Pei turned her attention back to the spiral of blooming hedges she stood within. Their long, horn-like flowers were pretty (despite being yellow), and their scent was pleasingly sweet. A small swarm of pollinator bots moved among them in a soothing sway, meandering from blossom to blossom, rolling their soft, dusty brushes with a mechanical hum. Pei was glad to be outside, glad to have her feet on the ground. Her ship – her main ship, not the shuttle she’d travelled in – had a garden, like most did, but it just wasn’t the same as one woven into a planet. She knelt down, grabbed a pinch of the mulch blanketing the hedges’ roots, and rubbed it between her fingers with reverence. She loved her ship, loved her crew, loved a life spent above instead of below, but stars, there were times when she missed dirt.
The back of her neck prickled with the empty touch of being seen.
She glanced up, and over.
The Akarak was looking at her.
They were too far apart for Pei to see the Akarak’s face – not that she would’ve been able to read the expression anyway, knowing as little about them as she did. Like all of xyr kind, the Akarak was housed within a bulky, bipedal-bodied mech suit, sealed away in a windowed cockpit that occupied the space where an ordinary-sized head might be. The suit itself was a bit taller than Pei, but its operator was child-sized – no, smaller than that, even. Pei could’ve placed xyr in a satchel without difficulty. She could make out a few physical details: spindly limbs, short torso, the hint of a beak hiding in shadow. But even without a good view of the Akarak’s face, Pei could tell they were staring at one another. The moment in which they could each pretend they weren’t had gone.
There was movement within the suit: a lever pulled, buttons pressed. The suit obeyed, straightening up and raising both of its four-fingered metal hands. At the Akarak’s command, it turned the palms outward, and tipped the fingertips gently to each side.
Pei’s inner eyelids flicked with surprise. The stance the Akarak’s suit had adopted was that of an Aeluon greeting, the kind you gave a person when you were too far apart to press palms. It was an unremarkable, everyday way of expressing a friendly hello, performed by the last sort of figure she would’ve expected it from. The combination was nothing if not surreal.
Pei stood still for a moment, then cautiously returned the gesture.
The Akarak’s suit gave a polite tilt of acknowledgement, then returned to the business of buying algae.
Before Pei could process that exchange, a loud rattling sound approached. Pei had no natural sense of hearing, but the auditory-processing implant embedded in her forehead allowed her to cognitively register sound and understand its associated meaning (the sensation was something like reading, but without a screen present). Vital as this need was in a galaxy where everyone else insisted on carrying out vibratory conversations delivered via air, the implant could not communicate the sound’s direction in the same neural way that it relayed the sound itself. This simply wasn’t something a non-hearing brain could comprehend. To accommodate for this, the implant gave her skin a gentle buzz on the right side of her forehead, letting her know where the noise was coming from.
She turned to see the younger Laru ambling in her general direction, walking on xyr hind legs and pushing a three-tiered cart with xyr forepaws. The garden had a clearing at the centre, a spacious, short-cut lawn with tables and benches designed for a variety of species’ posteriors. It was here that the Laru was headed with xyr cargo.
Pei approached, and the smell of warm sugar caught her attention. ‘What’ve you got there?’ she asked, mentally operating the talkbox implanted on the outside of her throat (a talkbox could be implanted anywhere, really, but other sapients preferred it when your ‘voice’ – computerised though it was – came from the same direction as your head).
The child – Tepo, was xyr name? Tuppo? something like that – parked the cart and turned to face Pei. Except … xe didn’t quite face her. The Laru were a species that Pei was familiar with, but it didn’t take an expert to grasp that the shaggy kid was shy. Xe looked somewhere in the vague vicinity of Pei’s face, just short of looking her in the eye. ‘Please enjoy these traditional Laru desserts, compliments of your hosts at the Five-Hop,’ xe said in joyless recitation. Xe gestured at the cart with all the enthusiasm of someone cleaning out a clogged drain.
Pei managed to squash the laugh that was about to leave her talkbox, and hoped the amused green she could feel tickling her cheeks would go unnoticed. ‘You know, I don’t think I’ve ever had any kind of Laru dessert,’ she said. ‘Can you walk me through them?’
The kid squirmed, clearly having hoped xyr introduction of the cart would’ve served as both hello and goodbye, but xe dutifully turned xyr attention to the treats. ‘We’ve got, um, crushcake, mellow-mallow pudding, sweet-and-salties, baby paws, and … mint crisps.’
‘Hmm,’ Pei said. ‘Very interesting.’ She was trying to make xyr more comfortable, but the remark was genuine. The festively decorated bowls and cups before her did look tempting. ‘Which one is your favourite?’
‘Umm … I like mellow-mallow pudding.’ Xe pointed a stubby toepad toward a bowl filled with something black and gelatinous, topped with swirls of … some kind of plant shavings? Or maybe spun sugar?
‘All right,’ Pei said. ‘Will you have one with me?’
The child shifted on all four feet, pawing lightly at the grass. ‘Oh, um … it’s for guests only.’ There was regret laced through those words, and it sounded as thick as the pudding appeared.
Pei threw a theatrical glance over her shoulder toward the office. ‘I can keep a secret,’ she said with a cheeky flick of her eyelids.
The kid finally brightened. ‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah.’
That was all it took for the Laru to transform. With a sudden burst of animation, xe grabbed two bowls of pudding, handing Pei one and keeping the other for xyrself. Pei noticed that xe had hung onto the bowl with a more generous helping. She had no problem with that.
They both sat down in the grass, Pei cross-legged, the youngster on xyr haunches. ‘Sorry, what’s your name again?’ Pei said.
‘Tupo,’ xe said. Xe cupped the bowl in xyr forepaws and began lapping up the pudding with xyr fat purple tongue, having no need for the alien spoons xyr mother had provided.
Pei, on the other hand, did need a spoon, and with it, she took a confident bite of the pudding. ‘Huh,’ she said through her talkbox as she swirled the stuff around her mouth.
‘D’you like it?’ Tupo mumbled, xyr own mouth partially full.
‘Yeah, I think I do,’ Pei said. The pudding had a strange consistency, more fluffy than creamy, and the taste did not fall into an easy category. Sweet and earthy, with a bitter tang that both surprised and encouraged. ‘I don’t think it’s my favourite, but it’s really good.’
Tupo looked pleased. Xe swallowed, and said, ‘That’s so weird.’
‘What’s weird?’
‘That you can talk while you eat.’
‘It’s weird to me that you can’t talk while you eat,’ Pei said, smiling blue. ‘Eating’s the only thing we use our mouths for.’
‘Not drinking?’
‘Well, drinking, too.’
‘And breathing?’
‘Okay, yeah, we can breathe through them. But I mostly do that through my nose, like you.’
Tupo looked at her for a moment. ‘Can I look close at your nose?’
Pei blinked. ‘Um … yeah, sure, I guess.’
The Laru stretched xyr neck all the way out, getting far closer to Pei’s face than was anywhere in the realm of comfort or good manners. Xe studied her face with keen interest. ‘It’s so small,’ Tupo said.
‘And yours is really big, to me,’ Pei said, as she experienced the best view she’d ever had of a Laru’s broad, fleshy nostrils.
Curiosity apparently sated, Tupo retracted xyr neck and went back to xyr pudding. ‘What kind of captain are you?’
‘Cargo,’ Pei said.
‘I thought you were maybe a soldier.’ Tupo sounded disappointed at her answer. Xe took another long lick of pudding. Xyr bowl was already about halfway empty. ‘My mom said she locked up a bunch of your guns.’
‘If two is a bunch, then yes,’ Pei said.
‘But you’re not a soldier.’
‘No. I get soldiers the supplies they need. That’s what most of my work entails.’
‘Do you go where they’re fighting?’
‘Yes,’ said Pei, matter of fact.
‘Is it scary?’
‘Yes.’
‘Have you ever been shot?’
Pei cocked her head at Tupo’s bluntness. Xe seemed harmless, but this wasn’t a turn she’d expected. ‘Yes,’ she said, her tone unchanged.
‘Did it hurt?’
‘What do you think?’
‘Probably.’
Pei laughed. ‘Probably.’ She looked at Tupo with affable admonishment. ‘Yes, it hurts.’
‘How bad does it hurt?’
While Pei did not need to be quiet while eating, she took a long moment to weigh that question. ‘Are you sure your mom would want me to be talking to you about this?’
Tupo licked some pudding from the corners of xyr mouth. ‘I dunno.’
‘Mmm-hmm. Maybe we should find something else to talk about.’
Tupo looked a smidge sulky about that prospect, but shifted gears. ‘If you’re a captain, where’s your crew?’
‘On shore leave. We just finished a … a big job—’ she was definitely not discussing the details of that, even though she could see them plain as day every time she shut her outer eyelids ‘—so now we get a break. Everybody’s off in different directions for a while, then we’ll get back together and head on to the next.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘To visit a friend.’
‘Where’s your friend live?’
‘On a ship. He’s a spacer.’
‘Aren’t you a spacer?’
‘Yes.’
‘So …’ Tupo looked unimpressed. ‘For your vacation, you’re going to a different ship.’
‘I mean, vacation’s about the company, right?’
Tupo was not convinced. ‘What kind of ship?’
Stars, but the kid didn’t stop once you got some sugar in xyr. ‘Mixed. My friend is Human.’
Tupo let out a fizzing chuckle. ‘Humans look so funny.’
‘What?’ Pei said. ‘Why?’
‘I dunno, they’re just funny. They have furry heads and nothing else.’
‘They have fur all over,’ Pei said. ‘It just grows really, really thin in most places.’
‘Yeah,’ Tupo said. ‘Like babies.’
Pei laughed at that, her face flushing green. ‘I don’t know,’ she said in friendly disagreement. She took a thoughtful bite of her pudding, letting it spread across her tongue, savouring the sugar as it melted slowly. A few private notes of fond blue bloomed here and there. ‘I think some of them look nice.’
A different shade of blue appeared down the path leading back to the Five-Hop’s main buildings, and Pei noted it with interest. Ouloo was giving the grand tour to a Quelin, whose ship had presumably been the one that landed before the pudding arrived. His bold cobalt exoskeleton glinted in the sunlight, but there were no other colours visible on his shell, none of the embedded jewellery his kind commonly wore. Pei could see the dull scarring where the gems had been forcibly pried loose, the harsh lines carved through formerly intricate etchings detailing his class and lineage. An exile, barred from home. The only individuals you really saw outside of their territory. She pressed her tongue against the back of her teeth with quiet pity. The Quelin Protectorate were a real bunch of bastards.
‘You get all sorts here, huh?’ she said to Tupo as she watched Ouloo excitedly showing the Quelin around. He seemed particularly interested in one of the flowering hedges, and bowed the vertical half of his body low to inspect it closer.
‘We’ve had Quelin before,’ Tupo said, looking forlornly at xyr empty bowl. ‘Not a lot, but sometimes. Never had an Akarak, though. My mom won’t let me go talk to her alone.’ This fact made Tupo look even glummer than the lack of dessert did.
Her, Pei noted. She had no idea how Akaraks defined gender, so she had to follow the child’s lead. ‘Did your mom say why you can’t?’ she asked carefully. She really wanted to know what the Akarak’s deal was.
‘No,’ Tupo said. ‘Just that I can’t.’ Xe reached over to the cart and took another bowl of pudding. ‘Is it true they’re all pirates?’
Pei paused, because of course they weren’t, but that was the exact same knee-jerk thought she’d had when she’d caught her first glimpse of the mech suit. ‘No,’ she said. An Akarak was just an Akarak. Yellow could just be yellow. Reflexes could make you stupid.
This answer yet again disappointed Tupo, but xe looked unsurprised. ‘She didn’t have any guns, so she’s probably not a pirate.’
‘Your mom’s pretty serious about locking up weapons, huh?’ Pei said.
‘Yeah,’ Tupo said, swallowing xyr mouthful of dessert with the same vigour as all previous ones. ‘She doesn’t like guns at all.’
‘My friend’s the same way.’
‘Your Human friend?’
‘Yeah,’ Pei said. ‘He’ll probably make me leave mine on my shuttle.’ Which was fair, even if she didn’t like it. His house, after all.
‘Why do Humans—’ Tupo stopped talking with a jolt. Xyr eyes grew huge.
‘Bite your tongue?’ Pei asked. The talkbox had delivered the question teasingly, but as soon as the words left it, Pei realised the kid wasn’t looking at her. Xe was looking up.
‘What’s that?’ Tupo shouted.
Pei followed Tupo’s gaze, and turned toward the horizon. Her cheeks flooded with colour, her blood with adrenaline.
‘Captain Tem, what—’
‘Stay here,’ she said, getting quickly to her feet. ‘I’m gonna—’
‘What is it?!’
‘I don’t know,’ she said. Her first instinct was to reach for her gun, but of course, she didn’t have it. She took a step forward, in between Tupo and the sight that was making xyr freak out, trying to understand what she was seeing.
Far above the dome, way up at the edge of the sky, something in the atmosphere was burning.
SPEAKER
Looking upward in a mech suit was difficult. The cockpit window allowed Speaker some degree of peripheral vision, but swinging her view properly up required manoeuvring the suit so that it would tip her seated body backward. She wouldn’t have thought to do this if she hadn’t glanced up from the engine compatibility specs she’d been reading and seen the aliens in the garden pointing and shouting.
Speaker hurried the suit out of the shed and tipped the torso so she could see. Gaseous white streaks now criss-crossed the sky. Clouds, was her first thought, followed quickly by the realisation that Gora didn’t have atmosphere enough to get clouds. This fact was confirmed as one of the streaks’ edges shifted from billowing white to the unmistakable colour of flame. Another like it appeared elsewhere, then another, and another, an ever-growing chorus of far-away fires in free fall.
Heavy as the suit was, it could run pretty quickly.
‘What’s going on?’ she called as she ran to the others. The words exited the vox on the outside of her suit, but were lost in the din of everyone else yelling things of the same nature.
‘What’s happening?’ the Quelin cried.
The Aeluon came running over with the Laru child close by her side. ‘Mom!’ the youngster said, rushing toward Ouloo.
‘Does the planet have emergency comms?’ the Aeluon demanded.
Tupo wove xyrself under and through Ouloo’s legs. ‘Mom, what is it?’
‘Some kind of alert system?’ the Aeluon said.
‘I – I—’ Ouloo stared at the sky in shock, her mouth open and eyes wide.
‘There’s so many,’ the Quelin said. ‘Co
uld it— oh, shit.’
A large explosion joined the fray – silent at this distance, but stomach-twisting all the same. Tumbling debris scattered from it, mere flecks in the sky, deceptively small. Something big was breaking into pieces, and it wasn’t the only thing up there doing so.
Everyone reacted in their own manner: the Aeluon turned red as gore, the Laru’s fur fluffed, the Quelin threw each of his upper legs out to the side. Speaker sat motionless in her cockpit, every muscle tense, one thought piercing through the dozen tangled questions racing through her own head and in the voices of everyone around her.
Tracker was up there.
The Aeluon took charge. She moved decisively to Ouloo, looked her in the eye, and said, ‘Where’s your sib tower?’
Ouloo gulped air and pointed a paw down one of the paths.
The Aeluon ran.
Speaker followed her.
The ansible tower wasn’t far, and Speaker caught up quickly, arriving just a few steps behind. The Aeluon opened the manual access panel, pulled her scrib free of its belt holster, and looked around, searching for something not present. Her cheeks speckled purple with frustration.
Speaker understood; the Aeluon didn’t have the tower’s wireless access code, and therefore needed to plug her scrib directly into it. Speaker dug the suit’s hands through the storage compartments attached to its midsection and retrieved a standard intermix cable. ‘Will this work?’ she said, extending the cable forward.
The Aeluon looked up with obvious surprise, as though she were only now registering Speaker’s presence. ‘Uh, I think so,’ she said, grabbing the cable with her long silver fingers. She held both it and the scrib up, inspecting port and jack. ‘Yeah, yeah, that’ll work.’ She made the connections, giving Speaker a brief glance as she did so. ‘Thanks.’
Ouloo hurried up behind them, having seemingly pulled herself together. ‘Try the emergency beacon network,’ she said. ‘The channel is 333-A.’ Her child was nearly attached to her side, and the Quelin was close behind.
A broad streak of flame tore across the morning sky, and Speaker felt as though her heart would burst from her chest. She had to get out of there. She had to get to Tracker. Whatever was happening, she and her sister needed to get away from it, now.
The Galaxy, and the Ground Within Page 4