The New Mother shifted her neck and placed her face close to his. “We need the Commons to secure our claim. Our ways are stronger than their influence. A hold on Hedra Ka is worth making allowances for different understandings. Do you agree with these thoughts?”
Toum felt his stomach lurch. There were insects under his skin, claws in his heart. “I… I…” He could not bring himself to say the words. He loved his New Mother. He loved all of them. He would lie down and tear out his organs for them. And yet, yet, he agreed more with the squeaking words of that female Human than he did with what he had just heard.
The New Mother pulled back and lolled her head. Toum looked to the floor and kept his eyes there, but all the same, he could feel Fol staring, judging him with her calm eyes. “Go now and meditate,” the New Mother said. “Take time to determine which of your thoughts is the strongest. Then you will know if you are still one of us.”
“You are a fine guard,” Fol said. “Your death would be a loss.” Toum did not look at her. If he did, he might snap her neck.
“I agree,” the New Mother said. “I hope you will return.”
But as Toum clicked his knees and walked away, he knew he would not. Something had shifted. The fear remained, but it was hardening. His thoughts had been made real by hearing them aloud, and he knew now, more than ever, that no agreement could be found here. He walked down the corridors, past repulsive Harmagians and weak-faced Aeluons. They bobbed and flashed their cheeks in friendly acknowledgment. He seethed. Toremi space was no place for these simpering aliens. His people should have sent them back across the border in pieces, as they had always done.
As they still could.
Ashby eyed the readouts on his control screen. “I swear, our engines have never been running this smooth.”
Sissix spoke without looking up from her navigation controls. “That’s what happens when you take two easily-bored techs on a long haul.”
“Hmm. Maybe we should do this more often.”
That made Sissix’s head turn. She gave him a look that could melt the hull. “Let’s not.”
Ashby chuckled. He shared the feeling. In a few hours, they’d be back in Central space. He couldn’t wait, but the thought was surreal. Even as accustomed to taking shortcuts through space as he was, knowing that the tens upon tens of tendays it had taken them to get to Hedra Ka could be backtracked in a matter of hours was bizarre. The idea of being among recognizable ships, and planets he’d walked a dozen times, and markets full of food he didn’t have any questions about, without a destination in mind, without somewhere that he needed to get to… it sounded fantastic. And it wasn’t making sense yet.
“What about you, Corbin? Fuel lines pumping well?”
“Impeccably.” The pale man glanced up from his station. “I’m sure there are plenty of other ways to make our techs bored more often.”
The vox switched on. “Ashby, there’s a Toremi ship nearby,” Lovey said. “It looks like it’s heading for the cage.”
He paused. That was odd. “Have they crossed the safety perimeter?”
“No, they’re just headed our way.”
“They’re probably curious,” Sissix said. “If I’d never seen a tunnel before, I’d want to see how it’s done.”
Ashby nodded. “Just keep an eye on them, Lovey. And contact them. Give them a friendly reminder to keep their distance when we punch. We don’t want to drag them in after us.”
“Will do,” Lovey said.
The control room door spun open. Dr. Chef walked in, carrying Ohan. The Sianat Pair’s back legs had finally given up, and Ashby found their stillness more unsettling than the fragile trembling that had filled the tendays before.
Ashby stood up. “Can I help?”
“No, no, I think we’re okay here,” said Dr. Chef, his voice as easy as if he were talking about chopping vegetables. He set Ohan down in their chair, straightening their legs beneath it.
Ohan craned their head with grace. “We thank you.”
Dr. Chef handed Ashby two injection vials and a syringe. “If they start losing feeling in their hands, give them one of these.” He pointed to a spot at the back of Ohan’s neck, right along their spine. The fur had been shaved away, and the gray skin beneath was bruised from repeated injections. “Right here.”
Ashby nodded, hoping it wouldn’t come to that. He placed the vials in a holding box beside his control panel, and knelt down to look Ohan in the eye. “It is always a privilege to watch you work. I am very glad to do this with you one last time.”
“As are we all,” Sissix said.
Corbin cleared his throat. “Me, too.”
Ohan looked around through their long-lashed eyes. “We… we are not adept at expressing sentiment. In some respects, we wish we could stay with you longer.” They blinked, slow as ice melting. “But this is our way.” Another blink. They looked to Ashby. “We are eager to begin.”
Ashby smiled, though his chest felt heavy. Reclusive though they were, Ohan was a part of his crew. He didn’t want this to be the last time. He didn’t want a new face looking at him from that chair. He didn’t want to know that the face that was there now would soon be gone forever.
He took a deep breath, pulling himself together. He looked to Dr. Chef. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”
“Yes, yes,” Dr. Chef said, heading for the door. “I’m off to knock out me and the clerk.” Rosemary had decided to take Dr. Chef up on his offer to sedate her this time. Ashby had thought that best, both for her sake, and for the sake of the control room floor.
He returned to his chair and buckled his safety harness. “Patch me through, Lovey.” The vox switched on. “Okay. Let’s sound off.”
“Flight controls, go,” said Sissix.
“Fuel check, go,” said Corbin.
“Interspatial bore is go,” said Kizzy through the vox. “I remembered snacks this time.”
“Buoys are go,” Jenks said.
Ashby flexed his fingers over the control panel. He was itching to get started. “Lovey, what’s up with the Toremi?”
“They didn’t reply. But they’re staying behind the safety perimeter. Only just, though, they’ve got their nose right up against the buoys.”
“That’s okay, as long as they’re not coming any closer. What’s our status?”
“All ship systems performing normally,” said Lovey. “No technical or structural malfunctions.”
“All right, folks. Let’s get out of here. Kizzy, start it up.”
The floor panels rattled as the bore began to howl. Ashby tapped a finger on the arm of his chair, beginning his count. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
“Ashby.” It was Lovey, calling out over the din. “The Toremi ship. I don’t know what it’s doing. There’s a—” The bore shrieked, drowning her words.
Ashby’s pulse shot up. “Have they crossed the perimeter?” he yelled.
“No. Some kind of energy build up. It’s nothing I’ve—”
What happened next must have gone quickly, but in Ashby’s eyes, everything was slow, as if he were already in the sublayer. First, the window went white, flooded with harsh light that obscured everything beyond their hull. As the light dimmed, arcs of energy writhed around the cage supports, ricocheting around the inside.
The cage was coming apart. Not falling, like a structure down planetside, but breaking, twisting, floating away. Ashby stared, uncomprehending.
Something hit them. The whole ship rocked and shuddered. Red lights appeared all over his control screen, like eyes snapping awake. The lighting panels overhead spasmed. There was likely some sort of noise, the sound of straining bulkheads or warping panels, the sound of his crew calling out in panic, but whatever sound there might have been was drowned out by the bore, which had come to the end of its count. The sky outside ripped open. The Wayfarer tumbled through.