The Galaxy, and the Ground Within (Wayfarers #4)(31)

‘Quite a mess up there, eh?’ Roveg said as he and Speaker approached.

Tupo looked up, surprised to have been disturbed. ‘Yeah,’ xe said. ‘There’s no more explosions, though.’

‘That’s probably a good thing,’ Roveg said.

‘I guess.’ Tupo sighed.

Not the take Roveg had expected, but he let it slide. ‘We’re looking for your mother,’ he said.

‘Why?’

‘We’d like to make some minor adjustments to your ansible tower, with her permission.’ He nodded reassuringly at Speaker. ‘We’re trying to get a call out.’

‘Oh, yeah, that’s fine,’ Tupo said. Xe got to xyr feet all at once, like some kind of cloth puppet whose performer had returned. ‘Come on.’

‘Uh,’ Roveg said. ‘We should ask your mother, shouldn’t we?’

Speaker looked at him quizzically from within her suit. ‘Why?’

‘Yeah, it’s fine,’ Tupo said again. The child was already trotting down the path. ‘Come on.’

Roveg did not immediately follow Tupo, as Speaker did. The adjustments he was planning were as minor as advertised, but the tower in question was Ouloo’s, not Tupo’s, and … and, dammit, they were already around the corner ahead of him. He hurried after, still unsure about this.

The path that led behind the office was as tidy as the others, but less decorative. There were no signs here, no lawns, no flowers. A small dwelling came into view, and unlike the drab grey buildings that comprised the rest of the Five-Hop, this one was painted in patterns of vibrant yellow and seashore blue. ‘Is this your home, Tupo?’ Roveg asked.

‘Yep,’ Tupo said.

‘Must be nice to have all that space just for two,’ Speaker said.

Tupo looked at her sceptically. ‘I guess,’ xe said. Xyr tone did not suggest agreement.

The sib tower stood right by the Laru house – a standard model, nothing flashy. Roveg opened his mouth as Tupo approached the tower, beginning to ask if xe was sure they shouldn’t check with Ouloo first, but the child had already pried off the access panel. ‘Do you need any tools?’ Tupo asked.

Roveg raised the tool bag he carried by way of answer. ‘I believe I’m set,’ he said. He approached the tower and got to work.

Speaker sat the suit down beside him at a courteous distance that still allowed her to get a good look. ‘What exactly are you attempting here?’

Roveg reached into the tower and pulled out a bundle of wires. ‘I think,’ he said, ‘with a few adjustments, we might be able to boost the signal enough to get at least a text message through. We might even get voice, if we’re lucky, but let’s see how we get along.’

‘I don’t understand why the sibs aren’t working at all,’ she said. ‘If they can get signal from one system to another with all the dust and planets in between, why can’t I reach my ship that’s right up there?’

Roveg began to answer, but Tupo beat him to it. ‘Sibs need sublayer buoys to work, and you, um, still need a satellite network to connect to them if you’re calling from the ground. You can’t have buoys inside a planet. That wouldn’t even work.’

Roveg stared at this completely accurate technical summary from a youngster who appeared to have some kind of custard on xyr chin, but Speaker seemed nonplussed. If anything, she seemed to warm to it. ‘I didn’t know you were a tech,’ she said approvingly.

Tupo laughed. ‘I’m not a tech,’ Tupo said. ‘I just … know some stuff.’

‘You sound like you could be a good tech,’ Speaker said.

‘I dunno,’ the kid said, shuffling xyr feet.

Roveg was concentrating on not knocking circuitry out of place, but out of the corner of his eye, he could see Speaker readjusting herself in her cockpit, taking an interest in the child. ‘So how old will you be, when you decide on a profession?’ she asked. ‘Round about?’

‘I dunno,’ the kid said again. ‘When I’m grown up.’

‘And when would that be, for you?’

‘Um … I guess … well, I can get my shuttle licence when I’m twenty-six.’ Tupo delivered this information with authority, as if this were a number they were keenly aware of and eager to reach.

‘Twenty-six,’ the Akarak mused. There was a subtle awe in her tone.

‘And how old were you, Speaker?’ Roveg asked. ‘When you got your shuttle licence?’

Her eyes crinkled. ‘Very subtle of you,’ she said.

He waved a pair of pliers at her in acknowledgement. ‘Thank you.’

‘I was three and a half,’ she said.

Tupo’s head rushed right up to Speaker’s cockpit window, propelled in a spring-like manner by xyr neck. ‘Three and a half?!’ the kid exclaimed.

Roveg did not stick his face straight into Speaker’s, but he shared the sentiment. He lowered his pliers. ‘Forgive my ignorance,’ he said, throwing subtlety to the wind, ‘but how old are you?’

‘I’m eight,’ Speaker said.

Tupo was agape. ‘You’re eight standards old.’

‘Yes.’

The child looked at Roveg with sheer bewilderment, then back to Speaker. ‘You’re a kid?’