“From Asia, one of the Earth continents.” She offered them to Orisa. “They’re mild, a bit like melon. Or a sweet carrot.”
“You can taste, then?” said Orisa. “Not all bots do.” She nipped a sac out and popped it into her mouth.
“Oh yes,” said Qory. “I was grown on Halcyon. We do the full sensorium.”
Orisa chewed, then smacked her lips. “I’m getting a hint of cucumber.” She offered me the fruit, but I waved her off.
Qory chuckled. “Joj likes his food printed.”
“You can climb in, if you want.” I stood by the open hatch of the roller.
“But I’m not wearing your EM thingy.”
“Clingy. Try it anyway. See if you fit.”
She ran fingers around the opening. “Not sure I can,” she said.
“Here.” I rotated the roller so that the hatch was flush with the deck. “Lie down and scoot in, feet first.”
She blew a heavy breath that made the hair along her forehead dance. It would have been easier if Qory had been there to help, but she was standing watch. I’d gotten Grace to agree to a four-four-eight-eight schedule for now, with Orisa and I each taking a four-hour shift, Qory taking an eight, and Grace self-watching for an eight.
As Orisa wriggled through the hatch, her jiffy rode up her stomach, revealing an expanse of smooth, dark skin. I don’t think she caught me staring.
“Now what do you want me to do?” she said once she was inside.
“Set your feet on the running pad and I’ll roll you upright.” I could barely manage this, since she filled the roller as I never had. She could steady herself by pressing both palms against the inside at the same time. My arms were too short to touch more than one side at a time.
She was laughing. “And you take this overgrown kickball into space?”
“It’s fun,” I said. “You really should try it.”
“No thanks, space weather isn’t my friend. I’m allergic to low-energy particles. But I get it that boys will be boys. Help me out.”
Later we toured my quarters. She played with McDog but seemed most interested in my dancing warriors. Over the years I’d designed more than a hundred different ones, each little bot twenty-five centimeters tall. When I was a kid, I made them fight, but Dad always said fighting was what they did on planets and crew should know better. So I had them march instead, following me up and down Grace’s passageways as I called various walkbeats. Mom and Dad and Qory would stand in their doorways and clap for us. Then to one of the empty modules to practice elaborate drills that morphed from mandalas to monsters, sailboats to starships. A few years ago I’d put most of my warriors away except for the handful that I taught to dance. When I was little, Mom used to dance with me; that always made me happy. Getting my bots to dance was almost as much fun.
Orisa retrieved Teegan and Beko from the shelf and set them on the deck.
“I only named the dancers,” I explained. “The rest were just troops.”
The warriors bowed to each other. Beko opened his arms and Teegan stepped into close position, slipping past his scabbard. His hand rested against the leather armor on her back, loose but firm.
I watched them glide across the room and turn to the open side of their embrace. “I hardly take them down anymore.” A fan led to two quick steps and a check, and then they looked up to me for approval.
“Why did you stop?”
I shrugged. Wasn’t it obvious? I was nineteen—too old to be playing with dolls.
“Do they talk?”
I shook my head. “I never knew what they should say.” I couldn’t read the shadow that passed across her face. “They were smiling,” I said. “That was enough for me.”
“You must have been so lonely,” she said.
“I had my family.” I felt my cheeks flush. “And Grace.”
“Did you ever think of giving up your place on the ship? Picking some planet, leaving space?”
“No!” This was getting strange. “Why, have you?”
“Sure.” She set the warriors back on their shelves. “But here I am.”
I felt embarrassed when we settled at either end of my bed to talk. I offered to fetch the stool from my workroom but Orisa said no. I realized I needed a couch. Chairs, at least. She said I might try decorating the place and suggested that I ask Qory for a painting. When had she found out that Qory painted? But I liked the idea. Maybe Qory could do one of me in my roller.
Then Orisa asked about my stories.
I was explaining about Darko Fleener and my adventures with the Right of Free Assembly’s First Contact unit when she interrupted and started telling me the secret history of the Holy Electric Empire. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Not only did she know the Annals of the Red Fleet, but she described a battlesnake called War of Attrition that could have been the Free Assembly’s sister ship.
“But Fleeners was my story. I decided to go up against the Helveticans. I stole the Audacity.”
“You did. So did I, once upon a time. So did a lot of other kids. Except my flipship was Sly and I won it at the card table. It’s formula, Joj. The starships use it because it works. It’s a fun story designed to teach girls and boys all kinds of things they didn’t know they were learning.”
I gave a disgusted grunt. “Boys again.”
“And girls. When I was your age, my favorite story was about a quest. I was summoned to find a wizard’s sword that could send the Demon Lord back to the Barrens. I had an amulet that let me change my shape and a map…”
“A ring.” I felt so stupid. “In my story, it was a ring.” I couldn’t sit so I started moving around the bedroom. I stomped at the deck to see if it was still there because I wasn’t sure whether Grace herself might melt away and drop me into naked space. Orisa watched, waiting for me to calm down.
“They seemed so personal,” I said finally. “It meant a lot to me that they were mine and not Qory’s. But they were nothing but stories. Stories for kids.”
She pulled me down next to her. “There’s nothing wrong with stories, Joj. I’m the story I tell myself. You’re a story. The universe is a story. But it’s important to know what kind of story you’re in.”
Her hand on my bare arm gave me goose bumps and I gazed up at her. “Are we a story?” I wanted her to kiss me then. “You and I?” That’s what would have happened if I’d been telling it.
She smiled and shook her head. “Not yet,” she said.
The moment stretched, then she let go of my arm.
Orisa had a strange reaction when we took her to Qory’s quarters to meet Hob and Nob, the glass mollusks. We didn’t tell her about them ahead of time; I thought it would be a fun surprise. Their tank filled half of Qory’s workshop space; the rest was taken up by the bench where she built the toys. I immediately went to say hello.
“You keep pets, then?” Orisa hesitated in the entrance.
“Grace doesn’t mind,” said Qory.
“Qory’s had Hob and Nob since before I knew her.” I pressed my hand flat against the tank where Nob hung, suckered against the clear plex by two of its four tentacles. “Don’t worry, they’re harmless.”
“Just like us.” Orisa gave an unhappy chuckle. “At least they don’t have to stand watch.”