The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet

by Becky Chambers

  “I…don’t think so,” Rosemary said. “Dr. Chef, some help, please.”

  “Ohan is in the final stages of a Sianat Pair’s life,” Dr. Chef explained. “They will not last more than a year.” He paused, and added: “Any buyer who might consider purchasing a Sianat Pair would be familiar enough with the species to know the signs.”

  Rosemary translated.

  “You may be lying,” Captain Big said. “But the risk of wasting fuel and food on useless cargo outweighs the possible gains, especially in light of the ambi. We will leave him, then, but you will give us your entire stock of ambi cells.”

  Rosemary agreed. “Ohan stays,” she said to the crew.

  “Oh, stars,” Kizzy said.

  “But they want all the ambi.”

  “Fine,” Sissix said.

  “Good thing the GC’s got our tab on this one,” Jenks said.

  Rosemary and Captain Big discussed logistics. Groups from both crews split up, leaving Jenks, Ohan, and a barely conscious Ashby — stars, his eyes were finally open — under guard in the cargo bay. Rosemary took Kizzy’s hand as they walked out the door with Captain Big. Kizzy squeezed back so hard that one of Rosemary’s knuckles popped.

  Jenks’ voice followed them. “Have fun stealing our stuff, assholes! Rosemary, you want to translate that?”

  She let that one go.

  ●

  Ashby lay on the bed in the med bay, trying to move as little as possible. Both his hands were occupied. His right hand was outstretched beneath the medical scanner, where a thick beam of light showed him where to position his wrist patch. Dr. Chef sat on the other side of the scanner, hrrming as he input directions for Ashby’s imubots. Somewhere beneath Ashby’s skin, two platoons of bots had separated off from their daily patrols and were now repairing the fracture in his jaw and the bruise on his brain. Dr. Chef had said a lot about “granulation tissue” and “osteoblasts,” but those things wouldn’t have meant much to Ashby even if he hadn’t been drifting along on a slow tide of painkillers. The part about lying still and not moving his jaw, though, that much he had understood. He could manage that.

  His other hand was gripped tightly within Sissix’s claws. She sat beside him, giving a play-by-play of everything that had happened after he’d blacked out. Every so often, she let go of his hand to let him type a question on her scrib. Dr. Chef had banned talking for the time being.

  No one else was hurt. The ambi, the food, none of that mattered. They were things, and things could be replaced. His crew couldn’t be. The relief he’d felt upon learning he was the only one who’d wound up in the med bay topped anything that the painkillers could give.

  Where’s everyone now? he wrote.

  “Kizzy and Jenks are fixing the damage to the bay doors. They say it’s mostly superficial. They already replaced the navigation hub, so that’s working fine. Corbin started prepping a replacement algae batch the minute the Akaraks flew off. I think Rosemary’s tallying our losses.” She smirked. “And guess where Ohan is?”

  Quarters?

  Sissix shook her head. “He’s sitting down in the cargo bay with the techs.”

  Ashby stared at her. He blinked.

  “I know. They’re not talking or anything, just sitting there in a corner, in their own little headspace, like always. But they haven’t been back to their quarters at all, and they followed Kizzy down the hall when she went to grab some tools. Never thought I’d say this, but Ohan doesn’t want to be alone right now.”

  Ashby blinked again. Huh, he wrote.

  An hour passed. Dr. Chef gave a pleased nod and turned the monitor around for Ashby to see. The screen displayed a camera view from one of his imubots, which was doing…something to a big, white spongey wall (his jawbone, he supposed). Other bots scurried around the peripheries of the frame, like swimming spiders.

  “You’re coming along fine,” Dr. Chef said. Ashby took his word for it. He had no idea what was going on in there, and he always found the experience of seeing inside his own body to be unsettling. “You can talk now, but small movements, please. The fracture hasn’t fully healed yet. And your brain still needs some work.”

  “I could’ve told you that,” Sissix said.

  “Thanks,” Ashby said, moving his mouth gingerly. “Your sympathy is appreciated.” He licked his lips. The inside of his mouth felt stale. “Can I have some water?”

  Sissix filled a cup from the sink. She held it to his mouth, helping him drink. “Need anything else?”

  “No,” he said. “Or, wait. Can you bring Rosemary in here?”

  Sissix cocked her head toward the vox. “Lovey, did you catch that?”

  “I’ll get her for you,” Lovey said. “It’s good to hear your voice again, Ashby.”

  “Thanks, Lovey,” Ashby said.

  A few minutes later, a curly-haired head peeked around the doorway. “You wanted to see me?”

  “Hey, Rosemary,” Ashby said. “Have a seat.” The pain meds made his speech sound sloppy, as if he’d had a few too many drinks. He sincerely hoped he wasn’t drooling.

  Rosemary pulled up a stool beside Sissix. “Are you okay?” she asked Ashby.

  “I’m fine. Bastard busted my jaw, but it beats getting shot.” He leaned his head back into the pillow, trying to think through the concussion and the medicated haze. “I don’t know why that guy hit me.” He rubbed his eyes, trying to fight the wooziness away.

  “Just to scare us, probably,” Sissix said. “Show us who’s boss. I know I was scared.” She lay her head on Ashby’s arm.

  Rosemary studied Ashby’s face. Something had her attention. “What?” he asked.

  “Did you touch your face at all while you were talking to the Akarak captain? Like you’re doing now?”

  “Um, yeah, maybe.” Ashby pushed through the fog, trying to remember. “I don’t know, it all happened so fast.”

  “Something like this, maybe?” Rosemary rubbed her eyes with her palm, as if she had a headache.

  “Possibly. Yeah. Yeah, I think I did.”

  Rosemary grimaced. “That explains it. See, this —” She tucked her thumb back and held her fingers straight and flat, making her hand into a rough imitation of a Harmagian dactylus. She flexed her hand over her eyes, twice. “ — is a really offensive thing to Harmagians. And those Akaraks’ gestures and dialect were very Harmagian-influenced.”

  “What’s it mean?”

  Rosemary cleared her throat. “It means you’d rather rub shit in your eyes than keep talking to them.”

  Ashby blinked. He and Sissix both burst into laughter. “Oh,” he said, grabbing his jaw. “Oh, ow.” His jaw wasn’t quite ready for laughter yet.

  “Careful,” said Dr. Chef. “If it doesn’t heal properly, we’ll have to do this all over again.”

  Sissix was still chuckling at Ashby. “I’d have hit you for that, too.”

  “Yeah,” said Ashby. He held his lips tight, trying to keep his jaw from moving too much. “Likewise.”

  “At least you told them off, right?”

  “Right,” he said, with a restrained smile. “I’m sure the psychological damage of my accidental insult cut them real deep.”

  “Speaking of damage,” Rosemary said. She held up her scrib. “I’ve tallied our losses, I filed an incident report, and I’m currently drafting a list for the Transport Board so they can cover — ”

  Ashby waved his palm at her. “We can talk about all that later. That’s not why I asked you here.”

  “Oh.”

  “I wanted to thank you. Without you, I’m not sure we would’ve gotten out of this one as well as we did.”

  Rosemary looked embarrassed. “I don’t know. I just got lucky. There are a lot of cultures I know nothing about.”

  “Maybe, but it was good luck nonetheless, and luck we wouldn’t have had otherwise. More importantly, you had a cool head and kept everyone safe. Today would’ve been much, much worse if you hadn’t been here.” He reached out to take her han
d. “I’m glad you’re on my crew.”

  Rosemary started to say something, but whatever it was shifted into: “Oh, no.” Her hand darted up to catch a tear running down her cheek. “Oh, stars, I’m sorry,” she said. Another tear fell, and another. Rosemary put her face in her hands. The dam broke.

  “Aw, hey now,” Sissix said with a kind laugh, putting her arm around Rosemary’s trembling shoulders. “Have you not had a chance to freak out yet?”

  Rosemary shook her head, pressing her hand against her nose. Her whole face was leaking. Poor kid, Ashby thought. He wouldn’t blame her if she wanted to take a safe planetside job after this. Hell, even he found the idea appealing.

  “These Humans, huh?” Sissix said to Dr. Chef. “I took some time to freak out. Didn’t you?”

  “I sure did,” Dr. Chef said. He handed Rosemary a clean cloth. “Once I’d medicated Ashby and got his bots going, I locked myself in my office and yelled for a good ten minutes.”

  “That’s what that was?” Ashby said. He had a dim memory of layers upon layers of haunting chords, cutting through the waves of pain. “I thought you were singing. It was really pretty.”

  Dr. Chef gave a short, loud laugh. “Ashby, if the Akaraks think rubbing shit in your eyes is bad, the things I said in my office would have permanently scarred them.” He rumbled and cooed. “But Sissix is right, dear,” he said, placing a hand on the back of Rosemary’s head. “Your species does have a knack for emotional suppression. And as your doctor, I would like to say that diving straight into paperwork after negotiating at gunpoint wasn’t a very healthy decision.”

  One of Rosemary’s sobs turned into a solitary chuckle. “I’ll remember that next time.”

  “No ‘next time,’ please,” Sissix said. “I’d rather not do this again.”

  “Agreed,” Dr. Chef said. He glanced at the bot monitor. “Ashby, you’ve got about two more hours before you’re all patched up. Nothing you can do but lie there and take it easy.”

  “That’s fine,” Ashby said. “I could use a nap.” The drugs were weighing on him, and conversing had worn him out.

  “And I could use a meal. Ladies, would you care to accompany me to the kitchen? Let’s see if we can’t throw together some comfort food from whatever the Akaraks left behind.” He patted Rosemary’s back. “I’ve got some new seedlings that I think will make you smile.”

  Rosemary inhaled, pulling herself back together. “One more thing,” she said. “About Ohan.”

  “Ah,” Dr. Chef said. “Yes.”

  “Was it — ”

  “True? Yes, I’m afraid so. And I’m sorry I had to tear down Ohan’s privacy like that. It was the only thing I could think to do.”

  “Stars,” said Rosemary. “I had no idea.”

  “I just found out, too,” Sissix said. She frowned at Ashby. “And I still don’t understand why that is.”

  Ashby sighed. “We’ll argue about this later, Sis. My head is swimming.”

  “Fine,” she said. “You get to play the injury card this time.” She tapped a claw on his chest. “Later.”

  Once alone in the med bay, Ashby reached for the paper letter tucked away in his pocket. He made himself push back the drugs’ call for sleep just a few minutes longer.

  — a trait I am glad of.

  I don’t know how long this run will take (it’s a delicate one), and I know you won’t be back to central space until next standard. But I have more paper, so at least I can say hello when I make market stops. And I’ll send you a scrib letter as soon as I’m clear. This paper has far too little space for me to write everything I want to say, so know this: I love you, and I think of you always.

  Travel safe.

  Pei

  ●

  Once the bay doors were fixed and a meal was consumed, Jenks did several things. First, he took a shower. The whole ship felt gross now, after having those mech-suit bastards pawing around. He couldn’t scrub out the ship, but he could clean himself, at least. He ignored the fifteen minute shower rule. It wouldn’t be that much extra work for the water reclamation system, and today of all days, Kizzy would forgive him for it.

  Back in his room, he retrieved the info chip from the pocket of his crumpled pants. He sat naked on his bed, plugged the chip into his scrib, and read the message.

  Hey, buddy. Found a seller for that software upgrade we talked about. He’s willing to get you the whole kit and kaboodle, but he wants to be paid up front, non-refundable, non-negotiable. You know how these specialty techs are.

  The guy you need to talk to is Mr. Crisp. I’ve heard his name kicked around before. Solid reputation. He’s got his own asteroid and everything. Hell of a programmer, good with custom work. He’s expecting to hear from you. Contact info’s below. Please don’t share it with anyone.

  And hey — think about what I told you. You sure this is the right upgrade for you?

  Come see us again soon. I’ll make dinner this time. Or, well, I’ll buy it, at least.

  Pepper

  His eyes lingered over the word “kit.” He knew what Pepper meant. He thought about what she had said at Port Coriol, about responsibility and consequences. He thought about it just long enough to be able to say that he’d done so. He put on some pants and walked down to Lovey’s core.

  They talked for hours. All the risks and dangers had been spoken of before, a dozen times over. But as both comp techs and AIs knew well, redundancy in the name of safety was always a good idea.

  “There are two things that bother me,” Lovey said. “Not enough to say no, but we need to make up our minds about them.”

  “Shoot.”

  “First, if I transfer into a kit, the ship will be without a monitoring system. Since I’ll effectively be quitting a job I care very much about, I want to make sure I have a good replacement lined up.”

  Jenks drummed his fingers against his lips as he thought. “I don’t know why, but something about installing a new AI feels strange, under the circumstances. Do you think she’d be jealous, seeing you walking around while she’s living in your core?”

  “Depends on the AI and whether or not she’s interested in a body to start with. But I do think it could cause problems. Say, hypothetically, she sees me walking around, and she wants to know why she can’t have the same opportunity. Why I got a choice that she didn’t.”

  “That’s a good point,” Jenks said, frowning. “And it wouldn’t be fair.” He sighed. “So then — ”

  “Don’t give up yet, I’m not finished. What if a non-sentient model replaces me?”

  Jenks blinked. A non-sentient model could do Lovey’s job, yes, with some heavy tweaking, but it would never be someone they could speak to in a relatable way. It would never really be part of the crew. “Wouldn’t that bug you?”

  “Why would it?”

  “Living with an AI that was designed to be less intelligent than you, just smart enough to do hard work, but not allowed to grow into something more? I dunno, I’ve always been on the fence about that.”

  “You’re sweet, but that’s silly.”

  He smirked. “Why?”

  Lovey paused. “Are you comfortable with the idea of beasts of burden? Horses pulling carts, that kind of thing?”

  “Yeah, so long as they’re treated well.”

  “Well, then, there you go.”

  “Hmm.” He’d need to chew on that. “It’d be Ashby’s call, in the end.”

  “That’s the second thing that bothers me. We keep glossing over what Ashby’s going to do when he learns what we’re up to.”

  Jenks sighed again, heavily. “I honestly don’t know. He’s not going to be happy about it. But he won’t report us. That’s not his style. Best case, he gives me an earful, but lets us stay. Worst case, we have to leave.”

  “That worst case isn’t unrealistic. He could lose his license if he’s found knowingly carrying illegal tech.”

  “Yeah, but how often do we get searched? And when we do, it’s not like —
”

  “Jenks.”

  “What? The chances of us getting caught — ”

  “Exist. I’m willing to take that risk. Ashby might not be. Is that something you’re ready for? I’m not going to make you lose your job and your home over me. That’s your choice, not mine.”

  He laid his hand against her core. “I know. I love this ship. I love my job. I love this crew.” He ran his palm down the smooth, flawless curve. “And I don’t want to leave. But I won’t be on the Wayfarer forever anyway. Someday, when the time’s right, I’ll go do other things. If that time gets chosen for me, well…okay.”

  “You’re sure?”

  He sat thinking, watching her light shine between his fingers. He thought of the familiar insides of the walls of the ship, the way Ashby trusted him to tweak them just right. He thought of the groove in his mattress that fit no one but him. He thought of drinking mek in the Fishbowl, Sissix laughing, Dr. Chef humming. He thought of Kizzy, who he knew he’d be sitting with in some sketchy spacer bar sixty years down the road, both of them old and obnoxious. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  For a moment, Lovey said nothing. “Even if it came to that, they wouldn’t hate you. These people are always going to be your friends.”

  “Yours, too.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “I do.” He fell quiet. “So. We’re doing this?”

  “Sounds like it to me.” There was a smile in her voice, a smile he longed to see.

  “Okay.” He nodded, and laughed. “Wow. Okay. I’ll contact this guy tomorrow.”

  He slept in the AI pit that night, his head nestled against a cold interface panel. He could feel the dull metal pressing little hatchmarks into his skin. He fell asleep imagining soft arms across his chest, warm breath against his cheek.

  Day 249, GC Standard 306

  CRICKET

  It was an odd name for a moon. Calling it a colony was an exaggeration. Ashby could count ten buildings nearby, plus a few solitary settlements peppering the hills and cliffs beyond. The roads were little more than flat grooves in the dirt. There were flight lights and pedestrian paths, but they looked like an afterthought. The sky was the color of sulfur, the ground the color of rust. Fine silt already settled thickly in the grooves of their breathing masks and the frames of their goggles. There were no other sapients in sight.