Speaker 1: The waste of space records Native Sun by dagger Blacker.
Chapter one in orbit did have a better ring to
it than homeless. The Colonies that thought of everything when
it came to branding. The Adllite circled us three times
to blast the holographic billboard across the windshield. Orbiting insurance
for when the Great Outdoors isn't enough sliding scale one
eighty to two fifty drop per octaber sliding scale my ass.
I waved my arm to swipe through. But this's only
set off the dreaded audio. Leave it to the colonies
to rev up a hangover migraine I'd almost forgotten about.
Animated figures sprang into looped existence beneath the letters, now
read aloud by a narrator with the surpius most patronizing
voice in the universe. Taking advantage of a limited time offer.
Lucky Dog, he congratulated an enthused human man rushing home
in some ground vehicle. The animated man burst through the
door of some tearing home to present their new share
policy to a woman with her hands clasped to her
shop face, eyebrows raised as her dog's ears were seated
to her side. Both marveling at the incredible deal. My
blood crystallized, every hair on my body bristling, but none
so much as the thick black blades coating my four
foot tail. I clicked the power button, so the raggy
treadmill below me ground to a halt. Without the whir
of the belt, the cockpit was drowned in quiet. Not
silence that would be too generous a word for all
the discordant beeps and clicks accompanying the few automated controls,
but the comfortable quiet of a space that is usually occupied.
Even though it felt ridiculous, I chanced to glance back
toward the entrance. The rectangular doorway was empty, in shadow bound.
Of course, it was what was I expecting to find
Ari's Adams himself lurking behind me like some hokey horror
flick villain. Then again, casual terrorism did fall within the
purview of the Secretary of Space. These targeted ads are
getting too good. I shook my head, but my hands
still trembled when I reached for my cabin temperature bottle
of Kayleik's Cult, downing the rest of the Honeymot beer.
It was the last of a batch we produced seasons ago.
Honey so restricted. Now we've been settling for drops of
wax in our tea. In other words, the sweetest thing
I taste for years. At last, I dismissed the ad,
rather attempted to dismiss the ad. The projection jammed halfway
across the windshield, the audio chiming in again to remind
me what a lucky, lucky, ucky uky ucky ucky dog
I would be to scoop up such a deal. This
wasn't any reason to write up a conspiracy, just the
quirk and the Kylyx's censor system. With one final exaggerated
swipe of my palm, the holographic AD flitted out of sight.
I sighed, flipped the inactive switch at the treadmill controls,
the belt submerging into the floor tiles, metal plating sliding
out to replace it. At the helm of the ship.
That was enough for now. The fuel cell indicator was
already blinking red. The rhythmic metal tap of Cadbury's scuffed
blue boots announced his arrival. Before he appeared in the
mouth of the corridor, feeding into the cluttered cabin, soft
yellow light flooding out around him as he cleared the
crust from his eyes. Aye, you should make a move
on the steering wheel if you're gonna stare at it
all night. The first mate clutched a pot of iced
black coffee, our favorite. He yawned, tilted the pot over
his mouth and spilling a little on his broad wrinkle
ritten tied eye spacesuit, a fat brown droplet clinging to
the gross sparse hairs over his lip. He taken grint
pleasure lately in introducing as his first mustache. As always
after waking, his bill and brogue was more pronounced than
usual in the mornings. He was more Keplerite than Orbiter.
The same way, when I sat in the pilot's seat,
I was more Zeno than Captain. Not that many wouldn't
see his hometown in his frosting case. Hip length black
dreadlocks grown from a fresh cut a Caplorashtian holy man
had administered after Kad's pledge of peace. That's rich coming
from you, mister viskalitisan Kat choked on the coffee, caught
in his throat, swallowed hard and glared at me. That's
not funny. He lowered his voice, and not so loud.
Pool will hear you. This reaction from him had become
so regular I was beginning to think it was stress
rather than his testosterone injections that were driving his hairline back.
Despite how overdue this admission would be, I cared for
Kad too much to spoil a form, so I dropped
the subject that and I was pretty sure if I
pressed on heat combustive embarrassment. The ship was a rehabilitated
FR eight extra room vehicle or freighter, the sun kissed
model standard for hauling jobs on planets neighboring their star.
We could survive an explosion on the outside, but inside, well,
at least the Kailaks we get a fresh coat of pain.
Better diffuse the bomb. For your information, I've been doing
a lot more than tending the wheel. I got some
miles in cleared out inbox, went over the adverse pressure logs.
Blah blah blah. Captain Stuff Cab waved the same way
I did to swipe past the ads. Some of us,
like Captain Stuff, I didn't hide the bite in my tone.
And might I remind you you're the first mate, Cad
if anything ever happened to me, you're designated co pilot.
He gave that easy signature shrug that would only matter
if anything happened to you. Despite the colony codes on
Zeno ascension to the position, I thought we were best
suited to it. Just considering the practical angle, a cosmocraft
wasn't like a human Like a zeno, It was always
on gliding along the edge of functional and destructive. Because
of this, the exercise was threefold. For me, Xenos had
more energy than we knew what to do with, born
with genetic predisposition for high ionoptane maneuvers through enemy territory.
The running sessions also wore out the ionic fuel reserves
if I kept a consistent speed of twelve comatants per aven.
The third function was more practical. There was no choice
but to exercise. Space didn't allow one to so much
as lays around in order to keep up with the
constant pressure of the space time continuum, lounging across our shoulders.
Grievers were required to exercise at least four aurans a wash.
Per tradition. It was the captain's duty to enforce this schedule,
but one would soon really their mistake in skipping weightwash
when their armbones snapped at the whisper of a wind.
Upon landing, Cadburry glared down at the dashboard. We've got
a radio in here, somewhere, he mused, brushing aside hollow
cans of Kaylik's Coach Classic. I didn't realize how many
until they thudded into the bin bolted to the dash
must have been a real productive drain. Clang, clang, A
flurry of those tiny black fruit flies we picked up
on a drop in the condor quadrant. Tore out of
the cans in a blurry buzz before settling onto the
dashboard to let the beer and their bellies settle. Clang, clang,
more flies, and more passive aggression. I just pray you
sober up before you get on the treadmill. Kad drew
out the moment before dropping the last can with a
clang that made me want to smack the kepler brogue
clean out of his mouth. Sure, Cad was the only
sober member of the crew, and I didn't have any
problem with that. But what I chose to do and
when I chose to do it was my business. My apologies, master,
I didn't repress the snarl behind each syllable. I didn't
realize doctor Hare had signed over ownership to you. Of
all people, don't call me that. Gene Kat said it firmly,
but with no modicum of anger. He fiddled with the
radio embedded in the control panel, turning all three dials
until the roaring static gave way to sputtery chatter, a debate,
and an intense one one that a host was failing
to rein in the host. Now you must remember your
children back in Trists, maybe listening, Senator. Senator from TRISP,
Then I know even they can comprehend the madness of
allowing the bottling moratorium to drag on this long three days.
The companies whose taxes we depend on can't function under
this anarchy. A new voice colony Cola doesn't pay taxes
to TRISP anyway, not to anyone, nor do you, Senator
the host. Let's remember to keep the discussion civil and
not God's That may fly back on toy Sev, but
with the People's Pipe Brigade, People's Pipe Representative, nothing flies
back on toy Sev. We ran out a few months ago,
but there's nothing to commodify there, so we're left to
fend for ourselves. Senator of TRISP all you generation Adam's
kids have it easy when I was a kid, and
we want it fuel, we mind for it ourselves, People's
pipe representative. Then we should be allowed ownership over our
own water to pump at ourselves, and over our own homes,
the land we've lived on for decades. Now, the host
cut the mic, People's pipe representative, Long live grievous, Long live.
The static washed over the words once more, before faint
music fought through. I think the Great Griever Cad wasn't
a news guy. The last thing any of us needed
was to get tangled up in that occupied Pluto nonsense
grievers holding hands and singing around the ice pipe. A
quarter of inner space depended on while the gold suits
pressed in. Only colony officials and collidizans had accessed to
laser tech, the former having stolen the blueprints from the latter.
And even if the colony guns were less accurate, powerful
and precise, they were no less deadly, raining down from
pill ships stationed near every satellite, so we couldn't so
much as access the Internet. That left one with only
socialization to occupy the time. For this reason, a Starnought's
success depended entirely on a well adjusted crew. Good thing,
then that I wasn't an official starnot. The warble of
dead air receded as Libby Kissel's reggae rock vocals blared
out of the radio. Time for a switch, eating up
every iota of silence in the ship. In my brain
that the steel plating of the ship's insides vibrated as
if to burst. Cadbury shouted along, banging his head. First
they eject us to space, then they expect us to rent.
Speaker 2: Bounce b out bound bound bouch. I can freak out, putout, bout.
I'm getting tired of it. I'm getting tired of it.
Bounce back out bound bout bount bound pick outunt bound bounce.
Speaker 1: Because first they run the land dry, and then they
hike up the price.
Speaker 2: Bound count found found found a pound bound bound.
Speaker 1: In case you're wondering why, In case you're wondering why, bow.
If we're hungry, we can't rise up. If we're starving,
we can't do ship. And I've had a bad enough
of the lies. I think it's time for a switch.
I think it's time for a switch. As if a
pair of cats fine would handle screwdrivers have been driven
directly into my brain, I cried out, though it was
hardly even audible over the refrain of the chorus. When
the initial shock of pain had subsided, I groaned every
wash with this, though I skipped the bit where I
reminded him that I had the literal hearing and wretched, long,
fuzzy ears of a bat wrenching the middle dial counterclockwise
to dull the deeper basin synth tones. Oh right, sorry, mate.
His sincerity kept me from harping on the matter. But
only Cad could so easily forget something he'd been reminded
of every wash for the last four yushes. He nodded
at the green foam nestled in its cradle along the
chrome control panel. Any new orders, just a small drop,
a six pack of the lavender stuff. Some farmer wants
to know Ush's secret, Pool secret. Cad corrected um. The
lavender batch was Pool's idea. Captain USh wanted to experiment
with a chocolate porter, but we lost our confection connection
on tea Garden, Remember ride, I winked, I want to
miscredit a crew member, ay I he blushed. Anyway, I
went on. They sent directions Code two for some powerful
shades the out in the Henrietta halo. Cad winced, as
if the glare of the diamond disc was fresh. No worries, Captain,
he said, I'll just put my eyes away in their
carrying case. Yeah, well, there's no need to rush, I said.
Printer's busted. He took his tool belt off the back
of his chair, CAD's trusty purple steel hammer hanging in
its holster. When does it need to be up and
running by? I put on a phony, constable voice, the
one we all knew too well, robotic, detached, yet commanding
at ease. First, make Cadbury, it's not due right now.
Cad donned the belt anyway, as much a part of
him by now as my tail or horns or sabers.
Does it pay in food, I said in my normal voice.
Giddy shivers glow across my shoulders. Kad rubbed the back
of his neck as he slumped into his seat at
my right hand. Dude, I just got chills next to water.
Food was the most valuable currency of all, well, human food,
of course. Working with the land ridden was a double
barreled hot shot. The benefits included eating nutri soup instead
of stale oat flakes. The downsides included the constant reminder
that we couldn't touch down for more than an aurron
before the dragoons came knocking with warrants in hand. Not
a lot of Xenogene captains, it turns out, nor Colidizan's
traveling with humans, nor despite our never ending collective run
ins with X's queers. Recognizability sort of came with the territory,
though when it came to the Kaylaks, Flamboyant didn't begin
to describe the ship. The rusted, shuddering shelling of flimsy
metal paneling slowing off of the groaning iron frame of
the condemned freighter, while remain patchworked into delicate durability with welded, misshapen,
discarded scraps and gleaming copper sheets we'd made off with
from some construction yards. The outside a kind of plaid
of welded seams and red rust, silver and faux gold
metal tagged in red graffiti, with every astrogram handle imaginable
suck my cockpit, comet vomit band ugly orbiters. Only the
largest and most evident defacement was of the sun kissed
model logo letters raised in rusted gold, but the s
U N had been pried off, replaced with a bright
red ass. Any captain would struggle to proudly strut onto
the as kist, but the unsightly error was glazed and
rubbing resistant ass was here to stay. He expanded a
cabinet under the proximity radar, pulled out a tin box
of dehydrated oak flakes, and turned it upside down over
his mouth, spraying bits of grain as he gurgled another Stanza,
using the box as a stand in microphone to utilize
the acoustic inside in case you're wondering why. In case
you're wonder ring why he extended the box to me
a peace offering. Is it urgent? The order? Well, yes
and no. I took the box, just enough left for
a bowl, the sole remaining community bowl, the rest having
wandered mysteriously to the crew's sleep modules, was located on
a shelf under the steering wheel. This was what life
and ever orbit have reduced the captain too, keeper of
the bowl. It was next to a tall black candle
with a long white, charred wig on the front of
the glass, casing a raised painted image of a black
horned skeleton holding a set of scales in one hand
and a blazing orange in the other grinned out in me.
The candle was glued in the place alongside the bottom,
just as the dingy bronze tray it melted on was,
as was the smattering of pink, crusty bones scattered around it.
Bird bones expensive in open space, and worth every droken,
one long one. The cellar had told me what was
from a wing? To think creatures on Earth had wings
like ships? Did flew across the skies like satellites, I wondered,
not for the first time, if they also made beeping
noises every few seconds. I felt around for the green
transparent lighter in one corner of the shelf, the only
thing not glued down. Lit the wick just to blow
out the flame, let the heady tendril of gray smoke
struggle up toward the steel plated ceiling. Thanks for the eats,
I said, before shutting the shelf. On the face of
the great griever cat grimaced as he passed the pot.
We probably get more orders if he didn't worship a
pile of bones. We get more orders if we weren't
rum runners. I tip the age pungent coffee above the
bowl of oats, a steaming, fresh black stream washing past
the dried froth crusted around the rim as it sloshed
over my oat flakes. We can't be so obvious. There's
been a lot of dragoon activity in the Perseus, arm
envoys chasing out the stragglers, I guess, cracking down on contraband,
and not just beer, but books, comics, posters. We'll have
to give the order a few scepters, Kad said, so, basically,
no orders for sceptors, no orders, no drokens, no drokens,
no kaylaks, no kylaks, no us. He coughed it in
the crook of his arm. Even the freshest dye job
couldn't hide the purplish flakes that sprayed across his sleeve.
For now, though, I averted my gaze as Kad dug
around in his pockets. Wherein Yazza is my inhaler. Only
one colin bound company produced the cyanosickness treatment, something about patents,
and just one costs more than what the entire ship
was worth. Losing one would be a major hit to
the octavely finances. Luckily, Cad was so dependable in habit
and demeanor. I just had to feel around under the
intercom to close my fingers around the little canister. Handed
it to him. Hey, if the beer and soda demand
drives up, there's always the streaker circuit, I said. We
both chuckled at that. No way we were cut out
for drug transport. We were hardly cut out for rum running.
Intoxicants were a reliable source of income, if sometimes meager.
Caffeine and alcohol a competitive market since the Universal Temperance
Order went to effect four decades ago. Bud Streaker, the
glittery emerald green powder with serious business a market people
didn't appreciate competition in Cad read my mind when he said,
you're a fine pilot, Captain, but on this topic, it's
best to stay in our lane. Here here, I second
in pulling away now before the coffee turned the cereal
to mush. The first spoonfill grains, a hint of honey
and a heaping helping of caffeine down the gullet and
dropping into my empty stomach like a stone as good
in my system as a volt of electricity, chasing away
the chill, just for now I scooped five more mouthfuls
down quick. Didn't want to tip the bowl so far
I lost sight of the fuel dial, tried to keep
my feet kicked up over it so CAD wouldn't notice
how normally low we were. I hadn't just been gazing
out all night. I've been monitoring the ion loss just
enough to sputter to a mercy refill from our favorite
constable and the only one in the entire solar system
who wouldn't slap telekineticuffs over our wrists the moment we
were within range, I was pushing it. Had already played
this game earlier in the octaver, and we never meant
twy within the same one. Constable in Tiape, slipping us
extra ions in me each time, a little extra affection
in the yush. Since our flirting had escalated, we hadn't
worked up yet to easing that golden uniform off. Everything
between us gradual, careful, planned, sometimes even messaged about beforehand.
Woul just ten or so avns to catch up before
the crew grew suspicious of my absence. There was no
time to be shy about how much we wanted each other,
but no time to finish whatever we started either, the
only upside was the anticipation, Hello, Gene, Gene, how are
we on fuel? Cadbury tidied the control panel, bawling papers
and discarded coordinate notes, tossing them into the menacinerator. The
less excess load on the ship, the better. There is
no room for junk. But cad it picked a hell
of a time to start caring about cleanliness. Good, I answered, God.
Cad couldn't know, couldn't get suspicious. We were near enough now, though,
to the undergalactic space station, the rotating metal pyramid different
from the intergalactic space station only in physical shape, name,
and legality. Each drew in business, contraband, and important people,
though the undergal was home to the most important by far.
USh swept into the room in a wish of wrinkled
black fabric, her lucky lab coat nearly the same shade
and length as her raven hair. Her spacesuit under the
coat was the brightest thing about her, pale lavender, the
same as mine, her standard issue for grievers, given the
cheap cost of cloth with softer colors. If purple signaled
weakness to the colonies, then grievers wore a weakness on
our sleeves. The doctor took her own position at the
left hand circuit breaker, recessed into the dashboard, fiddled with
the audio override to switch the radio to a channel
dedicated to wrap. She uncapped the metal canister she kept
in her coat pocket, steam in the scent of spiced
tea pouring out as a sped up beat replaced Kissel's
languid melodies. USh nodded along to a fast paced, almost
aggressive verse. Her fingers closed around the steel cap were
as densely tattooed as her hands as her arms and shoulders.
Ush's sleeve of ink, which had at some point been
legible a list of something the doctor didn't care to elaborate,
now cross hatched over in black lines that leaked down
her skin to form the negative image of a crescent
moon on the back of her left hand. On the
other arm, by the time the ink reached her right hand,
the chatter had ebbed away to the image of a star.
I'd always figured it was the name of some fallen friend,
or maybe her parents given the imagery a way to
say you are always with me, and to me, you
will always live on. Oh, the view is incredible. Ha ha,
I spared a flat laugh. Kind of our little tradition,
as there was nearly never anything to see. A black,
airless expanse, frozen over and only warm where it burnt
too brightly for us to go never gets old, neither
will we if we don't refuel. Pool rubbed the crust
from their six orange eyes as they lumbered into the cabin.
At eight feet tall. Pool had the duck to enter
every room in the ship, including the cockpit. Now, they yawned,
the only collide is in. I knew to do so,
flexing their six external gills, arranged in sets of three
on either side of the translation officer's head, each gill
composed of a scaled golden stalk covering one side, with
a sea of writhing pink filaments on the other. They
opted for the patch adult suit instead of the bare one,
splattered in words, all in different colored inks and handwriting.
What these said? I had no idea They weren't Rueger,
a language spoken only by colidisans, and even then only
in the reaches of space where bias dared didn't go.
The language so throaty and extra galactic, most humans considered
it growling instead of speech to my ears. Though the
language resembled music more, it hadn't been ascribed letters until
the last decades. Calidisans had no need for writing. They
could communicate mind to mind, so written rueger had been
created to allow humans to learn it. Not that many
took up this offer. Because of this, the calid creation
myths had been immortalized in song. One that was scepter's
long that pull only knew snatches of singing snippets to
the crew on our Calmer deliveries. Some lyrics were stitched
into their sleeves, but I couldn't tell which ones I
did they recognize a few of the patches accompanying the
language typical astropunk fare, flaming dragoon ships, a boot stomping,
a tattered gold suit. The largest patch, in the center
of Pool's back was the encircled image of a locust
rat lapping from a river of blood. As the sayings went,
just a single pair hitching a ride on a crumb
written ship could result in an entire colony sweeping over
a yushous harvest of crops, turning a thriving, if artificial
ecosystem into a worn desert. For this reason, most pest
repellent products boasted that the toxic formula inside was locus
rat effective. For this reason too, anyone from outside the
milky Way was very familiar with the term. Pool cleared
the dried green sap from their stubby purple thorns along
their two finger thick arm length whiskers. The mustache situated
beneath the three thin opening at the end of their
snout that Callidzan's used as a nose. No, not a mustache.
Pool had corrected me enough times, cowlids didn't grow facial
hair rhizomes. They waited until they thought no one was looking,
to smear the sap across the front of their suit
the same way everyone knew. They disposed of their stray scales,
then looked a cat as they stroked the long, purple
raised welt running vertically down the underside of their jaw
and throat. The well had began as a line, like
some kind of tattoo, but in the last scepters had
grown swollen and deep violet, seeming at some angles to
throb gently with their scaled hand. They used the audio
override to change the wrap station to a radio station,
pulsing with drums, electric guitar, and ample almost too much
might feedback their favorite punk channel. Pull had already donned
the polished metal gauntlet opposit at their left arm, hand
of delicate silver framework, an arm of sturdy iron rotting,
the only piece of CAD's handiwork devoid of rust. The
translation officers stretched as they sat between USh and me,
loosing a few bright bronze iridescent scales in the process,
the reflective flakes floating to the floor like shavings from
a glorious polished statue. USh, did you leave that damn
blender plugged in again? Cad chimed in, addressing the doctor.
I told you last time the liquefier twenty two hundred
is frying our battery. Not to mention, Pul huffed, I'm
getting tired of that grouching, rattling noise in the tank.
We're running low so often lately, I can hardly get
me sleep. Colidisans don't sleep anyway. USh didn't address anyone
but the facts. She held her tee in one hand
as she strode to the visitjector. She had a bookmarked
icon that made the pale green hollow screen morph into
a race the equinite derby. Besides, I've been using the
blender cup as a mold observation study for months. The
tank rattles whether we're low on fuel or not. Sweat
rolled down my face into my mouth, soured on my
tiger's tongue. Mm, the taste of my own bullshit. It
must be a rock stuck in the recessed hinges, but
I'm afraid to reach inside. It's so hot my skin
would peel clean off. Pool Cad and I watched as
one of the robust, four legged panting beasts lapped the others,
sweeping past with a trot, a bark, then a triumphant winnie,
as the announcer called it. The voice Teney over the
intercom steal our fellow steals another mid season lace. After
that loss back on Glease, everyone wondered if another strength
went a marge. I'm beginning to think yes, USh, echoed
the announcer, snapping the race off as the winning echin
it excepted a decorative flower shawl flowers a symbol of
great honor in the colonies. Pool tisked shook their head.
That's a nasty sport. USh, Oh, they liked a run. USh,
waved a hand, taking their seat again. They're bred to
It's just interesting to see how Terix uses its precious
limited land, the translations officer said. As for the tank,
since I don't want you mammals to lose your precious skin,
I'll take a look inside. Finally, grease the drum and
remove the accursed pebble. What would you humans do without
me get captured by Colleidisan's I supplied, partly because it
was true, but partly to steer conversation away from the
depleting fuel. The translations officer had talked our way out
of being turned in for the collective nine million drop reward.
Countless times. The last five yushes pool drummed their nine long,
elegant fingers along the dashboard in time with that faint
whirring rattle. There it goes now, bang bang bang, that's
definitely the word of the wash. USh grumbled up from
her cup of tea pools three nostrils flared. How many
arons of drain do you spin in that lab bush
eurek of booze and sweat. Usher shrugged, tea steam streaming
around her mouth even as she drank. Someone's got to
cook up ideas for the new barley season, she said,
And this I must emphasize as a certified professional, doctors
don't sweat. A metal scratching noise announced the arrival of
Tendon before he appeared, clicking his beak, black bristles shivering
in anticipation along that arm length body as the crow
cat scampered into the cockpit, long his hind paws and
fore paws so far apart that his body between the
seemed to undulate like smoke. The only thing stubby about
him was his tail, the end still pale white, dozens
of tendrils writhing at the end like living bending bone,
the result of the doctor's latest experiment, removing the long,
feathery end. Every few scepters to study the regeneration process
and study the detached side, USh dropped a steel biscuit.
The little cro cat devoured it in two tiny bone
crushing bites. Tendon muled, nudging at Ush's pocket. Mar He squawked,
I'm mar me mar. He'd been vocalizing a lot more lately.
Ush's careful training regiment it in order to develop a
complete patience dialogue. I'm not a doctor if I don't
get feedback on pain. USh had said once, that would
make me a pervert. It was said, crow CAATs have
more than parroting skills, had intelligence exceeding that of an
earth dog or dolphin. Yet the little parasite had never
managed to utter anything that wasn't food related. No more,
USh said firmly. She reached into her lab coat pulled
out a small green ball play Tendon lingered a moment,
cocking his head at the doctor as if considering this,
before slinking off to hiden the recesses of the ship
till its next meal was due. USh shook her head,
pocketing the ball with a chuckle. I'd love to be
surprised one of these washes. She didn't look at Tendon
as she said it, though she looked to me. USh
tapped the blinking fuel indicator, spinning in her seat to
face me head on. Let me guess we've got no
choice but the dock on the undergal It's that of
the indigoal I said, another running joke amongst the crew.
We were expressly banned from the Intergalactic space station, so
attempting to dock and refuel there would resulting in immediate arrest.
Even the undergal wasn't without its security detail. In a
sweeping deal with the United Colonies of Terex, every unhuman
establishment in the galaxy, or what was left of them
once the Starnaughts swept through, required an earth born representative
Exodus envoys to ensure that humanity was treated fairly by
their many gifted neighbors and keep careful watch for criminal activity.
What criminal meant exactly was, of course, up to humans
to decide. Our steady rum running gig had gone unnoticed
until the hydro tower incident two yeshas ago. Siphoning water
through a series of metal straws taped end to end
worked better as a drawing on a napkin than a heist.
The resulting chase, careening through two entire quadrants of inner
space until we lost The five dragoons tailing us had
cost us the ultraluminum plating Cadbury had installed fresh off
our latest purchase to date. No one died, though, and
more importantly, no one got arrested. Thus we decided then
was worth toasting to. Of course, this act of defiance
had injected life into the five yush crusade. For my capture,
my crimes laid out plainly on the holographic billboards flashing
across the galaxy, along with an old picture of me
before my horns had grown in and my hair had
grown out. One count of desertion of a colony appointed position,
two counts of theft of colony property, one for the KAYLYKX,
the other from my DNA. The past two yushes, we
gained the upper hand in the fuel department, relying less
on lazy patrolled dragoons to land frequently conserving ions, and
more on the envoy posted on the under galactic Constable
and Tiapee Adams, Airy's middle daughter and my latest girlfriend.
I knew the crew would balk at my repeated meet
ups with her and outright denying her requests for contact
that I've redirected from the crew in message log to
my own five in a row urgent. It'll be a
quick stop in and out and back in, USh said,
and back out, Sable. Seriously, we live within thirteen square
comitons of each other. We all know about your little
under the table undergal smooch fests, pool nudged or snickering.
What do you mean, USh? Everyone comes back from the
bathroom breathless with their suit on backwards. Kad gave the
slightest frown at USh and Pool's physical contact. Okay, so
it wasn't exactly a secret I was getting more than
the tank serviced on the undergal but CAD's longtime crush
on our resident translator was also a well known fact.
The infatuation so constant it was like a fixture of
the cosmocraft, the black metal steering whill, the silver framed
window that was supposed to be a circle but was
more of an oval due to ill cut glass, and
Nelson Cadbury's silent throbbing love for Pool. Though doctor Usher
Ugo Meer's affections were reserved exclusively for intense surgical sessions,
Pool viklidis In was indeed her closest friend aboard the Kailaks.
They known each other longer, traveling for two yushes aboard
a corporate drill ship before catching Cad and I attempting
to steal their fuel with the extension arm of a vacuum.
Since then, USh had taken a checking in for the
daily captain's catch up before slinking off into a laboratory
which doubled as the infirmary, and Pool had done everything
in their power to avoid one on one conversations with
the first mate. Locus referralve, you just hate me because
I fucked your wife, Locus referlive, you just hate me
because I fuck all night two three four. I clapped
my hands over my ears. Great griever pool, turn it down.
I've reached for the audio dial before they could, twisting
it to half level. While I was at it, though,
I decided I'd had enough of entertaining everyone else's choice
of genre. It took some careful manipulation to find Station
three thousand point six, but when I did, I could
hardly believe what I was hearing. The station was dedicated
to electronic music, but the DJs dabbled in disco funk
in my personal favorite hyper pop like electronic pop, but
hopped up on streaker the audio version of a Shock
to the Chest to Revive a dying person, which felt
like an appropriate comparison because this particular track by this
particular artist was the same that had been playing when
I'd met her. Now there was something the whole crew
could agree on. Music tastes and tidiness disagreements be damned. Yes,
the only romance centric opinion that cad USh and Pool
shared was that Entipee was a shitty choice of girlfriend,
not that I blamed them. Our first yush together had
been smeared in that grimy judgment the earthborn specialized in
producing like a snail does slime judgment on Ant's part
and over everything, the state of the ship, our bare
bones medicine, supply, our spiritual beliefs, my openness regarding my
occasional intimacy with unhumans, but apprehension too, and thus from
both of us, xenos and humans didn't mingle platonically, not
to mention romantically. Crossing that line. Committing xenomy was an
act analogous to high treason and colony courts, so neither
made a move, none of us knowing how to extinguish
the persistent flame between us, but also not how to
feed it. The tentative friendship we shared didn't develop, not then,
but tapered off as each of us went back to
what we did best, Her ticketing off root orbiters like
me out in inner space to fulfill the quotas set
by her boss, the colonies, me evading constables like her
as we slung six packs of Kaylyk's cultus to citizens
on the fringes of inner space. After though, there were
my drains in the pilot's seat, refreshing my inbox. What
it was exactly it had taken me scepters to work out. Sure,
she was a filthy loyalist in Ares's daughter, but her
upbringing had gotten to her in as many ways as
it hadn't. Aunt was a woman in the middle, unwilling
to make an arrest, but just as unwilling to quit
her job, me or the colonies, her home, or the unknown.
This was something I'd weighed yeshes ago before abandoning my
own post. More than anyone probably, I understood the draw
of stability, the comfort of following orders, the steady, deep
electronic drum line intertwined with the whine of a synthesizer,
the music drilling through my ears, down my chest, and
into a part of me that only throbbed when Aunt
was on my mind or in my arms. It taken
her three octavs to make a decision, just long enough
for the pru's hatred to bake into every mention of
her on board. Despite the rough start, I never had
managed to stop waiting for that call was there to
answer and more, Oh, my eldenev, do all six of
my eyes deceive me? Pool thrust their gleaming steel finger
out at my hand resting on the side stick embedded
in the control panel, The red button on the far
side depressed beneath my thumb autopilot. They're daydreaming. I released
the button, physically shaking my head to clear it. Okay,
I admit it, you caught me. Sorry, It's not like
we're flying through a minefield. The colonies that set up
a smattering of floating death zones at the edge of
the galaxy Callida is entraps. I'll have to track down
my stethoscope, said USh, patting her pockets and a show
of mock panic. Only a heart read can confirm. But Captain,
I'm afraid you've got it bad. Kad gave a snort
of a laugh. Struck down by love sickness, he bemoaned.
I was wondering what that was. The first mate nodded
at my boots. I looked down. While our suits were
liquid tear and fireproof, our boots could stain as easily
as the kaylaks. A big splash of caramel colored vomit
screamed out amidst the black rubber. Ha ha ha. I
tried to remember if I'd thrown up in the chute
room as well. This was a worry for later, much later.
Enough about me, pool, it's been a while since we
touched down. Cat's been telling me how much he misses
the way you look on a dance floor. Colidizans were
so graceful in movement they turned it into a sort
of secondary language. Showing off on the dance floor was
practically the planetary pastime. Cat swiveled in his chair to protest,
but pull it perked up more than perked up, actually
grinning as the violet welt on their throat erupted into
an ultra violet fan tinged with gold and glitter like
a starfield. The translations officers stuffed the apparatus back into
their throat and not gently, keeping their silver hand clutched
to it. That's never happened to me before. Nelson's brow furrowed.
Are you running a fever or something? Maybe USh can
have a look at you. Pull shook their head. I
feel fine, they said, I think I could just use
a leg stretch. They swiveled in their own seat to
address me, sable, would you be joining us before or
after the bi actively makeout sessh before I gripped the
steering wheel. Now this was what I was made for,
shoving the reclining bar with my legs till I was
soup on in my chair. The central dashboard above me,
the left panel splayed out in front of pool and USh,
the right panel sprawling before cad burying an empty chair.
Hundreds of controls in the form of toggle levers, rotary switches,
thumb wheels, monitors, lights, and push buttons, looming the way
I like them too. The universe before me. So all
I had to do to weave since from chaos was
reach out I did, wrenching the thruster's dial to subsnet.
A pilot knew when to go full throttle, but a
captain knew when to rein it in Gently. I pulled
the steering wheel downward. The Coylyx's nose plunged through a
tunnel of turbulence, giving the entire cosmocraft a jolt before
evening out. I won't have any energy after