‘That’s not right,’ Captain Tem said.
‘And neither is having to keep your Human partner secret,’ Roveg said. ‘But here we are.’
The aliens fell quiet, and after a second, Speaker realised they’d both turned their eyes to her. ‘Don’t look at me,’ Speaker said. ‘I don’t have any secrets. I just want to go home.’
Roveg laughed, but he spoke with sincerity. ‘And that’s what I like about you, Speaker. You don’t have any problem telling anybody exactly who you are.’
Speaker cocked her head at him. ‘Yes, I do. Of course I do. I can’t always speak my mind, not if I want to get the things I need or go places I need to go. Everything I do, every word I say, is calculated to make people comfortable. To make them respect me. None of it is a lie, but it is an act, and it’s one that gets very, very tiring.’
The Quelin took that in. ‘Then I count myself privileged,’ he said, ‘to have seen you outside of that.’
Captain Tem got up from the table, the hints of yellow and purple in her cheeks unmissable. She hadn’t forgotten the garden any more than Speaker had, it seemed. ‘I’m going to watch the kid,’ she said.
‘Captain,’ Speaker said. She had no intention of walking back anything she’d said earlier, but she did want to help, for Tupo’s sake. This wasn’t a job for one person alone. ‘I know I can’t read your monitors like you can, but if you teach me what basic colours or patterns to watch out for, we can take turns. I learn fast.’
Captain Tem stood in the melted-open doorway, its liquid frame rippling around her. ‘Sure,’ she said, her voice utterly neutral. ‘Come on.’
ROVEG
Aeluon design didn’t make sense when you put other species inside of it. It was plenty functional for any sort of body. You could move around in an Aeluon space. You could use their furniture. You could be completely comfortable. But the look of an Aeluon living space – be it ship or building or otherwise – really only served to complement one species and one species alone. They treated surroundings as accessory, a backdrop to both fashion and the aesthetic of their own biology. Aeluons always matched the rooms they lived in, and when you substituted another sapient in their stead, the effect just wasn’t the same.
Nowhere was this rule more evident than with Ouloo, who looked like she belonged in Pei’s bed about as much as Roveg himself would. Her red furry frame sprawled against the pristine white polymer like an old rug – a nicely kept, freshly washed rug, but a rug all the same. Roveg had never seen a Laru belly-up before, and he did his best not to stare in curiosity at the oil-black skin that peeked through thinner layers of fur, or at the subtle seam of the pouch where Tupo had once lived. He thought of the keratin pockets that lined the edges of his own abdomen, where he’d once guarded four bubble-like eggs, two to each side. He’d barely been able to feel them, but he’d been keenly aware of their existence. Every step, every decision to sit or stand or lie down had been made with their safety in mind.
How things have changed, he thought grimly.
Ouloo was not asleep; he had not expected her to be. He could not dream of sleeping under such circumstances. Even so, he did not wish to startle her, and walked into the room with light steps, carrying a tray he’d brought from his own shuttle. ‘I’ve brought you some food,’ he said.
The Laru’s eyes were wide open, fixed on the ceiling. She did not look at him. ‘I’m not hungry,’ she said, her voice barely a whisper.
‘I didn’t think you would be,’ he said. He looked around for a table, or whatever Pei had that would pass for a table. He settled on a lump-like thing that appeared to be made of the same stuff as the bed, only firmer. ‘But hungry or no, I thought you could use some looking after as well.’ He set the tray down on the stylish lump and it moulded itself accordingly, creating a supportive platform. Stars, but it really did feel like it was showing off.
Ouloo gave him the barest of glances, but as she did so, caught a glimpse of the tray. This was enough to make her neck rise up. Roveg had assembled a spread of Laru-friendly nibbles: grilled quickbread, a hurriedly made batch of whitefish salad, tiny wraps of grain paper stuffed with nut butter and edible flowers, and the last of his smoked eel and crackers.
‘Did you … make this?’ she said.
‘Well, I’m of no help to them,’ he said, meaning the two sapients in the med bay. ‘My skills are a bit useless in a situation like this. So … this is what I can contribute.’
Ouloo sat up, resting on her back legs. ‘I can’t remember the last time somebody cooked for me,’ she said. Whether she was stunned by the gesture or just the entire terrible night, it was impossible to say.
‘Then it’s high time someone did,’ Roveg said. He lifted the carafe from the tray. ‘Mint fizz? I thought about making you mek, but I assumed you’d want to stay sharp.’
‘Stars, no, I don’t want mek,’ Ouloo said. She paused. ‘I wouldn’t mind some fizz, though.’ She examined the tray. ‘What are these?’ She pointed a toepad forward.
‘Flower wraps,’ he said as he filled a cup for her.
She picked one up and took a bite. ‘Oh, that’s scrumptious,’ she said. For a moment, her eyes brightened, but they dulled just as quickly. ‘I shouldn’t be enjoying myself.’
‘Oh, don’t think for a minute I ever expected you to enjoy yourself.’ He handed her the cup. ‘This is encouragement, not a cure. You’re probably going to walk away from this with mixed feelings about flower wraps. Which is a shame, because they are scrumptious, and I’m delighted you think so.’
Ouloo popped the rest of the flower wrap into her mouth and moved to take a sip of fizz. She paused. ‘Is this one of mine?’ she asked, holding up the cup.
‘Ah, yes,’ Roveg said. ‘My drinkware is almost certainly the wrong shape for you, so I took the enormous liberty of retrieving that from your house. I hope you’ll forgive me.’
The Laru scoffed. ‘After this, you three can have my house, if you want.’ She said the words with a paper-dry laugh, but her neck sagged as she spoke. Roveg didn’t need to be told why. Nobody knew what after this was going to look like.
He folded his abdominal legs and sat on the floor before her. ‘Am I correct that you overheard what I told the others in the kitchen?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t being nosy, it’s just – you know – it’s not that big of a ship.’
‘Not to worry. I assumed as much.’ Speaking so freely about the subject was new to him, and he found it brought misery and relief in equal measure. ‘One of my boys is named Segred, and he was a wild one from the moment he hatched. This one day, I was at a production meeting for a new sim – oh-so very important, like every meeting of that sort is. Life and death, you know. I had to be there. I got a call in the middle of it that Segred had been taken to the infirmary. He and his idiot friends had gone to – it doesn’t matter where. This lagoon on the outskirts of our city. They’d thought it would be a marvellous idea to climb the tallest rock face there and take turns dropping off of it into the water. Only, there were other rocks below the surface which they didn’t take into account, and Segred crashed against one as he came down. Cracked his shell all the way through – here and here.’ He gestured at two spots on his thorax.
‘Oh my,’ Ouloo said, clutching her cup. ‘That’s got to be bad for you folks.’
‘Very bad, especially given the lagoon water that poured into the wounds.’ He exhaled through his spiracles at the awful memory. ‘I spent two tendays sitting with him in the infirmary as he dealt with a raging bacterial infection that was very difficult to treat. It was ugly. I’ll spare you the details. But watching my child fight to stay alive was the worst experience I’ve ever had.’
‘Worse than getting kicked out?’
‘Oh, stars, yes. They can name me a cultural threat a hundred times over if it means I never have to go through something like that again.’
‘And … was he …?’
‘He was fine. Physically scarred ye
t infinitely wiser.’
Ouloo bobbed her neck. ‘I hope … I hope that …’ She couldn’t bring herself to say the words.
Roveg tilted his head to catch her eye. ‘I’m not telling you that everything will be all right,’ he said. ‘I’m telling you I understand how horrible it feels to be able to do nothing.’
She took another flower wrap. ‘How did you get through it?’
‘Not easily. But his mother and I started doing this … sort of game, I suppose. We would talk about the things we were looking forward to doing with Segred once he had healed. The things we wanted to see him do. It was frightening, at first. I felt as though we were jinxing it. But the longer we did it, the more it felt like we were willing a future for Segred into existence. Like the more we said it, the more certain it was. I know there’s no reason or logic to that whatsoever. I know Segred’s recovery had nothing to do with that and everything to do with imubots and antibiotics. That game didn’t help my son. It helped me.’ He gestured supportively with his thoracic legs. ‘So. What are you looking forward to, with Tupo?’
Ouloo cradled the cup in her paws. ‘I’m very excited for xyr to tell me what gender xe is,’ she said. ‘I’ve been planning the party in my head forever. Crushcake with groob jam if xe’s a girl, ten-berry fancy if xe’s a boy, citrus cloudcups if xe’s neither or somewhere in between. I have the recipes saved on my scrib. I know it might not happen for years – there’s no way of predicting when kids land on it, xe could be all the way grown by then – but I love imagining the party. It gets a little more elaborate every time. There will be lights and pixel clouds and I’ll hire a band if I’ve got the money for it.’
‘Sounds spectacular,’ Roveg said. ‘Do you have any guesses, as to—’
Ouloo waved one of her paws at him. ‘Oh, no, no, no,’ she said. ‘I won’t do that with xyr. Some people – not everybody, but some – think it’s cute to make bets on it, but I think it’s a stupid thing to do. When I was not much older than Tupo, I overheard my – it’s odd for me to say relatives, because we don’t use those terms among ourselves, but that’s the word you would use. Anyway, they were talking about me in that way, and most of them thought I’d tell them I was a boy. Had me confused for standards. No, I absolutely won’t do that with Tupo. Xe’s the only one who knows what xe is.’
‘Noted, and admirable,’ Roveg said. ‘And I have always thought the party sounds like a lovely custom.’
‘Quelin don’t have anything similar, right?’
‘No, not at all. If your parents got it wrong, you let them know, you update your records, and everybody gets on with their lives. It’s a casual matter. Nobody hires a band. Which is our loss, really.’
‘Well, no matter which recipe I make for—’ Ouloo took a shaky breath.
Roveg bent his legs in an empathetic gesture. He’d felt that hesitation before. ‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘Will it.’
Ouloo’s eyes narrowed and her jaw tensed. ‘No matter which recipe I make for Tupo,’ she said with fierce intention, ‘all three of you are invited.’
‘I wouldn’t miss it,’ Roveg said. As soon as the words left his mouth, they circled back and slapped him. Oh, he wouldn’t miss the party of the child he’d known for four days. Stars, no, he wouldn’t miss that.
Ouloo watched him as he sat brooding. She picked up one of the eel crackers and offered it to him on her upturned paw.
‘They’re for you,’ he said.
She pushed her paw forward, insisting. ‘It’s not a cure,’ she said. ‘It’s encouragement.’
It took little time for the two of them to eat the tray clean.
PEI
The kid didn’t move, beyond breathing. The colours on the scanner screen didn’t vary. The only thing that changed was the rotation of who was watching – Pei, Speaker, Pei, Speaker – every half an hour. The mood in the shuttle was miserable and stagnant, and Pei didn’t know whether she wanted things to hurry up so that she could deal with whichever scenario presented itself, or if she wanted everything to hold still for as long as it took for them to come up with a better solution than this.
As neither option was possible, she sat by the med bed, and continued to observe the screen doing nothing.
Speaker came back to the room before it was her turn to take over. ‘I need to go to my shuttle, just for a short while,’ she said. ‘My air supply needs a refill, and I need some food.’
‘Oh, right,’ Pei said. Ever-present as Speaker’s suit was, Pei hadn’t thought about the logistics of being stuck in one all day. ‘Yeah, of course.’ The Akarak began to leave, but something that had been stuck in Pei’s craw for hours finally worked itself free. ‘Hey, I want to apologise for what happened in the garden. I’m … sorry we fought. I was drunk.’
Speaker stopped the suit, and turned to face her. ‘You don’t strike me as the sort to change her opinions just because she’s drunk.’
This assertion wasn’t wrong, but Pei bristled at her tone. ‘I said I’m sorry we fought. I’m not apologising for my opinions.’
‘I’m not, either,’ Speaker said.
‘Stars, can I—’ Pei could feel her cheeks going purple, but she reined it in and took a breath. ‘I’m apologising for pushing you on topics you didn’t want to get into. You didn’t want to go there, and I … didn’t have the wherewithal to recognise that. And I should have, even though I don’t – I mean, obviously we don’t see eye to eye.’
Speaker met Pei’s gaze with unflinching directness. ‘I don’t think you’re a bad person, Captain Tem. There are few people who are truly bad through and through. I still don’t know you. I know you better, from what I’ve seen in here. I think you mean well. I think you want to help people, even though we have very different ideas of what that means. But I won’t pretend that I’m comfortable with what you do and what you’re a part of. I can’t look at you and say, “Oh, I like her as a person, so I’ll ignore the life she lives.” That’s exactly the sort of thinking that allows problems to persist. So, if you want me to apologise in return, if you want me to take back what I said in the garden, I won’t. I told the truth. Nothing about tonight changes that.’
‘Pei.’
Speaker blinked. ‘Sorry?’
‘You can call me Pei,’ she said. ‘That’s my name. That’s what friends call me.’
‘I … don’t understand. We—’
Pei shook her palm at whatever Speaker was about to say. ‘We’re not friends. I’m not sure that we could be. I don’t have any shame about my work, and I don’t agree with your take on it. I’d be a liar if I said it didn’t piss me off. But I do respect you, and your honesty. I respect somebody with the strength to say things you know will piss somebody off, because you believe what you believe. And given that, plus all that’s happened tonight, it would be weird for you to keep addressing me like a stranger.’
‘What are we, if not strangers and not friends?’
‘I have no idea.’
The Akarak thought about that. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘Pei.’ She cocked her head. ‘Do you need to rest, once I get back? I don’t know what your sleep cycle is like, but especially since …’ She gestured broadly at Pei’s shimmering scales.
Now it was Pei’s turn to be confused. ‘What about it?’
‘I – sorry, I have no idea what your reproductive cycle feels like,’ Speaker said. ‘I know that for my species, it’s common to feel tired while growing a clutch.’
‘It’s not like that for us. If anything, I’m restless.’
‘I see,’ Speaker said. ‘Are you looking forward to going to the creche? To coupling, or however it works?’
Pei had meant what she said about respecting honesty, but stars, Speaker wasn’t shy. ‘That’s a blunt question, seeing as how we’re not friends.’
‘Since you don’t know what we are, then how do you know what sorts of questions are too blunt?’
An annoying retort, but Pei couldn’t argue it, and was too tir
ed to keep her thoughts to herself any longer. ‘I’m feeling … complicated about it.’
‘Because of your Human partner?’
‘No, stars – dammit, see, that’s exactly – that’s exactly my problem.’ Pei exhaled. ‘I can explain, but do you actually care?’
Speaker shrugged. ‘I’m curious, at least.’
Pei laughed shortly, her cheeks pale green. ‘I guess that’s good enough.’ She crossed her arms over her chest and gathered her thoughts. ‘How much do you know about the whole thing my species has about relationships like that?’
‘Nothing, really, other than it’s a common taboo.’
‘Okay. The rationale goes that the more time you spend around other species, the more their cultures start to influence you. This is generally seen as a good thing. Most of us would encourage this. But if you extend that influence to a romantic relationship, the thinking goes that there’s a danger of you abandoning the Aeluon way of doing things in that regard, which—’
‘Which means if you start to shimmer, you might not act on it.’
‘That’s the gist, yes.’
‘And … sorry, but what’s the problem with not acting on it?’
‘We don’t reproduce easily, and we only get a chance or two, at most. Not acting on your shimmer is a wasted opportunity. No, it’s worse than that. You’re letting everybody down, kind of.’ Pei struggled to articulate her point. She’d never had to explain this in words before, and she wasn’t getting the nuance right. ‘You’ve failed, if you let your shimmer go. You’ve failed the species.’
Speaker thought about this. ‘Is this because of the bottleneck? Your near extinction?’
‘I honestly don’t know. Probably, now that I’m thinking about it. It’s just baked in, at this point. We take it for granted.’
‘Well, if that is the rationale, why would concerns over population growth apply anymore? You’re one of the most well-established species in the GC. You’re everywhere.’
The Galaxy, and the Ground Within Page 22