“But she does bruise. Spirit guide or not, she’s still human.”
We stared at each other. She was just as rough around the edges as me, and it was the first time in awhile I’d met anyone who could keep me on my toes other than my own aunt. Unless you counted Nova, but that wasn’t the same. She kept me on my toes like an insect bite on the bottom of my foot.
Tev Helix, on the other hand, intrigued me. Her abrasive personality went way beyond her protectiveness over Marre. Who was she? What kind of person mods a Gartik transport vessel, employs a disappearing pilot and a man who acts like a canine, and fancies herself capable of manipulating a powerful othersider with nothing more than one spirit guide?
“So,” I said. “If I’m helping you, are we still calling that room I slept in the brig, or my quarters?”
Tev looked unimpressed. “Don’t push your luck.”
I spent the afternoon taking a shower, stretching my sore body, taking the dose of Dexitek that would take the edge off my symptoms for a little while, and trying to come up with a way to convince Nova she wanted to help the crew. It was better than obsessing about whether Lai would be fretting over my absence, whether she’d gotten my message, whether she’d secured any jobs for the day, whether her meds would keep her illness at bay well enough for her to work one more day. Ruminating about my aunt would do nothing to help anyone. Convincing Nova to help Tev, would.
We still had six hours until we arrived at the outpost, and if I were honest with myself, I was as excited to see Nova as I was dreading it. Some part of me always hoped each time we saw each other that this time we’d reconnect, find some common ground, if only I could figure out the right way to reach her. Maybe this was an opportunity that went beyond helping Marre, or even healing my own body.
I had plenty of sore spots where my sister was concerned. Our every interaction ended up an acidic reminder of what we weren’t to each other. We tried to understand each other, but our efforts were always short-lived, tempered by our fundamental differences in values. Frankly, I wasn’t sure if she cared enough about our relationship to try anymore; she was too busy fawning over her own accomplishments.
Just as I was about to try to leave thoughts of Nova behind in favor of a nap, someone knocked on the now-unguarded door of my former “brig,” and stepped inside. Dr. Vasquez held two small, brown boxes and a water bottle. She seemed warmer now, her face relaxed and open. Apologetic, even.
And with good reason. No matter how noble their intentions, I’d probably be bitter about that stunt with the injection for a while. Still, I was glad for the company. She made her way to the bed and sat down next to me, offering one of the boxes. “Hungry?”
“Oh, for love of the black,” I sighed, tearing open the box with no shame. I hadn’t eaten since that plumberry on Heliodor. “Yes. Oh, yes.”
Vasquez laughed, reminding me of the kind of woman I wished my sister had been—all the grace but none of the pretense or vanity. Her black hair bobbed just above her shoulders in waves as she shook her head. “Sorry about the whole not-feeding-you thing. Tev feels bad about it. She’s the one who sent me here with the food, but don’t tell her I told you.”
Too busy chewing to answer, I just waved her off. Spiced, dried meat filled my stomach with such a welcome heaviness and warmth that I didn’t care what animal it came from. Or what part of said animal, for that matter. A caramel-flavored nutrient block sat next to the meat. I procrastinated reaching for it; we ate them regularly back in Heliodor. They were cheap, easy to find, and kept you healthy, but they tasted more like expired ass than the advertised flavors. Still, I was grateful for the nutrition and for the growing ache of a full belly.
“So why aren’t you eating with the rest of the crew?” I said. “Drew the short straw? Stuck with the stowaway?”
“We grab meals when we can. Not always together. There’s too much to do on a ship and not enough hands to go around. Like keeping an eye on the criminals that wander on board in our crates.”
Anxiety fluttered in my chest, but she winked at me and I relaxed.
She tilted her chin at my dinner packet. “Sorry we don’t have anything better. It’s not all glamour in the Big Quiet.”
“Heh, it’s not glamorous on Orpim either, trust me. Not in my part of Heliodor. And even the nice neighborhoods are built on the bones of industry.”
“Have you always lived there?”
“Yeah.”
“You sound thrilled.”
“That’s because it’s so thrilling,” I said flatly.
I slowed my chewing and relaxed into the meal. No one was going to burst into the room and take this food away. No need to rush.
“Ovie hated it too.” Her voice was soft. “Hasn’t been back in about ten years.”
“He’s not missing anything. Fringe folk are all but crowded out now,” I said. “Even the families who were there a long time before othersiders gentrified the damn place. Now they look at us like we don’t belong there, like it wasn’t our town before it became their playground.”
It was easy to hate the lie Heliodor had become.
“Not like I remember it ever being any other way,” I said, “but my aunt does. Now the city doesn’t think we’re worth anything unless we cover our houses in albacite. I guess at least it’s imported from a planet on our side of the breach. At least it’s real. That’s something.”
Vasquez made a disgusted face. “Don’t even get me started on that blood mineral.”
“They try to hide poverty in my city with layer after layer of it, like you can just cover folks with gloss. Why do you think I wanted out?”
She set her packet down on the blanket and leaned back against the wall. “Same reason we all do, I’d guess. You’re running for the sky, or something sappy like that.” She smiled. I heard the fringe in her voice too, though her accent wasn’t Heliodoran. Didn’t matter. There were folks like me everywhere. Probably back in the othersiders’ own universe, too.
“You’re not so bad, Doctor Vasquez.”
“Call me Slip. No one here uses my title except Tev, and that’s only when she’s pissed.”
“Why Slip?”
She took a swig of water from the bottle and handed it off to me. “I don’t know you well enough.”
“Okay.” I held my hands up in mock surrender. “How about telling me something about everyone else, then? Only seems fair to know who’s sticking me with fake poison.”
“They’d kill me.”
I grinned. “And? You’ve proved those threats are empty.”
She just shook her head and smiled. “You’re not that bad either, surgeon. I hope you don’t disappoint us.”
“I wanted to ask about the other engineer.” I didn’t meet her eyes as I set aside the food, saving a little for later. “Ovie.”
She laughed, a mischievous look creeping into her eyes—almost a challenge. “What about him?”
“He barked at me.”
“Of course he did. You were a stranger stowing away in our cargo hold. He could smell you the second he stepped in there.”
“Smell me?”
“Yeah?”
“And he barked at me.”
“That he did.”
Between Marre and this, I was starting to feel a bit crazy. Shards of my sanity dropped away and shattered on the floor with each new conversation. Why was I the only one who found it unsettling to watch a grown human growl like an animal?
“What do you see when you look at him?” Slip said, leaning back against the wall.
“A big, human being. No tail, no fur. Sky surgeon locs.” I gestured at my own. “Sweat and grease. Reminds me of my aunt, only harder. Bigger. Healthier.”
“Half the time, I see that too,” she said. “Minus the part about your auntie. But sometimes, I see something between a wolf and a dog. Black fur, long tail, tongue hanging out the side of his mouth when he sleeps upside-down. Ears pricked up when he’s interested in something.” Her face grew
softer as she spoke of him, her eyes glazing over as she recalled the images. “Grease on his paws instead of his hands. Sometimes he flickers between the two. He’s no small canine, that’s for sure, just like he’s no small man.”
“I don’t get it.”
She patted my leg. “You don’t have to. People don’t exist for us to get.”
Evidently that was the only explanation I’d receive, at least for now. I shoved another piece of nutrient bar into my mouth, pretending it was a piece of fruit instead of a nasty compressed morsel of whatever. Ever since setting foot on the Tangled Axon, I’d found myself more frequently at a loss for words. There’s not a lot to say in response to being told that a person is, in fact, sometimes a wolf, and you’re the odd person out if you can’t see it. Nothing coherent, anyway.
“Don’t worry so much about it,” Slip said. “You’ll get to know him the way you get to know anyone.”
“Okay.” I kept eating. Getting to know him is exactly what I intended to do if I wanted to work in his engine room. What do you do to get on a wolf-man’s good side? Bring him a ball? A tug toy? A herbivore?
“What about you?”
“What?”
“You think this is a one-way thing? Tell us something about you.”
I shrugged. “Like what?”
“Pick a story.”
“A story.” I thought about my life, which I saw stretching back in time as a series of love affairs with ships. “What kind of story?”
“You’re the one who’ll tell it.” She shrugged. “Not me.”
“I don’t know what you want.”
“I told you.” Slip laughed. “A story about you.”
One memory floated to the surface, so I plucked it out of my brain and started talking.
“My sister hated my hobby growing up—building miniature working ships. Baby ships, my parents called them.”
“Cute.”
“Nova thought they were dirty and noisy and not becoming for the sister of a spirit-guide-to-be. My aunt even came over and helped me make better vessels. I didn’t think about it then, but she taught me the art of ship doctoring through hobby shipmaking, knowing I’d grow up and want to play with the real thing. Absolutely no one was surprised about the sky surgeon I grew into; I probably came screaming into the world with engines in my eyes.”
Her soft smile warmed me. “I bet you had little sky surgeon braids in your hair and everything.”
“Oh, no. You kidding? Nova would’ve cut my hair off in my sleep. Especially after the baby Series II Greenbelt I made—I think that was the last straw for her. That little ship was beautiful, let me tell you. But I wired the thrusters wrong. When I turned her on, she worked fine at first, gliding up into the sky and scaring off a flock of red-winged blithes. But when I maneuvered her back down, she took on a mind of her own and went tearing through the neighborhood. Shot straight through a neighbor’s workshop and started a fire that jumped across the trees on his property burned down the back of his house. The Greenbelt stopped when she cut a trench through someone else’s yard. I remember chasing the damn thing down and laughing the whole time, which just made my sister even more furious. ‘You think this is so funny, don’t you?’” I mimicked her over-enunciation, then laughed to myself. “And yeah, I did. At least until my parents knew they had to do something to teach me not to tear up the neighborhood with my ships. Banned me from my aunt’s shop for three months, much to Nova’s smug pleasure. I was a lot more careful after that.”
I shoved another piece of bar into my mouth and tried not to gag. I really hated those things.
“Why did your sister hate ships so much?”
I shrugged. “It’s not ships she hates. She’s pretty indifferent to them, same way I’m indifferent to my toothbrush. It serves its purpose. What she hates is the idea that her own sister lacked talent for spiritual guidance. Even worse, I had no interest in trying to expand what little innate ability I had, to become metaphysically useful beyond repairing ships. Just not in my blood to be a spirit guide, I guess. She never understood why I’d choose to be an engineer when there’s a whole world of subtlety and magic to tinker with.”
Slip was quiet as she seemed to consider this. I just kept eating, suddenly exhausted from stirring the sediment of my childhood.
“So,” she said, eventually. “Go ahead.”
“What?” I said around the chewed gunk.
“Ask about the captain.”
I almost coughed up the bar, but held it in and swallowed. “Where’d that come from?”
“Oh please. You were going to ask.”
“I wasn’t. She doesn’t seem like the type who’d want me to know much about her.”
“But you do want to know.”
“Of course. She’s the captain.”
“Uh huh.” She smirked, then rested her head against the wall again and closed her eyes. “Well, you’re right. She’s pretty contained when it comes to her private life. I’m lucky I got as close to her as I did. You think it’s hard getting past that granite exterior she’s so proud of now? Try dating her.”
Jealousy soured the already-disgusting nutrient bars sitting like rocks in my stomach. Dating?
“She seems desperate,” I said, shoving the unwelcome emotion down. “I can see that much.”
“You’d be desperate too if your whole life were wrapped up in a glowing hunk of metal and the pilot at her helm. We all are. Marre’s not just our pilot. She’s family.”
I grazed my fingers along the wall, again feeling the subtle hum that told me the Tangled Axon was listening, breathing, functioning. I imagined Tev doing the same, listening to the metal lady she depended on for survival out here. Wouldn’t I do anything to save my family?
“Why doesn’t she find another pilot?”
Slip sat up and opened her eyes. “You don’t throw family into the silence just because they’re sick.”
“I just meant—”
“I don’t care what you meant. You should know better.”
“I meant if she loves her ship and her pilot so much, and Marre is suffering, why not relieve her of her duties?”
“Marre may have an affliction, but she’s a damned good pilot, and as long as she’s alive she’s the only person who’s going to touch those controls.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
I could tell it wasn’t. My words had come out all wrong. I’d be just as irritated if someone suggested I should put away my passion because of my disease. I thought about how Tev had comforted Marre, soothed her, and how similar it was to the way I felt in the presence of a ship like the Tangled Axon. Where the ship intersected with my hand, there was an undeniable charge, a frisson of empathy I couldn’t ignore. She had called to me on Orpim, and she called to me now.
I exhaled a breath held too long. “Tell me about her, now,” I whispered. “Please. The Tangled Axon.”
Slip brushed her hands on her pants and scooted closer to me. Graciously, she seemed to be shrugging off the offense I’d unintentionally caused. She leaned toward me and smiled broadly. “There’s only one thing you need to know about this ship.”
“Yes?” My breath caught on my rapidly beating heart. I felt like a teen again, talking about girls. Flushed cheeks and all.
“If she wants you to know her, you will. If she doesn’t, not a power in all the silence could help you pry your way in.” She patted my back, wiped her mouth, and stood, cutting our conversation short. “I’ll let you get some sleep.”
I wanted to tell her to stay, keep me company, tell me more. Teach me about everyone. Everything. Give me a doorway into the world I’d only barely glimpsed. But I let her go, hoping I’d made a decent impression despite my comments about Marre.
I slept away the remaining trip to Ouyang Outpost and dreamed of schizophrenic engines gone mad with age, spinning uncontrollably into the dark. At the center of all of them, I was there, a strong and inviolable version of myself, flam
e-bright like molten steel. A woman of metal and fire.
Chapter Five
Adul’s atmosphere filled the bridge view screen, blocking out all the black and void of the silence. We’d docked at Ouyang Outpost about thirty minutes before Slip came to wake me. Now we were just waiting for Nova, who—true to form—had yet to show up. Fashionably late even while my life was on the line, as far as she knew. Slip waited for her on the outpost station while the rest of the crew prepared to refuel.
I did my best to stay out of the way and ignore the fascinating but unsettling people around me. Marre most of all, who I could have sworn was watching me even while plotting our next flight path. Her telepathic buzzing droned on like a specter in my head, whispering psychotically beneath the voices of the crew. Ovie, with his occasional growls and dog-like scratching, became mildly annoying in his stoic incomprehensibility. And Tev—her imposing presence, that silken voice, and the sheer power she represented in my new life—dwarfed everything else on the bridge. A maddening aura of control and sexuality surrounded her no matter what she was doing. And still there was that sadness behind her eyes that softened her when she thought no one was looking.
Really not the kind of distraction I needed at the time. Besides, she was spoken for.
So I focused on the familiar gas giant in front of us in an effort to forget everything else. Vertigo overtook me as I watched Adul’s slow rotation, as if the gravity of the planet tried pulling my soul out through my eyes, through the screen, on into the black. I held onto the comm panel to steady myself, the crew’s activities a mere blur in my periphery. Longing pinched at the back of my throat. I’d missed my second home.
Pale bands of atmosphere twisted in ropes around Adul, like shifting sand. Or maybe more like the layers of a cake, but that might have been my renewed hunger talking. Still, the child in me wouldn’t have been surprised if a mouthful of Adul tasted of sugar and cream. Smooth and rich, whipped into a froth by its storms.
In school, most kids said they loved the resort planet Gira best. It was fun, exotic. Covered in wildlife preserves and green landscapes—far more romantic than the industrialized Orpim that Heliodor called home. Our planet creaked and groaned and spit sulfur, but Gira’s roots were in the far more glamorous field of eco-tourism. A biosynth team refashioned the whole planet decades ago for the sole purpose of making money for the Nulan system’s upper class. Even the othersiders were taking notice now, buying up entire swathes of Giran land. An entire world had turned into a holiday delicacy for the decadent rich.
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