Dr. Chef pushed the chess pieces around the board. “Grum games are rather similar, thematically. I think our species are rather alike, in some ways. Humans would’ve died out, too, if the Aeluons hadn’t chanced upon the Fleet. Luck’s what saved them. Luck, and discovering humility. That’s really all that makes Humans different from Grum. Well, aside from the obvious.” He chuckled, gesturing to his body.
Sissix laid her hand across Dr. Chef’s closest foreleg. There would be no more Grum in a century or so, and there was nothing to be done about it. She knew that Dr. Chef had long ago made peace with his species’ impending extinction. Even as he referred to it now, there was no sadness in his voice, no bitterness. But that didn’t mean that she couldn’t feel it on his behalf.
Dr. Chef patted her hand, more for her sake than his. He glanced over his shoulder toward Ashby, who was leaning against the kitchen counter, reading feeds on his scrib. Dr. Chef spoke in a low whisper, quieting all the voices that came from his mouth. “Am I wrong, or has Ashby been checking the news a lot these days?”
Sissix nodded, knowing what he was asking. “The Rosk have been hitting the colonies at Kaelo hard.”
“And that’s where…?”
“She was headed last, yeah. Not that the feeds give many details.”
Understanding passed between them. They both knew that Ashby wasn’t worried about a war that would never come to his doorstep. His concern revolved around one of the Aeluons stuck on the fringes of that war. Her name was Pei, and she and Ashby had been coupling as often as they could for years now. She was a civilian cargo runner, hired to haul medical supplies, ammo, tech, food, whatever the Aeluon forces needed. Given the nature of her work, she couldn’t always send text or jump on the ansible when she was heading into contested territory, for fear of giving away troop locations or becoming an easy target. Ashby often went tendays without hearing from her, and during such times, it was likely to find him checking news feeds. When he did hear from her, and had a rough idea of her location, the checking became all the more targeted. It didn’t help Ashby’s well-being at all, not that Sissix could see, but Humans always got a little dumb when sexual partners were involved.
Close as Sissix was to Ashby, she’d never met Pei, or even seen her. The woman was an enigma. But Ashby’s lack of forthcoming had nothing to do with Sissix, and everything to do with Aeluon prudishness. An Aeluon—especially one working alongside respectable soldiers—could get in a hell of a lot of trouble for pairing up with someone from another species. Everybody aboard the Wayfarer knew about Pei, of course, but they understood why Ashby needed to keep it quiet. Everyone had stopped asking questions about her—at least, while Ashby was in the room—and even Kizzy was smart enough to keep her mouth shut about it when they were around other people.
“It’s not good for him to check the news all the time,” Dr. Chef said. “It’s not as if they’d print her name if anything happened.”
“You tell him that,” Sissix said.
“I can’t,” Dr. Chef sighed. “I did the same thing when my daughters were off at war. That’s why I don’t like that he’s doing it. I know how all that wondering can eat away at a person.” He shook out his cheeks, as if brushing himself off. “This conversation has become entirely too heavy. Would you like to play a game with me? Or have you had enough for one morning?”
“I’m down for another. You want to play chess?”
“Stars, no. Let’s play something Aandrisk. One of your lovely ‘let’s team up and solve a puzzle’ games.”
“Tikkit?”
“Oh, I like tikkit. I haven’t played it in years, though, not since I lived in Port Coriol.”
“Well, I’m not very good at it, so we’ll be a balanced team.” She voiced the change in game to the board. The pixels reassembled themselves accordingly. “So, what about Aandrisk games?”
“Hmm?”
“What do Aandrisk games tell you about us?”
“That you’re clever, fond of sharing, and just as dysfunctional as everybody else.”
Sissix laughed. “I can’t argue that.”
They began the game, and the conversation segued into tikkit strategy. Sissix was just starting to think that they might actually win when Ashby broke his silence. “Whoa,” he said to himself. Then again, more publicly, as he hurried back toward them. “Whoa.”
“Everything okay?” Sissix said. All spacers knew that a lot of bad things could happen to a ship in a short amount of time, especially when sitting in the mouth of a brand new tunnel. Seeing a crewmate in a hurry always made her adrenaline kick.
“We’re fine,” he said. He lay his scrib down beside the pixel board and gestured over the screen. The vid feed playing on the screen leapt into the air and hovered above the scrib. It was a Human news program—Fleet-based, from the sound of the reporter’s accent. Sissix and Dr. Chef leaned forward to listen.
“—yet to confirm how long membership talks have been in place, but sources indicate that a small team of GC ambassadors have been secretly in communication with the Toremi Ka for at least two standard years.”
“The Toremi?” Dr. Chef said, his whiskers rustling in surprise. Sissix could not mimic his physical response, but she shared the feeling. The Toremi were not a species that was mentioned often in the news. They were not a species that was mentioned often at all. Sissix knew little of them, other than that they controlled a tight ring of territory surrounding the galactic core, and that they had been industriously killing each other for decades.
Ashby shook his head, a gesture of both confirmation and disbelief. “One of their clans has just been granted GC membership.”
Sissix set down her mug. “What?” Her brain reeled. “Wait, what?” If that was true, the Commons Parliament had gone insane. The Toremi clans, from what few accounts of them there were, came across as both vicious and incomprehensible. Never a good mix. The clans had been discovered by the Harmagians nearly five hundred standards prior, when a probe found Toremi ships skip driving (which was dangerous as hell) ’round and ’round the galactic core, like fish following a current. No one knew why, and the Toremi themselves showed no interest in talking to their galactic neighbors. They kept up their nomadic loop until about forty standards back, when they stopped in their tracks and started slaughtering each other over claims to stationary territories. And again, no one knew why. No one could get close enough to ask. The Toremi blocked all access to the core. Ships that got close were pushed back. Ships that slipped through came back in pieces, or not at all. But aside from butchering trespassers, the Toremi had kept to themselves, of no concern to anyone except the scientists and entrepreneurs frustrated by a walled-off core.
Ashby put his finger to his lips, and pointed to the scrib. “—official statement from the GC ambassadorial committee explains that the Toremi Ka are the only Toremi clan currently taking part in this membership agreement,” the reporter explained. “Other clans have remained neutral in this agreement, and reportedly have displayed no hostility toward the GC. The GC has vouched for the Toremi Ka, stating—quote—‘we stand by the good intentions of our new allies, who are committed to enjoying the benefits of a more unified galaxy.’ As part of the new membership agreement, the GC will not aid the Toremi Ka in offensive attacks against other Toremi clans. However, use of military force will be authorized to defend territories shared by the Toremi Ka and the GC.”