“Here, Kizzy,” he said, handing her a large package. “Before you explode.”
Kizzy’s eyes grew wide. “It’s not lockjaw clips! It’s not lockjaw clips! I know who makes labels like this!” She slid back the lid and cheered. “It’s from my dads!” She dropped cross-legged onto the floor and pulled the lid open. Atop the package’s contents—snacks and sundries, it looked like—was an info chip. Kizzy pulled her scrib from her belt, plugged in the chip, and began reading the text that appeared on the screen. Her face melted with sentiment. “It’s a just ’cause box,” she said. “They are the best. The best.” She tore into a fresh pack of fire shrimp as she continued reading.
Ashby pulled out a small domed container blinking with biohazard warnings. “Do I even want to know what this is?”
Dr. Chef puffed his cheeks. “Those will be my new seedlings. Completely harmless, I assure you. They have to put those warnings on any live cargo.”
“I know. It’s just… unnerving.”
Dr. Chef leaned close to Ashby, his eyes twinkling. “Don’t tell, but if this is the order I think it is, I’ve now got a few starters of rosemary plants.”
Ashby flipped over a box with a familiar brand logo, the same one he’d seen on a lot of algae tech. “Corbin,” he said, handing over the box. “This looks like it’s for you.”
Corbin opened the box and took out a circulation pump. He peered at the label and gave a short nod. “Seems our clerk can read order forms after all.” He headed for the exit.
“Well… good,” said Ashby noncommittally. He pulled a tiny box from the mail crate. “Jenks.”
Jenks opened the box and removed an info chip.
“What’s that?” Sissix asked.
“It’s from Pepper,” Jenks said. He stared at the chip for a moment. “Oh, I bet it’s those lateral circuit specs she mentioned last time I saw her.”
“Those sounded sweet,” Kizzy said. She frowned. “Why not just send them to your scrib?”
Jenks shrugged and put the chip in his pocket. “You know Pepper. She does things in her own special way.”
Ashby leaned over the mail crate. There was one small, flat package remaining, addressed to himself. The label had no indication of who had sent it, but it required a wristwrap scan. A flap snapped open as his wrist passed over it, and a frail rectangular object fell into Ashby’s waiting palm.
“What is that?” Sissix asked.
Jenks let out a low whistle and stepped closer. “That’s paper.”
Kizzy’s head snapped up. “Whoa,” she said, goggling at the object. “Is that a letter? Like a physical one?” She jumped to her feet. “Can I touch it?”
Jenks smacked her hand away. “You’ve got fire shrimp crumbs all over your fingers.”
Kizzy stuck a finger in her mouth, sucked it clean, and wiped it off on her worksuit.
Jenks smacked her hand again. “Now you’ve got crumbs and spit. A letter’s not a scrib, Kizzy. You can’t wash it off.”
“It’s that fragile?”
“It’s made from very thin sheets of dried tree pulp. What do you think?”
Ashby ran his fingers along the leaf-like edges, doing his best to look nonchalant. It was from Pei, it had to be. Who else would go to that much trouble to send a message that couldn’t be monitored? He turned the letter over in his hands. “How do I… uh…”
“Here,” Jenks said, extending his palm. “My hands are clean.” Ashby handed over the letter. “Kiz, do you have your knife on you?”
Kizzy unsnapped a folded utility knife from her belt and handed it to Jenks. Her eyes widened with realization. “Wait, you’re gonna cut it?”
“That’s how you get the letter out of the envelope.” He flicked open the blade. “Would you rather I tear it?”
Kizzy looked horrified.
Jenks deftly sliced the paper open. “My mom used to give me letters on special occasions when I was a kid,” he said. “Very special occasions. This stuff’s expensive as hell.” He raised a wry eyebrow at Ashby. “Somebody must like you a lot to send you this.”
“Like who?” Kizzy asked.
Jenks put his fist up to his mouth and gave an exaggerated, harrumphing cough.
“Ohhh,” said Kizzy in a stage whisper. “I’ll be going back to my snacks then.” She backed away with a knowing chuckle.
Ashby glanced over to the others. Sissix was smirking. Dr. Chef’s whiskers twitched in amusement. “Alright, alright, shut up, all of you.” He walked away, leaving the others to examine their new items while he read his letter in peace.
Hello, Ashby. Before you become too impressed with my ability to print by hand, you should know that I wrote all of this out on my Scrib first. I tore through one of the sheets on my first try. Honestly, how did your species communicate like this for millenia without becoming nervous wrecks? Oh, wait, right. Never mind.
It feels like ages since Port Coriol. I miss your hands. I miss sharing a bed. I miss sharing stories. I’ll never understand how you can be so patient with someone who can’t talk to you for tendays at a time. I’m not sure one of my own would’ve stayed with me through this. You Humans and your blind stubbornness. Believe me, it’s—
“Jenks, Ashby, Sissix, anyone.” It was Lovey. She sounded frantic. “We’re in trouble.”
Everyone in the cargo bay stopped to stare at the vox. Out in the open, trouble was even less of a good thing than it was on the ground. “What’s the problem?” Ashby said.
“There’s a ship, another ship, coming in right at us. They’ve been blocking my scans with a dispersal field. Ashby, I’m so sorry—”
“That’s not your fault, Lovey,” Jenks said. “Stay calm.”
“What kind of ship?” Ashby said.
“I don’t know,” Lovey said. “Smaller than us, pinhole drive. I think it’s a very small homesteader, but I don’t know why a homestead ship would—”
Corbin came running back into the cargo bay. “Ship,” he gasped. “Out the window. It’s—”
The whole ship rocked. The sounds of falling objects clanged down the hallway. Everyone started shouting. Ashby’s stomach dropped. Something had hit them.
“Lovey, what—”
“Some kind of weapon blast. Our navigation’s knocked out.”
Sissix hissed profanities. Kizzy nodded at Jenks and jumped to her feet. “Let’s go,” she said.
“No,” Lovey said. “I can get us moving in five minutes, but the primary navigation hub’s completely fused. I can’t tell which way we’re going.”
“Fused?” Kizzy cried. “What the fuck did they hit us with? Lovey, are you sure?”
Sissix looked at Ashby. “I can navigate the old fashioned way, but not in five minutes, not if we want to be safe about it.”
“Pirates,” said Jenks. “Remember, Kiz, on the news, fucking pirates following mail drones in, using scatter bursts to fry nav systems—”
“Oh, no,” moaned Corbin.
Ashby stared at Jenks. “Lovey, how long until they reach us?”
“Half a minute. There’s nothing I can do. I’m sorry.”
“This isn’t happening,” Kizzy said. “They can’t.”
“Shit,” said Jenks. “Quick, everybody, hide your stuff.” He pulled open an empty crate and threw Kizzy’s package in. Dr. Chef followed suit. There was a crash, a horrible, scraping, wrenching crash, right into the cargo bay doors. Corbin jumped behind a crate and covered his head.