The Galaxy, and the Ground Within (Wayfarers #4)(28)

Roveg was waiting for her in the Five-Hop’s entry tunnel, flexing his upper legs. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

‘I was wondering the same about you,’ she said. ‘I saw you through the window, and it seemed you were upset. Unless I misread?’

Expressionless though he was, Roveg seemed taken aback by this, as though he hadn’t thought about the fact that windows worked both ways. ‘Oh,’ he said. There was a long pause, a touch beyond the boundary of comfort. ‘I assume you saw the alert?’

‘Yes,’ Speaker said.

Roveg paused once more. ‘I’ve had to recalculate my course again, given the increased delay,’ he said. ‘A bit of a complicated thing, as I’m sure you’re familiar with, but the new adjustments I’ve made will still allow me to arrive in time for my appointment. Arriving the night before isn’t ideal, but here we are.’ Roveg’s tone grew lighter the longer he went on. It reminded Speaker of the way she’d forced her hands to let go of the hammock minutes before.

‘That sounds stressful,’ Speaker said. ‘Is there anything I can do?’

‘Not unless you’ve got a wreckage drone tucked away in that shuttle of yours,’ he said. His tone was joking now, forcibly so.

‘I’m afraid not,’ she said. Strange as the sapient before her was, his anxiety was as palpable as the fact that he didn’t want it to show. Speaker understood everything about that state of being, and had no desire to pry (peeking in windows had been bad enough). His business was his business. She respected that. But proximity to someone else’s pain wasn’t something she could ignore, and if she was unable to provide tangible help, then the next best thing she had to offer was an echo. ‘I’ll be late for a rendezvous, too,’ she said. ‘It’s not the end of the world, but as you said, it complicates things.’

‘You mentioned your sister last night,’ Roveg said. ‘Have you been able to contact her?’

Now it was Speaker’s turn to feel exposed. Windows went both ways, of course, but he’d cut right to the heart of it. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I haven’t.’

‘Watcher, was it?’

‘Tracker.’

‘Ah, yes. My mistake. Are you worried about her?’

Speaker took a deep breath. ‘I am,’ she said. The understatement of the standard. She tried to keep her words measured, but rooted in her heart as they were, they attempted to race away. ‘She wasn’t well when I left. She’s – she’s probably fine, she just has, um – she’s always had—’ Speaker steadied herself, slowed down. ‘She has a lung condition, and she was having a difficult day when I left our ship. I’m sure she’s—’ She paused to take another breath, and as she heard the air slip smoothly through her open throat, she thought of how Tracker’s breath had sounded the day before: tight and stuttering, far from effortless. Speaker shoved the thought away. She was embarrassed by letting her fear get the better of her, and frustrated to be in the position of talking about herself when her intent in coming out here had been to help someone else. With effort, she found her poise, found her words. ‘I just want to make sure she’s all right.’

Roveg’s eyes shifted in their keratin sockets, scattering reflected sunlight. They reminded Speaker of the crystals Tracker grew. ‘You know, I can’t promise anything,’ Roveg said, ‘but I … hmm. Do you know what kind of comms receiver your ship has? Your ship in orbit, I mean, not your shuttle.’

‘Oh, uh, it’s a …’ She closed her eyes and tried to remember. This was her sister’s domain, not hers. ‘I’m not completely sure.’

‘Does it look like a dish, or does it stick out? Like a small tower?’

‘A tower, I think.’

‘Ah, good. Again, no promises, but I have an idea.’ The decorative frills around Roveg’s upper torso waved gently. Speaker had no basis for thinking this, but something about the gesture felt friendly. ‘Come,’ he said. ‘Let’s find Ouloo.’





PEI


Pei’s implant buzzed to the right as the door to the Five-Hop’s office slid open. She looked in the buzz’s direction and saw a robotic percussion instrument, playing a short tune to announce her arrival. Her brief recognition of the sound was drowned out a split second later by the sort of input her brain was far more receptive to: a veritable avalanche of colour. Pei was no stranger to environments that seemed to be shouting – she wouldn’t get far in a multispecies market otherwise – but given the tactfully neutral paint of the building’s exterior, she hadn’t expected the inside to be so loud.

The Five-Hop One-Stop’s permit office and traveller’s shop was jammed to the gills with items for sale, each emblazoned with a label or logo designed to make people of other species sit up and take notice. Pei noticed, all right, but not in the way their designers had hoped. She gave an involuntary wince as every hue hit her eyes at once. She felt as though she were staring directly into the sun, and that the sun really wanted her to buy something.

‘Oh dear, I know, I’m so sorry,’ Ouloo said. Pei hadn’t yet registered the ground host sitting behind a desk at the far end of the room. ‘There’s a basket of monocs just to your left there.’