The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet

by Becky Chambers

  Ashby sat beside her and took her hand. “I know you think I’m the bad guy in this,” he said. “But I’m not okay with it either.”

  “I know,” she said. “But I still don’t see how you could sit there and not get angry with him.”

  “It wasn’t my place.”

  “Spoken like a true Exodan.” Her eyes searched his face. “How do you know about me and Rosemary?”

  Ashby laughed. “The way she looks at you.”

  “Oh, stars,” Sissix said. “Is it that obvious?”

  “To me, at least.”

  “To everyone?”

  “Maybe. Nobody’s said anything to me about it.”

  Sissix sighed. “It was her idea, you know. After Hashkath. She said she wanted to make things feel more like family for me. She was so damn sweet about it. She’s sweet about everything.” She fell back against the mattress. “Ashby, I have no frame of reference of what it’s like for Humans to couple. I’m so scared I’m going to mess her up. You know how differently our species go about these things. I’m not…am I being selfish?”

  “Sex is always a little selfish, Sis,” he said. “But I highly doubt she’s sleeping with you out of charity. I bet she wanted to way before Hashkath.” He smiled at her. “But I know you. You wouldn’t have said yes if you didn’t care about her, too. Rosemary’s an adult. She can handle herself. And I think in a way, you two might be good for each other.” He paused. “Although…”

  “I knew there was going to be a caveat.”

  “You need to be careful. Humans can be okay with having multiple partners, but we can be jealous as hell, too. I don’t know how you two have things worked out, but if, say, you want to go to a tet, or if you just need to move on in your casual Aandrisk way — ”

  “I know,” Sissix said. “I’ll be careful.”

  They fell into a comfortable silence. “This is going to sound weird,” he said after a while.

  “Mmm?”

  “I’m sorry that it couldn’t be me.”

  Sissix sat up. “How so? You don’t — you don’t think of me as — ”

  “No.” He smirked. “No offense, but no. I don’t think of you that way.”

  “Good. I was about to be really confused.” She laughed. “Then what?”

  “There has always been a part of me that feels guilty that I can’t be the kind of family you need.”

  Sissix nuzzled his cheek. “You are the family I need, Ashby. I wouldn’t have chosen you otherwise.”

  “But Rosemary made it more — more whole, didn’t she?”

  Sissix smiled. “Yeah. She did.” She put her forehead against Ashby’s. “Doesn’t change the fact that you’re the best friend I’ve ever had.” She paused. “But I’m still mad at you.”

  “I know.”

  “And thinking about Ohan makes me hurt.”

  “Me too.”

  “Good,” she said. “At least you’re suffering for it.” They both laughed. It was a empty sound.

  ●

  ERROR

  Message not delivered. Recipient outside comm relay range.

  Please check delivery path and resend.

  Attempted message

  Encryption: 0

  Translation: 0

  From: Nib (path: 6273-384-89)

  To: Rosemary Harper (path: 9874-457-28)

  Subject: Re: Volunteer info

  I’m glad to hear it! We can always use another good brain. Don’t worry about not having much free time. Even spending an hour or two every tenday digging through submission files is a help. Just mention in your application what your availability is like, and they won’t give you more than you can handle. Have you decided what focus to apply for yet? I’m biased, of course, but I think you’d be great for interspecies history, and I’d be happy to put in a good word. But if you’ve got your eye on another area, I won’t take it personally. Much.

  Speaking of, one of my friends on the Toremi team remembered that I was after information on your behalf, and she sent me something interesting. Not much, just one of many little quirks about our new allies. I probably shouldn’t be sending it directly to you, but seeing as how you’re a future volunteer, surely we can grant you retroactive permission, right?

  Fly safe,

  Nib

  ——

  Attached message

  From: Elai Jas Kapi (path: withheld)

  To: GC Delegate Group 634 (path: withheld)

  Encryption: 2

  Translation: 0

  Subject: Important information - Toremi hearing and heat generators

  Date: 76/306

  Given our infrequent dealings with the Toremi, there is much about their species that we are only now discovering firsthand. All delegates should be aware that the Toremi possess a sense of hearing that far exceeds that of any GC species. They are especially adept at distinguishing individual voices within crowds, and their aptitude for learning languages has far exceeded our expectations. You may safely assume that any Toremi that has been present in diplomatic talks is already fluent in Klip.

  When sharing a room with Toremi Ka individuals, do not discuss any topics that have not been approved by senior ambassadorial staff. Please consult project datafile 332-129 for a comprehensive list of approved conversation topics.

  We also require that all ships ensure that their heat generators are not operating above 76.5 kilks if they expect Toremi Ka individuals to come aboard. We recognize that this will cause some discomfort for Aandrisk delegates and crewmembers. However, standard heat generators emit a sound that is painful to the Toremi. We have determined that the frequency created by 76.5 kilks and lower is tolerable for the Toremi, and will not inhibit basic Aandrisk motor functions.

  If your ship uses non-standard heat generators, inform a senior staff member immediately. Do not invite Toremi Ka individuals aboard your ship until the correct technology has been installed.

  Thank you for your cooperation.

  Elai Jas Kapi

  Senior Galactic Commons Ambassador

  Day 157, GC Standard 307

  HEDRA KA

  Toum, second guard of the New Mother, sat by a window in the feeding garden, watching the ships of the Commons species. He tore a thick bundle of leaves from a nearby planter. The fluid oozing from their broken stalks gave off that familiar peppery scent, sweet and delicious. But he did not eat. He picked at the leaves, and observed the alien ships. He looked with envy upon the weapons arrays of the Aeluon frigates, as he had done many times. How many clans they could destroy with such weapons. How many false ideas they could erase.

  He thought of the aliens within the frigates, with their stupid eyes and unsettling scales. So ugly, the Aeluons. And so unsettling, the way they talked. It was difficult to trust a species who could not speak without sticking wires into their throats. Just as it was difficult to trust the Harmagians, who had no legs to walk upon, or the Aandrisks, with their carnivore claws, or the Quelin, who marred their own flesh for vanity’s sake. No, he could not trust them, any of them. But he could hate them. That came easily enough.

  He could not speak of it. Before the alliance, there had never been any doubt in his mind that he was of the Toremi Ka. He was in agreement with their veneration of the New Mothers, and he was in agreement with needing to secure Hedra Ka as their own. But these Commons species. Did the clan really need their help? Were they so weak that they could not hold the new planet alone?

  Commons species. Mismatched faces, grating accents, squealing ships. He could see his discontent mirrored in the mouths of some of his clanmates, but no one had raised a challenge. No one had broken from the clan.

  This frightened him. Was he defective in some way? Was there some vital piece of wisdom the New Mothers possessed that he did not? Day after day, he wrestled with these thoughts, struggling to bring himself to agreement. But nothing, not meditation, not the privileged amount of time he spent with his New Mother, had displaced them.

  He looked
down to the leaves, now pulp within his grasp. He threw the wet clump to the floor. The machines would clean it up.

  “Do you want me to sit with you?” said a voice from behind. Toum did not need to turn his face to know who it was. He felt his limbs tense, ready for killing.

  “No,” he said, his eyes on the window.

  “But I will.” The speaker came into his field of vision, folding her legs alongside him. Her name was Hiul. A first unit striker. Toum wondered if he even could kill her, given the chance. He was willing to try. Hiul picked some leaves, and consumed them. “Are you eating?”

  “Why else would I be here?”

  She lolled her head, looking at the crushed leaves at Toum’s feet. “Of course.” She turned her face to the window. “So many ships. So many ideas within them. How do they do it, I wonder? How do they achieve harmony, knowing that false notions walk beside them?”

  Toum said nothing.

  Hiul brought more leaves to her mouth. “I do not believe that they do. I believe they exist in chaos, each following their own ideas, each serving a clan of one.”

  He smacked his mouth. “The New Mothers say this is acceptable, so long as we keep to our ways. Are you not in unity with their words? Do you not agree?”

  Hiul seemed unconcerned by the threat. She ignored the challenge. Ignored it! Only two words left her mouth, maddeningly calm: “Do you?”

  He grabbed her, fury hot within his belly. He brought his mouth to her breathing throat, poised for a quick kill. “I have told you before, do not speak to me. You are chaos.”

  She did not fight back, which frightened Toum more than if she had. “You see me as out of agreement with the New Mothers?” she said. “You see me as a false truth?”

  “Do not toy with me. You know what you are.”

  She pushed forward, pressing her throat against his mouth. “Then why do you not kill me?”

  He willed himself to bite down. It would be so easy, so fast. He could feel her pulse, deep and quick. But he could not, and it made him rage all the more. He threw her, hard. A planter broke beneath her fall, loam spilling over the floor. The others in the garden looked their way. Most, after a glance, returned to their food, unconcerned by the mess. The machines would clean it up.

  Hiul laughed, wiping a stream of lymph from split skin near her mouth. “‘You know what you are.’ Yes, yes. I do,” she said, standing. She approached him again. “And I know what you are, Toum. I see the conflict in you.”

  “I am a guard of the New Mother!”

  She moved in close, whispering. “That is why you fight it, I know. How horrible for you. How horrible to know the truth, and to hate those who threaten it, and to remain loyal regardless.”

  His eyes betrayed him, straying to the window full of alien ships.

  Hiul exhaled smugly. “You have a ship of your own, you know. You have access to things we do not.”

  He looked sharply back at her. “We?”

  She walked away, limping slightly. It appeared that one of her back legs had been badly bruised by the fall. Good. She turned her face to him. “We are Toremi,” she said. “We are never a clan of one.”

  ●

  Ashby sighed with relief as the pinhole tug pulled his ship back into normal space one last time. It had been four days since they’d rendezvoused with the Kirit Sek, and grateful as he was for the shortcut, he wasn’t sure what had been worse — the sublayer jumps, or long stretches of nothing in between. The last leg of the haul to the rendezvous at Del’lek had been a long one, but they’d busied themselves with cleaning the ship and taking care of all the little odd jobs that had been brushed to the side. By the time they met up with the Kirit Sek, the Wayfarer was as spotless as it ever had been, and there was nothing else for them to do. Ashby had thought four days of kick-back would be restful, but the jumps made that impossible, and the lack of productivity made him anxious. Everybody was on edge. Dr. Chef had been growing irritated at all the extra help hovering around the kitchen, and Ashby had strong suspicions that the blown-out lighting panel they’d experienced the day before had been orchestrated by the techs, just to give themselves something to do. The only people who hadn’t seemed to mind the downtime were Sissix and Rosemary, who were happy to keep each other occupied, and Ohan, who was busy letting their nerves die.

  But the jumps, though, had gotten to everybody. A blind punch was one thing, but four days of in and out at six-hour intervals was enough to make even Ashby spacesick. He sat up slowly in bed as Lovey transmitted the tug captain’s voice through his vox.

  “That’s it for us, Captain Santoso,” the Aandrisk woman said. She had a different accent than Sissix — less colloquial, harsher around the edges. “Are you all doing okay over there?”

  “Well enough,” Ashby said. He rubbed his eyes. Stable vision could not be overrated. “Thanks for the trip.”

  “Take it from me — before you call in to whoever you’re reporting to, take an hour to eat something and get back on your feet. We’ll be doing the same.”

  “Will do.” He cleared his throat. “Heske rath ishi kith.”

  “Heske skath eski risk,” the Aandrisk said, sounding pleased. “Safe journey to you as well.” The vox switched off. Out his window, Ashby could see the Kirit Sek drop their towing field and veer away.

  “Lovey, where’s Sissix?”

  The vox snapped back on. “She just headed to the control room.”

  “Let her know I’m on my way there.”

  A few minutes later, he stepped into the control room. Sissix was already in her seat, checking her navigational controls.

  “I feel like I’ve been kicked in the head,” she said, without looking at him.

  “You and me both.” He slumped into his chair and stared out the window. “And all for that.”

  In the space beyond was Hedra Ka. A cracking scab of a planet, choked with storms and veins of lava. A mist of rocks floated in orbit, a reminder of its recent formation. It was a young world, unwelcoming, resentful of its existence.

  “That is the angriest looking rock I’ve ever seen,” Ashby said.

  “You talking about the rock or the ships?”

  Hedra Ka lay within a feeding frenzy of vessels — Harmagian frigates, Aeluon cruisers, neutral transports, pinhole tugs, patrol shuttles. And of course, the Toremi. Ashby knew that the Toremi were generational spacers, just like the Exodans, but he saw nothing familiar in their ships. For a species who lived out in the open, their ships looked surprisingly fragile, lacking the thick bulkheads he associated with long-haul rigs. He saw only wiry frames and sharp edges, dripping with antennae and eerie lighted cords that drifted in the vacuum. They looked like deep-sea creatures, pulsing, swaying, incomprehensible.

  Ashby leaned forward. “No way.” There was a clear spherical patch outside of the swarm, marked by warning buoys. “That’s where they want us to drop the cage?” The distance between the tunnel entrance and Hedra Ka would be shorter than the distance between Earth and Luna. By about half.

  “Good thing this is a soft zone,” Sissix said. “Can you imagine doing a blind punch there?”

  Ashby shook his head. “We’re good, but not that good.”

  “Nobody’s that good.”

  “We’d have been lucky not to tear that planet apart.”

  Sissix snorted. “Not much of a loss if we did.”

  Ashby laughed. “Lovey, can you patch me through to everybody?”

  The vox switched on. “They’re listening, Ashby,” Lovey said.

  “Hey, everybody. We’ve made it. If you’re feeling sick, go get yourself a bite to eat, but please make it quick. I’d like everyone here when I call our contact. Please be in the control room in one hour, tops. This is a big day for us, and I’d like us all to put our best foot forward. Nothing fancy, but clean faces and smart clothes would be appreciated.”

  Kizzy’s voice came through the vox. “Don’t worry, Ashby, I won’t talk at all.”

  He paused, t
rying to find a kind way to tell her that was best. “You’re too cool for them anyway, Kiz.”

  ●

  Toum sat in meditation. Or so he meant to. Across from him sat the first guard, Fol, her legs folded calmly, her eyes blank with reason. He envied her. The longer they stayed around these Commons people, the more difficult it was for him to structure his mind. No matter how hard he tried to shift his thoughts elsewhere, he returned, inevitably, to Hiul. Neither of them should have left the room alive. It was their way. The stronger belief would survive, the weaker would be erased. This was how harmony was made.

  He should have killed her. Striker training or no, he’d had his mouth on her throat. He should have killed her. He had killed many out of disagreement. Why had he let her walk away?

  The answer was there, in a cruel corner of his mind. He ran from it. It mocked him all the same.

  “Come,” the New Mother said, entering the room. Toum and Fol extended their legs and gathered their weapons. “I am going to the carrier. The tunneling ship has arrived, and I have heard that the Harmagian has invited them aboard.”

  “Have you been extended an invitation?” Fol asked. The Harmagian bureaucrat was particular about tedious matters like guest lists and protocol. Commons worries.

  “I do not need one,” the New Mother said. Toum knew he could hear it in her voice, too — the waning patience, the weariness of dealing with alien ways. Why did she never speak of it? If she would just voice the frustrations he knew she felt, then he would have been in agreement with her all along, and he would no longer doubt his place as Toremi Ka. But no such relief came. “These tunnelers are making a hole in my sky,” she said, walking to the door. Fol and Toum fell into place on either side of her, staying a practiced six steps behind. “That gives me the right to see their faces.”

  ●

  Rosemary was glad to be off the ship. Granted, she was on another ship, but the change in scenery was badly needed, and the small welcoming reception they’d been brought into was a nice surprise. Nothing fancy, just a table of artfully made finger food and a few low-level GC officials making casual conversation. She’d been to gatherings like this before, but tunnelers weren’t the sort you’d find on the guest list. It was a kind gesture — and a sign of how important this new tunnel was.