The Galaxy, and the Ground Within by Becky Chambers (read along books txt) 📗

She glanced up, and over.

The Akarak was looking at her.

They were too far apart for Pei to see the Akarak’s face – not that she would’ve been able to read the expression anyway, knowing as little about them as she did. Like all of xyr kind, the Akarak was housed within a bulky, bipedal-bodied mech suit, sealed away in a windowed cockpit that occupied the space where an ordinary-sized head might be. The suit itself was a bit taller than Pei, but its operator was child-sized – no, smaller than that, even. Pei could’ve placed xyr in a satchel without difficulty. She could make out a few physical details: spindly limbs, short torso, the hint of a beak hiding in shadow. But even without a good view of the Akarak’s face, Pei could tell they were staring at one another. The moment in which they could each pretend they weren’t had gone.

There was movement within the suit: a lever pulled, buttons pressed. The suit obeyed, straightening up and raising both of its four-fingered metal hands. At the Akarak’s command, it turned the palms outward, and tipped the fingertips gently to each side.

Pei’s inner eyelids flicked with surprise. The stance the Akarak’s suit had adopted was that of an Aeluon greeting, the kind you gave a person when you were too far apart to press palms. It was an unremarkable, everyday way of expressing a friendly hello, performed by the last sort of figure she would’ve expected it from. The combination was nothing if not surreal.

Pei stood still for a moment, then cautiously returned the gesture.

The Akarak’s suit gave a polite tilt of acknowledgement, then returned to the business of buying algae.

Before Pei could process that exchange, a loud rattling sound approached. Pei had no natural sense of hearing, but the auditory-processing implant embedded in her forehead allowed her to cognitively register sound and understand its associated meaning (the sensation was something like reading, but without a screen present). Vital as this need was in a galaxy where everyone else insisted on carrying out vibratory conversations delivered via air, the implant could not communicate the sound’s direction in the same neural way that it relayed the sound itself. This simply wasn’t something a non-hearing brain could comprehend. To accommodate for this, the implant gave her skin a gentle buzz on the right side of her forehead, letting her know where the noise was coming from.

She turned to see the younger Laru ambling in her general direction, walking on xyr hind legs and pushing a three-tiered cart with xyr forepaws. The garden had a clearing at the centre, a spacious, short-cut lawn with tables and benches designed for a variety of species’ posteriors. It was here that the Laru was headed with xyr cargo.

Pei approached, and the smell of warm sugar caught her attention. ‘What’ve you got there?’ she asked, mentally operating the talkbox implanted on the outside of her throat (a talkbox could be implanted anywhere, really, but other sapients preferred it when your ‘voice’ – computerised though it was – came from the same direction as your head).

The child – Tepo, was xyr name? Tuppo? something like that – parked the cart and turned to face Pei. Except … xe didn’t quite face her. The Laru were a species that Pei was familiar with, but it didn’t take an expert to grasp that the shaggy kid was shy. Xe looked somewhere in the vague vicinity of Pei’s face, just short of looking her in the eye. ‘Please enjoy these traditional Laru desserts, compliments of your hosts at the Five-Hop,’ xe said in joyless recitation. Xe gestured at the cart with all the enthusiasm of someone cleaning out a clogged drain.

Pei managed to squash the laugh that was about to leave her talkbox, and hoped the amused green she could feel tickling her cheeks would go unnoticed. ‘You know, I don’t think I’ve ever had any kind of Laru dessert,’ she said. ‘Can you walk me through them?’

The kid squirmed, clearly having hoped xyr introduction of the cart would’ve served as both hello and goodbye, but xe dutifully turned xyr attention to the treats. ‘We’ve got, um, crushcake, mellow-mallow pudding, sweet-and-salties, baby paws, and … mint crisps.’

‘Hmm,’ Pei said. ‘Very interesting.’ She was trying to make xyr more comfortable, but the remark was genuine. The festively decorated bowls and cups before her did look tempting. ‘Which one is your favourite?’

‘Umm … I like mellow-mallow pudding.’ Xe pointed a stubby toepad toward a bowl filled with something black and gelatinous, topped with swirls of … some kind of plant shavings? Or maybe spun sugar?

‘All right,’ Pei said. ‘Will you have one with me?’

The child shifted on all four feet, pawing lightly at the grass. ‘Oh, um … it’s for guests only.’ There was regret laced through those words, and it sounded as thick as the pudding appeared.

Pei threw a theatrical glance over her shoulder toward the office. ‘I can keep a secret,’ she said with a cheeky flick of her eyelids.

The kid finally brightened. ‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah.’

That was all it took for the Laru to transform. With a sudden burst of animation, xe grabbed two bowls of pudding, handing Pei one and keeping the other for xyrself. Pei noticed that xe had hung onto the bowl with a more generous helping. She had no problem with that.

They both sat down in the grass, Pei cross-legged, the youngster on xyr haunches. ‘Sorry, what’s your name again?’ Pei said.

‘Tupo,’ xe said. Xe cupped the bowl in xyr forepaws and began lapping up the pudding with xyr fat purple tongue, having no need for the alien spoons xyr mother had provided.

Pei, on the other hand, did need a spoon, and with it, she took a confident bite of the pudding. ‘Huh,’ she said through her talkbox as she swirled the stuff around her mouth.

‘D’you like it?’ Tupo mumbled, xyr own mouth partially full.

‘Yeah, I think I do,’ Pei said. The pudding had a strange