Chapter Twenty-Seven The Fuel #2
And what a strange thought that was.
Did the pollen also affect my emotions?
We ventured through another room, where the tubes ended. Encased power cables were hooked up to a generator of sorts, and beside that were large red barrels of fuel stacked beside smaller silver ones.
“Ah!” he said in relief. “Here we go.”
My eyes widened. “Are you mad? That’s rhydonium!”
He didn’t see an issue. “It’s fuel.”
“Sure, if you want this entire planet blown to bits! And didn’t you just say that the pollen eats through metal?”
“These barrels aren’t metal, for one, and both that and the coaxium seem to be stable,” he added, glancing at the smaller cylinders. “We shouldn’t take it all, but one barrel should be good, yeah?”
My eye twitched. But then I squeezed my eyelids shut and breathed out through my mouth. It wasn’t like any of us had weapons that could ignite the fuel anyway.
Except for the lightsaber and my flare gun, I reminded myself. Neither of which would be used within a billion meters of this place.
“Let’s go tell Veebee and Entoo,” I said, because the canisters looked heavy. “They’ll make quicker work of refueling than we will.”
“Good, I didn’t want to suddenly and mysteriously hurt my back…” He dramatically rubbed the lower part of his back for show, and I rolled my eyes.
“Do you think this generator panel still works?” I asked, motioning to the switches. “I think I saw a communication console in the first room. Should we try it?”
“I don’t see why not,” he replied, and blew the dust off the panel. The labels were scratched into the metal beside the switches. “We can put some fuel in one of the generators and see if anything comes on.”
“Didn’t you say you hurt your back?” I mused. My nose had grown used to the sweet smell of the flowers. They weren’t so bad. Telling the truth wasn’t awful, even though I really, really didn’t like some of the things I’d admitted to.
He feigned surprise. “You really do care about me!”
“Of course I do.” I followed one of the cables to the generator in question. To my surprise, there was still fuel inside, so I returned to the panel. “Why would you think I didn’t care?”
“Because the only other person who ever has died—aaaaah, and there’s the truth pollen working,” he added with a nervous laugh. “Forget I said anything?”
“I don’t want to—argh.” I winced. “Sorry.”
He massaged the bridge of his nose. “You need to stop being so nice. It makes me think you want something, Starlight.”
“I don’t want anything,” I replied, puzzled, and then realized with a strange sort of relief that I had to tell the truth.
He hissed air out through his teeth. “Except I don’t believe you.”
“I can’t lie.”
“I know! And yet I still feel like a gullible wermo whenever you say it. Because everyone in the galaxy wants something, Starlight. Everyone. I feel like you don’t trust me.
I feel like I can’t trust myself. Everyone I’ve ever gotten close to, anyone I’ve ever liked, has died, and why do I think you’ll be any different—oh, void take me, please tell me to shut up—”
I grabbed his face with my hands so he could look at nothing but me. The flower tucked behind his ear fell away. “Hey, stowaway. Shut up.”
His tense shoulders slowly unwound.
But I didn’t let him off the hook, not by a long shot. “You just admitted that you like me,” I said.
His eyes widened. “I did.”
I couldn’t help smiling as I let go of his face. “What else were you saying? I can’t remember.”
He huffed a laugh. “You’re too good for someone like me.”
In reply, I reached around him to flick a random switch. “I know.”
Suddenly, the generator hummed to life, the long tubular lights above us blinking on. They popped on one by one, back the way we’d come, and from the front room we heard the tell-tale sound of computers booting up, their processors sounding like chewed-up nails in a blender.
I shrugged. “Lucky guess. C’mon, I need to get some air.” And without thinking too much about it, I took his hand and led him out of the building. He let go of my hand the moment we got outside, in sight of the droids, and I tried not to think too much about that, either.
“There’s a transceiver in there that we’re going to try,” he told them, thumbing back toward the facility.
Try was doing a lot of heavy lifting, sadly, because the transceiver console was so old it took two swipes to get enough dust off the display for me to read it at all, but somehow the console itself still worked.
Hope rose in me like fizzy soda, and I quickly keyed in the prompt for the ship’s calling code.
Veebee and Entoo came into the building on the way to the fuel and stopped beside me instead. Sian leaned against the doorway, tapping his fingers on the frame nervously.
The astromech droid gave a series of beeps.
I sighed. “I know, but I have to try to reach them again anyway.”
Even though the last time we’d tried, Dad had told me to run. Of course he should know I wouldn’t. And maybe it was a miscommunication. Whatever it was, either they would answer me—a random ping from a defunct research facility in the middle of nowhere—or they wouldn’t.
So I adjusted the mic and switched on the broadcast. The sound crackled. “Starfarer, this is Ardent Quay. Please answer.”
For a long moment there was nothing.
“Starfarer,” I repeated, “this is Ardent. Pick up.”
From the doorway, Sian said, “What if something is wrong?”
Helplessly, I shrugged. “I don’t know, but—”
The comm crackled, and a garbled voice replied, “Arie?” It was Val.
Sian pulled his hands through his hair and nervously paced.
“Arie, where are you?” He sounded genuinely worried. “Why did you leave the ship? We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
But that couldn’t be true, because Dad knew I wasn’t on the ship. And Val hadn’t asked about the droids, or if I knew where they were—because he knew. Or at least he thought he did.
“It’s a long story. Where’s Daaric?” I asked. “Doesn’t he usually man the comms in flight?”
“He’s preoccupied for the moment looking for you,” Val replied, sounding annoyed. Then, a little quieter, “Did that criminal kidnap you? Tell me where you are. You don’t need to protect him.”
I locked eyes with Sian. “I don’t?”
Sian looked wounded.
“Look, Arie, he’s dangerous. I don’t know what lies he told you—but he’s no good. Where are you? Send me your coordinates,” he said. “You trust me, don’t you?”
I realized then that the flowers of this place wouldn’t let me lie.
I did, I could say. I want to. But I couldn’t lie and tell him what he wanted to hear, because the simple fact was that I didn’t trust him.
I hadn’t since he’d returned to the ship, and I couldn’t figure out why. Because I should. He was my brother.
I curled my hands into fists. “Okay.”
And I gave him the coordinates.
The next moments happened so quickly. Sian lurched over to me and slammed his hand down on the end-communication button. His face was livid. “What did you do?”
Coolly, I stepped away from the console. “I’m bringing them here.”
“This is not the time to give him the benefit of the doubt, Starlight.”
Veebee agreed in her deadpan way: “He sold me for a blaster.”
Entoo blooped angrily, flicking out their blowtorch.
“I know,” I replied, digging into my jacket. “But it makes more sense for the Starfarer to come here than for us to try to catch up with her. Our lander is pretty beat-up from the sungrazers. It could make one jump, maybe two? But beyond that…”
Veebee and Entoo exchanged looks.
I asked, “Aren’t you going to say this is a bad idea?”
“No,” Veebee said simply, and the astromech agreed with a bleep. “Something is very wrong, and if I don’t cook the shaak I defrosted soon, then it will ruin, and I spent good money on that shaak.”
Sian studied me, and his shoulders rounded in release. Noola scurried up to sit on one, munching on another piece of jerky she’d stolen from our stash. “You don’t trust him,” he realized.
“Of course I don’t. He’s my brother. I know him better than anyone,” I replied, finally finding what I was looking for in my pockets.
One of the few good things about not changing out of my ship uniform: I still had Lady Sosha’s contact card.
I showed it to them. “I also know when I’m in way over my head. ”
If I survived this, I’d read that last installment of Under the Tan-Tan Sun. It felt silly now to have put it off for so long, especially when life seemed to jump out at me at lightspeed.