The Galaxy, and the Ground Within Read online

  ‘Yeah, but that’s not the point. The point is, this idea’s been around for a long, long time, and it’s … it’s calcified. Doesn’t matter that there are billions of us on dozens of different worlds. Interspecies relationships are just not done. At least, not by most.’

  ‘I was going to say, I met two Aeluons once in Reskit who were part of a feather family. You’re definitely not alone in this.’

  ‘No, but those people are on the fringes, and I … am not. It would not go well for me, if the people I work with found out.’

  Speaker squinted at her. ‘But you said your feelings about your shimmer have nothing to do with … sorry, what’s his name?’

  ‘Ashby. And see, that’s exactly the thing I don’t fucking understand, because he’s not the problem at all. Humans tend to get all their wires crossed in this arena, but he and I talked about shimmering when it first became obvious this was an arrangement we wanted to continue. He understands the difference between social sex and reproductive sex – he really does. His pilot’s Aandrisk, and they’re close, so he already had an introduction to the concept. It’s not the same, of course, but—’

  ‘He has an open mind. And a willingness to accommodate cultural norms beyond his own.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So this isn’t about you not wanting to couple with someone other than him.’

  ‘No. Not at all. And that’s what’s so infuriating, because I know it’s only a matter of time before people – my people, I mean – find out about him and me. I know it. It’s gone on for too long, and I don’t want to lose him, so being open about it is the only other option. So if I don’t go to a creche but I do go to my Human partner, then … well, then it doesn’t matter why I let my shimmer go – I’ve become exactly the cautionary tale all of this bullshit is based around, even though Ashby wouldn’t be my reason for it at all.’

  ‘Then what is your reason?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Pei rubbed her face in frustration. ‘There is no reason why I don’t want to do this. I’m healthy. I’m clearly capable. Everybody I know who’s ever gone to a creche comes back saying it’s a fantastic time. I’d have tendays to just lie around and have sex and be catered to. I like kids. I like being around kids. I imagine visiting my own would be nice. I have a partner who understands, and friends who would be thrilled, and … there’s no reason not to.’

  Speaker looked at her for a moment. ‘Of course there is,’ she said. ‘You don’t want to.’

  ‘That’s not a reason. That’s a feeling. Feelings have to have reason.’

  ‘Since when?’

  ‘All feelings stem from something. Even if you can’t see it right away, there’s always something way down there at the root causing it to happen. Like fish. I’m terrified of the fish we get back on Sohep Frie. Just seeing vids of them makes me twitch. I’ve been that way my whole life, and I never thought there was any reason for it, until one time, a few standards ago, I was visiting my fathers, and somehow me being scared of fish came up. And my father Gilen, he thinks this is … oh, there’s not a word for this colour arrangement in Klip. Sad-funny, I guess. Sorry, it’s hard thinking back on a colour conversation and having to translate it into sound.’

  ‘I imagine it would be.’

  ‘Anyway, he says that one of my older siblings once told me that the schools of shiver fish we’d see on beach trips would eat me. It apparently took my fathers forever to get me to go swimming again after that. I have no memory of this, at all, but I guess it stuck. It’s the same principle with this. Somewhere in me, there is a reason why I don’t want to do this. I just haven’t figured it out yet.’

  Speaker pondered. ‘Are you aware that my legs aren’t typical for my species?’

  ‘I … wasn’t, actually. Sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. That’s why I asked. It’s a genetic condition. I have limited use of them, compared to Akaraks who are built otherwise.’

  ‘Oh. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Again: don’t be. I’m not.’ Speaker shifted her weight and clicked her beak. ‘Two standards ago, Tracker and I were at a market stop. She was having a rough stretch with her lungs, so we found a doctor. The doctor in question was Laru, and I’m sure you’re aware of their species’ proclivity for genetic medical therapy.’

  ‘I’ve heard that, yeah.’

  ‘Right. So, this doctor helps Tracker with her trouble, and even though we weren’t there for me, she gave me a check-up as well, because why not. Three days later, she contacted us, and she says, you know, I’ve been running simulations since you were here, and I’m confident I could give you new legs.’

  ‘What, in a genetweak box or something?’

  ‘Yes. Basically, she’d put me in stasis and I’d spend the next four tendays in a genetic manipulation module – a genetweak box, as you say – and when I awoke, I’d have new legs. I’d have to relearn how to use them, but it wouldn’t hurt. I wouldn’t be aware of anything that happened while I was out. She talked me through the whole procedure, and said Tracker could be there with me the whole time. Given the good care she’d provided Tracker, I trusted her. I liked her. I don’t always say that about doctors. But everything she proposed seemed safe and above board.’

  ‘But you didn’t do it.’

  ‘No, I didn’t.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I didn’t want to,’ Speaker said simply.

  ‘But why?’

  ‘Because I didn’t want to. And when it comes to a person’s body, that is all the reason there ever needs to be. Doesn’t matter if it’s a decision about a new pair of legs or how you like to trim your claws or—’ she gave Pei a piercing look ‘—what to do about an egg. I didn’t want to. You don’t want to. That’s it.’

  ‘But—’ Pei started.

  Speaker leaned forward. ‘That. Is all. It ever needs to be.’

  Pei frowned, her colours swirling uneasily. Inside, she balked at what Speaker was getting at, and took it as proof that Speaker didn’t understand, that you could explain cultural differences all day long, but in the end, there were some gaps you just couldn’t fill. But a sliver within her gravitated hard toward the Akarak’s sentiment, begging the rest of her to come along. Pei was unnerved by this, and her cheeks tinted red. ‘Why are you even having this conversation with me?’

  ‘Because it’s interesting,’ Speaker said. ‘And because I think you needed to have it.’ She stretched her neck, rocking her head from side to side. ‘And speaking of needs, I have to go tend to myself. I’ll try to not be more than half an hour.’

  Speaker clanked away, leaving Pei with the monitor, the unconscious Laru, and a few too many thoughts that needed sifting through. Tupo exhaled loudly, as xe did from time to time. The sound meant nothing, but Pei’s implant interpreted it as sad and impatient, the non-verbal complaint of someone who was ready to move the fuck on.

  Yeah, kid, she flashed. I know the feeling.

  SPEAKER

  She needed to take care of herself, but she had to be quick about it. Everything aboard Capt— aboard Pei’s shuttle had stayed the same for hours, which was what made Speaker wary about leaving. She wasn’t superstitious in the slightest, but her stepping out seemed like exactly the time in which something might happen. The last thing she wanted was to be absent for that.

  She climbed out of her cockpit, muscles stretching with relief. The suit was as comfortable as she could make it, but stars, it always felt good to get out of it.

  The good feeling vanished as she noticed the ruined cake lying on the floor, its formerly fluffy frosting now collapsed. She hated the sight of it, but cleaning would have to wait. She locked a wrist-hook around the nearest pole and swung forward with clear intention. Bathroom. Food. Air. That was her mission here.

  After completing the first item on her list, she made her way to the kitchen – if it could even be called that. It was a nook, really, containing storage hammocks and a stick-out shelf with a hot pot and a water tank. It
wasn’t much to look at, but she liked it much better than whatever the hell was going on in that Aeluon ship. At least here she could see where the doors were.

  She reached for one of the dehydrated meal packs she’d been living off of for the past four days – hook bean hash, which she’d discovered to be completely fine. Not as good as the hook bean hash her mother had made, by a long shot, but it was tasty and filling and reminiscent of home. She began to open the package, but hesitated. She’d have to cook it, obviously, which would take ten minutes, and then she’d have to wait for it to cool – and it wasn’t the sort of dish you could scarf down in three bites and be on your way. She considered instead grabbing an armload of protein bars, eating one right then, and taking the rest with her. But Speaker was ravenous. Aside from having been out of her ship for hours, she’d been putting the suit through tasks she’d never done before. Lifting things and using tools? Fine. But lifting people and using medical tools had never been on her to-do list, and it had taken no small amount of concentration to not be clumsy about it. She tore open the meal pack and emptied its shrivelled contents into the hot pot, along with some water. Yes, cooking would take time, but she needed to eat. She’d be of no help to anyone if she continued along with an unfuelled brain.

  She hung by her wrists as the meal cooked, soothing her stiff body with the pull of gravity. She closed her eyes and thought of nothing.

  Ten minutes later, the timer chimed. She began the careful process of transferring the scalding meal into a bowl, and was successfully not making a mess when the comms panel played an alert. There was an incoming call.

  ‘Stars,’ she muttered as a glob of sauce splattered on the floor. Of course. Of course this was when something went wrong. She should’ve just grabbed the protein bars and gone straight back. She gestured at a wall vox, accepting the call. ‘I’ll be right there,’ she said loudly, pouring the hash back into the pot. She could reheat it later. ‘Is everything—’

  ‘Speaker? Irek ie?’

  Speaker froze, and it felt like Gora stopped spinning right along with her. It wasn’t Roveg or Ouloo calling.

  It was Tracker.

  Speaker was in the shuttle cockpit so fast she barely registered swinging her way there. But oh, oh, there she was – there was Tracker, on screen and breathing and beautiful. Speaker didn’t sit in the hammock. She climbed right up on the control panel, pressing her hands against the edges of the screen, feeling as though half her weight had been cut clean away. ‘Are you all right?’ she cried in Ihreet. She was too loud. She didn’t care.

  ‘I – yes, yes, of course, I’m—’ Tracker sputtered. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes, I’m fine,’ Speaker said hurriedly, ‘but are you well? Have you taken your medicine?’

  ‘My – what?’ Tracker said. She was shouting, incredulous. ‘Who cares about that?’

  ‘I – I care, you were having such a bad day when I left, and—’

  ‘Speaker, you’ve been stuck on a planet alone. Alone! For days! And you want to ask me about my fucking medicine?’

  Both sisters stared, realising in real-time that neither had considered the possibility of the other worrying about them. Baffled and exhausted, they did the only thing that made sense:

  They laughed.

  ‘So did you?’ Speaker said, holding her forehead in one hand. ‘Did you take your medicine?’

  ‘Yes, sweetheart. I did. I’m fine. I’d forgotten all about having a bad day. That feels like standards ago. Are you—’

  ‘I’m fine. Perfectly fine.’

  ‘Have you had enough to eat? I couldn’t remember when the last time was that we stocked the shuttle.’

  ‘Yes, I’m well fed, don’t worry.’

  ‘And it’s friendly there?’

  ‘Yes, very friendly. There’s been no trouble.’

  ‘Shit.’ Tracker rubbed the sides of her face with her palms, as if trying to rid herself of a headache. ‘I kept picturing you and some – I don’t know, some gang of alien bastards fucking with the shuttle, or hurting you, or – I know how stupid this sounds, but stars, I was scared.’

  ‘It’s not stupid,’ Speaker said. She placed her fingers over Tracker’s face, pretending she could hold her close the way she wanted to. ‘I pictured—’ She shut her eyes. ‘I don’t want to say.’

  Tracker clicked her beak reassuringly, the way she did when Speaker awoke from a nightmare or had an upsetting day. ‘We’re okay.’

  ‘Yes,’ Speaker said. She pressed her hand against the screen, hard. ‘We’re okay.’ She paused, remembering the context of what she’d been doing in the shuttle in the first place. ‘But somebody here isn’t. I—’ Stars, where to begin with summarising the who and what and how? ‘I don’t have time to explain. There’s a kid in trouble. Medical trouble. I need to get back there, I just needed food.’

  ‘Holy shit. Okay. What—’

  Speaker’s eyes widened, and she cut Tracker off. ‘You have comms. Tracker, you have comms.’

  ‘Well, yeah, I – Oh. Of course, you don’t know. Comms up here are fine, we just haven’t been able to contact anybody planetside. Signal traffic has been a clusterfuck since the temporary satellites were deployed, but I made some tweaks and was able to punch through.’

  Never in Speaker’s life had she wanted to hug her brilliant sister’s head so hard. ‘You can contact the TA orbiter?’

  ‘Uh, yeah, absolutely, I—’

  ‘I need to you to flag emergency services. We haven’t been able to get a signal through.’

  Tracker immediately got to work, punching commands into her control panel. ‘Stars, you’re gonna make me speak Klip. What are the details?’

  ‘Laru child. Age seventeen. Went into olotohen after asphyxiating—’

  ‘Went into what?’

  ‘It’s like a coma.’

  ‘Do you seriously think I know how to say coma? Or fucking asphyxiating?’

  ‘Just tell them there’s a Laru child who needs a doctor, and give them the coordinates. Can you say that?’

  ‘Uh – yeah. Yeah, I think so. I can say Laru and need doctor, at least. What’s child?’

  ‘Breggan.’

  ‘Breggan,’ Tracker repeated in her thick accent. ‘Ugh. Okay, you go help, I’ll call.’

  ‘Tracker?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  Speaker looked seriously at her sister. ‘I miss you so much.’

  ‘I miss you, too. And this is a shitty thing to say, but I’m so glad you’re not the one I’m making this call about.’ She made a shooing motion. ‘Go, go. I’m on it.’

  The screen switched off, and Speaker raced back toward the airlock. She grabbed an armload of protein bars on the way.

  PEI

  The doctor took an hour to arrive, but it was obvious she’d made the best time she could. Her skiff came tearing across the empty desert, and had barely come to a stop before its lone Human occupant jumped out and headed into the airlock. She hustled up to where Pei waited for her outside of the shuttle, wearing an exosuit and carrying a medical bag. She pulled off her helmet, and Pei found herself facing a petite young woman with black hair shaved short around the sides and cascades of piercings encrusting her ears. Her expression was friendly, but her eyes hinted that she was not in the habit of screwing around.

  ‘I’m Dr Miriyam,’ the Human said. ‘Where’s the patient?’

  The words hit Pei’s implant, and she warmed immediately to the crisp, clipped consonants of an Exodan accent. Ashby’s accent. ‘Come on,’ Pei said, leading her inside.

  Dr Miriyam followed. ‘Are you the kid’s guardian?’ she asked.

  ‘No, I’m just – a friend.’ She hurried through the hallway to where the others were waiting in an anxious huddle.

  ‘Ah,’ the doctor said as she saw Ouloo. ‘You must be—’

  ‘I’m Ouloo,’ she said, her fur fluffing. ‘I’m Tupo’s mother.’

  ‘Tupo, got it. I’m Dr Miriyam.’ She reached into her belt pouc
h and pulled out a bundle of printed cards. ‘I’ve got my medical licences here if you’d like to take a look.’

  Ouloo was confused. ‘Oh – I don’t need to see any of that. I trust you.’

  Dr Miriyam paused. ‘Oh.’ She looked at the cards for a moment, then put them back in her pouch with an expression of quiet surprise. ‘Usually people ask.’

  ‘I get that,’ Speaker said.

  ‘Hmm,’ Dr Miriyam said, throwing her a knowing look. ‘I bet you do. All right, where’s—’ She looked to her left, saw the med room door, and headed straight in. ‘Oh, boy. Hey, Tupo. Let’s sort you out.’ She wasted no time in examining her patient. Ouloo joined her in the room; everybody else crowded around the door. ‘How long has xe been in olotohen?’ the doctor asked.

  ‘Six hours, maybe,’ Pei said. ‘We’re not entirely sure when this happened, but it couldn’t have been much longer than that.’

  ‘Okay. And what was the trigger?’

  ‘Xe boarded my ship without a suit,’ Speaker said.

  Dr Miriyam apparently knew exactly what that meant, because she turned her head toward the Akarak with a dumbfounded expression. ‘Without a suit? Why?’

  ‘I think, um … xe was trying to bring me some cake.’

  The doctor blinked twice, then shook her head. ‘Kids, kids, kids,’ she sighed. ‘So! We’re dealing with severe oxygen deprivation, which—’ She noticed the air mask, buried into fur matted with sealant. ‘What is going on with this?’

  ‘I had to glue it,’ Speaker said. ‘The air wouldn’t flow without a proper seal. I know it looks a mess, but—’

  Dr Miriyam studied Speaker’s handiwork. ‘No, that’s fabulous,’ she said. ‘Honestly. Kids like xyr can get by without breathing for the first few hours, but getting xyr nose open and some oxygen in xyr blood probably bought more time. That’s great.’

  Ouloo stood on two legs at the end of the med bed, holding Tupo’s back paws in her forepaws. ‘Is xe going to be all right?’

  ‘If we’re talking six hours, probably, yes, but I need to look at a few things before I can say for sure.’ She looked around at the furniture. ‘Is this … a chair?’