by Jenn Burke
“You back?” he asked softly.
“Where’d I go?” The slight uptick in the pounding in his head answered that question—as did the thoughts that shifted around, as insubstantial as scraps of paper on the wind. “You’re Felix Ingesson. Felix Ingesson.”
One of Flick’s hands left his shoulder to weave their fingers together, the grip tight enough to be painful. “I’ve got you.”
Qek clicked, the sound strangely sad. “I do not think time is on our side.”
Silence filled the cabin, time marked only by soft breaths. Finally, Eli nodded. “Qek, set a course for Ashie Prime.”
Zed shook his head. “No, Elias—”
Qek stepped up beside Flick and slipped her hand beneath the one that was already clasping Zed’s. “Fixer is my friend. You both came to my rescue on Risus. Because of that, I would attempt to dance with fate.” She looked at Zed. “So you may realize yours.”
Chapter Ten
Ashushk Prime was a beautiful planet. From space, it resembled polished charoite—purple clouds writhed across the surface, hiding deep, dark oceans and strings of islands. Below the clouds, the filtered light altered the spectrum so that everything appeared tinged with violet. Red tended toward deep purple, pink softened to lavender. The ashushk themselves varied, depending upon their skin tone. Qek’s blue softened, which matched her temperament perfectly.
Elias had visited the ashushk homeworld twice before, but never with the Chaos. Studying his crew as they stretched out the kinks from a twelve-hour ride down the space elevator—the ecology of the planet was too delicate to suffer a shuttle port, if they had an island large enough to support such a structure—he noted how the filtered light lent unflattering shadows to all their complexions. Qek might appear quiet and composed, but the smoothness of her skin was telling. Nessa had thumbprint-sized hollows beneath her eyes. Elias reminded himself, again, not to comment. She had been moodier than usual over the past week. Hell, they all had.
Fixer and Zed both looked haunted and they walked as if they feared a single misstep would place them on top of a landmine. Elias’s heart twisted for them. For the past several days, the pair had alternately clung and bounced. The emotion marring the expression of one perfectly reflected the other, however. They were both soldiers, albeit retired. But the iron core within had become brittle. One hard fall and they would shatter.
The door to the arrival lounge irised open, revealing a small delegation of ashushk. None stood taller than Fix’s shoulder, and Fixer was not a tall man. Their skin tone ranged from gray to violet, the startling blue apparently more visible off-planet than on. Elias studied the ashushk arrayed before him and quickly determined only two of the four appeared young enough to flirt with their very alien form of sexuality. Again, he considered the risk Qek had taken in bringing them here. In another decade, she would be too old to gender. Until then, just being among her people might spark the change. Like her scientific friends, the ashushk pilot would concede to the demands of nature, publicly declare it an honor to serve—but the life she so enjoyed would be over.
Qek moved forward to greet the delegates in her own language. The ashushk tongue had a Khosian feel to it—clicking consonants and swallowed vowels. Ceremony was brief, the ashushk being too straightforward to indulge in pomp and circumstance. After a simple exchange, Qek turned a wrinkled smile toward her crew. As one, they shuffled forward for introductions.
“Captain Idowu, may I present Rhyniche, director of the Vesenthden Institute. Rhyniche is our foremost expert on the stin, chemically speaking.”
Elias wondered if “Rhyniche” was a simplified version or the ashushk’s real name.
The gray ashushk smiled, skin folding softly about its mouth. “It is an honor to meet friends of Qekelough’s.”
Qek had referred to his crew as friends. Warmth bloomed in Elias’s heart as he acknowledged the gift given him by his pilot. “It is an honor to be introduced as such.”
A light danced in Rhyniche’s large, dark eyes. The director seemed pleased Elias had grasped the weight of the simple introduction.
Elias gestured to the rest of his crew in turn. “I’d like to introduce our ship’s doctor, Nessa O’Brien. My partner and engineer, Felix Ingesson, and our security officer, Zander Anatolius.”
If the ashushk delegation had eyebrows, all might have risen at the last introduction. Foreheads creased upward instead, and four pairs of large eyes pointed toward Zed, who remained still beneath their scrutiny, his posture exuding none of the arrogance one might expect from the third son of the richest man in the galaxy. Elias had come to appreciate that distinction. Zed had the nonchalance of the wealthy, but not the curious blindness that often accompanied it. He measured his comrades emotionally rather than by status. He was a good man, one Elias had become glad to count as a friend—even if he did have a nasty habit of going for the neck.
Rhyniche delivered a nod to each of the crew, then paused in front of Qek. “You did not mention the name Anatolius in your communication.”
Qek’s face wrinkled. “No, I did not.”
Rhyniche clicked quietly for several seconds. “You always did have an odd sense of humor, Qekelough.”
“Yes,” she agreed before indulging in a pair of soft clicks.
Elias looked back and forth between the two ashushk, unsure of the joke. Judging by the flick of Zed’s gray eyes, he too sought the punch line.
Qek waved her hand between the two groups in a very human gesture. “The ashushk do not express surprise very often.”
“No, we do not,” Rhyniche agreed. The director tipped its head toward Zed. “I am delighted by your presence, Mr. Anatolius. Your family is well thought of. In fact, I have consulted with many of your scientists stationed at Chloris.”
Zed’s shoulders relaxed as he proved, once again, that he wasn’t an asshole. Or, at the very least, could take a joke. Smiling, he dipped his chin again. “I am glad to hear it.”
Elias carefully let out a held breath. Proper rest and lack of stress seemed to diminish the frequency and duration of Zed’s episodes. He’d feared the long ride to the surface might have tested him, but Zed still appeared lucid.
But for how long?
Rhyniche gestured to its companions and introduced each by name and title. They were diplomatic functionaries, all of them, hence their recognition of one of the more famous names in the galaxy. The smallest, Banqueler, stepped toward Elias. “I will be your liaison for the duration of your visit. If you will accompany me, I will show you to your accommodations.”
“Thank you.”
Fixer leaned toward Qek and murmured. She pressed her palm to his arm and responded with a few quiet words. Again, Elias witnessed a subtle stretch of surprise ripple across the delegates’ faces. The ashushk did not make a habit of touching, not in the casual and friendly sense humans did.
Qek turned to Rhyniche. “Mr. Ingesson would like to know when he and Mr. Anatolius might meet with you.”
Rhyniche studied the two men a moment, round, unblinking eyes revolving back and forth in lidless sockets. Then the director offered a wrinkled smile. “I thought you might want to refresh yourselves. Perhaps we can schedule a consultation after you are settled.”
“I would prefer now,” Zed said, bowing his head slightly. “If you have no objections.”
Rhyniche clicked with apparent pleasure at Zed’s eagerness. “None at all, Mr. Anatolius. The facilities for treatment are on the same island as your quarters. Banqueler will show you to my office in…let us say, thirty minutes, Standard? I will go ahead and prepare.”
“Please call me Zed. Or Zander if you’re more comfortable with that.” He turned a half smile toward Qek. “And yes, thirty minutes sounds perfect.”
“Excellent.” Rhyniche did not test either alternative name. The ashushk might not stand on ceremony, but they could be oddly formal when it came to interpersonal relationships.
Outside the lounge, a glassed-in skyway arced ov
er the purple ocean, leading to another island in the archipelago that served the elevator. After days of confinement aboard the Chaos—which had been akin to being trapped in a bag of angry cats—and the trip down the cord, Elias relished the opportunity to stretch his legs.
Banqueler kept up a steady stream of commentary, pointing out sights as they passed the long windows—the distant chain of islands that represented the planet’s capital territory, an extinct volcano nudging up out of the ocean on the other side, the wide beach on the island they approached, and mention of the spectacular sunsets afforded by the ever-present cloud cover, which seemed less dense when viewed from below.
“The clouds thin toward the horizon at dusk and dawn, giving the sky a stratified appearance. The colors range from…” Banqueler paused a moment, then produced a strangled click for Qek to translate.
“Magenta.” Qek turned to Fix. “Magenta is a deep red, is it not?”
Fixer blinked at her, his hazel eyes rendered a dark gray by the altered spectrum. “Red,” he said simply before his attention seemed to wander again, his gaze drawn back to the view outside the skyway.
Nessa intervened. “Magenta is a very deep shade of red. You might compare it to the color of oxygenated blood. Human blood, that is.”
Their liaison started gently. “Ashushk blood ranges from blue to purple, but I think that in an altered spectrum, it might more closely resemble human blood.”
“Indeed, it does,” Qek put in.
Can we stop talking about blood? Please.
Elias glanced over at Zed. He appeared to be following the conversation and did not seem overly disturbed. Maybe he was just too damned tired. Take Nessa’s thumbprints, double them, and you had the circles beneath his eyes. Fix continued studying the view, but the set of his shoulders indicated he was listening, despite his apparent disconnection.
Fixer usually had a smile for anyone and everyone, but he was a lot like an ashushk when it came to interpersonal relationships. He didn’t connect easily. Elias knew the war had changed him from the man Zed remembered, and he had enjoyed watching the slow thaw, the more frequent spark in his friend’s eyes, the increased liveliness of his mood. Not that the guy brooded, he just…tinkered. Since Zed stepped aboard, Fix tinkered less.
Breathing out a slow sigh, Elias tuned back into the conversation. They had moved on to the concept of vacations, and Banqueler enthusiastically recommended several locations where one might “get away from it all.” The idea of vacationing ashushk made him smile.
The gentle arc of the skyway terminated in a junction high above the largest island in the chain. According to his wallet, they had walked just over a kilometer from the elevator station. Elias looked back along the bridge and marveled at the feat of engineering. How did it stay aloft? Maybe he could ask Fix for his theories, see if he could encourage the engineer to think of something other than Zed’s condition.
Banqueler gestured to another circular door and it irised open to reveal an elevator. “Our ride down.” The gray face wrinkled. “It will take less than a minute, I assure you.”
Round eyes swiveled toward Fixer, who had taken a step back from the small chamber. Despite having spent most of his life in space, he didn’t like cramped quarters. Zed slid his arm around Fix’s shoulders and the pair leaned together briefly as they stepped through the door. Nessa’s cheeks rounded, and when she showed her smile to Elias, he returned it. Less than a minute later, they emerged into the thick atmosphere of Ashushk Prime.
Closing his eyes, Elias drew in a deep breath. His lungs quivered slightly as the air plunged into his chest. The oxygen-nitrogen mix wasn’t exactly the same as Earth but close enough they could breathe comfortably without the aid of respirators. An extended stay might require the use of blood thinners. Thankfully, that was a medical mystery solved by humanity long before the dawn of space travel.
A vehicle closely resembling a giant silver ladybug hovered over a slender ribbon that apparently served as a road. Elias blinked at the odd material and filed away another question for Fix. If only he could distract him for the entirety of their stay. One of the ladybug’s wings lifted to reveal a comfortable interior. Banqueler ushered them all inside. Seconds later, they flew along the ribbon at a stomach-jerking speed. Elias swallowed over the urge to revisit lunch. The ribbon straightened into a spear that seemed to pierce the purple air. The car followed the ramp and sailed from the end with a small lurch. Nessa stifled a squeak. Elias took the opportunity to lean in and bump his shoulder to hers. She turned to him with a rueful grin.
After another short journey across the somnolent ocean, they flew over an island that looked like something out of a travel holo: wide beaches dotted with trees that resembled palms, the broad leaves purple instead of green. The trees banded together toward the middle of the island to form a canopy over a dense jungle. Rocky buttes peeked between the lavender blanket here and there. The few clearings showed clusters of transparent domes resembling giant soap bubbles. The ashushk liked to view their world and Elias could not blame them. It was lovely. If this was the last place a man ever saw…
Sternly, Elias turned his thoughts away from eulogizing his companions and turned to their guide. “Is this where we are staying?”
“Yes!” Banqueler said. “I hope it meets with your approval.”
“It’s gorgeous.” Nessa tilted her head. “Qekelough has told me much about her home, but she never mentioned how beautiful it was.”
Banqueler’s forehead wrinkled. “You have chosen a human pronoun.” The statement was directed at Qek.
She nodded. “I work with a human crew. I would rather be a she than an it. Our refrigeration unit is an it.”
Banqueler clicked nervously. Given the nature of their sexuality, that was understandable. Maybe he thought taking a pronoun was tempting fate?
Five private soap bubbles had been reserved for the crew of the Chaos. Each opened out onto a large, communal lounge. After passing along a few more cheery comments, Banqueler and Qek withdrew, leaving them to choose rooms and avail themselves of the bathrooms and refreshments. The days on Ashushk Prime were long, some thirty Standard hours, so they had plenty of time to do just that while Zed and Fix met with the doctors and scientists.
A quick survey of the tense yet tired postures of his crew indicated any idle hours would be more torturous than not, and the gloom that hovered over them like a dense cloud of something other than purple made it difficult to embrace any sense of hope. His crew was his family. They smiled together and they hurt together. They had journeyed to this planet to help one of their own.
More than anything, he wanted to fly up out of the clouds stitched closer together than ever, the five of them healed and whole.
Elias sidled over to Fixer, who had found yet another window to gaze out of.
“It’s breathtaking, isn’t it?”
Fix looked up at him, lips twisting as they sometimes did when he sought an appropriate response.
A soft chime at the door indicated Banqueler had returned, ready to take Fixer and Zed to their appointment. Elias couldn’t find the appropriate words, settling instead for a quick squeeze of Fix’s shoulder before he and Zed disappeared through the hatch with their guide.
As soon as the door closed, worry for the two men swamped him.
The scent of lavender, weirdly appropriate for the ashushk planet, tickled his nose. Nessa appeared at his elbow. She looked up at him and smiled. “Come on, Gramps. I think the kids are in good hands.”
Elias snorted. “Gramps.” He reached up to massage the wrinkles from his forehead. It seemed his head had ached for weeks. Not like Zed’s—God, not like that. “I…” Fatigue crashed down over his shoulders. “I’m exhausted.”
“Take a nap?”
“I don’t even know if the ashushk sleep in beds.” He eyed the marshmallows collected in the center of the room. “Everything is so round.” He’d never been accommodated by the ashushk before, and their public areas
usually had recognizable furniture.
Nessa wandered over to the closest puff and dropped into it. The shape flattened slightly, then reformed around her until it looked as if she were reclining in one of those slack cushion chairs kids liked.
“Huh.”
She tipped her head toward another of the puffs. “Tap that one twice on the top.”
Elias did as instructed and watched with tired amazement—or perhaps amusement—as the flattening occurred again, then stabilized so that he stood before a low, wide, round pedestal. A table. He flopped back into the next piece and groaned as it shaped around him. “Oh, man, I could get used to this.” Furniture that shaped to their needs—they should stuff the Chaos with these marshmallows. He’d have to have a word with Qek.
As if on cue, his wallet buzzed. Lifting his hip, Elias wrestled the square of plastic out of his pocket and flipped it open. A holo sprang into the air listing several ripmails and a jazer he couldn’t access without a console—which the Chaos did not have. The majority of the messages were from Nynt. Elias had opened two of them earlier that week, and he’d replied to one, letting the Grand Fucking Moth know that they had urgent, personal business to conduct that would occupy them fully for the foreseeable future.
He opened the newest ripmail. Nynt entered the room, thankfully pixelated.
“As I have not received a response to my last missive,”—honestly, who used words like missive?—”I will do you the courtesy of assuming it was lost in transmission and will restate my case. I contacted you in good faith, Captain Idowu.”
Elias paused the transmission to cast an aside to Nessa. “That’s rich, coming from a criminal mastermind.”
“He calls himself the Grand Moth, Eli.”
Fair enough.
Nessa lifted her chin and Elias resumed the playback. “I wish to deal like the civilized adults we are. If you cannot see clear to respond to my invitation to meet, however, then I will have no recourse but to—”