Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Put the kettle on
Shohari
“SO NOW you know my weakness and my shame.”
I’d practically choked on my words as I’d told my crew, but the engines still thrummed beneath my feet, my chrya still tasted sweet, and the nausea I’d been feeling wasn’t quite as bad.
“I love you, Shohari, but that’s ulthshit, you know?
” Muzati's voice was gentle, though her golden eyes flashed with anger. “They should be ashamed, not you, and you’re the strongest motherskykker I know. You know we’ll help you any way we can, right?
You know if it was as simple as kicking some arse, we’d be there with our station boots on in a heartbeat.
Though we’d also bring blasters because, you know, blasters. ”
Help? I couldn’t expect them to go out of their way to help fix my problem. It was my burden to bear, not theirs. Not that I didn’t trust my crew. I did. I could trust them with knowing. That was already enough.
I gave them a weak smile and dropped my gaze to the worried hem of my tunic, where the stitching was worse than frayed.
They left me to stew over my own thoughts, opting to rehydrate some soup pouches for everyone, even the humans, while I slumped into the sofa, my favourite impulse purchase from Bzhalti a few years ago.
Protein bars would have been fine, but I didn’t have it in me to argue with them tonight.
We could eat the dense keppli bread with the soup.
The small rounds were probably nearing their consumption date, anyway.
You’re allowed to want things for yourself, Captain, Muzati had said.
I supposed she had a point—not that I knew how to live like that.
But she’d made me think, just for a few beautiful moments, things might not always be as hopeless.
That some day, things might be mine in a way they’d never been before.
The freshly vaccinated humans trailed in at the time I’d told them, Garrison at their head. As soon as his gaze landed on me, he threw me that easygoing smile. “Hey, Captain. Something smells good.”
For a moment, I imagined some of my gloom dissipated.
I jerked my head over at the other two in the galley proper.
“Giompa and ruli soup.” Muzati bounded over to the group of humans clustered around the table.
“Some of you will have to stand at the counter and eat ’cause, you know, not a passenger ship.
And we might not have enough spoons. No, wait.
Cap, didn’t we have that box of random galley items that came with the bulk crate from the outlet station two years ago?
The one that shouldn’t have been in there and we couldn’t sell, so we just stashed it in one of the lockers?
I bet there are spare bowls and spoons in there. Which locker did we put it in?”
My headspines twitched as Muzati sprawled her long limbs on the floor, opening locker doors and pulling everything out into a haphazard pile, which she spread out until she found the small crate in question, holding it up triumphantly.
“I knew it! Let’s see.” Before anyone could say anything, she’d upended it on the only table in a clatter of metalware and the melodic crack of something breaking.
“Ah, skyk. Who uses kirinian pottery these days anyway? There’s four bowls in here that didn’t break, at least. I’ll get ours from the washer.
” She opened the cover, and her headspines stood on alert.
“They’re all dirty. Whose turn was it to turn the washer on? ”
Paiata stared her down, mild amusement in his tone. “You. Before we got to Draim.”
“Ah, skyk.” Her spines flattened like a wet doorith’s fur.
I found I didn’t mind Muzati’s antics tonight. When most of the humans started tidying up the mess, it was no surprise the first one to move was Garrison.
I was content to watch from the sidelines. From feeling alone with my problems, the extra people filling the small galley were a welcome warmth. Temporarily.
Gods, I couldn’t do this every day. But today, it was acceptable.
The bowls were mismatched, but they found enough, and, eventually, we ate.
After, as everyone bustled around and moved to leave, I remembered.
“There’s one spare berth,” I said. “If two or three of you wish to bunk in there, you may.”
Of course, one of them approached to speak with me, and, of course, it was Garrison. “Thanks, Captain. We appreciate that. If you can show me where it is, I can get people settled.”
And so it was that I was alone with him in the ship corridors, yet again dealing in bedding and comfort and easy silences until it was done.
“I’d better go,” he said. “Thank you for this, Captain, it’s very kind of you.”
“Not a problem.” I wasn’t ready for the closeness this kind of conversation with him seemed to bring, so I closed off my body language, ready to head back to the bridge.
“I’d be happy to make you a cup of chrya tomorrow if that will help.”
I turned.
He made it sound so simple, I almost believed it. Could change start with just a mug of chrya?
“Thank you.” I felt awkward, stilted. “I’m sorry. I—” I pushed myself away from the door. “It’s been a long day and I have things to review before tomorrow.”
He gazed at me, measured and knowing, nothing but compassion in his dark eyes. “As you wish, Captain. See you tomorrow. I’ll put the kettle on.”
I didn’t know what his strange human phrase meant, but I found myself looking forward to tomorrow so I could find out.