A Closed and Common Orbit (Wayfarers #2)(29)

‘Yes.’ Stars, did she ever.

‘So, tattooing . . . you’ve got a picture in your mind, then you put it on your body. You make a hazy imagining into a tangible part of you. Or, to flip it around, you want a reminder of something, so you put it on your body, where it’s a real, touchable thing. You see the thing on your body, you remember it in your mind, then you touch it on your body, you remember why you got it, what you were feeling then, and so on, and so on. It’s a re-enforcing circle. You’re reminded that all these separate pieces are part of the whole that comprises you.’ The Aeluon laughed at herself. ‘Or is that too fluffy?’

‘No,’ Sidra said. She was intensely focused, as if she were plugged into the Linkings. There was an Aandrisk gesture that captured this feeling perfectly: tresha. Someone seeing a truth in you without being told. ‘No, that sounds wonderful.’

Tak lifted the gun away from the Aandrisk, and took out her pipe. She looked Sidra in the eye, studying her. ‘Tell you what,’ she said, after three seconds. She tapped her wristpatch against Sidra’s. Sidra registered a new download – a contact file. ‘You ever want to take the plunge, I’d love to assist.’

‘Thank you,’ Sidra said. She held the contact file at the forefront of her pathways for a moment, feeling like Tak had given her a gift. ‘Would you mind if I kept watching you work for a while?’

‘Not at all.’ Tak placed the pipe back in her mouth, unruffled by the unexpected audience. It was a good thing, Sidra thought, to know your craft so well that an extra pair of eyes made little difference.

Sidra remembered her drink and took a sip. A bird, black as night, beating its powerful wings through the dawn. Tak worked over the scales: yellow, silver, white, yellow, silver, white. She exhaled smoke. It cast shadows. Sidra took another sip: A bird, black as night, beating its powerful wings through the dawn. Tak continued: yellow, silver, white. As for the Aandrisk, she said nothing at all.





JANE, AGE 10


Jane was still tired, but she woke up because it was time to wake up. Her body said so. It was the time before the alarm went off, before the lights went on, right around the same time Jane 8 got up to pee.

She listened in the dark. No girls moving beneath their sheets. No pat pat pat of feet headed to the bathroom. No Jane 64 breathing beside her.

She remembered. She was alone.

‘Owl?’ she said. She clutched the blankets tight. They weren’t her blankets, and this wasn’t her bed. This was one of the beds in the shuttle. There were two beds, and she didn’t know who either of them were for, and she wasn’t wearing clothes, and— ‘Owl?’

Owl’s glowing face appeared in the screen beside the bed. ‘Hey, hey, I’m right here. Everything’s okay. Do you want me to turn the lights on?’

Jane wasn’t afraid of the dark – she was ten – but right then, lights sounded like a good idea. ‘Yes,’ she said.

The lights came up slowly, much like the lights in the dorm did, but they were different. Everything was different. Jane felt different, too.

She sat up, hugging the different blanket to her chest. Owl stayed with her, but didn’t say anything. She just watched. Jane couldn’t say why, but somehow that didn’t scare her like when a Mother looked at her. Owl felt . . . okay.

‘Owl, what do I do today?’ Jane said. ‘What’s my task?’

‘Well . . .’ Owl said. ‘There are things that would be good for you to do at some point, but you had a very hard night. I think you should do anything you want today.’

Jane thought about that. ‘Like what?’

‘If you want to stay in bed for a while, you can. If you want to stay in bed all day, you can! We can talk, or not talk, or—’

‘I can stay in bed?’

‘Of course you can.’

‘. . . all day?’

Owl laughed. ‘Yes. All day.’

Jane frowned. ‘But what would I do?’

‘Just . . . relax.’

Jane wasn’t sure what to make of that. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I’ll try that.’ She lay back down, pulling the blanket tight around herself. She wasn’t cold, but the bed felt too big, and the blanket made it better.

‘Do you want me to turn out the lights?’ Owl asked.

‘Would that help?’

‘Maybe down a little, at least.’ The lights dimmed, as did Owl’s face.

Jane lay still. Just relax, she thought. Just relax. I won’t get punished. But her body knew it was time to wake up, and the feeling of being in trouble grew louder and sharper, sitting thick in her chest. Girls who stayed in bed got punished. Girls who were late got punished. I won’t get punished. Girls had to work hard. Girls couldn’t be lazy. I won’t get—

She remembered a metal hand around 64’s neck. She remembered how 64 had screamed. She remembered that it was all her fault.

Jane kicked off the blankets and got out of bed. ‘I need a task.’

‘Okay,’ Owl said, bringing the lights back up. ‘We’ll find something good to do.’

Jane tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry. She’d never been so thirsty, or so hungry. Her lips stuck to each other like old glue. ‘Is there water?’

Owl’s face looked wrong, like somebody who got caught doing something bad. ‘Not in the tanks, but there may be supplies still. How long have you gone without drinking?’