“Good to see you, too, old friend.” She shook his hand, noting the gesture with nothing more than a slight flicker of her eyelids. Damn, she was good at this. If he hadn’t understood the need for secrecy, he might have been offended by her nonchalance.
Introductions were made. Pei shook hands with the techs, pressed palms with Sissix (of course Sissix knew what to do), and laughed with Dr. Chef while trying to figure out his handfeet. Ashby worked his way through Pei’s crew, pretending as if he didn’t know their names, moods, and personal histories already. He knew that two of them, Sula and Oxlen, knew about him and Pei. Their eyelids flicked with acknowledgment as he met them. As far as he was aware, they were the only Aeluons in the galaxy who knew. He was going to do his damnedest to keep it that way.
The two soldiers, though dressed in civilian clothing, were easy to spot. For one thing, they were armed more heavily than the others (which Ashby found somewhat unsettling), and their muscles were toned to perfection. One of them, a female, had an ocular implant. The end of an old scar jutted down below it. The male was young, but carried a weariness with him. Ashby wondered how long he’d been at war, and if he was glad for the respite of a cargo run.
Ashby glanced at Pei, who was sharing pleasantries with his crew. He’d imagined her on his ship so many times, but his daydreams had played out differently. Pei would step through the airlock, with nothing but a bag over her shoulder and a smile in her eyes. He’d put his arm around her waist as he introduced her. Sissix wouldn’t have to hold back her welcoming hug. They’d go to the Fishbowl, where all his favorite people would get to know each other over one of Dr. Chef’s celebratory dinners. They’d drink mek and laugh, lounging easily in the garden. A simple blending of the two halves of his life. But here in the airlock, the separation was clear. Military and civilian. Aeluons and a mixed species hodgepodge. High tech and the-best-they-could-do. But even so, she was still on his ship, talking to his crew. The lines between their lives had become blurred. He could feel her pulling him across the divide.
“I can’t believe how lucky we were to find you out here,” Pei said. “I hope we aren’t inconveniencing you.”
“Stay as long as you need.” Or just stay, period. “I hear our techs have volunteered to help with repairs.”
“We’re all ready to go,” Kizzy said, hands on her toolbelt buckle. “You just point us in the right direction.”
“Oxlen will go with you,” Pei said.
“I’m no tech,” said Oxlen, Pei’s pilot, a tall male with light eyes. “But I can tell you the basics of what’s what.”
The female soldier—Tak, if Ashby remembered correctly—spoke up. “I was hoping that we might have access to your scanners and ansible. I highly doubt we will encounter enemy contacts out here, but given what happened aboard our ship, we can’t be too careful.”
“Sissix can show you to the control room,” Ashby said. “Unless you’d like manual access to our AI core.” Out of the corner of his eye, Ashby could see Jenks stiffen at the suggestion. Relax, Jenks, they’re not going to break her.
“Your control room should be fine,” Tak said. She nodded to Sissix, who lead the way down the hall. Ashby could not have imagined an odder looking pair: the armed Aeluon missing an eye, and the Aandrisk in low-slung pants and a fresh coat of swirls painted on her claws.
“As for the rest of us,” Pei said. “I’m afraid all we can do is wait.”
“Oh, I don’t think that’ll be so bad,” Dr. Chef said. “It’s just about time for me to start preparing breakfast. Though, fair warning, my recipes weren’t exactly made with Aeluons in mind. This might be the worst breakfast you’ve ever had.”
The male soldier laughed. “You’ve never had field rations.”
“You’d be surprised.” Dr. Chef puffed his cheeks. Ashby smiled. Few things made Dr. Chef happier than feeding hungry people. “Come along with me. Let’s have a look through my stasie, see what appeals to you.”
“Please tell me you have real mek on board,” one of Pei’s crew said. He had a gun strapped across his back that would have made Bear and Nib weep with envy. Did they really have to wear weapons here?
“Plenty of mek,” Kizzy said. “Big ol’ boxes of it.”
“Oh, stars, that’s great news. If I have to drink another cup of the pre-packaged stuff, I’m going to be sick.”
“Only one cup each,” Pei said. “I’m not getting back on my ship with a fuzzy-eyed crew.”
“Come on, come on, all of you,” Dr. Chef said, leading the way out of the airlock, walking on two. “I’m not letting you leave hungry.”
The remaining Aeluons followed eagerly. “Leave some for me,” Oxlen called after them as he lead the techs back through the airlock. Kizzy snuck one last glance at Pei, and wiggled her eyebrows at Ashby. He rolled his eyes and shooed her away with his hand. She scampered off, chuckling.
They waited until the hallway was silent. Even then, Ashby wasn’t sure what to say. He wanted to kiss her, hold her, run up to his room and let her tear off his clothes. Somehow, he held it back. “So. This is unexpected.”
She stared at him. Her second eyelids closed slowly. Her cheeks turned a displeased shade of yellow. “There is a scatter burst burn on your hull.”
“You always say the most romantic things.”
“Ashby.” She glared. “You said in your last message that you got boarded and that you lost some supplies. You said nothing about getting fired upon. Was anyone hurt?”
“No.” He paused. “Just me. But I’m fine.”
Her cheeks swam with exasperated colors. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I didn’t want you to worry.”
She cocked her head. “We seem to have traded places.”
“Hardly. Who’s the one showing up on my doorstep talking about disruptor mines?”
“There was only the one mine, and no one was hurt. It seems someone at the loading bay had an… opinion about the war.”
Ashby shook his head. “The Rosk are attacking border colonies. How—”
“I know, I know. People are crazy.” She frowned. “And speaking of, the more I hear about this Toremi situation, the less I like it.”
“You didn’t like it from the start.”
“Ashby, listen. I met the captain of a pinhole tug that’s been ferrying diplomats out there. The Toremi, they’re… strange.”
“They’re a different species. We’re all strange to each other. You’re strange to me sometimes.”
“No, I mean dangerous strange. Incomprehensible strange. She said she couldn’t understand how the GC had brokered an alliance with them at all. The diplomats, they kept talking about how hard it was to communicate with them. It wasn’t a matter of language, the Toremi just think differently. They try to all think exactly the same things in exactly the same way, which is insane enough, but everything goes to shit if they can’t find consensus. That captain, she told me that a few standards back, when the GC finally got their foot in the door, a few Toremi tore each other apart—I mean literally, Ashby, during a conference—because they couldn’t agree on whether or not Harmagians were sapient.”
“I’m sure they’ve figured that much out by now.”