle suit was all it took to remind him of all the muscles he hadn’t been using.

  Zed made his way to the mess, hoping a good breakfast and about a gallon of coffee would ease his pain. Well, technically it wasn’t really coffee, but it was the closest substitute they had. Zed wasn’t sure what it was derived from, but it seemed to perk him up, so he drank it, even if it was just a placebo. Nothing made you miss bacon and sausage like sore muscles, but a bean burrito and pancakes would have to suffice.

  As Zed looked for a seat, he saw Baat sitting in his usual spot. He hadn’t really spoken to him since the incident with Andy Foster. In truth, he’d been avoiding him. Zed's frustration had cooled, but it seemed he was still sore in more ways than one. He hesitated for a moment, but in the end, Zed’s more reasonable nature won out, and he walked over to set his tray across from the white-haired Mongolian.

  “Zed, my boy!” came the familiar greeting.

  Any lingering resentment over how things had gone with Andy melted away. Zed simply couldn’t stay mad at the man when he knew full well that he didn’t have a malicious bone in his body.

  “Hey, Baat,” Zed said, sitting down. He dug into his breakfast as if it were his first meal in weeks.

  “Hungry this morning, I see. Have you been starving yourself lately? I've not seen you around very much in the last few days.”

  “No, just been busy helping Johns with some stuff,” Zed replied through lips that were doing their best to keep an overlarge bite of pancakes at bay. Zed remembered his manners and swallowed. “I had my first surface walk yesterday, so I’m just making up for lost calories.”

  Baat nodded and smiled at the younger man’s gusto as Zed turned his attention back to his plate.

  “What ever happened with that gentleman who was badgering you? How was your gift received?”

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  Zed paused mid-swallow and looked up. Baat sipped his not-coffee.

  He really doesn't know, Zed thought.

  “Uh, not well. In fact, it was worse than I could have predicted. He literally threw the gift away without a glance. So yeah, that’s where your way got me.” In spite of himself, Zed felt his anger turning back toward Baat again.

  Baat, on the other hand, didn’t seem to notice Zed’s biting tone, or at least if he did, he didn’t show it. He nodded, as if this was no surprise to him whatsoever.

  “I’m truly sorry to hear that, Zed. I take it you are quite upset with me because of this outcome,” Baat said, nodding.

  Baat’s words sounded emotionless, but when Zed looked up, he was surprised to see genuine pain in the man's eyes. Zed clenched his jaw but said nothing. He was afraid of what might come out.

  Baat continued. “I know my words are going to ring hollow to you in this moment, but believe me when I say that while it’s painful when we make the effort to return good for evil and only receive more evil in return, it is still the better outcome. I’m guessing that as you worked on your gift, you probably found it hard to hate the person you were making it for. He’s still the same human being you discovered in that time. Clearly, he is broken in his own ways. You did not deserve that slight from him any more than you did the first, but it wasn’t just for him; it was for you. Don’t let his further bad choices control who you allow yourself to become.”

  Zed realized he was grinding his teeth but still couldn’t seem to get any words out.

  Baat leaned forward. “I am truly sorry you’re going through this. There are certain things I had hoped to leave behind on Earth—ways I’d hoped to be of more use here. It seems leaving the world isn’t enough to escape it.”

  Baat smiled, but it felt more like a grimace. Zed saw a look in his eyes that seemed to drift from the here and now. It was gone with a blink. Baat’s eyes returned to Zed. He stood, picking up both of their now-empty trays.

  “There are times, Zed, when life brings us pain, and by following our natural instincts to do anything and everything to avoid it, we simply bring ourselves worse pain. What you did in the face of your pain was kind. It might seem like it only made things worse, but I’ll leave you with this.”

  The older man paused until Zed finally stopped trying to stare a hole in the table and looked up at him.

  “I am sorry you’re going through this," Baat repeated. "I hope you know that I care. I hope you realize I am proud of you for what you did. Zed, you can never imagine the ripple effects one act of undeserved kindness can leave.”

  Zed wasn’t sure how long he sat there after Baat finally left. When he came to, his own not-coffee was cold and tasted all the more like the impostor that it was.

  He just couldn’t bring himself to see things the way Baat did, but as hard as he tried, he still couldn’t stay mad at him either. He simply couldn’t imagine a scenario where anything good could come from his humiliation, and he was tired of trying.

  Maybe Baat's just a little bit crazy.