The Akarak seemed to relax a bit. ‘I appreciate that,’ she said. Her tone was sincere. ‘Actually, that brings me to the other thing I’m here to tell you: Ouloo is inviting everyone to the garden for “food and chat”, as she put it.’
‘Ooh,’ Roveg said. ‘Well, that’s kind of her.’
‘I think she’s trying to keep us all happy while we’re stuck here. She’s pretty upset about the whole thing.’
‘It’s hardly her fault.’
‘Yes, but it’s her home,’ Speaker said. ‘I understand that.’
Roveg’s reluctance to leave his shuttle had fully ebbed. The promise of snacks didn’t hurt, but mostly, he’d developed a new-found curiosity about the company he’d fallen into – particularly the tiny person he spoke with now. ‘Well, if you’re done with your … rounds,’ he said, ‘shall we go together?’
Now it was the Akarak’s turn to be surprised. He couldn’t smell it, of course, but basic bipedal body language was such an easy thing to glean. If you learned one, you learned them all. ‘Oh. Um, sure,’ Speaker said. ‘I … I don’t see why not.’
Day 236, GC Standard 307
PLEASE REMAIN CALM
EVERYONE
Stars, the Laru was trying.
It was the same garden that Pei had been in hours before, but Ouloo had repurposed the grassy circle at its centre. The tables were laden with what looked like every cup and bowl from the host’s own kitchen, each filled with snacks both sugary and savoury. Pei peeked into one of the cups and discovered twisting salt licks. The other containers were filled with similar snack-pack fare: algae puffs, snapfruit tarts, jelly straws – all everyday nibbles you could find at your average mixed marketplace. The offerings were almost fancy in the respect that they weren’t the cheapest algae puffs you could buy, and had maybe flirted with actual herbs or fruit or some other ingredient grown in real dirt before being sealed up. It looked as though Ouloo had grabbed armloads of her stock – or legloads, in the Laru’s case – and done her best to make it look as nice as she could, arranging tidbits in hurried arrangements within mismatched tableware.
‘Hello, Captain Tem!’ Ouloo called. The ground host was busy at the edges of the circle, attempting to assemble a makeshift canopy out of blankets brought from home and poles that looked leftover from a construction project. ‘Please, help yourself!’
Pei puzzled at the canopy. What was the point of such a thing in a habitat dome, where there was no weather? No rain, no snow, nothing that could fall out of the—
Oh, she realised. Ouloo was trying to block her guests’ view of the sky.
‘Can I help?’ Pei asked. The Laru seemed to be struggling with the assembly.
‘No, no, I’ve—’ Both blanket and poles tumbled to the ground with tragicomic slowness. ‘Oh, shit.’
‘Mom,’ Tupo scolded laughingly from somewhere unseen. ‘Language.’
Pei crouched down and cocked her head in the direction of her implant’s buzzing. The kid was curled up under a table, stuffing xyr face with algae puffs straight from the bag. Pei had no way of knowing, but she had a suspicion that the bag in question had been intended for guests. ‘Hey, Tupo,’ Pei said. ‘You doing okay?’
‘Yeah,’ Tupo said quietly. Xyr tone suggested otherwise. Xe shoved a pawful of puffs messily into xyr mouth. ‘You should try the algae puffs,’ xe said, holding up the front of the bag so Pei could see the picture printed on it. ‘They’re good.’
Pei was not a stranger to algae puffs, and she wasn’t hungry, but between Ouloo’s frantic efforts and Tupo’s apparent misunderstanding that Pei needed all food explained to her, she could hardly refuse. She picked up a plate and began to peruse the makeshift buffet, but before she could determine her choices, her implant began buzzing again in Ouloo’s direction. The Laru was muttering in her cooing language, and though Pei didn’t understand the words, the frustration within was clear as day.
Without a word, Pei set down her plate and walked over to Ouloo. ‘Here,’ she said, holding one of the precarious poles. She eyed the materials Ouloo was using: blanket, pole, twine. ‘I don’t mean to butt in, but I think I could …’
Ouloo relinquished control with a huff. ‘If you have better ideas than me, then by all means.’
Pei thought for a moment, then got straight to work, arranging poles and tying sturdy knots. A structure began to coalesce.
‘Oh, you definitely have better ideas than me.’ Ouloo laughed. ‘Well done.’ She stretched out her long neck toward Pei’s handiwork. ‘I hope you don’t mind me watching. Your feet – sorry, hands are very fun to see in action.’
Pei flushed chuckling green. She didn’t mind at all. ‘Just tying knots,’ she said, as she did said-same. ‘Nothing special.’
‘Yes, but you do it so quickly,’ Ouloo said. She held up a stubby paw, wiggling her broad toepads. ‘I can’t do that.’
‘And I can’t look straight back over my shoulder,’ Pei said. ‘I’ve always thought that must be neat.’
Ouloo continued to watch Pei work, somewhat hypnotised. ‘Where’d you learn to do that?’
‘Military school,’ Pei said. ‘Throwing up a quick shelter is one of the things you have to be able to do in your sleep.’
Tupo’s neck extended out from under the table. ‘You said you’re not a soldier.’
‘I’m not,’ Pei said. She wrapped the twine over, under, and through. ‘But I thought about it. On Sohep Frie, we have these schools – I have no idea what to call them in Klip. They’re an alternative to the standard school you go to once you reach adolescence. If you’re considering a career in the military, you can go there instead, see if it’s a good fit.’
‘I take it it wasn’t, for you,’ Ouloo said.
‘No.’ Pei tied one last knot. ‘I admire the cause,’ she said. ‘But I like being my own boss.’ She stepped back to look at her work. The canopy held fast.
Along the path, on the flip side of the hedges, the other guests approached.
‘You must be Captain Tem,’ Roveg said, bowing his thorax in greeting. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you properly.’
‘Likewise,’ the Aeluon said. He found himself soothed by her presence, stranger though she was. Speaker’s list of questions had sparked a nagging worry that perhaps this situation wasn’t as controlled as he’d like, but here was this fit, confident captain, who seemed ready for anything. Her scent conveyed that she was at ease, and this meshed with the blueish silver of her cheeks, an easy-to-spot sign of Aeluon calm. If she wasn’t worried, then he saw little reason to be so himself. ‘Ouloo, this looks delightful,’ he said, picking up a plate. ‘Thank you so much for your hospitality.’
‘Oh, goodness, it’s the least we can do,’ Ouloo said. ‘I’m just so sorry this has happened. Whatever we can do to make this less stressful for you, please, please let us know.’ With this, she looked at Speaker, her gaze meaningful. ‘We’re here for you.’
Something passed between Speaker and Ouloo, and while Roveg wasn’t entirely sure what it was, he hazarded a guess that an apology had been made. Speaker responded graciously, as she seemed to do with everything. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I appreciate that.’ Apology accepted, it seemed.
A puff of warm air hit several of Roveg’s toe joints, making him jump with surprise. As he looked down, he realised it wasn’t just air, but breath. The little Laru was under the table, trying to get a good look at his legs. ‘Well, hello!’ Roveg said, laughing.
‘Tupo, what have I said about hiding when there are guests around?’ Ouloo sighed. ‘Can you come out from there, please?’
Tupo did not.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said to Roveg, hushing her voice in a manner the child could undoubtedly still hear. ‘We don’t get many Quelin. I think xe’s being a bit shy.’
‘Am not,’ Tupo complained. Xe remained under the table.
‘That’s quite all right,’ Roveg said, looking at Ouloo, but intending his words for smaller ears. ‘I was fully an a
dult when I met my first other-specied friends, and they made me want to hide under the table, too.’ He lowered himself down to look at the child. Tupo stared back, smelling of excitement and concern. ‘I hope you’ll come out soon,’ Roveg said. ‘I could use some support if these bipeds start to bully me.’
The joke flew over the child and landed somewhere in the hedges beyond. ‘Why would they—’
‘He’s teasing, Tupo,’ said Ouloo with exasperation. ‘Stars.’ She shook out her fur and turned her attention to the adults. ‘Well, there’s no reason for all of you to be shy, too. Please, make yourselves at home!’
Speaker had spent her entire adult life learning how to navigate interactions with other species. Her people operated by insularity, and even when they did make their homes in mixed settlements, they kept largely to themselves (for reasons no Akarak needed reminding of). Speaker had honed her natural talents of linguistic quickness and what Tracker called ‘social sponging’ in order to enter the multicultural melee, to gain entry to places her peers typically could not. Her skills in this regard were malleable by necessity, as you never knew what sort of sapient you’d need to talk to. She prided herself for her flexibility in that regard. With the exception of a small collection of trusted market stops and reliable contacts, she rarely found herself in the same place twice, and part of what made her and her sister good at their work was her ability to adapt to whatever the scenario called for.
But as she stood at the edge of the garden, faced with food and flowers and small talk, a realisation dawned on her. Varied as the places she visited were, they all shared one element: practicality. She frequented fuel depots, tech swaps, hydroponic suppliers, medical clinics, libraries, bustling markets, water stations, government bureaus, shuttledocks, and other such functional locations. She knew how to trade and enquire and haggle and win over, and had done all of these with alien species of every shape and size.
Not one of them had ever invited her to hang out with them.
Easy as this scenario should have been, Speaker found herself facing a tremendous challenge. She had to maintain the air of confidence she knew was so crucial to appeasing other species, while navigating a situation she’d never been in and was unexpectedly nervous about, while also keeping the part of herself that was desperate to talk to Tracker shut away for the duration of the gathering.
She took a breath, and marched her mech suit forward.
Fortunately, she did not have to be the one to launch a conversation. Roveg was keenly chatting to Captain Tem as he heaped his plate with snacks, the frills around his thorax flexing with excitement. ‘I have to say, Captain,’ he said in his stormy accent, ‘that is a beautiful shuttle you have. Caught my eye immediately as I flew in.’
‘Ah, thanks,’ Captain Tem said, nibbling at something from her own (more modestly filled) plate. Speaker did not grasp cheek colours as well as she wanted to yet, but the Aeluon looked pleased, and said nothing further on the matter. Captain Tem didn’t boast or brag, but neither did she demur. She acknowledged that her shuttle was a nice one, and left it there. Speaker noted that.
Roveg leaned toward Captain Tem just a touch. ‘I would assume from the, ah, robustness of your ship that you’re joining us from more dangerous territories,’ he said. His voice took on the sort of well-intentioned yet clueless empathy of someone who knew nothing of real violence beyond the fact that it was bad and you had to be careful bringing it up. Not that Speaker had any real understanding of the matter herself. Though she commonly worked with people who had an intimate relationship with mortality and the means by which it could be used, she and Tracker had both long ago resolved that their home would have no weapons and their hands would never get bloody. The darker sides of the galaxy were something she knew by proxy, not directly. Still, what she did know was enough to ensure that she’d never raise the topic herself, not as Roveg was doing now. His interest was blatant, despite being smothered beneath an imposed layer of tact.
But whatever personal insights Captain Tem had, she kept them to herself. ‘That’s right,’ she said, as nonchalant as she’d been at mention of her shuttle. A short reply, Speaker observed, followed by a deft pivot. ‘Just finished a cargo drop and now I’m on leave. Going to visit a friend for a few tendays.’
‘Her friend’s a Human,’ the child said from under the table, joining in at last.
‘Ah, I love Humans,’ Roveg said jovially. ‘All the ones I’ve met are just the most fascinating people. And such a history they have! I hear Mars is quite a charming little place.’
Captain Tem continued to swerve. ‘My friend’s Exodan, so I wouldn’t know.’
‘Oh, really?’ Ouloo said. It was her turn to become inquisitive. Speaker wondered if she and Roveg together might be a bit much. ‘That’s so … gosh, I don’t know. So rugged, isn’t it?’
The Aeluon did not laugh aloud, but Speaker got the feeling she was laughing all the same. ‘I’ll be sure to tell him so,’ she said dryly. Her inner eyelids flicked across sideways, and she shifted her gaze, pulling Speaker into the conversation. ‘And what about you?’ she said. ‘Where are you headed?’
Speaker swallowed her nervousness, and moved the suit into the circle.
Pei had no idea how to interpret an Akarak’s facial expressions, and she found that gap in knowledge uncomfortable. Roveg’s face didn’t move at all, but she’d long ago learned to accept the impossibility of reading Quelin. Speaker, on the other hand … well, who knew much of anything about Akaraks to begin with? She knew they were a nomadic, scattered species, their homeworld stripped by the Harmagians of anything and everything usable in the years before the Hashkath Accords put an end to that sort of thing. She knew their species lived in GC space proper, not the fringes, but she was pretty sure they did not have a seat in Parliament (which, now that she was thinking about it, seemed off). She knew the only ones she’d ever come face to face with had been trying to steal her shit, and that those were the only stories anybody ever told about their kind. Beyond that, she knew nothing. She’d never had reason to think about that realm of ignorance before, but now that it was standing right in front of her, she found herself bothered.
Who was this person?
Pei turned herself toward Speaker, adopting an open stance. The only way to answer that question was to ask.
‘I’m en route to Kaathet,’ Speaker said.
‘And what’s taking you there?’ Pei asked.
‘We’ve got a rendezvous with another ship. My sister and I, we help other Akarak ships acquire supplies.’
Pei’s eyelids twitched with reflexive suspicion. She couldn’t tell if acquiring supplies was a euphemism or not. ‘What kind of supplies?’
‘Hydroponic gear, mostly. And some assorted odds and ends.’ She looked Pei in the eye. ‘We purchased everything they needed at Port Coriol, and now we’re on our way to drop it off.’
Everything about Speaker’s tone and cadence was disarmingly pleasant, but Pei knew a don’t fucking insult me stare when she saw one. She didn’t know how well Speaker could read her, but she made her cheeks swim easy blue all the same. ‘So you’re a cargo runner, too,’ she said congenially.
Speaker gave the slightest of pauses. ‘I suppose you could call it that,’ she said. ‘But I don’t think of myself that way. And I don’t think our jobs are much the same at all.’
Roveg couldn’t suss out the sliver of tension that had entered the gathering, but he didn’t like it. Moreover, the way this round robin was going, the next question was going to focus on where he was headed, and that, he didn’t want. He swooped in, reaching for lighter fare. ‘You know, on the subject of Humans, there’s something I’ve long wanted to ask someone about.’ He paused in thought. ‘Cheese. Is that a real thing?’
Pei erupted in laughter. ‘Ugh,’ she said. ‘Stars. Yeah, cheese is real, unfortunately.’
Roveg was both delighted and horrified by her answer. ‘Not really?’ he said.
This was finally
enough to coax Tupo out from under the table. ‘What’s cheese?’
Speaker cocked her head. ‘I second the question.’
‘Oh, please don’t make me explain this,’ Pei groaned.
The Akarak leaned back in her cockpit. ‘Well, now you have to,’ she said.
‘Mom, what’s cheese?’ Tupo whispered loudly.
‘I don’t know,’ Ouloo said back. ‘If you listen, you’ll find out.’
Pei set down her plate and exhaled apologetically. ‘Cheese,’ she said in a clinical manner, ‘is a foodstuff made out of milk.’
Ouloo blinked. ‘You mean like …’ She gestured at her own underbelly, where her mammary glands presumably lay beneath thick fur.
‘Yep,’ Pei said. ‘Exactly that.’
‘So, a children’s food,’ Speaker said, her tone suggesting that this struck her as no stranger than the concept of milk itself.
Roveg laughed. ‘Go on,’ he said to Pei goadingly. He continued to snack, enjoying the show.
Pei winced. ‘No,’ she said to Speaker. ‘It’s not for kids. I mean, kids eat it, too, but … so do adults.’
Everyone present – with the exception of Pei – let out a reflexive sound. There were low growls from Ouloo and Tupo, a short trill from Speaker. Roveg, for his part, let out a triple-clicked hiss. A brief cacophony of varied species all communicating the exact same thing: complete and utter disgust.
‘No,’ Ouloo said.
Tupo cooed in fascinated horror.
‘Wait, so, how …’ Speaker made a hesitant face. ‘I’m going to regret this question. How is it … prepared?’
Pei grimaced. ‘They take the milk, they add some ingredients – don’t ask me, I have no idea what – and then pour the mess into a … a thing. I don’t know. A container. And then …’ She shut her eyes. ‘They leave it out until bacteria colonise it to the point of solidifying.’
The Galaxy, and the Ground Within Page 7