A Closed and Common Orbit (Wayfarers #2)(43)

Jane put her chin on her hands and watched the scanner. It wasn’t doing anything, but seeing the green light was good. She’d done a great job. Owl had said so.

‘Jane,’ Owl said. She spoke kind of slow, like she was thinking about something. ‘You’re very good at fixing things.’

‘It’s my task,’ Jane said.

‘I think . . .’ Owl got quiet. Jane looked at the screen on the wall. Owl was kind of frowny, like girls got when there was a piece of scrap they couldn’t figure out. ‘I have an idea,’ Owl said. ‘I’ve had it since you got here, but I wasn’t sure if you could do it. I’m still not sure it’s the right thing.’ She sighed. ‘We’d have to agree to it together. I can’t make you. Okay?’

‘Okay,’ Jane said, a little scared now.

‘This ship can’t fly as it is. It’s broken and in bad repair. There are so many parts that need replacing. I gave up hope of ever taking flight again a long time ago. But watching you work . . . Jane, with my help, you could find the things this ship needs to become functional. It would take a long time, and I can’t promise we’d be successful. But I have all the manuals. I can walk you through the ship’s systems and tell you what everything does. I can keep you safe and healthy. And you – you can find the things that are missing. You can find the pieces we need to replace the broken stuff. And if you can’t find a piece, you can make it out of others. I know you can. Look at the things you’ve built: the weapon, the water wagon. We’re surrounded by tech here. I really think we could do this.’

Jane could tell Owl liked this idea, but she wasn’t sure why it was so important. The ship kept the dogs away, and there was water now, and she could eat the mushrooms. ‘Why do we need the ship to fly?’

Owl looked kind of surprised, but then she smiled. ‘Because, sweetheart, if the ship works, we can get away from here.’

Jane blinked. ‘To where?’

Owl’s smile got sad. ‘I think it’s time I explained planets.’





SIDRA


Tak had changed since Shimmerquick. Sometime during the tendays between, Tak’s reproductive system had indicated that it was time to switch sides. The implants beneath his skin had responded in kind, releasing a potent mix of hormones that allowed his body to do what it had evolved to do. He didn’t look terribly different from the Aeluon woman Sidra had met at the Aurora. His face was instantly recognisable. A lightening of skin and a slight shift in facial cartilage was all that had taken place, but it was enough to be instantly noticeable.

What had not changed about Tak was his air of quiet confidence, which was readily apparent the moment Sidra walked into his shop. The proprietor lounged in a broad chair near a window, smoking his pipe and reading something on his scrib. His cheeks flashed colours, and Sidra accessed her reference files in kind. Tak was surprised, and pleased.

‘Well, hey!’ he said, setting down both scrib and pipe. ‘It’s my friend from the party!’

Sidra felt the kit smile. He remembered her. ‘Hello. I hope I’m not intruding.’

Tak gestured around. ‘I’m alone, and it’s a shop. You’re supposed to intrude.’ The patches on his cheeks went green with amusement. ‘What brings you here?’

‘Well, I . . .’ Sidra wasn’t sure how to go about this. She’d never bought anything on her own before – not without Pepper’s instruction, at least. Perhaps this was a stupid idea. ‘I’m interested in getting a tattoo.’

The green took on shades of blue. Tak was very pleased. ‘Your first, right?’

‘Yes.’

‘Fantastic. Please,’ he said, gesturing toward a heap of cushions surrounding a thin, cylindrical table. ‘Can I get you something to drink? Tea? Mek? Water?’

‘Mek would be nice, thank you.’ Sidra sat the kit down as Tak operated the brewer. The shop was a peaceful place, full of plants and curios. A small tank full of some sort of amorphous schooling sea creature – image logged, added to research list – hummed calmly against the wall. It stood alongside a strange piece of furniture: a smooth, featureless blob, bigger than she was. This was situated beside an Aeluon-style chair and a huge cabinet chequered with cube-like drawers. The chair appeared to be made of some sort of polymer, but she couldn’t identify the material. Image logged, added to research list.

Much like the decor at the festival, the shop was strikingly devoid of colour. Most of the objects within were grey, white, tan. Even the plants were muted – tarnished silver leaves with just the barest hint of chlorophyll. There were a few items that broke the rule: an abstract painting in bright primaries, the labels on foodstuffs and other multispecies goods, and a quartet of Aandrisk feathers, sticking up out of a thin vase.

‘Is this typical Aeluon decor?’ Sidra asked. ‘It’s quite striking.’

Tak went back to an amused green, tinged with a bit of curious brown. ‘Yeah, we tend to like our spaces simple. Too much colour gets tiring.’

‘Yet you’re a tattoo artist. On Port Coriol.’

Tak laughed as he picked up two full cups of mek. ‘I didn’t say we don’t like colour. Colour is good. Colour is life. But it’s also noise. Words. Passion.’ He handed Sidra a cup and sat down. ‘My shop’s where I spend most of my day. I want it to be a place where I can chill out and think clearly.’