Meche was picturing a space suit with jet packs. "No, I never have. Do you wear one of them, Soma?" Surprisingly, it wasn't as difficult as she might have thought to imagine Soma as an astronaut who fought with--what, laser guns? Defending a space colony? Boy, would Bibi and Pugsy ever love that story.

She was just opening her mouth to tell Senna that of course she was in the future, maybe Soma would even let her try on a spare mobile suit from her closet sometime, when a young woman with long, dark hair came up to them. Spear practice didn't strike Meche as the best way to make new friends, so she let her arms drop to her sides and stretched. She could only hope Senna and Soma were better at giving directions she was.

"I have a map you can look at," she offered, digging the worn papers out of her pocket and unfolding it so the young woman could see it. "But I'm really not the person to ask directions from. Do either of you know how to get there?"