“No,” said the other Aandrisk. “Let him speak.” He looked at Ashby and nodded. “Like he said, he came all this way.”
Ashby swallowed, unsure of what had gotten into him.
“Go ahead, Captain,” said the Aeluon.
Ashby took a breath. “Look, I don’t know about these things. I’m not a politician, I’m not on a committee. I don’t know the things you know. I don’t even know if my crew said anything to offend the Toremi. I don’t think they did, but no, I can’t say for certain. But what if they did? Someone says something stupid at a cocktail party, and that’s enough to go to war over? Those are the kind of people you want to bring into our space? You know, my ship nearly tore itself apart, I lost one of my crew, and yet, honestly, I’m glad there’s not an open tunnel there right now. You want people like that, who start killing that fast, walking around spaceports, flying through cargo lane traffic? How long before some shopkeeper gets killed over a price they didn’t like, or a bar gets torn up because some drunk spacer mouths off about something they don’t agree on?” He shook his head. “I don’t know why they attacked us. Thing is, neither do you. If you did, I wouldn’t be here. So until you come up with a policy that can guarantee the Toremi will never fire on a civilian ship again, I think you should leave them the hell alone.”
The committee was quiet. Ashby looked down at the desk. The Aeluon spoke. “You said you lost one of your crew. Do you mean the AI?”
“Yes,” Ashby said. The Harmagian’s tendrils flexed. Whatever it meant, Ashby didn’t care.
“I see,” said the Aeluon. She looked at him a moment, her cheeks shifting colors in a contemplative way. “Captain Santoso, could you wait outside for a few minutes?”
Ashby nodded and left the room. He sat on one of the overly soft couches, his hands folded, his eyes on the floor. Minutes passed by silently.
A nearby vox switched on. “Captain Santoso?” Twoh’teg said.
“Yes?”
“Thank you for waiting. The committee has decided that no further questions will be necessary. They greatly appreciate you taking the time to join us today. You’re free to leave the planet.”
“Right,” Ashby said. “I pissed them off, huh?”
Twoh’teg paused. “No, actually. But please don’t ask me more, I’m not allowed to talk about what goes on in there.” The wall drawer containing Ashby’s scrib slid open. “Have a safe trip home, Captain.”
●
Feed source: The Thread - The Official News Source of the Exodan Fleet (Public/Klip)
Item name/date: Breaking News Summary - Toremi Alliance Talks - 222/306
Encryption: 0
Translation path: 0
Transcription: 0
Node identifier: 7182-312-95, Ashby Santoso
After tendays of deliberation, the GC Parliament has voted to dissolve the alliance with the Toremi Ka. The vote was divisive, passing with only a nine-point margin. While most representatives stayed within species alignments, the Harmagian representatives showed the largest disparity, with a nearly even split between those for and against.
The opposition was lead by Aeluon representative Tasa Lima Nemar and Aandrisk representative Reskish Ishkarethet. Representative Lima, who had been opposed to the alliance before its initial signing, spoke in the Parliament Halls earlier today. “The wellbeing of our citizens must be the number one priority in all Parliamentary activities. To bring violence into our space in the name of material gain, and at the expense of civilian lives, would be grossly negligent. Until we can assure our people that their safety is not at risk, we cannot, in good conscience, continue with this alliance.” Representative Ishkarethet echoed those sentiments, stating: “After speaking with those lucky enough to return from Hedra Ka, there is no doubt in my mind that this is a door that must remain shut.”
Harmagian representative Brehem Mos Tosh’mal’thon, one of the key voices in securing the alliance, delivered a swift rebuttal. “Representative Lima is more concerned with spreading Aeluon troops too thin than she is with protecting civilians. She conveniently forgets that military skirmishes between our respective species led to the founding of the GC itself. New alliances always pose risks, and are rarely implemented smoothly. While the lives lost at Hedra Ka are a tragedy, we should not be so hasty as to break contact entirely over this incident. The potential benefits for both our species outweigh the risks.” Following the vote, Representative Tosh’mal’thon further stated that he would push for continued contact with Toremi clans sympathetic to “the values of the Galactic Commons.”
Though there are currently no GC vessels within Toremi space, reports from the borders indicate that armed conflict between the clans has not slowed.
For more in-depth coverage on this story and more, connect to the Thread feed via scrib or neural patch.
Day 214, GC Standard 307
ALL SAID AND DONE
Ashby waved the job feeds aside as Rosemary entered his office, carrying a small, thin package. “Whatcha got?”
“Something from the mail drone,” she said. “I would’ve called you down, but I thought it was just stuff for Corbin.” Her eyes twinkled as she handed the package over. He knew why. It was thin, and so light as to be empty. That meant paper.
“Thanks,” he said, smiling at the package.
“Anything good?” she asked, nodding to the feeds above his desk.
“A few things,” he said. “I see a few proposal letters in your future.”
“Just say when.”
“Actually, I do have something you can work on in the meantime.” He picked up his scrib, gesturing as he spoke. “I’m sending you the locations of the closest market stops. Can you do a little research, see what our retrofit supply options are in those systems?”
“Sure. What kind of tech are you looking for?”
“Well,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I think it’s time we got a new bore, don’t you?”
Rosemary’s face lit up. “I take it you’re looking at level 2 jobs?”
Ashby met her eyes and smirked.
She grinned. “I’ll get on it right away.”
He scoffed congenially. “I didn’t mean right now. Don’t you and Sissix have stuff to do? I heard you’ve got an outing planned.”
“Well, yeah, but I’ve got some archiving to finish first.“
“You’ve always got archiving to finish.”
She gave him a look. “You’ve got a lot of messy archives.”
He laughed. “All right, fair enough. But the research can wait. Finish your thing, then go have fun.” He shooed her toward the door. “Captain’s orders.”
“Thanks, Ashby,” she said, turning to leave with a spring in her step.
Once the door spun shut, Ashby picked up the package. He swiped his wrist over the locking seal, and carefully extracted the envelope. He checked his hands to make sure they were clean. He moved his mug of tea to the far side of the desk. Slowly, slowly, he tore open the top edge, as Jenks had taught him how to do. He pulled out a single page.
This run ends in three tendays. I have six tendays off between then and my next job. I’m spending that time with you on the Wayfarer. Don’t argue. Forward me your latest flight plan. I’ll meet you wherever is best. I won’t say anything to my crew one way or the other, but they might piece it together. If they do, I’ll deal with it. I don’t care anymore. Not after a few days spent contemplating what my world was going to be like without you in it. I’m tired of wondering which one of us will get killed out here first. We both deserve better than that.
Stay safe until I get there.
Pei
●
“Kizzy?” Jenks walked down the corridor toward Kizzy’s workspace, holding a small package behind his back. “You down here?” He rounded the corner and stopped in his tracks. Kizzy was perched in one of the easy chairs beside the mek brewer, her legs tucked up like a monkey. A crate of colored yarn was thrown open alongside, fuzzy colored bundle
s strewn all over the floor. Her tongue was between her teeth as she focused on the knitting needles twisting between her fingers. On the floor, amid the yarn, all twelve fixbots stood watching her. Jenks knew they were awaiting commands, but their attentiveness and their chubby bodies made him think of ducklings, huddled around their mother.
He blinked at the object taking shape below the needles. “Are…are you making them hats?”
“Yeah,” she said, and pointed absently. “Alfonzo’s already got his.”
Jenks looked to the bot wearing a blue beanie with a yellow pom-pom. “Alfonzo?”
She sighed. “I know they’re not sentient models, but I never could’ve kept this ship up before Pepper got here without them. I feel bad for keeping them in a box for so long. So I’m making it up to them.”
“With names. And hats.”
“Some of those air ducts get really cold, okay.”
Jenks looked at his friend — his crazy, brilliant, one-in-a-million friend. “Can you put the hat down for a sec?”
She finished a loop and set down the half-finished hat. “What’s up?”
He brought the package forward. “Brought you a present.”
“A present!” The knitting flew out of her hands. “But…but why? It’s not my birthday.” She paused, considering. “It’s not my birthday, right?”
“Just open it, dusthead.”
Kizzy grinned and tore through a patch of foil. She threw back her head and squealed. “Shrimp spice!” she cried, peeling back the rest of the foil. The One and Only! the jar inside proclaimed. Devastatingly Hot!
“I thought maybe you could experiment with it. Put it on algae puffs or red coasters or whatever.”
“I’m going to put it on everything.” She unscrewed the lid, stuck out her tongue, and shook a generous shower into her mouth. Her eyes scrunched shut as she sucked her teeth in painful glee.
He gave a little laugh. “I wanted to get you something fancier, but…” He trailed off. His money situation wasn’t exactly luxurious these days.
“What? No, this is awesome. And why am I getting a present anyway?”
“Because you deserve it, and because I haven’t said thank you like I should.”
“For what?”
Jenks put his hands in his pockets and looked at the floor, hoping to find the right words there. “For…for everything. For talking to me every night since. For not leaving me alone even when I yelled at you. For coming after me in the shuttle. For – ” He took a breath, trying to pull the words out of his chest. “For working with me every second, trying to bring her back.”
“Oh, buddy,” she said, her voice falling quiet. “You don’t have to thank me for that.”
He swallowed the lump in his throat and plowed on. “I’m a mess right now. I don’t need to tell you that. But I think I’d be worse than I am if it wasn’t for you.” He frowned, thinking of all she’d done for him. She’d completely set herself aside for his sake in the tendays since the punch, and he was paying her back with seasoning? Stupid. “I’m not doing a good job of this. There’s so much I want to say to you. You’ve done so much more than I would expect from a friend, and I need you to know I don’t take that for granted.”
Her eyes softened. “You’re not my friend, dummy.”
He blinked. She’d lost him. “What?”
Kizzy exhaled and looked at the spice jar. She rubbed her thumb over the label. “When I was five, I asked my dads if I could have a brother. Our colony wasn’t doing so great then. Not that it’s great now. But it was rough when I was little. The council was trying to avoid a crash, and they’d stopped handing out family expansion permissions to folks that already had kids. My dads explained that if weren’t careful about how many people we added to the colony, we might not have enough food. Totally reasonable, but five year olds don’t give a shit about stuff like that. If you’ve never been hungry before, not like starving hungry, the possibility of running out of food doesn’t compute. The only thing I understood was that I couldn’t have a brother, which seemed super crazy unfair. They got me a puppy, though. That was cool. I got older, the colony got stronger, and by that time, I wasn’t bugging them for a brother anymore, and I guess they didn’t really want to go through the whole diapers and teething thing again. I was a happy kid, and I couldn’t ask for better parents. But I was still jealous of the kids who had siblings. I grew up, and then you came along.” She looked up at him, and smiled. “And for the first time ever, I didn’t want a brother anymore, because I finally had one. And there’s nothing better than brothers. Friends are great, but they come and go. Lovers are fun, but kind of stupid, too. They say stupid things to each other and they ignore all their friends because they’re too busy staring, and they get jealous, and they have fights over dumb shit like who did the dishes last or why they can’t fold their fucking socks, and maybe the sex gets bad, or maybe they stop finding each other interesting, and then somebody bangs someone else, and everyone cries, and they see each other years later, and that person you once shared everything with is a total stranger you don’t even want to be around because it’s awkward. But brothers. Brothers never go away. That’s for life. And I know married folks are supposed to be for life, too, but they’re not always. Brothers you can’t get rid of. They get who you are, and what you like, and they don’t care who you sleep with or what mistakes you make, because brothers aren’t mixed up in that part of your life. They see you at your worst, and they don’t care. And even when you fight, it doesn’t matter so much, because they still have to say hi to you on your birthday, and by then, everybody’s forgotten about it, and you have cake together.” She nodded. “So as much as I love my present, and as nice as it is to get a thank you, I don’t need either of ‘em. Nothing’s too much to ask when it comes to brothers.” She shot him a look. “Stars and buckets, Jenks, if you start crying, I will too, and I will never be able to stop.”
“Sorry,” he said, trying to push the water back in his eyes. “I just — ”
“No, no, see, you don’t have to tell me what you’re feeling. I get it. I know.” She smiled wide, her own eyes wet but holding steady. “See? Brothers.”
Jenks was quiet a long time. He cleared his throat. “Do you want to smash and play Battle Wizards?”
“Stars, yes. But only if you promise that we’ll never get this emotional about each other ever again.”
“Deal.”
●
Ashby took a thoughtful bite of bread, still warm from the oven. “It’s good,” he said, and considered. “Yeah, really good. This one’s a keeper.” He swallowed and nodded. “What are the crunchy things?”
“Hestra seeds,” said Dr. Chef, sharpening a knife as he spoke.
“What are hestra seeds?”
“I have no idea. I know they’re not poisonous. Not to any of us, at least. A Laru merchant back on Coriol gave me a bag for free, along with my other purchases. It was a slow market day, I think she was just glad I bought something.”
“Well, I like them. They’re…zingy.” Ashby reached to the other end of the kitchen counter and refilled his mug with tea.
Dr. Chef set down the sharpener and took a handful of fresh cut herbs from one of his harvest boxes. Ashby could smell them from across the counter. Sweet and astringent. “So,” Dr. Chef said. “Anyone knocking at our door?”
“Not yet,” Ashby said. And that was okay. He wasn’t in any rush, and the Hedra Ka incident wasn’t going to keep them out of business. If anything, their reputation had been bolstered by getting out of a collapsing tunnel unscathed. Of course, there was still the question of whether or not they’d need to find a new Navigator, but they’d cross that bridge when they came to it.
“I’m sure something good will come along. Honestly, I think we’d all be glad of a little downtime. Vacation is one thing, but it’s nice to settle back in slowly.” He rumbled. “Especially since there have been some changes around here.”
Ashby looked over at th
e vox on the wall. A new voice came through it now — Tycho, a gracious, accommodating AI with a Martian accent. Ashby sometimes thought Tycho sounded nervous, but given that the AI knew the circumstances under which he’d been installed, Ashby couldn’t blame him for wanting to please his new crew. And he and Jenks had been getting along so far. In Ashby’s eyes, that was the most important thing.
Dr. Chef peered at Ashby. “I’m giving you a physical tomorrow.”
“What? Why?”
“You’re squinting. I think we should check your eyes.”
“I’m not squinting.”
“You’re squinting.” Dr. Chef shook a pudgy finger at him. “You spend too much time with your nose in your scrib.”
Ashby rolled his eyes — which worked perfectly fine, thank you. “If it’ll make you feel better.”
“Scoff all you want, you’ll thank — ” Dr. Chef set down his knife. Footsteps were approaching. More than four.
Ashby turned. Around the corner came Corbin, walking slowly, holding his arm at a steady angle. Bracing themselves against his arm was Ohan, walking on three legs as they held onto Corbin with the other. No, no, not they, Ashby reminded himself. He. This was no longer Ohan the Pair. This was Ohan the Solitary. After years of making sure he got the pronouns right, Ashby found it a hard habit to break.
He set his mug down and turned to face them. In some ways, not much had changed. Ohan rarely left his room, and the only person he spoke to at length was Dr. Chef, who needed him to answer questions about how he was feeling, or about the medication he’d been taking to aid his regrowing nerves. Otherwise, he sat by the window, as he’d always done. But there were changes. The wetness in his eyes had ebbed, and there was an alertness to him that Ashby had never seen before. His fur was growing out, the patterns cut through it fading away. Dr. Chef had told Ohan that he was strong enough now to shave, but the Sianat had made no efforts to do so. And he’d been spending time in the algae bay, here and there. That was new. Ashby didn’t know why Ohan would want to be around Corbin, after what had happened. Ashby himself had barely been able to be in the same room with him since. Maybe it was Ohan’s way of reminding Corbin of what he was responsible for. Honestly, who knew?
The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet Page 41