Chapter 3 – Sweater Weather
The shuttle was tiny, a sleek silver shape that could accommodate maybe five people inside, depending on the size of the species involved and their comfort with close proximity.
I figured Araxis would put me in the narrow seats near the back of the shuttle that were close to the door, but instead he gestured to the seat next to the pilot's chair, a deep curving teal affair that hugged my whole body like a hand when I sat down.
I made a startled sound as I sank in deeper than I'd expected, and Araxis tilted his head in my direction, the faintest little smile catching on his mouth.
His lips were awfully pretty too.
I hadn't been on a shuttle since I was fifteen, and even then I was mostly jammed inside of a utility closet, pretending that Alet Trident didn't know I'd stowed away on her ship.
Had it really taken me this long to realize that she knew everything?
That she always had fourteen plans and schemes running in different directions?
Araxis was quiet as he pulled up some floating screens in front of the curved front window, muttering to himself as if running through a list. I took that moment to poke at my wrist and surreptitiously download my favourite encyclopedias from the datasphere.
Look, some people have security blankets. I was never hard-pressed for blankets on Seraphim. What I had been deprived of was information, and having access to my files helped my nerves settle a little.
It had been a steep learning curve when Trident had brought me on at her den.
I knew there were a bunch of different aliens, but I didn't know anything about them beyond that they were dangerous heathens.
She'd set me up in a bunk with a tablet hooked right into the datasphere, and suddenly I'd found myself swimming in a sea of more knowledge than I had ever dreamed might exist.
I read as much as I could get my little hands on, and my little hands could get on everything. Ironically, it was through alien databanks that I learned about Earth, the home we'd left behind because it was wicked and teetering on the edge of utter destruction.
It turned out that was a bit of propaganda, a new addition to my vocabulary at the tender age of fifteen, and one that suddenly made the rest of my life make a hell of a lot more sense.
The irony wasn't lost on me that I'd learned more about human cultures, history, and beliefs from aliens than I ever had from humans.
Of course, there was a lot to learn about aliens too.
"So," I said as the shuttle rocked gently, unclasping from the station where I'd lived for the past decade of my life.
I tried not to think about that too much, because what I did remember was that space flight made me queasy, and I couldn't feel that and panic and hold on to my dignity, insofar as I had any.
"Do we have far to go to join your – creche?
" I glanced quickly at the article I'd pulled up on abaya, the brightness turned way down so that it wasn't too obvious I was currently cramming everything I could about Araxis's people into my brain.
I thrived on deep dives, but I was pretty good at a crash course to avoid most major cultural pitfalls.
I had to be, otherwise my time as a dancer, entertainer, and sunny companion would have been short.
It was just too much to remember the ins and outs of all the different Primus species, not to mention those outside of the alliance, especially when my gestures, expressions, and tone of voice were so instinctive that they still regularly got out ahead of me, despite years of practice.
A quick scan was usually enough of a refresher, and pretending I was stupid generally made up for my inevitable missteps.
Aliens liked to talk to happy, stupid humans. They liked to imagine that they were indulging a backwater idiot who didn't know anything about anything.
Of course, I often didn't – but I could always find out.
Which is how I was able to cram in a lightning-fast study on abayan cultural groups.
They weren't families, really, except that many members of a creche were related.
Hierarchical, insular, and always jostling for more power in the political assembly – the Concord was the name that kept coming up again and again – that was the species' public facing entity.
The shuttle slingshotted around the edge of the station, the display fuzzing gray for a second as we burst through the exterior port shield, careening past the queue of vessels waiting to dock and dipping and swerving through the asteroid belt that had, for the past ten years, been a thread through any glimpse of space I managed to steal.
I twisted to look at the station disappearing behind us.
"It's small," I said distantly, staring at the metal shape tucked close to the asteroid belt.
A massive gas giant dwarfed Yellow Fin, even at this distance, until the station was little more than a shadow, then a dot, before it was finally swallowed up by distant light.
At fifteen, it had struck me that this station was a gateway to the rest of the universe. All that boundless potential, somehow encapsulated into its oblong shape, its circular habitation belts, its shimmering lights.
Seraphim had probably been bigger in terms of volume and maybe even population, but I guess it had always felt small to me. Claustrophobic.
Araxis made a thoughtful sound – well, I was pretty sure it was thoughtful; I hadn't yet gotten to the quick-and-dirty summary of abayan non-verbal cues.
"Yellow Fin is a waypoint. It is busy, although its permanent population is below the average for a station of its designation.
I can think of no other station of its size with a marn den.
The number of visitors makes it worthwhile. But I am certain you know that."
I glanced back. I hadn't really thought about it.
"It definitely always feels busy in the den.
" Definitely too busy to take time off, which was fine: it wasn't like I could afford it anyway.
I barely broke even each year, usually with enough credits gathered up to expand my access to digital storage so I could add to my encyclopedia collection.
Maybe buy a new outfit. Once I'd even had some boots made.
Aliens never got shoes right. Too many different shapes of feet and other foot-like appendages. Finding a brin cobbler who'd been able to make boots that actually fit my feet had been probably the greatest moment of my life.
It struck me, then, in a sudden rush of some emotion I was having a hard time understanding, that I had left Seraphim to have an expansive life, to have freedom, and somehow I'd ended up falling into a routine that gave me… nothing at all. Okay, it gave me boots. But, really, boots?
I'd gotten freedom from Seraphim, but not freedom to see things or do things or…
This was why I'd wanted to start that journal. But then I'd found that looking too hard at my life was so incredibly, soul-suckingly depressing that it had been inevitable that I'd given up after the first week.
My throat was tight, thick. Next to me, Araxis shifted in his seat. "Are you… sad to leave?" he asked, voice soft.
I looked at him again – god, he was easy to look at – and I was pretty sure the way his cheeks had tightened meant he was pitying me, and there was no way I was going to let that stand.
I knew why people wanted me, and it wasn't for my ability to feel sorry for myself.
I plastered on a smile. "No," I insisted, forcing my voice to a happy, even pitch; it was the same song and dance I did for Alet Trident and I could do it in my sleep.
"Honestly, I could use some time away. Especially with good company. "
His cheeks silvered again, which was just too cute, and he pretended like one of the white overlays on the screen in front of him required his attention.
I watched as his tongue – pointed, gleaming wet and a startling lilac colour – licked the bottom edge of his lower lip.
"We should arrive at our creche ship in a little over six hours, assuming the solar winds are favourable.
" He tapped at the screen, feigning seriousness.
"Parked far off, did you?" This was a small shuttle for six hours with a stranger. Of course, the fact that he was a shy and easily flustered stranger made it maybe just the right amount of time.
Something in Araxis's shoulders stiffened, and I don't think I would have noticed if I hadn't been watching him so carefully, indulging my own whims as I hurtled closer to…
whatever lay ahead. But I noticed, just like I noticed the careful way he tilted his head back toward me.
I was pretty sure he was looking at me from the side of those perfectly black eyes, although it was hard to tell as I couldn't see his pupils. Did he have pupils? He had to.
Clearly, I hadn't gotten to the biology part of the article yet either.
"One of my creche-mates is studying a unique microorganism on a particular asteroid. She was very insistent her work not be interrupted."
"Cool," I breathed, reaching my arms overhead and stretching until my shoulders made a familiar soft pop.
Araxis's head whipped around. "What was that?" he asked, horrified.
Ha, aliens. There were a seemingly infinite number of ways in which human bodies perplexed and terrified them.
"Just my joints," I said blandly. "Sometimes I have to crack them.
Listen." I extended one hand and rolled my wrist, a satisfying pop echoing in the tiny cockpit.
Then, because I could, I added in my most mild tone, "You should hear the kinds of sounds I can make when I'm on my back, though.
Of course, I usually get paid for those. "
The rosy pink hue that flushed to his cheeks before he turned away was delightful.