She looked out the window. A thought flickered by. The database was Aandrisk made, and from what Sissix had said, its most practical purpose was to prevent inbreeding. If that was the case, would other species appear on the list?
“Scrib, translate,” she said.
“Specify language path,” the scrib said.
“Reskitkish to Klip.”
“Reskitkish to Kliptorigan confirmed. Please speak the word or phrase you want to translate. If you cannot pronounce it — ”
“Veshkriset.”
A brief pause. “No definitive match found. Would you like a linguistic analysis to help determine possible matches?”
“Yes.”
“The suffix -et implies a proper noun. This suffix is commonly used to denote an Aandrisk family group. Do you wish to search the Aandrisk family data — ”
“No,” Rosemary said. She thought. “Remove the suffix from the search phrase, and search again.”
Another pause. “Veshkrisk. Noun. A person on a journey. Traveler. Wanderer.”
Wayfarer.
●
Sissix propped her chin up on her fist, watching Hashkath get smaller and smaller through the window in her quarters. Somewhere down there, her hatch family was laughing, coupling, fighting, cooking, cleaning, feeding the hatchlings. Her skin was still shining from Kirix’s homemade scale scrub. The palm-sized snapfruit tarts Issash had sent back with her were still just a little bit warm in the center. She didn’t want to leave. She loved the Wayfarer, and she loved the people aboard it (mostly), but she always forgot how hard it was being away from other Aandrisks until she had spent time back home. It was more than just missing the smell of the desert grass or being able to fall back into Reskitkish. It was that people there understood. As dear as her crewmates were, constantly having to explain cultural differences, to bite back a friendly remark that might offend alien ears, to hold her hands still when she wanted to touch someone — it all grew tiring. And while visiting home was a welcome salve for her homesickness, the thing she always, always forgot was that for a short while after leaving Hashkath again, being away was even harder. It was as if she’d stuck a knife into herself when she’d first left home — nowhere vital, just her thigh, or perhaps a forearm. The longer she stayed away, the more the wound healed, until she often forgot it was there. Returning always pulled the scab right off.
Still, perhaps it was better that way. If she stopped caring about her hatch family, being away wouldn’t hurt, but cutting those ties was unimaginable. Besides, without leaving, she never would’ve met all the friends she’d made elsewhere. Perhaps the ache of homesickness was a fair price to pay for having so many good people in her life.
Someone knocked on the door. “Come in,” she called. There, another thing to go on the list of alien annoyances: The assumption of locked doors. It had been so nice to be without that feeling for a day.
Rosemary walked in, carrying a bottle of wine and two cups. Something about her scent was different. She had taken a shower recently, but there was something else there, something subtle that Sissix couldn’t quite pinpoint. She’d noticed it before, though in a less prominent way. It reminded her, inexplicably, of being in a bar. Maybe it was just the wine. Unraveling smells within the sealed walls of the ship was always more difficult after becoming acclimated to planetside air. It was the difference between locating objects spread out across a table, and digging for them within a crowded box.
“I hope I’m not disturbing,” Rosemary said.
Privacy. That was going on the list, too. “No, no, I would love some company. And a drink, since I think that’s what you’re offering.” She glanced down at herself, then at her pants crumpled on the floor. Self-consciousness. Modesty. Screw it. Rosemary had just seen her and her whole hatch family naked. She’d even been a good sport about a hatchling grabbing her breasts. She doubted that Rosemary was bothered anymore by having a clear view of someone’s genitals.
Rosemary poured the wine. They sat on the floor, falling into an easy chat about nothing of importance. It wasn’t until they were each working on their second cup that Rosemary said: “May I ask you a personal question?”
Sissix laughed. “I will never understand why you people ask that.”
Rosemary ran her finger around the rim of her cup, looking a little embarrassed. Sissix thought perhaps she should have refrained from the comment about the personal question question, but honestly. Humans wasted so much time by being redundant.
The Human woman cleared her throat. “I found out that we’re — the crew, that is — is your feather family.”
Had she not told Rosemary that? Maybe not. It wasn’t the sort of thing that came up often. “Ashby told you?”
“No, he implied. I figured out the rest myself.” She took a sip of wine. “I know there are a lot of complicated rules for feather families, and I don’t pretend to know any of them, but I was wondering how you…how you categorize crew members that you didn’t choose for yourself. I mean, the people who are only here because it’s their job.”
“You mean Corbin? Yeah, that’s complicated. But in feather families, getting stuck with a member you don’t like happens all the time. You just recognize that somebody else in your family needs them and you stay out of their way. It’s like Ashby and Corbin. Ashby needs Corbin. Doesn’t matter to me that he needs him in a business sense, rather than a family sense. Ashby is my family, without a shadow of a doubt. Therefore, Corbin falls within my feather family.” She grinned over the edge of her cup. “Though I certainly wouldn’t object if he found a new family elsewhere.”
Rosemary nodded. “Makes sense. Though I wasn’t asking about Corbin.”
“Oh?”
Rosemary was quiet. Sissix had watched Human faces for long enough to know that Rosemary was either searching for the right words, or for the courage to say them. Sissix was silently grateful for how much time was saved by hand speak. At last, Rosemary spoke. “I was asking about me.”
The irritation Sissix had been nursing toward Rosemary’s entire species weakened. She smiled and took Rosemary’s hand. “If it were my call, I’d take you in again. You should know by now that I like having you in my family.”
Rosemary squeezed her fingers. She smiled, but there was something else there, too — fear, perhaps? What could she possibly be afraid of? Rosemary withdrew her hand and topped up their cups, giving the last few drops to Sissix. “After seeing you with your family, your hatch family, I mean — well, I wondered if maybe it isn’t enough for you here. We must make life awfully hard.”
“Being away from Aandrisks can be hard. And I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t feeling kicked in the guts right now. But I’m here by choice. I love this ship. I love our crew. I have a good life. I wouldn’t change it.”
Rosemary’s eyes swung up, looking through her dark lashes. There was a different look in them now, something strong, grounded. “But no one touches you.”
Sissix almost choked on her wine as she realized what was going on. All this time with Humans, and still there were things that didn’t occur to her until after the fact. The details rushed at her at once. The look in Rosemary’s eyes. The wine. The shy pauses that shifted into a low-voiced directness. Her clothes — oh, stars, Rosemary had changed her clothes since they’d got back to the ship. Humans read meanings into different kinds of clothes, but it was a complicated business, and Sissix had never got the hang of it. Rosemary was wearing a pair of soft, flowing pants and a pale yellow top held up by a criss-cross of strings — casual, Sissix thought, but festive, the sort of thing one of Kizzy’s friends might wear to a party on a hot summer night. The top of the shirt dipped down below Rosemary’s usual collar line, showing the upper curves of her breasts. And her hair. She’d done…something to it. Sissix couldn’t say what, exactly, but effort had been made there. And with having had time for her nose to parse Rosemary’s intricacies, she knew now that the change in her scent had nothing do with wine, or soap,
or clean clothes. It wasn’t anything from an external source. It was hormones.
Sissix had seen Human vids. She’d seen how Kizzy fussed over herself before going out to dock bars. She’d seen Ashby staring at himself in reflective surfaces before he met Pei, absently nudging at his hair or trimming the scruff on his face. Rosemary had come to her quarters in pretty clothes, with wine and kind words and hair that had had something done to it. This was a Human’s elaborate way of asking something that an Aandrisk could ask with nothing more than a slight flick of her fingers.
Rosemary continued to speak. “Sissix, I don’t have any feathers I can give you. I wish I did. You made me feel welcome when I first set foot on this ship. And since then, the kindness you’ve shown — not just to me, but to everyone — has meant more than I can say. You go out of your way to make everybody aboard this ship comfortable, to show us affection in the way that we expect it. I don’t pretend to know Aandrisks as well as you know Humans, but there are some things I understand. I understand that we’re your family, and that for you, not being able to touch us means there’s a vital piece missing. I think that feeling hurts you, and I think you’ve buried it deep. I saw the look on your face when your family held you. You may love the Wayfarer, but life here is incomplete.” She pressed her lips together. They came back wet. “I don’t know how you see me, but — but I want you to know that if you should want something more…I’d like to give it to you.”
Sissix cupped her palm, flipped it, and spread her claws, even though she knew Rosemary would not understand the gesture. Tresha. It was the thankful, humble, vulnerable feeling that came after someone saw a truth in you, something they had discovered just by watching, something that you did not admit often to yourself. If Rosemary had been an Aandrisk, Sissix would’ve knocked the cups aside and started coupling right then and there, but she remained cautious. Apparently the part of her that understood Humans was still at the helm.
“Rosemary,” Sissix said, taking her hand. She was so warm. Other species always were, she could feel it just standing by them, but it was all the more present now. She had sometimes wondered what it would be like to have that warmth pressing against — no, no, she was not thinking about that. Not yet. She had to be smart. She had to be careful. After all, Humans reacted differently to coupling than she did. Didn’t their brains get overloaded with chemicals afterward, way more than normal people? Aandrisks bonded through coupling, too, but Humans — Humans could get crazy over it. How else could you explain a sapient species that had overpopulated itself to the point of environmental collapse? This was a people that had coupled themselves stupid.
“I’m…I’m grateful,” Sissix said at last. What a horrible, hollow way to describe how she was feeling. Tresha. That was the right explanation, but there was no word for it in Klip. Useless language. Rosemary’s face fell slightly, as if she had been expecting Sissix to knock aside the cups. Dammit, why hadn’t this been covered in interspecies sensitivity courses? “Are you…” Think, Sissix, think. “Are you saying me this because you feel sorry for me, or is it…something you want?” Ugh. Klip was always too practical or too emotional. Never a middle ground. Useless, useless language.
Rosemary took a sip of wine and contemplated her cup. “Well, I am attracted to you. You’re a wonderful person, and a very good friend. I’m not sure when I started feeling more than that for you. Which isn’t a problem, by the way, if your answer is no. I do like being your friend, and I’ll be happy if that’s all we are.” She took another sip. “But, to be honest, I probably wouldn’t have said anything about it if I hadn’t seen your hatch family. My own feelings aside, you need something like that, and not just when you happen upon other Aandrisks.” Her eyes swung back up again, dark and honest. “If not from me, then from someone. You deserve it.”
Just say yes, a little voice inside Sissix begged. Say yes, Sissix, she’s right — “Rosemary…I want to say yes. I do.” She thought back to the shy new clerk who had come aboard less than a standard ago. Who was this woman with the serious eyes, the woman who spoke her mind so bravely? What had she discovered out here in the open? Sissix took a breath. “But I don’t want to hurt you. Coupling’s different for us, I think. I’m flattered that you want to give me something I need, but I don’t know if I can give you what you need.”
Rosemary gave a little smirk, the same kind Jenks gave Kizzy when she’d said something absurd. “Sissix, I’m not asking you to marry me. I’m not in love with you. I like you. I like who you are and how you are, and I like the way your feathers fall across the curve of your head. I understand that you don’t limit yourself to one person. I understand that our notions of family are different, and that they probably won’t fit together down the road. But I’d like to be part of your notion for a while, all the same.”
Curiosity. Now there was a concept Sissix understood. “I think I’d like that, too,” Sissix said. The warning voice within her was dying, but it wasn’t about to go out without a fight. “But there are things you need to understand.”
“All right,” Rosemary said. There was a brightness in her eyes, a hopefulness. Sissix found herself melting. This could be a very lovely thing.
“Family members, as I’m sure you noticed, aren’t just about sex. We cuddle and touch and hold each other all the time. If coupling is too much to ask, if it were to — ” What was the proper way to say overload your crazy mammal brain? “ — to make you feel uncomfortable, or to make you want more from me than I can give you, I would also be okay with just being close. Like you saw with my family. Even that would be enough.” It’d be a big improvement from the current status quo, for sure.
Rosemary nodded. “I’ll keep that option in mind. But I don’t think there will be a problem.”
“And we don’t have to act that way around the others, if that would make you more comfortable. We don’t even have to tell them.” Sissix didn’t care about the others finding out, but if Rosemary could make cultural concessions out of kindness, she could return the favor.
Rosemary considered this, and nodded. “I think that might be better, at least to start,” she said.
Sissix paused. The next thing, she knew, was not an idea most Humans took to with ease. “If we were planetside, and I met other Aandrisks — ”
“I wouldn’t mind you going to a tet,” Rosemary said. “Just don’t expect me to come along.”
“It wouldn’t be because they were more important than you,” Sissix said quickly. “Or because I liked being with Aandrisks better — ”
“Sissix,” Rosemary said. She squeezed Sissix’s hand, and did something that no one had ever done before. She raised Sissix’s fingers to her mouth and pressed her lips against the knuckles, just once, letting them linger for a moment. Sissix had been given kisses before, from Kizzy and Jenks and Ashby — fast, dry brushes against her cheek. This was different. It was slower, softer. It was an odd feeling, a soft feeling. She liked it. Rosemary pulled her lips back and smiled. “I get it.”
Stars, she really did.
“There’s one more thing,” Sissix said. She noticed that her voice had sunk lower. Something else was piloting her brain now, the part of her who was no stranger to tets and couplings, the part of her who was shouting with joy that finally, at last, someone in her family understood. She met Rosemary’s eyes and gave an embarrassed laugh. “I’ve never coupled with a Human.”
Rosemary grinned. “That’s good,” she said. She leaned in, running a smooth fingertip along the length of one of Sissix’s feathers. “I’d hate for you to have an unfair advantage.”
Day 45, GC Standard 307
OCTOBER 25
“So,” Ashby said. “Can you fix it?”
Jenks inspected the exposed insides of Ashby’s scrib with the attention of a surgeon. “I can tweak it,” he said. “But it won’t be a permanent fix. You need a new pixel array. Easy enough for me to hook up, but I don’t have one on hand.”
“But you can get it to st
op hopping between feeds?”
“Yeah. The picture might start to degrade after a couple tendays, but it won’t — Wait. Uh oh.” Jenks paused. “You hear that?”
Ashby listened. Raised voices down the hall, coming from the algae bay. He sighed. “Not again.”
Jenks rolled his eyes. “I swear, they’d save so much time if one of them just spaced the other already.”
They followed the voices, which was easy enough to do. Pieces of the argument made their way to his ears as they got closer.
“ — absolutely incompetent — ” That was Corbin.
“ — weren’t such a pain in the ass — ” Sissix.
“ — no regard for my work here — ”
“ — just communicate like a fucking functional adult, then maybe — ”
“I did communicate, it’s just that your thick lizard ears won’t — ” Dammit, Corbin! Ashby quickened his step.
“Hisk! Ahsshek tes hska essh —”
“Oh, yes, hiss all you want, it still doesn’t change the fact that I’m — ”
“Enough,” Ashby said, entering into the room. Jenks hung back in the doorway, far away enough to be polite, but close enough to get a good view.
“Ashby,” Sissix said, feathers on end. “You tell this pompous, speciest asshole that — ”
“I said that’s enough.” Ashby glared at them both. “Now, I want to know what this is all about.” Corbin and Sissix began yelling in tandem. Ashby put up his hands. “One at a time.”
“Your pilot,” Corbin said, in the same tone that an angry father might say your child to his partner, “pushed the induction lines past capacity. It put too much strain on one of my pressure caps, and now look.” Ashby looked to the fuel distributor. He couldn’t see the problem, but the green goo in a small number of tubes was lying still.
The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet Page 29