Vakar smelled puzzled. “Why did you contact him now?”
She hesitated, scrambling for a plausible lie. “Because of Omicron,” she said. “In case Glorious traces me back to him somehow. He’s a jerk, but he doesn’t deserve to be a dead jerk.”
“Well,” Pink said, pursing her lips.
Right, fine, he probably did deserve it, for Garilia if nothing else, but by that logic Eva did as well. She liked to hope forgiveness was in reach of most people in the universe, even herself.
“Did you call your mom and sister yet?” Pink asked. “You haven’t talked to them in a while, either, have you?”
Shit, of course. Certainly they were higher priority than her dad in terms of who she didn’t want to get spaced.
“I couldn’t get through,” Eva lied. “Going to try them again later, or send them messages at least.” What would she even tell her mom? She could already hear the lecture about hanging around seedy bars with strange men, as if there weren’t plenty of strange men everywhere else. Her mom had even dated some of them, which she was only too happy to talk about in unpleasant detail as a deterrent for her daughters. And yet she always wondered why Eva hadn’t settled down and started popping out kids.
I don’t want to talk to her, Eva thought. Not now. I’ll send her a q-mail and hope she doesn’t start forwarding me inspirational chain letters again.
And Mari, of course, was beyond messaging at the moment.
“I miss my moms,” Leroy said suddenly, and Eva hid her relief at the subject change. “I should see what they’re up to.”
“They sent you that care package a few weeks ago,” Min said. “With the sweater.”
“Yeah, and the gum I like, the one that sparks. What about your family, Min?”
Her human body shrugged and took a bite of food, talking through the speakers as she chewed. “They’re still running the solar farm on Seugawa. I hear more kids are leaving, though. Not everyone wants to pilot a boring old repair mech ten hours a cycle on a boring old rock in the fringe.”
“Now you just pilot a boring old freighter from one boring old rock to another in the fringe,” Pink joked.
“Hey, it beats having a dozen aunties ask how much weight you’ve gained since they last saw you. How’s your brother’s baby?”
Pink grinned, her eye staring into the distance. “So cute I could eat her.”
“You eat infants?” Vakar asked, smelling concerned.
“It’s an expression. What do you say to compliment a baby?”
Vakar wagged his head. “That it has smooth scales and good scent control for its age, I suppose. People always said such things about my sister, at least.”
“I bet you were a cute baby,” Eva said, smirking. “The smoothest scales.”
Vakar’s smell was a cross between licorice and embarrassment. Eva chuckled.
“I was totally the cutest baby,” Leroy said, leaning back in his chair. “My moms have so many holopics. I had little butt dimples and everything.”
“And red hair?” Min asked.
“Oh for sure. And I was always doing silly stuff.” Leroy pulled on his beard and smiled. “It’s like one time, I was taking a bath with one of my moms, and—”
Shit, that reminded Eva that she needed to prep the passenger cabin for her Fridge mission. She finished her shake and excused herself, and within a few steps toward the cargo bay her mood had soured again.
Fucking kidnappers. Fucking dad. Fucking seaweed-and-lentil meal bars. Fucking stupid situation making her lie to her crew like this.
Fucking you making that choice, she thought.
Still, the Fridge job was a simple passenger pickup. Get the guy, take him where he needs to go, drop him and leave. How bad could it be?
Chapter 5
Well, Actually
“This is where you’ll be bunking,” Eva said, opening the door to the passenger cabin in the back of the cargo bay. It was maybe a six-by-ten space, with a bed at the end and a small cube of stasis gel next to the door for storing gear. The other corner had a waste disposal unit and a sanitizing station, but that was it. She and Leroy had spent hours clearing junk out of the room, so it still smelled vaguely of ozone and grease underneath the sharp tang of cleaning products.
Their passenger, Miles Erck, took it all in solemnly, but Eva could tell from the way his mouth twitched that he was suppressing a smile. The guy was human, young enough that Eva would feel awkward hitting on him, and not her type regardless. Skinny, pale as protein powder, thin blond hair combed sideways, with the twitchy eyes of someone running too many AR visualizations at once.
And so far, he had the personality of an unreasonably arrogant mold infestation. Eva wondered if her sister had to deal with this kind of comemierda on a regular basis, or if non-Fridge scientists were generally less irritating.
“Let me know if you need me to demonstrate the sanitation fixtures,” she said.
“Well, actually, I know a lot about ship sanitation,” he said.
“Great,” Eva said. This was probably his first space flight, but she wasn’t going to be a jerk about it. “I’ll let you get settled, then. Thanks again for choosing Sweet Papaya Transport. If you need anything, Leroy will be right outside.”
“Well, actually,” he said, “I did have one question.”
She smiled with her lips closed, widening her eyes.
“Why do you have so many cats?” He leaned sideways to look past her at the furry infestation sprawled in every available square of space.
“Unclaimed cargo,” she said. “Why, are you allergic?” Or did the cats smell? Leroy said some of them did, like maple syrup or that reclaimed protein stuff they ate, but their container kept any toilet aromas from escaping.
“No. Are they for sale? One of my colleagues is doing experiments on—”
“Not for sale,” she said, her smile losing some of its luster. “Anything else?”
“Well, actually,” he said, “no. Not right now.”
Eva turned as sharply as a soldier, marching straight to the med bay.
Vakar was already there, being examined by Pink. He smelled antsy, but not so much in pain anymore, which was a relief.
“Humans do something like your crystals,” Pink said as she smeared a minty glaze onto a patch of his arm scales. “It’s called bonsai. Tiny trees that grow in little pots.”
“Are they challenging to cultivate?” Vakar asked.
“Yeah, and the point is to keep them trimmed really carefully. Supposed to be relaxing.” Pink shrugged. “I prefer sewing. Feels more useful.”
Vakar smelled pensive. “I believe there is utility in beauty, even if it serves no other purpose. But many beautiful things can—” He stopped, apparently noticing Eva for the first time, and his smell shifted to ozone and grass.
Eva leaned against a cabinet, pressing her thumb and forefinger into her clenched-shut eyes until her vision checkered.
“What kind of headache you got?” Pink asked, glancing at Eva with her mechanical eye.
“It’s about this tall and incredibly full of shit,” Eva replied, holding a hand just above her head.
Pink smirked. “I’d prescribe some of my brother’s secret stash, but you’re off the bottle.”
“Yeah, and no amount of bourbon would make that comemierda tolerable.”
“Did you say secret stash?” Min piped in through the speaker. “Can I—”
“Not for you, either, baby girl,” Pink said. “Not while you’re flying. Maybe next time we dock, as long as Eva doesn’t piss off any more emperors with big guns.”
Eva rolled her eyes and gave Pink the finger. “Vakar, are you healed up enough to help me and Leroy sort through the stuff formerly occupying our esteemed guest’s room?”
“Certainly,” he replied, his smell perking up. Pink gave a slight nod that Eva took for approval.
“No heavy lifting,” Pink said. “And no sudden movements.”
Eva grinned. “Great. What
ever we can’t salvage, we’ll scrap. Come on.”
They returned to the cargo bay, where Leroy was already engaged in the process, which mostly consisted of staring at the piles of junk and singing to himself. The theme song to Crash Sisters, if she wasn’t mistaken. She smiled; it was good to see him so cheerful. His last nightmare episode had been weeks earlier, which was a new record for him, and he hadn’t full-on lost his temper since the time he’d rented a particular memvid that was a little too close to a real memory. Vakar and Eva had to take turns distracting him until Pink was able to tranq him from the catwalk.
“Cavalry’s here,” Eva said.
“Let the party begin!” Leroy raised his arms and shook his ass. Min giggled through the speakers and turned on an upbeat retro tune, to which he started doing a line dance. Eva shook her head when he tried to drag her in, laughing at his absurd gyrations.
“All right, enough,” she said, still grinning. “We have work to do.”
Leroy brought his dance to a close and bowed. Min responded with an applause sound effect and Vakar smelled amused.
“We’ll start at the bottom corner and work our way up and over,” Eva said. “Two piles: scrap and salvage.”
“Salvage may be possible in most circumstances, Captain,” Vakar said.
“I’m not doubting your ability to fix things, mi vida. It’s a matter of time and cost. If you’re not sure about something, ask me.”
Vakar shrugged assent and they all dug in. Eva almost couldn’t believe how much crap had accumulated since the last time they’d done this. Now that she thought about it, the last time had been before they brought Vakar on board. The previous engineer, Connor, had been meticulously organized, always kept a clean station . . . which Eva had eventually discovered was because he was selling the ship’s parts every time he had an opportunity. It had taken every trace of willpower she had to keep from beating him senseless in a fit of rage.
And then, of course, she’d found Vakar.
She watched him rifle through the parts, humming softly to himself. He’d been a ridiculously lucky find, considering they’d met by chance. Life was funny like that: one cycle Pink was explaining yet again why throwing people out the airlock is not a good idea under any circumstances, the next Eva stumbled into the best engineer she’d ever worked with.
He caught her staring and she pretended she’d been looking at something behind him. He smelled bashful, grassy, with a hint of licorice.
“How about this, boss?” Leroy asked, holding up a capacitor. “Looks burned all to hell, but the casing is platinum, right?”
She took it from him and examined it. “Hmm, we can probably melt that down for patching, at least. Vakar?”
Before Vakar could answer, Miles Erck emerged from his cabin, covered in a fluid that she was generously prepared to assume was water.
“Everything all right?” Eva asked.
“Well, actually,” he said, “I think your sanitizing equipment is malfunctioning.”
She suppressed a snicker. She’d checked that herself before they picked him up, so she knew it was fine.
“Vakar, could you look?” she asked.
Vakar stood and stretched, sauntering over to the cabin.
Miles bent over and picked up a random junk part. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“Purging,” Eva said.
“I’m a bit of an expert on technology,” he said. “I’d be happy to offer my services in an advisory capacity for a small fee.”
Warning sirens went off in her head. This guy worked for The Fridge, presumably, or she wouldn’t be ferrying him around on their orders. The last thing she wanted was for them to get a better working knowledge of the guts of her ship. Plus, if he thought he was going to charge her for a damn thing while he was on board, he was more full of shit than she thought.
Then again, maybe she could pump him for information. He wasn’t likely to be too deep into whatever layers of secrecy The Fridge cultivated, but the more puzzle pieces she could collect, the better chance she had of guessing at the bigger picture.
And, possibly, of finding Mari.
“I’m sure we couldn’t afford an expert like yourself,” she said coyly.
“That’s true,” he said. “Prominent technologists can earn thousands of credits a cycle if they’re diligent.”
“What’s a technologist?” Leroy asked.
“Someone who studies technology.” His tone suggested an unspoken “obviously” at the end of the statement. “Well, actually, I’m a paleotechnologist. I study ancient technology, primarily artifacts uncovered during surveys of potential colony worlds.”
What could The Fridge want with that? Eva wondered. “Sounds fascinating,” she said, giving the word a sultry lilt. “I’d love to hear more about it. Maybe after I finish here, we can chat in my bunk.”
Miles blushed, and from his cabin came a strange cracking sound and a curse from Vakar that translated to “wretched spawn of a dung heap.”
“I shouldn’t,” Miles said. “It’s classified.”
Leroy’s eyes lit up. “Is it old human stuff?” he asked. “Ooh, or todyk? Or those guys who built the pyramids on Earth, the giant ones with the big animal masks—”
“Those weren’t aliens,” Eva said. But Leroy wasn’t listening.
He must have worn Miles down, or sufficiently buttered him up, because the guy finally let his pride overcome his good sense. “Well, actually,” Miles said, “it’s the Proarkhe.”
Eva groaned inwardly, and from the cabin came another strangled curse.
Leroy’s obsession with the mysterious aliens was even worse than his thing for Crash Sisters. When he’d found out Mari wrote her dissertation on them, he had grilled Eva for hours even though she had no clue about any of it. She’d finally wangled a copy of the book out of Mari, to shut him up. It didn’t help that whenever someone found anything that might possibly be Proarkhe tech, BOFA swooped in and cordoned off the sector until it was determined to be safe. It’s like they wanted to breed enough conspiracy theories to populate the entire q-net a million times over.
None of the tech ever worked, though, except for the Gates. Or at least, that’s what BOFA claimed. Her sister had told her once that all the pieces in museums were replicas anyway, just in case.
“I know,” Leroy said, “damn near everything about the Proarkhe.” He practically vibrated with excitement.
“Well, actually, most of what is commonly known is believed to be quite inaccurate.”
“Oh,” Leroy said. For a moment, he looked like a kicked puppy, and Eva fought the urge to, well, actually, kick Miles in retaliation. But Leroy recovered his enthusiasm quickly.
“So did they come from another galaxy?” he asked. “Why did they disappear? Did they really make the Gates or was it someone else? Did you find any of their secret artifacts? Decrypt their secret language? Did they leave any secret messages for us that would take us to their secret—”
“I’m contractually obligated not to disclose any details of my investigations.” Miles had begun to look nervous, like he finally realized the depth of the hole he’d dug himself into.
Unfortunately, he started to dig sideways instead of climbing out.
“Oh, come on.” Leroy picked up a cracked coolant control valve and idly tossed it from one hand to the other. “You can’t say anything? Not even what they looked like? This one guy on the q-net says they were giant and had five different faces and—”
“It’s classified, like I said,” Miles repeated. “Highly classified.”
“Everything’s always classified,” Leroy muttered. “Big shots keeping things quiet so regular people don’t get any ideas. It’s not fair.”
Eva watched his skin mottle, going especially red near the roots of his bright orange hair. He was getting angry. Not good. Even the cats took notice, pausing in their bathing and eating to stare in unison at Leroy.
“Well, actually,” Miles said, “information is t
ypically classified to maintain safety and order.”
“That’s the kind of snobby attitude that gets innocent people killed, man!” Leroy exclaimed, spiking the control valve like a sportsball. If it hadn’t been cracked before . . . “‘Oh, this planet’s ecology is classified, sorry if your best friend gets eaten by a sentient fungus, shit happens but that’s not your fucking problem!’”
“Leroy,” Eva said quietly. “Tranquilízate.” She threw a look at Miles, who was too busy staring at Leroy to catch it.
“Well, actually, most people aren’t equipped to properly understand the—”
“You think everyone’s an idiot except you and your techno-buddies, man? Maybe if you listened to the people getting shot at and shit on every cycle, you’d learn something for a change!”
The cats began to purr, a bass rumble just inside the edge of hearing. An attempt at hypnosis, presumably, but it wasn’t working. Eva inched closer to Leroy, hands raised, praying to all the saints that Miles didn’t say—
“Well, actually—”
Leroy picked up another piece of junk and squeezed. It crumpled in his grip like an empty tin can. The cat purrs intensified, but Eva suspected it was way too late for that.
Eva pinged Pink. ((Leroy’s mad.))
((Shit. Coming.))
“You don’t know what it’s like, man,” Leroy growled. “Your kind never does.”
“Well, actually—”
Miles didn’t get to finish, because Vakar tackled him from the side. The piece of scrap thrown at his head bounced harmlessly off the plating behind him instead of cracking his skull open like a bird’s egg. The cats scattered, yowling unhappily.
“Min, Crash Sisters!” Eva shouted. The theme song started playing through the speakers immediately. Sometimes that calmed Leroy down, helped him find a happier mental place.
Now, apparently, it was going to be fight music.
Eva threw herself on Leroy’s back, getting him in a headlock. “Chill,” she told him. “He’s a stupid little prick, he’s—”
Leroy grunted and tried to throw her, but she had a tight grip and practice, and he didn’t think so well when he was like this. Unfortunately, he was twice her size and pissed.
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