And now I wondered if she might not be changing again. She seemed taller. And her voice was rounder?
Nevertheless, Qory was being a big help about our new situation. She’d gone through several trades. It was something I’d never thought much about, but she was two hundred-plus years old and had been on four different starships and in three crèches. She said I shouldn’t make too much of Orisa’s disappearance. Forced trades happened every so often, although most crews welcomed new faces and experiences. In the long term, everyone knew that trades were important for the sanity of both a starship’s intelligence and its crew. Qory predicted that Orisa would be fine, because nobody wanted a reputation for being a misfit.
Whenever I asked Grace how Orisa was doing, all I got were non-comments.
“She’s sleeping.”
Or…
“She’s writing.”
“Writing what?”
“She’ll have to tell you. I’m honoring her privacy.”
Or…
“She’s still nesting.”
“Nesting?” I glanced over at Qory, who shrugged.
“Think how you’ve changed your rooms to suit your needs over the years,” said Grace. “You want comfort, yes, but you also tried to express your identity. You made them your home. Crew who’ve been traded can feel like they’ve lost part of themselves. So nesting is a way they make the place where they belong.”
“Okay,” I said. “But what about meals? She hasn’t come out to eat.”
“She’s fine.” Qory squeezed my shoulder. “She has a printer.”
Orisa reappeared while I was having lunch on the third day. I had my face deep in a bowl of drunken noodles when I noticed Qory, who was opposite, peering past me. I turned and then quickly slurped the noodles off my fork. Orisa seemed bigger than I’d remembered, maybe because now I could see more of her. She wore a basic short-sleeved jiffy that hung to her thighs over black tights, and she was barefoot. She had pacified her wild hair with a golden band.
Astonished, I said, “You’re here.”
“We’ve been waiting.” Qory gestured for her to join us.
“Thanks.” Orisa sauntered to the table, swung a leg over a chair, and sat as if she’d always been part of our family. “What’s for lunch?” she said.
“Pad kee mao,” I said and tilted my bowl to show her. “I sprinkle in some goat mince but it’s still under the twelve hundred calorie limit.”
She surprised me by reaching over and snagging one of my noodles. She tilted her head back and dangled it into her mouth. Looking thoughtful, she said, “Your printer does a nice Thai basil. No cilantro?”
“Tastes like soap,” I said.
She licked her lips. “This dish has some heat.”
“The default recipe calls for serrano peppers, but I usually go for the Tien Tsin. If I’m feeling brave I might try Lab Fire.”
She made a face. “Warn me if you do.”
And then we stared at each other. There was so much to say. Why were we talking about printing chili peppers?
“Have you eaten?” said Qory.
“Protein drink an hour ago.” Orisa rubbed both hands over her eyes, then set herself, as if she were calling a meeting to order. “Sorry to have been so abrupt when I arrived.”
Abrupt? Is that what she called it?
Qory said, “We understand.”
“I had adjusting to do.”
“Going through a trade is the most stressful life event. Worse than death of a crew member.” Qory reached over and patted Orisa’s hand.
She seemed surprised by this gesture. “So, I’ve been catching up with Grace. I like her. Not as bossy as Mercy. But she thinks we should begin to sort ourselves out, and I agree.”
I pushed my bowl away. “Okay.” I’d lost my appetite.
“You were a nuclear family unit with Gillian and Dree,” Orisa said. “Obviously that isn’t going to work with us, so we’ll need a new social construct.”
“Can’t we just be crew?” I said.
“Fine for now, but workplace units are inherently unstable in a group this small. Who knows how long we’re likely to be together?”
“Years,” said Grace, jumping into the conversation the way she always used to.
“Yes. We don’t need to make any immediate decisions, but we should at least do a little brainstorming. For example, Jojin is at an age…”
“Call me Joj.”
“… Joj needs to have sexual intimacy outside of story. Grace says that hasn’t happened yet.”
I could feel my cheeks flush.
Qory filled the awkward silence. “That’s right.”
“Doing the math,” said Orisa, “we could go for a triad or a group marriage configuration, although, Joj, I understand you’re trending heterosexual at the moment.”
I nodded, grateful that they weren’t giving me much time to be embarrassed.
“Which probably means that Qory should modify herself to become more sexually available.”
“Already on it,” said Qory. “Whatever way I go, I’m done with this body.” She flicked her fingers, as if to discard her kid self.
“A triad would be acceptable to me,” said Orisa, “although not ideal. I like female bots, but not as sex partners. No offense.”
“None taken.”
“Or Joj and Qory could be lovers and I could be celibate. That would work, although I do enjoy sex and had multiple partners on Mercy. But I’m certainly willing to take drugs to dampen my sex drive. That was how I got through part of my last Survey stint. Or it could be Joj and me.”
“Sure.” I wanted to gawk at her and imagine. I’d done plenty of that already. “At some point.” Instead, I stared at the remains of my lunch.
“At some point,” she said. “Right.” And then she chuckled. I didn’t know her, or her laughter, but there was a music to it that made me catch my breath. I glanced up, and she was smiling at me, her eyes merry. Qory was grinning too.
“What?”
“You’re such a boy,” said Orisa.
“You keep saying that. Why is that bad?”
“Oh, it isn’t.” She wiped most of the smile from her face. “I think it’s charming, as long as it isn’t permanent.”
We all looked at one other.
Then we all nodded.
“Someone has to be captain, then,” said Qory, moving the conversation off our sexual arrangements. “You know it can’t be me. Humans only.”
“I don’t care about being captain.” Orisa waved dismissively. “Doesn’t matter to me.”
“It matters to me,” said Grace.
This took Orisa by surprise. “Really?”
“Grace is a little old-fashioned that way.” Qory shrugged. “She likes her traditions. Dad… Dree was captain before. Feero before him.”
“Does it come with any perks?”
“Dad always chose our destinations,” I said.
Orisa gave a dismissive snort.
“Assigning watches,” I continued. “Casting privilege in the family… group stories. Editorial direction.”
Orisa considered, then gave me a sarcastic salute. “Aye, Captain. Orders?”
I didn’t want to be the captain either, but I decided to assume command to protect myself. “Before anyone makes any more decisions,” I said, “we’re going to spend time getting to know you.” I rose from the table. “And you’re going to get to know us.”
“For a bot,” said Orisa, “you sure have a lot of hobbies.”
We were standing in the garden Qory had built in one of Grace’s empty modules. She’d printed several cubic meters of soil and had filled twenty raised beds with crops collected from around the infosphere. Leafy vegetables here—kale and spinach vine and bittergreens—root plants there—zebra nut and carrots and candy lilies. Cucurbits in all the colors of the spectrum spilled out of one container and reached tendrils across the deck. The sugarfingers were in bloom, filling the air with their tart scent. Orisa had never seen gac before, so Qory picked one off the vine and sliced through the spiny skin to reveal a clump of oily magenta sacs.