“I had no idea that he had swapped out the cap for a lesser model.” Sissix shot Corbin a murderous look. “And I still don’t understand why he did it at all.”
“I swapped it out because it was the only part I had on hand. In case you haven’t noticed, we haven’t had any market stops in a while. It was either make do with a lesser model or replace the entire apparatus. Which is what I’ll have to do anyway, thanks to you.”
“Yes, it’s my fault, because you actually bothered to tell me about any of this. Oh, no, wait, you didn’t.”
“I brought this up in the kitchen day before yesterday.”
“You weren’t talking to me! You were bitching about your lab to Dr. Chef! How the fuck was I supposed to know that it had anything to do with my ability to fly the — ”
“In other words, you chose to ignore me. Perhaps if you’d pay a little more attention to the needs of others instead of acting so self-involved, then — ”
“Stop,” Ashby said. He took a deep breath. “Let me make sure I’m hearing this correctly. This argument, which we could hear coming down the stairs, is all because of a minor incident involving a damaged pressure cap.”
“It’s hardly minor, this is going to take me all day to — ”
“It’s minor,” Ashby repeated. “You lost one apparatus out of six. Fuel is still pumping, right?”
Corbin scowled. “Yes. But it’s a matter of — ”
“Okay. So, in the future, you — ” he pointed at Corbin “ — need to tell Sissix about any equipment changes you make, because you cannot expect her to be psychically aware of what goes on in this lab. And you do not use that word aboard my ship, do you understand? Not to Sissix, not to anyone else. It is completely unacceptable. You apologize to her right now.”
“I didn’t — ”
“Right. Now.”
Corbin’s face went even redder. “I’m…sorry,” he said to Sissix. His voice was tight as a sealing band.
“And you — ” Ashby jabbed a finger at Sissix — “need to go way easier when making speed jumps, because there’s no way that cap should’ve burned out that fast.”
“We’re running behind,” Sissix said. “If we don’t — ”
“I don’t care if we’re a tenday late. I don’t care if we’re a standard late. I am not going adrift out here, not when we’ve come this far. Be more careful.” He stared them both down. “I am only going to say this one more time. Get over whatever this pissing match is between the two of you. It is driving me crazy. It is driving the rest of your crew crazy. I know this has been a long haul, and I know we’re all tired, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to fly the rest of the way to the Core listening to you two scream at each other. Work it out. If you can’t, fake it. I do not want to have this conversation — ”
The vox snapped on. “Hey, Ashby.” It was Kizzy. “Um, so, I kind of need you for something.”
“Can it wait?”
“Well, um, not so much, no, but maybe I could tell him – ”
“Tell who what?”
There was a shuffling sound. Rosemary’s voice replaced Kizzy’s. “Ashby, we’ve got a Quelin enforcer on hold up here.”
He could hear Kizzy talking in the background. “Do you think I made him mad? I can’t tell, ‘cause their faces don’t move.”
Ashby sighed and closed his eyes. “Lovey, transfer the call down here.”
Corbin stepped aside as Ashby took a seat at his desk. The pixels leapt into place. A male Quelin stared back, his armored face inscrutable, his black eyes shining.
“This is Captain Ashby Santoso. How can I help you?”
“This is Enforcer Bevel of the Interstellar Defense Bureau. As is stated in Section 36-28 of the Border Security Amendment, you are subject to a full search of your vessel and an inspection of all crew members.”
“We were already scanned when we entered Quelin space. Have we done anything wrong?”
“As was stated, this is a random search. The Interstellar Defense Bureau has the right to search any and all vessels at our discretion, regardless of probable cause.”
“I trust that my clerk has sent you our tunneling license and flight plan?”
“We have received the required materials, and your right to travel within our space has been confirmed.”
“Not to be difficult, but we’re on a tight schedule. Do I have the right to refuse this search?”
“Refusal will result in possible impounding of your vessel and incarceration of all persons aboard. Failure to comply with inspection officers is a violation of our GC membership agreement and is subject to prosecution under Executive Order 226-09.”
“I guess we’ll look forward to seeing you on board, then.”
“Prepare to be boarded in ten minutes,” said Officer Bevel. The pixels scattered as the call ended.
“What a charming guy,” Jenks said. “Bet he’s great fun at parties.”
“Only if he has the proper formwork for it,” Ashby said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Pain in the ass.”
The freight elevator doors clanked open. Rosemary and Kizzy hopped out. “Is everything okay?” Kizzy said. “Did I get us in trouble? I really shouldn’t answer calls ever, I get all stupid — ”
“Nobody’s in trouble, but we have to let them do another search.”
“Why?”
“Because they said so, and because they’re Quelin, and because they’re really not the sort of people I want to piss off.”
“I hear on-board searches are a real pain,” Sissix said.
“We were fine on our last search.”
“Yeah, but that was just a basic scan for weapons and illegal tech. Trust me, they’ll search everything. And I hear they do blood screenings, too.”
“Why blood screenings?” Rosemary asked.
Jenks sighed. “Because of that asshole with explosive bots in his blood, I’ll bet. Remember that? That dumb speciest kid a few standards back, tried to prove a point during a border search? Didn’t even program them right. All he did was blow his own head off.”
“Funny how it’s always the speciests who ruin things for everybody else,” Sissix said. Corbin scoffed, but Sissix headed for the door before he could say anything further. “I’ll go get Ohan.”
Ashby’s eyes shifted between Kizzy and Jenks. “Do you two have anything stashed away that might make them freak out? Anything?”
Jenks thought hard. “Don’t think so.”
“Nah,” said Kizzy. “We drank the last of Bear’s homebrew kick last tenday.” She paused. Her hands shot up to her mouth. “Oh, ass!”
“What?” Ashby said.
She slid her hands up to the top of her head and twisted her hair. “I have a bag of smash in with my socks.”
“Good thing you thought of it now. Go toss it in the engine.”
“But…” Kizzy’s shoulders sagged. “You can’t get smash out here. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion.”
Ashby frowned. He was not in the mood for Kizzy reasoning. “This isn’t a debate. Toss it in the engine. Now.”
“Come on, Kiz,” Jenks said. He took her by the wrist and led her back to the freight elevator. “Let’s go do this awful thing.”
“I hate the Quelin,” she said. “They’re stupid and jerks and nobody likes them.” She lowered her voice surreptitiously as they entered the elevator. “If we smoked it now really fast, do you think they’d notice?”
“I can still hear you, Kizzy,” Ashby said.
She pouted. “Can’t blame me for trying,” she said as the doors closed.
●
Rosemary had seen vids of Quelin before, but even so, she was unprepared for the things that came clattering through the cargo bay doors. She tried to think of a more eloquent descriptor for them, but all she kept coming up with was lobster centaur. Chitinous blue exoskeletons, long horizontal abdomens, segmented torsos covered in jointed limbs, all topped with a mask-like face. Their shells were branded with symbols, studded with
polished stones. She knew better than to judge a species by appearances, but between their knobbly looks and the call she’d witnessed earlier, she wasn’t warming up to them.
The rest of the crew looked uneasy as well, which made her feel a little better. It was common knowledge that Quelin were typically xenophobic, and it was rare to see them anywhere other than in their own space. Their inclusion in the GC was an arrangement of convenience, or so Rosemary had read. The Quelin had huge caches of natural resources at their disposal, and had been originally brought into the GC by the Harmagians, who had plenty of money and fancy tech to offer in exchange. Not that the Quelin and the Harmagians actually liked each other. It was funny how the potential for profit always seemed to trump antipathy.
Six Quelin entered the cargo bay, headed by the one from the sib call, Enforcer Bevel. He doled out commands to his inferiors (or so Rosemary assumed, since she didn’t speak Tellerain). Four of them left the bay, scanning devices beeping, pointed legs clicking against the metal floor.
“Line up and prepare to be scanned,” Enforcer Bevel said. So much for introductions.
The crew did as they were told. Rosemary ended up beside Sissix. They exchanged a glance. Sissix rolled her eyes and gave her head an irritated shake.
Bevel pointed a leg toward Ohan. “What’s wrong with them?” Rosemary glanced over. Ohan was shaking. Not violently so, but enough to see from a distance.
“They’re old and ill,” Dr. Chef said. “Nothing contagious. They have a degenerative nerve condition that makes it difficult for them to stand for an extended period of time.”
Bevel’s eyes were fixed on Ohan, but without eyelids or facial muscles, it was impossible to know what the Quelin was thinking. “They may sit.”
“Thank you,” Ohan said with a nod. They sank to the floor, trying to be as poised as possible. It seemed the Quelin could be reasonable after all.
Bevel shifted his gaze to Dr. Chef. “We will need to review their medical records in order to confirm your claim.” Okay, maybe not.
The other Quelin pulled a device from a bag hanging from her side. “We will now scan your blood, hemolymph, or other primary genetic fluid for contaminants, pathogens, illegal nanobots, and any other banned or dangerous substances. If you are aware of carrying any such things, let us know at this time.” She paused for a reply. No one spoke. “I will now begin the scan.” She walked over to Jenks, at the far end of the line. She stared for a few seconds. “You are unusually small.”
“And you have a shitload of legs,” Jenks said, holding out his hand.
The Quelin said nothing. She pressed the scanner against Jenks’ palm. There was a mechanical click. Rosemary heard Jenks suck air through his teeth. The Quelin studied the scanner. Apparently satisfied, she moved on to Ashby.
Jenks examined his palm. “What, no bandage, or…? No? Okay. Thanks.”
The Quelin worked her way down the line. Rosemary stuck out her hand dutifully when her time came. The jab of the scanner was unpleasant, but nothing to fuss over. Even though she knew there was nothing of interest in her blood, she couldn’t help but sigh with relief when the Quelin passed her by. Something about these sapients made her feel awfully tense.
Even though Rosemary couldn’t read the Quelin’s face, something about her changed when she scanned Corbin. Enforcer Bevel clearly saw it, too, as he beelined right for her. He looked at the scanner, and there was a brief flurry of unintelligible discussion between them.
“Artis Corbin,” Enforcer Bevel said. “Under section 17-6-4 of the Defense of Genetic Integrity Agreement, I am placing you under arrest.”
“What?!” cried Corbin. The other Quelin was already upon him, binding his hands with some sort of energy cord and pushing him toward the door. “I — I haven’t done anything!”
Ashby rushed forward. “Enforcer, what’s — ”
Enforcer Bevel stopped him. “You all need to be questioned. We will hold you here. Interrogations will take place in an area of our choosing once we have completed our search of your vessel,” the Enforcer said. “Under section 35-2 of the Punitive Regulations Act, any request made for legal advice will be denied.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Ashby said. “The hell is going on?”
Rosemary tried to stay calm. None of them had done anything, not to her knowledge, and if the Quelin hadn’t figured out about her doctored ID file by now, she doubted they would at all. And as for Corbin, she couldn’t think of anyone less likely to break the law. This had to be a misunderstanding.
“You are not under arrest,” Bevel said. “Nor are any charges being made against you at this time. Failure to comply in full with your interrogation officer will result in imprisonment.”
Jenks glared. “The captain asked you a question. What did we do?”
“Jenks, don’t,” said Dr. Chef.
The other Quelin marched Corbin off the ship. “Ashby!” he cried. His feet dragged, but the Quelin pushed him forward. “Ashby, I didn’t — ”
“I know, Corbin,” Ashby said. “We’ll get this sorted out.” He turned back to Bevel, fuming. Rosemary had never seen him so angry. “Where are you taking him? What did he do?”
Enforcer Bevel looked at Ashby with his flat black eyes. “He exists.”
●
They scanned his wristpatch, and took his clothes. He had yelled himself raw, but none of them would speak to him. None of them were even speaking in Klip. Their words clicked. Their eyes clicked. Their feet clicked when they hit the floor. It was like being in a metal insect hive — dark, hot, humid, and always clicking, clicking, clicking.
He didn’t know how far he was from the Wayfarer. They’d moved him onto a different ship. Or maybe an orbiter? He couldn’t say. There hadn’t been any windows or viewscreens (not that he’d seen, anyway). They’d shoved him into an enormous room, the size of a cargo carrier’s belly. The floor was pockmarked with smooth, deep pits, twice as deep as he was tall. If he squinted hard enough, he could see the glitter of eyes staring back at him from within their depths.
He tried to cover himself. The Quelin wore no clothes themselves, but then, they had shells. They didn’t need to be covered. They weren’t made of soft flesh and hair and lines and creases and misshapen folds you’d rather keep to yourself. He wished he had a shell. He wished that he’d been born to a species with spikes or horns or anything more imposing than the fragile sack that he was. He wished the Quelin could be the ones who were afraid.
They nudged him roughly toward an empty pit. “No,” he said, trying to force the tremble out of his voice. “Not until you’ve told me what I’ve done. I’m a GC citizen, and I have my — ”
Within seconds, he wished he’d said nothing.
One of the Quelin grabbed him with its upper limbs, pinning him face-out against its plated torso. Segmented limbs closed around his body, like a wirey cage. The other Quelin lowered its face to the floor, flattening itself into a plank. Corbin hadn’t noticed how thick the plating was at the top of their heads. A curved, blackish-blue dome, worn smooth and thick with old scratches.
The Quelin charged him. The domed head rammed into his chest. Pain burst through him. He choked on his own breath, flecking the Quelin’s domed head with spit. The Quelin did not seem to care. The thing backed up, and ran forward again.
Oh, no, please, not —
He heard his ribs crack before he registered the pain. He heard himself cry out before he realized who it was. He sagged against the Quelin’s legs, but it held him upright. The second Quelin charged again.
The Quelin holding him must have let him go at some point, because he found himself on the floor, retching and shaking. He could feel the fractured ribs stab every time his stomach heaved. Low moans escaped from his mouth, but were cut short as his lungs fought for air.
They shoved him into the pit. He tumbled down the cold metal. His face hit the floor first. He felt blood spurt from his nose as it wrenched sideways. The Quelin who had broken his bones s
houted to him in Klip, speaking eight angry words. In the hours ahead, they would be all he could think of.
“From now on, clone, you will be quiet.”
●
Ashby was the last to return from the interrogation. He joined the others at the dinner table. Everyone looked exhausted. Even Ohan was there, curled up under a blanket on a nearby bench. Dr. Chef had brought out a small batch of spring cakes. Nobody was eating them.
“Oh, stars,” said Kizzy. She ran over and hugged him around the waist. “I thought you were getting locked up, too.”
“I’m okay,” he said.
“You’ve been gone six hours.”
“Feels like longer.” He slumped into his chair. Dr. Chef placed a mug of mek in front of him. Ashby cupped his palms around it, letting the warmth bleed into his hands. He stared at nothing for a moment, took a deep breath, and looked to his crew. “Did any of you know?”
A general shaking of heads. “Not a clue,” Jenks said, lighting his redreed pipe. The ash piles on the plate in front of him indicated that he’d gone through two bowls already.
“We’ve been debating whether or not Corbin knew,” Sissix said.
“And?” Ashby said.
“We don’t think so,” Jenks said. Smoke leaked out from between his teeth. “Did you see his face when they dragged him away? He had no fucking idea what was going on.”
“I checked an old blood test,” Dr. Chef said. “There’s no question. There are some irregularities in his DNA that can’t happen any other way.”
“Why didn’t you notice it before?” Ashby asked.
“Because it’s the sort of thing you only find if you’re specifically looking for it. I didn’t have any reason to.”
Ashby sighed and leaned back. “This doesn’t change anything. I hope you all know that. Corbin’s a sapient individual, and I don’t particularly care where he came from. I know we all have our…difficulties with him.” He glanced at Sissix, who was picking at a spring cake with a single claw. “But he’s part of our crew, and we have to help him.” He looked around the table. Something was off. “Wait, where’s Rosemary? Did she not come back?” Had the Quelin figured out about her, too? Stars, how many crew members was he going to lose today?
The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet Page 30