15. Tell Me About Rain
FIFTEEN
TELL ME ABOUT RAIN
The following week, Charlie was in Borran's kitchen, which smelled like something between a bakery and a fever dream.
Charlie had learned that the ship's galley operated on Borran's schedule and nobody else's.
Meals appeared when Borran was ready, somewhat following a three-square-meals kind of schedule.
Snacks materialized on counters at hours that defied any known circadian rhythm.
And if you happened to wander in at the wrong time, you were either put to work or fed until you couldn't move. There was no third option.
This morning, Charlie had wandered in at the wrong time.
"Sit," Borran said without turning around.
He was at the counter, his massive hands working dough with a precision that shouldn't have been possible given their size.
Each movement was deliberate and practiced, from the kind of muscle memory that came from doing the same thing thousands of times and the care never dampening.
Charlie sat. She'd learned not to argue with Borran about anything in and around his kitchen, least of all the food, the same way she'd learned not to argue with Helen or Frank.
A plate appeared in front of her. Some kind of flatbread with a spread that tasted like honey and rosemary had a baby in a meadow.
Charlie sniffed it at first. She'd gotten used to eating the food on the Emberkind, and often it was incredible. But she still always second-guessed something that was made by a seven-foot bear in an apron. She kept thinking to herself she really needed to get over it.
She picked up the flatbread, which was still warm to the touch, and watched as some of the honey dripped down onto her plate below.
When she put it to her mouth and took a bite, she realized she really needed to get over the fact that a bear was making her food because Holy Toledo, Batman was it the most incredible tasting food she'd eaten since...
well... that morning, since the breakfast Borran had prepared was just as good as her meal now.
"This is incredible," Charlie said, her mouth full.
Borran grunted. She was learning to translate his grunts. This one meant obviously.
"No, seriously," she said, tearing off another piece. "If you ever wanted to open a restaurant on Earth, you'd put every bakery in Indiana out of business. And California. And probably France."
Borran turned around and studied her, his dark eyes narrowing beneath his heavy brow. Then he pointed a flour-dusted finger at her.
"Spark Plug."
Charlie blinked. "Beg pardon?"
"Your name," Borran said. "Spark Plug." He turned back to his dough as though the matter was entirely settled.
Charlie stared at the back of his enormous frame.
The kitchen door swung open and Reyna pushed in, datapad in hand, clearly mid-thought about something as she stopped when she saw Charlie at the counter.
"Well well, fancy seeing you here, Earthling," Reyna said, the tease in her voice immediate. She sauntered over to the counter and gave Charlie a smile as she leaned against a stool to Charlie's right. Charlie returned it full force with a raise of an eyebrow.
"Afternoon, Captain," Charlie said. "See? I call people by their proper titles. I don't go around saying, 'Nice to see you, Caravan.'"
Reyna looked at her, perplexed. "'Caravan?'"
"Yeah. 'Caravan.' Your species."
Reyna started to laugh. "You mean 'Kaelari'?"
"Yeah, that."
Reyna continued laughing. "Duly noted, Earthling."
"You're not making me feel very apologetic for calling you a 'caravan,'" Charlie chided, but her smile grew watching Reyna laugh, easy and light. "Hey, can I ask you something? Maybe you can shed some light on something for me."
Reyna's smile disappeared and her eyebrows pinched together. "Do you need to borrow my flashlight?" She asked with confusion.
"What? I... no!" Charlie blew out a breath that ruffled her bangs. "Sorry, that one's on me. I'm saying, do you mind if I ask you a question to help me clarify something I don't understand."
"Oh. Oh. I get it, now," Reyna said with a smirk. "'Shed a light on it' so that it becomes clear. Wow, humans are so clever," she remarked, the note of sarcasm no more evident to Charlie if it had bitten her.
"Ha ha ha, very funny, 'Caravan—'"
"Kaelari."
"Right," Charlie said flatly. "I really do have a question."
Reyna laughed softly as she nodded for Charlie to continue.
"Borran pointed at me earlier and said some words directly at me? But the words didn't make sense. I mean, I know the words, the translator worked fine. But they were just... random?"
Reyna's eyebrows rose. She looked at Borran, then back at Charlie. "Did he now?"
"Is that surprising?"
"To be honest, a little. Usually, people have to be around quite a while before you get given a nickname by our resident nomenclator here."
Charlie looked over at Borran. A nickname.
A grin spread across her face, slow and wide and completely involuntary.
She'd been given a lot of names in her life.
Charlotte, by parents who wanted a daughter she wasn't. Charlie, by everyone who knew her.
Wickett, by colleagues. But Spark Plug, given by a seven-foot alien who communicated primarily through baked goods and monosyllables, might have been her favorite one yet.
"I love it," she said.
Another grunt from Borran. This one meant good, because it wasn't a request.
"So...?" Reyna asked slowly, looking at Charlie expectantly.
"So..." Charlie mimicked, slightly confused.
"What's the name?" Reyna taunted.
"Oh," Charlie said with a small laugh. "Spark Plug," Charlie said, unable to keep the pride out of her voice. "He named me 'Spark Plug.'"
Something softened in Reyna's expression. "That suits you."
"Thank you," Charlie said, sitting up a little straighter and sending a genuine smile to Reyna. She tore off another piece of flatbread before leaning back on her stool. "So, does the Captain have a Borran nickname too?"
The reaction was immediate and absolutely magnificent. Reyna's eyes widened, and then she turned sharply toward Borran, who had gone suspiciously still at the counter.
"Don't," Reyna said, raising a finger at Borran as if to prematurely scold him.
Borran didn't turn around. But Charlie could see his shoulders shift. Barely.
"Don't you dare, Borran."
Charlie looked between them, delighted. "So you do have one.
You absolutely have one!" She leaned forward on the counter, the stool falling back into place with a thunk.
She directed her full attention at Borran's back.
"Borran... buddy... chef of my dreams," Charlie coaxed, sugar-coating every single syllable that escaped her lips.
"Come on. Please? Tell me what the Captain's nickname is? "
Borran turned around slowly and Charlie batted her eyelashes at him, going for "cute puppy you just can't say no to." She suddenly wondered if an expression like that works on an alien? An alien bear for that matter?
Charlie watched as Borran looked at Reyna, whose expression had arranged itself into something that was attempting authority but was losing badly to the flush creeping up her neck. Pink goes good with green. Then he looked at Charlie, and Charlie, again, gave him the puppy dog look.
"'The Wee Captain,'" Borran said.
Charlie's eyes went wide for exactly 1.28 seconds before her hand shot to her mouth and smacked it over her lips so no sound could escape.
But unfortunately, she was too late. Charlie's laugh burst from her, loud and bright and overwhelmingly joyous.
Reyna closed her eyes, seeming to make every attempt in her power to rewind time and erase that answer from the time-space continuum.
"'The Wee Captain?'" Charlie asked in between squees.
"Really? I mean, she's not even that wee!
" Charlie managed, which only made it worse, because now she was laughing at her own observation, and Borran's expression actually made a small change.
He smiled, which, if Charlie knew anything yet about the Brontari chef on the Emberkind, was the equivalent of a big, hearty belly laugh.
"It was funnier before," Borran said.
"Before?" Charlie managed in between sharp intakes of breath into her lungs.
"When she was twenty-two," Borran said. "First on the Emberkind. Shorter then."
"I was NOT shorter," Reyna said indignantly.
"Mmm," Borran said, which meant you were and we both know it.
The kitchen door swung open again and Tavi appeared, drawn by the commotion. His amber skin caught the galley light as he looked between the three of them, reading the room in an instant.
"What did I miss?" he asked.
"Borran gave me a nickname," Charlie said, her laughs dying down enough to have a semblance of conversation.
Tavi's eyes lit up. "What is it?"
"Spark Plug."
"Oh, that's good. That's really good." He nodded approvingly, then his gaze slid to Reyna, who still had that expression on her face. "What's happening to the Captain?" Tavi asked as he hooked a thumb in Reyna's direction.
"Borran was kind enough to tell me what her nickname is."
Tavi's head swiveled very, very slowly to Reyna. Whatever he saw in her expression made him press his lips together tightly.
"I am aware of the Captain's designation," Tavi said, turning back to Charlie with his expression carefully, beautifully innocent.
Charlie nodded, biting her lip. "And yours, Tavi? What's your Borran nickname?"
Tavi straightened to his full four feet, happy to be the center of the change of subject. "Short Stack."
Charlie lost it again. It was formally a lost cause. She heard Tavi laughing now, too, and it only made her more happy with the moment she was sharing with the people around her. She laughed until her shoulders shook, and somewhere in the middle of it she heard Reyna speak.
"I really need better friends," she said in a voice that was trying very hard not to laugh.
"You'd never find anyone as understanding as us when it comes to your quirks, Captain," Tavi replied while his laughter was still going strong.