The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet

by Becky Chambers

  Jenks smacked her hand away. “You’ve got fire shrimp crumbs all over your fingers.”

  Kizzy stuck a finger in her mouth, sucked it clean, and wiped it off on her worksuit.

  Jenks smacked her hand again. “Now you’ve got crumbs and spit. A letter’s not a scrib, Kizzy. You can’t wash it off.”

  “It’s that fragile?”

  “It’s made from very thin sheets of dried tree pulp. What do you think?”

  Ashby ran his fingers along the leaf-like edges, doing his best to look nonchalant. It was from Pei, it had to be. Who else would go to that much trouble to send a message that couldn’t be monitored? He turned the letter over in his hands. “How do I…uh…”

  “Here,” Jenks said, extending his palm. “My hands are clean.” Ashby handed over the letter. “Kiz, do you have your knife on you?”

  Kizzy unsnapped a folded utility knife from her belt and handed it to Jenks. Her eyes widened with realization. “Wait, you’re gonna cut it?”

  “That’s how you get the letter out of the envelope.” He flicked open the blade. “Would you rather I tear it?”

  Kizzy looked horrified.

  Jenks deftly sliced the paper open. “My mom used to give me letters on special occasions when I was a kid,” he said. “Very special occasions. This stuff’s expensive as hell.” He raised a wry eyebrow at Ashby. “Somebody must like you a lot to send you this.”

  “Like who?” Kizzy asked.

  Jenks put his fist up to his mouth and gave an exaggerated, harrumphing cough.

  “Ohhh,” said Kizzy in a stage whisper. “I’ll be going back to my snacks then.” She backed away with a knowing chuckle.

  Ashby glanced over to the others. Sissix was smirking. Dr. Chef’s whiskers twitched in amusement. “Alright, alright, shut up, all of you.” He walked away, leaving the others to examine their new items while he read his letter in peace.

  Hello, Ashby. Before you become too impressed with my ability to print by hand, you should know that I wrote all of this out on my Scrib first. I tore through one of the sheets on my first try. Honestly, how did your species communicate like this for millenia without becoming nervous wrecks? Oh, wait, right. Never mind.

  It feels like ages since Port Coriol. I miss your hands. I miss sharing a bed. I miss sharing stories. I’ll never understand how you can be so patient with someone who can’t talk to you for tendays at a time. I’m not sure one of my own would’ve stayed with me through this. You Humans and your blind stubbornness. Believe me, it’s —

  “Jenks, Ashby, Sissix, anyone.” It was Lovey. She sounded frantic. “We’re in trouble.”

  Everyone in the cargo bay stopped to stare at the vox. Out in the open, trouble was even less of a good thing than it was on the ground. “What’s the problem?” Ashby said.

  “There’s a ship, another ship, coming in right at us. They’ve been blocking my scans with a dispersal field. Ashby, I’m so sorry — ”

  “That’s not your fault, Lovey,” Jenks said. “Stay calm.”

  “What kind of ship?” Ashby said.

  “I don’t know,” Lovey said. “Smaller than us, pinhole drive. I think it’s a very small homesteader, but I don’t know why a homestead ship would — ”

  Corbin came running back into the cargo bay. “Ship,” he gasped. “Out the window. It’s — ”

  The whole ship rocked. The sounds of falling objects clanged down the hallway. Everyone started shouting. Ashby’s stomach dropped. Something had hit them.

  “Lovey, what — ”

  “Some kind of weapon blast. Our navigation’s knocked out.”

  Sissix hissed profanities. Kizzy nodded at Jenks and jumped to her feet. “Let’s go,” she said.

  “No,” Lovey said. “I can get us moving in five minutes, but the primary navigation hub’s completely fused. I can’t tell which way we’re going.”

  “Fused?” Kizzy cried. “What the fuck did they hit us with? Lovey, are you sure?”

  Sissix looked at Ashby. “I can navigate the old fashioned way, but not in five minutes, not if we want to be safe about it.”

  “Pirates,” said Jenks. “Remember, Kiz, on the news, fucking pirates following mail drones in, using scatter bursts to fry nav systems — ”

  “Oh, no,” moaned Corbin.

  Ashby stared at Jenks. “Lovey, how long until they reach us?”

  “Half a minute. There’s nothing I can do. I’m sorry.”

  “This isn’t happening,” Kizzy said. “They can’t.”

  “Shit,” said Jenks. “Quick, everybody, hide your stuff.” He pulled open an empty crate and threw Kizzy’s package in. Dr. Chef followed suit. There was a crash, a horrible, scraping, wrenching crash, right into the cargo bay doors. Corbin jumped behind a crate and covered his head.

  “They’re overriding the door controls,” Lovey said. “Ashby, I — ”

  “It’s okay, Lovey,” Ashby said. “We’ll take care of it.” He had no idea what that would entail.

  “Oh fuck,” Kizzy said, tugging at her hair. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

  “Stay calm,” Dr. Chef said. He put his arm around Kizzy’s shoulders. “Everyone stay calm.”

  Ashby took a few steps toward the bay doors, dumbfounded. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. A whirring sound on the other side argued otherwise. The doors clanked open. Sissix stood beside him, shoulders back, feathers on end. “I don’t know what to do,” she said.

  “Me neither,” Ashby said. Think, dammit! His brain cycled through a jumble of options — find a weapon, run away, hide, hit them with…with something — but there was no time. Four sapients in hulking mech-suits came through the bay doors, all carrying battered pulse rifles. Their suits were large, bigger than a Human, but the creatures housed within were small, spindly, bird-like.

  Akaraks.

  Ashby had seen Akaraks before, on Port Coriol. Everyone knew how the Harmagians had treated them, back in the colonial days. Their planet was left barren, their water sources polluted, their forests stripped. Their homeworld had nothing for them, but neither did anywhere else. They were a rare sight out in the galaxy, but they could be found here and there, working in scrapyards or begging on corners.

  Or, if they had run out of options, boarding ships and taking what they pleased.

  Ashby put up his palms. The Akaraks’ voices came from tiny voxes inlaid below their helmets, shrieking and shrill. They weren’t speaking Klip.

  “Don’t shoot,” Ashby said. “Please, I can’t understand you. Klip? Do you speak Klip?”

  There was no discernible response, only shrieks and clicks and angry waves of their weapons. The words meant nothing to him, but the guns did.

  Ashby felt a bead of sweat trickle down his brow. He brushed his hand across his face. “Okay, listen, we’ll cooperate, just — ”

  The world exploded in pain as an Akarak swung the butt of its rifle up to meet Ashby’s jaw. The Akaraks, the cargo bay, Sissix shouting, Kizzy screaming, Jenks cursing, all of it disappeared behind a curtain of red light. His knees buckled. The floor rushed up to meet his face. Then, nothing.

  ●

  Rosemary wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting to see when she ran down to the cargo bay, but there was too much going on for her to think clearly. The bay doors had been wrenched open. Four armed Akaraks — Akaraks? — wearing mech-suits were yelling at everyone in some weird Harmagian-inspired dialect she couldn’t make sense of. Ashby was unconscious (she hoped) on the floor, cradled by Kizzy, who was crying. The rest of the crew were on their knees with their hands in the air. Rosemary barely had time to process any of it before the Akaraks, startled by her sudden appearance, pointed their weapons at her, croaking strange words in a tone that would’ve sounded angry in any language.

  “I — ” Rosemary stammered, raising her palms in the air. “What — ”

  The Akarak closest to her — xyr mech-suit was trimmed with blue — ran at her, croaking the whole way. Xe shoved a gun in he
r face. Jenks started yelling back at the other Akaraks: “She’s unarmed, you fucking animals, leave her alone…” The biggest Akarak, xyr suit nearly three times Jenks’ size, shook xyr weapon at the comp tech and pointed toward Ashby. The threat was unmistakable. Be quiet, or the same will happen to you. Jenks’ hands balled into fists. There was a hum as the Akaraks’ weapons began to charge.

  Am I about to die? Rosemary wondered. The thought was bewildering.

  “Rosemary,” Sissix said over the din. “Hanto. Try Hanto.”

  Rosemary wet her lips, trying to ignore the weapon beneath her nose. She met Sissix’s eyes — scared, but insistent, encouraging. She dug her fingernails into her palms, so that no one could see her hands shaking. She looked down the gun barrel. She spoke. “Kiba vus Hanto em?”

  The Akaraks fell silent. Everyone froze.

  “Yes,” Blue Suit said. Xe turned xyr head back toward the others and pointed at Rosemary. “Finally.” The gun did not move.

  The big Akarak stormed toward her. “We will take your food and all supplies that are of use to us,” xe said. “If you do not comply, we will kill you.”

  “We will comply,” Rosemary said. “There is no need for violence. My name is Rosemary. You may call me Ros’ka.” This had been her chosen name in secondary school Harmagian class. “I will speak your needs to my crew.”

  Blue Suit pulled the gun back, but kept it pointed at her. The Akaraks croaked among themselves.

  The big Akarak gestured acknowledgment to Rosemary. “I am our captain. You will not be able to pronounce my name, and I will not pretend to have another. Are there others elsewhere aboard your ship?”

  “Our navigator is in his quarters. He is a peaceful man and is of no danger to anyone.” Rosemary thought it best to not confuse the issue with plural pronouns.

  Captain Big huffed. “If this is a trick, I will shoot you.” Xe turned and croaked to one of the others, who ran up the stairs.

  “What’s going on?” Sissix asked.

  “They’re going to get Ohan,” said Rosemary. “I’ve explained he’s no threat, and that we’re willing to cooperate.” She cleared her throat and switched back to Hanto. “My crew agrees to help. Please tell us what you require.”

  “Food,” Blue Suit said. “And tech.”

  A thought appeared. Rosemary knew little of Akarak culture, but from what she had read of them, she did know that they greatly valued the concepts of balance and fairness. The idea of taking more than you could make use of hadn’t even occurred to them until the Harmagians showed up. She had heard that those values still lingered; that much was apparent even in the phrasing that Captain Big had chosen: We will take your food and all supplies that are of use to us. In Hanto, the semantics of those words strongly implied “and nothing else.” Her mind raced, wondering if that scrap of knowledge was enough to gamble with. A large part of her argued in favor of self preservation — shut up, just give them everything, you’re going to get shot — but the braver thought won out. “How many are aboard your ship? Are there any children?”

  Blue Suit snarled and raised the gun again. “What difference does it make how many we are? You will do as we say!”

  Rosemary wiggled her fingers in a calming gesture. “I will. But if there is any way that you can spare us enough food to last us until the next market, we would be humbly grateful. We do not wish to die out here anymore than you do. Furthermore, I have read that Akarak young have very specific nutritional needs. If you have children aboard, we must make sure that our food does not lack for nourishment.”

  Captain Big considered this. “We do have children aboard,” xe said at last. Rosemary took this as a good sign. Ashby’s injured face and the pulse rifles aside, these people didn’t seem violent. Just desperate. “And yes, their needs are great. We may not find what we need aboard your ship.”

  “Then let me offer this,” Rosemary said, treading carefully. “One of us will show you our food stores. As I understand it, the Kesh To’hem market is less than a tenday from here. We will not be traveling there, as we cannot stray from our flight path. Take from us only what you need to last you the trip to Kesh To’hem, and we will give you credits and trade-worthy supplies so that you may purchase more suitable food. This way your young will get what they need, and we will not starve on our journey.”

  The Akaraks talked among themselves. Rosemary dug her nails in harder, hoping the pain would quiet the tremors beneath her skin. Her entire offer banked on a tiny piece of possibly erroneous info that she’d tucked away during one lone semester of Intro to Harmagian Colonial History. If she was wrong…well, she’d find out soon enough. At least they were all still breathing. Ashby was breathing, right?

  “Rosemary?” Sissix said. “How are we doing?”

  “We’re okay,” said Rosemary. I hope. “Hang on.”

  “We find this acceptable,” Captain Big said. “What sort of fuel do you use?”

  “Algae.”

  “We will take some of that as well.”

  “Are they asking about fuel?” Corbin said. “Because I just siphoned off the skim yesterday, and it’s taken five tendays for this batch to get — ”

  “Corbin,” Dr. Chef said with deadly calm. “Be quiet.”

  And for once, Corbin had nothing further to say.

  “What did the pink man say?” Captain Big asked.

  “He is our algaeist,” Rosemary said. “He is merely…concerned about the product he has worked so hard to produce. But you will have fuel. There is no trouble.”

  Captain Big tapped xyr chin within xyr mech suit. “If we take ten barrels, will you have enough to reach your next destination?”

  Rosemary asked Corbin the question. He nodded sullenly. “Yes, ten barrels will not be a problem,” she said. The conversation had gone from frightening to bizarre. The inflections that Captain Big was using didn’t have a parallel in Klip, but in Hanto, they were downright polite. She would expect to hear this kind of talk in a shop or a restaurant, not while standing at gunpoint. It was as if the Akaraks thought of her as a merchant, with the threat of violence serving as currency.

  “We will require technical supplies as well,” Captain Big said. “Our engines are in need of repair.”

  Rosemary gestured understanding. “Kizzy, do you know anything about the ship they’re flying? Would any of our tech be compatible?”

  “Some of it, maybe. I dunno.”

  “Our tech believes some of our equipment may work with yours, but she can make no promises. She will help you find what you need.”

  “Very well,” Captain Big said. “You will accompany me, along with your tech, so that you may translate our needs. She — ” xe gestured at Blue Suit — “will go with one of your crew to gather food. The others of my party will stay with the rest of your crew here. You seem to be a reasonable people, but we will not hesitate to kill you should you try to overthrow us.”

  “You have our complete cooperation,” said Rosemary. “We do not wish for either of our crews to come to harm.”

  Rosemary began to explain the deal to the rest of the crew. Everyone nodded, looking a little less tense, though still afraid. The humming of the guns had stopped. We might just get out of this, Rosemary thought, just before the fourth Akarak reappeared and threw Ohan into the room.

  The other Akaraks went nuts. A frenzied conversation took place, with the Akaraks all talking over one another and Rosemary trying to interject where she could.

  “What the hell is going on?” Sissix asked.

  “They want to take Ohan,” Rosemary said.

  The Wayfarer’s crew exploded.

  “What?” said Kizzy.

  “My ass!” said Jenks.

  “For what?” asked Sissix.

  “To sell them,” Rosemary said.

  “What?!” Kizzy cried.

  “A Pair would fetch a fine price on the right planet,” Dr. Chef said.

  “If it keeps you all from harm…” Ohan began.

&
nbsp; “No,” said Jenks. “No way. Rosemary, you tell those fucking birds in their fucking hackjob suits that they can shove — ”

  “Jenks, shut the fuck up,” Kizzy said, holding Ashby’s head protectively. His blood looked sticky on her hands.

  “Stop it, stop it, all of you, you’ll get us all killed,” Corbin said.

  “You shut up, too, Corbin.”

  “Calm your crew,” said Captain Big. “Or there will be violence.”

  “Shut up, everybody, shut up,” Rosemary yelled. She turned toward Captain Big. “Ohan is part of our crew. We have cooperated with all your other demands, but this — ”

  “This man could end our poverty,” said Captain Big. “He would be of great use to us. You would do the same in our place.”

  “No, I would not.”

  Captain Big pondered this. “Perhaps. But even so, you have little choice right now.”

  “Offer him something else,” said Sissix.

  “Like what?” Rosemary said.

  “Ambi,” said Kizzy. “Give him the ambi cells.”

  The Akaraks froze. At last, a word in Klip they understood. “You have ambi aboard your vessel?”

  “Yes,” said Rosemary. “We will give you the ambi freely if you leave the Navigator with us.”

  “What is to stop us from taking both the ambi and the Navigator?” Blue Suit asked, raising her rifle.

  Rosemary felt her stomach sink. Fair point. “They want to know why they can’t take the ambi and Ohan.”

  “Shit,” Jenks said.

  “Why do I ever say anything?” Kizzy moaned.

  Dr. Chef spoke. “Tell them that Ohan is of no value to them.”

  Rosemary translated. The Akaraks demanded an explanation. “Why?” she asked Dr. Chef.

  “Because Ohan is dying.”

  The Wayfarer’s crew turned to stare at Dr. Chef. Ohan closed their eyes and said nothing. Rosemary collected herself. It was a bluff, surely. She relayed the news to the Akaraks.

  The Akaraks shrunk back. The one who had thrown Ohan into the room recoiled. “Is he contagious?”