The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet

by Becky Chambers

  “Would you look at this fucker?” Ember beamed. “It’s as big as me!” She looked around. “Also, hello, new people. I would shake hands, but, um…” She held up a gloved palm. It was smeared with green.

  “Wow,” said Sissix. She crouched in for a closer look, sipping her fizz. She did not seem to notice (or, at least, care) that Ember was studying her just as intently. “I take it this is a ketling?”

  Ember gave a surprised chuckle. “You’ve never seen a ketling before?”

  “Why would she have?” Bear said. “She’s never been to Cricket.” He turned to the group of onlookers. “That’s how this moon got its name, incidentally. From these bastards.”

  Nib inspected Ember’s handiwork. “Where’d you find it?” he said, his voice far too calm.

  Ember’s smile wavered for split second before making a practiced recovery. “Um, y’know, sometimes there are loners hanging around the wells — ”

  “Bullshit,” Bear said, crossing his arms. “Where?”

  Ember swallowed. “Drymouth Gorge,” she said. “But it was fine, I didn’t get that close.”

  Bear took a bracing breath and looked skyward. Nib frowned. “Ember, you know better.”

  Ember’s cheeks went red. She gave a sulky shrug. “It’s dead, right?”

  “That’s not the — ” Bear started.

  “We’ll talk about this later,” Nib said, his eyes flicking briefly toward their guests.

  Jenks examined the ketling’s head, tipping it up to face him. It crunched as it moved. “Holy shit,” said Jenks. “You got it in the head. Kizzy, look.” He pointed to two holes, one on the side of its jaw, one near its lidless eyes.

  Ember shrugged again, but the corners of her mouth betrayed satisfaction. “Yeah. It was rushing the skiff, so I had to be quick about it.”

  “Dammit,” Bear said. He continued to shake his head, but said nothing further.

  “I don’t think I could’ve done anything if this beastie was coming at me,” Kizzy said, poking at the split carapace. She looked at Ember. “Stars, I want to hug you so bad right now, but I’m afraid that green shit will poison me or something.”

  “It’s not poisonous,” Ember said. “Just sticky.”

  “Yeah, I don’t want to be sticky, either.”

  Ashby glanced over at Rosemary. Her arms were folded across her chest. “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” she said, shaking her head. “Its mouth is just…” She shuddered.

  “You said it,” Bear said. “Once they bite down, they don’t let go, especially if they’re mad. If they get your throat or your abdomen, you’re a goner. And they chew on everything when they’re in a breeding frenzy. Walls, skiffs, scrap, fuel cables, well pumps, you name it.”

  “That’s why they’re such a problem when they swarm,” Nib said. “In their dormant phase, they just cluster in the crags. They don’t come out unless something gets close enough to piss them off.” He gave Ember a pointed look. “But every year or two, they fly out en masse, flinging spawn everywhere and chewing on everything. It only lasts a couple days, but if you don’t protect your property, you’ll lose everything. That’s what happened to the first settlers here. They showed up during dormancy and were totally unprepared for the first swarm.”

  Ashby started to wonder why the settlers had bothered rebuilding at all, but he already knew the answer. To some Humans, the promise of a patch of land was worth any effort. It was an oddly predictable sort of behavior. Humans had a long, storied history of forcing their way into places where they didn’t belong.

  “See how much goo’s in the sac?” Ember said. “This one was definitely ready to breed.”

  Nib nodded in agreement. “We are overdue for the next plague.”

  Ember was eager to explain. “The goo becomes spawn once it’s fertilized. They keep it close to their maw so they can protect it. It’s so gross. They just fly around for days, humping each others’ heads.”

  “Ember,” Bear said, cuffing her shoulder. “Guests.”

  Ember ignored him, speaking with horrified relish. “And when they’re done, they hurl the goo out of their mouths. I bet they’re gonna swarm in the next tenday.”

  “What do you do when they swarm?” asked Sissix.

  “Hunker down and wait it out,” said Bear. “Nib and I upgraded the shields of the entire colony after we settled here. Ketlings can’t get through once folks fire them up. Of course, we can’t get out, either. Swarms are a great time to get caught up on vids.”

  “What about the spawn?”

  “We shoot it. Or set fire to it. Sounds mean, I’m sure, but trust me, it doesn’t matter. They’re always back in the thousands. And it’s not like they’re sentient or anything.”

  Nib nodded toward the ketling. “You should clean it before it goes bad,” he said to Ember.

  “That was the plan,” she said, pulling a large utility knife from her belt. “I just wanted to show you guys before I put it in the stasie.”

  Rosemary’s eyes were fixed on the sticky puddles beneath the ketling’s damaged head. “You’re going to eat that?”

  “No different than little bugs,” Ember said. “Easier to clean ‘em, too.” Without warning, she brought the knife down to sever the ketling’s head. The outer shell was thick, and Ember had to twist the dangling head around a few times to break it free. Rosemary’s mouth twitched.

  Nib gave a little chuckle and patted Rosemary’s shoulder. “If you stay for dinner, maybe we can change your mind.”

  “Ooh, yes please!” Kizzy said. “I have a million stories to tell.”

  Bear smiled at the group. “You’re all welcome to stay. I make a crazy good marinade, if you’re up for barbecue.” He looked to Ember, who was admiring the ketling’s gruesome head. He sighed with resignation. “You want a pike for that? There are a few spare support poles left in the workshop. You could shave down a nice point with the metal grinder.”

  “Oh, hell yes,” Ember grinned. “I should finish cutting it up, though.”

  “We’ll leave you to it,” Nib said, with a quick glance at Rosemary. “I think our guests have seen enough gore for one afternoon.”

  Ember smiled and nodded. As soon as their backs were turned and they had taken a few steps away, a wet splintering sound came from behind. Ashby didn’t look back. He wasn’t the squeamish sort, but there were some things in the galaxy he didn’t need to see.

  “Damn, that girl’s a kick in the ass,” Kizzy said. “I remember when she couldn’t shoot a rock. And she was like, half my size at one point.”

  “So?” said Jenks. “I’m always half your size.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “She’s getting to be a better shot than me,” Bear said. “And she’s strong as hell. I’d like it if she spent more time in the shop with us, but these days she’s more interested in climbing rocks and running around.”

  “Which is fine,” Nib said. “But we need to have another talk about provoking ketlings.”

  “Yeah, because she’ll totally listen this time.”

  Nib frowned. Ashby was almost certain by now that Nib was the elder brother. “I’d like for her to reach her seventeenth birthday in one piece.”

  Ashby gaped. “She’s sixteen?” That was enough to warrant a glance back. The girl was dismantling the ketling with confidence, humming as she hacked its legs off.

  “How old is that?” Sissix asked. “Put that in Aandrisk context.”

  “She’s only got half her feathers, and she’s molting constantly.”

  Sissix raised her eye ridges. “Remind me to never get on her bad side.”

  “Well,” said Nib. “What say we get on to the reason you’re here?”

  He led them over to the bay doors of the grounded cargo ship. With the press of a palm lock, the doors groaned open. A few light globes revealed a cluttered work space filled with industrial tools. Beyond, a small forest of storage racks stretched from floor to ceiling, holding shi
eld generators of all shapes and sizes.

  “Where’s the fun stuff?” Jenks said.

  “Up out of the way,” Bear said.

  “Well, come on,” Kizzy said. “Let’s see things that go boom.”

  Ashby frowned. He didn’t want to disrespect the brothers’ work, but… “I hope Kizzy was clear about the fact that I’m only in the market for a shield grid.”

  Nib smiled. “I gleaned that from her message,” he said with a wink to Kizzy. “Don’t worry, we’re not going to push anything on you. We’re not weapons merchants, strictly speaking. Custom shields are our bread and butter. The weapons we make are just for fun. But they are available to you, should you change your mind.” He gestured a command at a control panel. There was a clanking sound above. Several flat racks descended from the ceiling, weapons hanging from them like heavy, frightening fruit. Ashby looked around in amazement. It was enough to equip an Aeluon assault squad, and then some. He wondered what Pei would think.

  “Wow,” Sissix said.

  “I know, right?” said Jenks.

  “And this is all just for you guys?”

  “It’s our hobby,” Bear said. “We only sell them to neighbors and trusted friends. We’re not in the business of equipping bad guys. But if you want to discourage bad guys, oh yeah, we can do that.”

  Rosemary said nothing, but her face was tight. Ashby could relate to her apparent discomfort. They were standing in a cargo hold filled with things designed for killing. He doubted quiet Rosemary had even seen a gun before the Akaraks.

  “A little overwhelming at first, I know,” Nib said with pride.

  Nib seemed to be an agreeable sort, so Ashby didn’t mind being honest with him. “I don’t mean to offend, but I really don’t want any weapons aboard my ship.”

  “Let me guess. You’re from the Fleet?”

  “That obvious?”

  “A bit,” said Nib with a smile. “We have different philosophies, you and I, but I can understand where you’re coming from. Violence is always disconcerting, even if it’s only potential violence. But after the trouble you recently found yourself in — not to mention the place you’re headed to — it sounds as if you could do with some basic tools of self-defense. If that only constitutes shielding for you, that’s okay. But you need something.”

  “Like that,” Jenks said. “I like that.” Ashby followed his gaze to a gun — no, not a gun. A small cannon with handles. The barrel looked big enough to hold an infant.

  “We call that one the Sledge,” Bear said. “Packs a hell of a punch. And I highly doubt you need it.”

  “Oh, but I do,” said Jenks. “I need it desperately.”

  Bear laughed. “We can go shoot holes in the cliffs with it later if you like.”

  Jenks looked at Kizzy. “We need to come here more often.”

  As Kizzy and Jenks fawned over the ludicrous assortment of weaponry, Ashby and Sissix perused the shields. All misgivings that Ashby had about buying modder equipment vanished as Nib spoke to them about his tech. Nib already had the Wayfarer’s specs on hand, but he wanted to know more than just engine readouts and hull dimensions. He wanted details. He wanted to know how old the ship was, what it was built from, if the materials used in the living quarters differed from the original framework. He wanted to know the specific strain of algae they used for fuel, and how much ambi they kept on board at a time (Ashby cringed inwardly at the reminder of the stolen cells; the GC was covering the loss, but still, it was an awful waste). Nib asked Sissix careful questions about her piloting techniques, and nodded with sincere consideration as she answered. Bear joined the conversation after a time, and the brothers debated shield mechanics with enthusiasm. In the end, Bear and Nib decided they would take apart several existing models and combine the components into something specially suited to the Wayfarer. Ashby felt as though he were buying a tailored set of clothes. These modders were no mere techs. They were artists. And for all they were offering, they required only a day’s work and a sum of credits that Ashby suspected covered little more than the components themselves. Ashby made a mental note to thank Kizzy for being friends with these people.

  He turned around to see Jenks hand Rosemary a small energy pistol. The weapon looked out of place in her hands, like a fish being held by a desert-born Aandrisk. “See, not so scary when you’re the one holding it,” Jenks said. Rosemary didn’t look too sure.

  Bear beamed. “Want to take it for a spin?”

  Rosemary swallowed. “I don’t know how to shoot.”

  “We can teach you,” Bear said. “Easy-peasy. You don’t need to know anything fancy.”

  “And it’s fun,” said a voice behind them. Ember, covered in green slime, ketling head in hand, walked into the cargo hold and began digging through a pile of metal support poles. She clutched the ketling’s head by the antennae, holding it up to one pole at a time, trying to find a good width for skewering.

  “Ember,” said Nib. “Please tell me that you did not leave a butchered ketling lying out in the sun.”

  “Meat’s in the stasie,” she said.

  Bear gave her a knowing look. “Please tell me that you did not leave a pile of guts lying out in the sun.”

  Their little sister set down the pole she had in hand, flashed a guilty smile, and tiptoed in an exaggerated fashion back out of the cargo bay.

  Bear rolled his eyes to the ceiling with a sigh. “I cannot wait for her to stop being a teenager.”

  “I can,” Nib said. “Do you know how impossible it’s going to be to boss her around when she’s twenty?”

  “Question for you,” Sissix said. “Totally unrelated.”

  “Go for it.”

  “One of our rotational stabilizers was damaged when the Akaraks hit us. We were going to pick up a replacement on our next market stop, but I hate flying without it for that long. You guys don’t carry anything like that, right?”

  “We don’t, but we’re hardly the only techs on this rock. You should to talk to Jess and Mikey,” said Bear.

  “The same Mikey with the AI scam?”

  “The same. But don’t hold that against him, those two really know their shit. Old-school ship techs. Retired now, but they still spend lots of time in their workshop. Awesome folks. They live about an hour from here. If you like, I can call down and see if they’re in. You could borrow a skiff, and be there and back by dinner time.”

  Ashby looked to Sissix. She nodded. “Might as well, as long as we’re here,” he said. He turned back to the brothers. “You sure you don’t mind us using a skiff?”

  “Nah, it’s no worries. If you guys can punch holes through space, I trust you to bring my skiff back in one piece.”

  “Hey,” Ember yelled from outside. “Anyone want to see what a ketling nervous column looks like?”

  “No,” yelled Bear.

  “No, they do not,” yelled Nib.

  “Yeah, kind of,” Jenks said. He dashed outside, dragging Kizzy with him.

  Nib gave Ashby an apologetic shrug. “Sorry for the chaos,” he said.

  “That’s okay,” Ashby said. Outside the cargo hold, Kizzy and Jenks were making disgusted, delighted sounds. “I’m kind of used to it.”

  ●

  Rosemary had the sense that Ember knew a lot more about life than she did, but the girl had been wrong about one thing. The swarm didn’t wait a few days. An hour or so after Bear put the butchered, basted ketling over the fire, its kin erupted from the crags with a fury. The sky was darkened within minutes. At a distance, the twitching clouds of insects looked almost like clusters of malfunctioning pixels. The ketlings darted madly across the sky as they fertilized, killed, and sometimes ate one another. There had been a quick succession of bright flashes across the skyline as the people of Cricket activated the shields around their homes. The ketlings rammed headfirst into the shields, though they did not do so for any obvious reason. They did the same to rocks, plants, abandoned vehicles, even other ketlings. It seemed that the bug
s disliked anything that infringed upon their ability to move in whichever direction they pleased.

  Ashby and Sissix had still been at the other compound when the swarm hit. Rosemary had checked in with them via her scrib’s vidlink. None of them had any choice but to spend the night as unplanned houseguests. Neither of their hosts seemed to mind. On the contrary, it seemed that Jess and Mikey were only too happy to entertain some off-worlders. Ashby said that they had been pulling stashed delicacies out of cupboards left and right, and after Sissix had learned that the old couple spoke a little Reskitkish, they had become instant friends. Rosemary heard the women talking in the background over the vidlink — Sissix going slow, Jess pushing doggedly through the hissing syllables. From their laughter, Rosemary gathered that the conversation was a good one.

  The modder siblings were similarly delighted. “There’s nothing you can do about a swarm,” Nib said. “It just means we get a day or two more with our friends.” The brothers were treating the miasma of biting, thrashing, spawn-vomiting insects as if it were a holiday. Ember and Kizzy lugged a case of homebrewed kick up from the cellar (like most things on Cricket, it had been made by a neighbor). Bear roasted Ember’s prey beneath the safety of the shield. It was an odd tableau: an apron-clad man brushing marinade onto a spit roast while slavering beasts bounced furiously off of the crackling bubble of energy above him. The bugs were undeterred by the piked ketling head, standing tall beside the entry gate.

  At first, Rosemary had felt uncomfortable being stuck in the modders’ home, and not just for the swarm outside. Kizzy and Jenks were good friends with this family, but Rosemary was the odd one out. The thought of imposing on these strangers for a day or two — eating their food, sleeping on a grubby couch, listening to inside jokes — left Rosemary awkward. But the siblings’ congeniality did away with those feelings. Bear in particular made an effort to include her, and attempted to fill her in when the stories started going over her head (most of the stories fell into one of two groups: “the time we built this amazing thing” or “the time we smoked too much smash and did something stupid”). Once she had gotten past the memory of the oozing ketling carcass, she found the shreds of spicy, flame-licked insect, wrapped in airy flatbread and washed down with crisp kick, actually made for an enjoyable meal. By the time dinner was over, Rosemary found herself unexpectedly at ease. The armchair she sat in was dusty and worn. The pixel plant flickering nearby smacked of poor taste. The enthusiastic chatter about tech and modding was impossible for her to contribute to. But unfamiliar as everything was, it was clear that her companions felt right at home. Belly full and body laughing, Rosemary could pretend that she fit in there, too.