“I knew there was going to be a caveat.”
“You need to be careful. Humans can be okay with having multiple partners, but we can be jealous as hell, too. I don’t know how you two have things worked out, but if, say, you want to go to a tet, or if you just need to move on in your casual Aandrisk way—”
“I know,” Sissix said. “I’ll be careful.”
They fell into a comfortable silence. “This is going to sound weird,” he said after a while.
“Mmm?”
“I’m sorry that it couldn’t be me.”
Sissix sat up. “How so? You don’t—you don’t think of me as—”
“No.” He smirked. “No offense, but no. I don’t think of you that way.”
“Good. I was about to be really confused.” She laughed. “Then what?”
“There has always been a part of me that feels guilty that I can’t be the kind of family you need.”
Sissix nuzzled his cheek. “You are the family I need, Ashby. I wouldn’t have chosen you otherwise.”
“But Rosemary made it more—more whole, didn’t she?”
Sissix smiled. “Yeah. She did.” She put her forehead against Ashby’s. “Doesn’t change the fact that you’re the best friend I’ve ever had.” She paused. “But I’m still mad at you.”
“I know.”
“And thinking about Ohan makes me hurt.”
“Me too.”
“Good,” she said. “At least you’re suffering for it.” They both laughed. It was a empty sound.
ERROR
Message not delivered. Recipient outside comm relay range.
Please check delivery path and resend.
Attempted message
Encryption: 0
Translation: 0
From: Nib (path: 6273-384-89)
To: Rosemary Harper (path: 9874-457-28)
Subject: Re: Volunteer info
I’m glad to hear it! We can always use another good brain. Don’t worry about not having much free time. Even spending an hour or two every tenday digging through submission files is a help. Just mention in your application what your availability is like, and they won’t give you more than you can handle. Have you decided what focus to apply for yet? I’m biased, of course, but I think you’d be great for interspecies history, and I’d be happy to put in a good word. But if you’ve got your eye on another area, I won’t take it personally. Much.
Speaking of, one of my friends on the Toremi team remembered that I was after information on your behalf, and she sent me something interesting. Not much, just one of many little quirks about our new allies. I probably shouldn’t be sending it directly to you, but seeing as how you’re a future volunteer, surely we can grant you retroactive permission, right?
Fly safe,
——
Attached message
From: Elai Jas Kapi (path: withheld)
To: GC Delegate Group 634 (path: withheld)
Encryption: 2
Translation: 0
Subject: Important information—Toremi hearing and heat generators
Date: 76/306
Given our infrequent dealings with the Toremi, there is much about their species that we are only now discovering firsthand. All delegates should be aware that the Toremi possess a sense of hearing that far exceeds that of any GC species. They are especially adept at distinguishing individual voices within crowds, and their aptitude for learning languages has far exceeded our expectations. You may safely assume that any Toremi that has been present in diplomatic talks is already fluent in Klip.
When sharing a room with Toremi Ka individuals, do not discuss any topics that have not been approved by senior ambassadorial staff. Please consult project datafile 332-129 for a comprehensive list of approved conversation topics.
We also require that all ships ensure that their heat generators are not operating above 76.5 kilks if they expect Toremi Ka individuals to come aboard. We recognize that this will cause some discomfort for Aandrisk delegates and crewmembers. However, standard heat generators emit a sound that is painful to the Toremi. We have determined that the frequency created by 76.5 kilks and lower is tolerable for the Toremi, and will not inhibit basic Aandrisk motor functions.
If your ship uses non-standard heat generators, inform a senior staff member immediately. Do not invite Toremi Ka individuals aboard your ship until the correct technology has been installed.
Thank you for your cooperation.
Day 157, GC Standard 307
HEDRA KA
Toum, second guard of the New Mother, sat by a window in the feeding garden, watching the ships of the Commons species. He tore a thick bundle of leaves from a nearby planter. The fluid oozing from their broken stalks gave off that familiar peppery scent, sweet and delicious. But he did not eat. He picked at the leaves, and observed the alien ships. He looked with envy upon the weapons arrays of the Aeluon frigates, as he had done many times. How many clans they could destroy with such weapons. How many false ideas they could erase.
He thought of the aliens within the frigates, with their stupid eyes and unsettling scales. So ugly, the Aeluons. And so unsettling, the way they talked. It was difficult to trust a species who could not speak without sticking wires into their throats. Just as it was difficult to trust the Harmagians, who had no legs to walk upon, or the Aandrisks, with their carnivore claws, or the Quelin, who marred their own flesh for vanity’s sake. No, he could not trust them, any of them. But he could hate them. That came easily enough.
He could not speak of it. Before the alliance, there had never been any doubt in his mind that he was of the Toremi Ka. He was in agreement with their veneration of the New Mothers, and he was in agreement with needing to secure Hedra Ka as their own. But these Commons species. Did the clan really need their help? Were they so weak that they could not hold the new planet alone?
Commons species. Mismatched faces, grating accents, squealing ships. He could see his discontent mirrored in the mouths of some of his clanmates, but no one had raised a challenge. No one had broken from the clan.
This frightened him. Was he defective in some way? Was there some vital piece of wisdom the New Mothers possessed that he did not? Day after day, he wrestled with these thoughts, struggling to bring himself to agreement. But nothing, not meditation, not the privileged amount of time he spent with his New Mother, had displaced them.
He looked down to the leaves, now pulp within his grasp. He threw the wet clump to the floor. The machines would clean it up.