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

them much. But … oh, stars, how to explain this … there’s something in the nuance that makes it feel … insular.’

‘I don’t think of your species as insular,’ Speaker said. Every Laru she’d ever encountered had been embedded in the thick of multispecies life. She saw them as enthusiastic immigrants, wherever they went.

‘I know what you’re saying, but … ah, I have it.’ She stamped a paw with confirmation. ‘Laru are bone and blood and so on, but you’d never use that phrase toward other species. You just … wouldn’t say that. It’d sound wrong. And we don’t use the term species toward ourselves. There are Laru, and Laru are just … Laru. Species are … all the rest of you. You, versus us.’

‘So … Laru are family, other species are friends?’ Speaker said.

‘Yes! Exactly. And I think that’s wrong. It’s completely wrong! If we are out here to benefit from all the rest of you, to learn everything we can and become part of your lives and follow your example, then you must be blood and bone, too. You must also be family. I wanted Tupo to understand that – to truly understand that. I thought the best way to do that would be to remove other Laru from the equation entirely, give xyr a childhood full of nothing but other species. What could be a better education than that?’

‘I suppose,’ Speaker said slowly. She wasn’t on board with this idea, but wasn’t about to insult Ouloo over a mere difference in principle. ‘But then, the trade-off is xe’ll never know Laru ways of doing things.’

Ouloo scoffed at this, batting it away as though it were a troublesome bug she’d seen before. ‘Of course xe will. Or xe can, if xe wants to. Xe’ll grow up one day, and wherever xe wants to go, xe’ll go. If xe wants to embed xyrself in a Laru neighbourhood, xe absolutely can. But until then, xe’s going to learn all there is to learn about you. I mean, look!’ She gestured proudly toward Tupo, dancing xyrself breathless in the blue-shelled company of a laughing Quelin. ‘What would xe learn sitting in a stuffy interspecies-relations class that xe isn’t learning ten times better here?’

Speaker considered this. ‘I have to say, Ouloo,’ she said. ‘I didn’t expect you to be such a radical.’

Ouloo beamed. ‘Ha!’ she said. ‘Oh, I like that. I’m keeping that.’ She sat glowing for a moment, then got to her feet and hurried over to the others, doing a waving dance as she went. Roveg let out a clicking cheer, Tupo laughed, and the three of them danced all the harder, an uncountable number of limbs trampling the formerly pristine lawn.

Speaker smiled, turned up the music, and joined them.

PEI

Pei rushed into her shuttle the moment the hatch opened, beelining to the med room. She switched on the patch scanner, sat down on the eelim, rolled her sleeve, pushed up her wristwrap, and …

… hesitated.

There’s no way, she thought. The only colour in her cheeks was anxious red.

With a breath and a quick swipe, she pressed the scanner against her wristpatch. The scanner flashed successful contact, then cycled lights back and forth as it processed the information transmitted by the imubots patrolling her bloodstream.

The scanner’s screen flashed colours in question:

What kind of assessment do you require?

– Basic check-up

– Illness diagnosis

– Injury assessment

– Reproductive check-up

– Other/custom (warning: only use this option if you are a medical professional or have medical field training)

Pei swallowed, then selected Reproductive check-up.

The lights cycled. The scanner hummed against her palm. She could feel her heart, beating harder and harder and—

The screen flashed completion.

Pei read the results.

She reset the device.

She ran the scan again.

She read the results.

She ran a diagnostic on the device.

The device was fine.

She reset the device.

She ran the scan again.

She read the results.

Spoken languages had words for moments like this, and Pei knew a great many of them. There was bosh in Klip, hska in Reskitkish, fok in Ensk. But Aeluons did not have profanities in their native language, for the concept simply didn’t translate. For her, frustration existed beside her nostrils, debates blossomed near her jawline, insults roared from two spots straight down from her eyes. Spoken words were something separate from the speaker, something loosed into the air. When your words were embedded in your flesh, when they existed as an intrinsic piece of you, how could any of them be considered profane?

So instead of barking something cathartic and crass, Pei’s cheeks erupted in red and yellow – a reflexive display, at first, but she indulgently held the chromatophores in place, venting with a dash of purple.

Her skin didn’t look good because of the fucking scale scrub. She was shimmering.

She lay down and let the eelim decide what shape she needed to be held by. Nervously, she pushed up her shirt and lay her palm against her skin. She ran her fingers over the familiar scales and scars, and nothing felt different at all. But somewhere within her, the scanner had said there was – for the first time ever – a fully formed egg, and that egg was making her body pump out hormones that were screwing with her abdominal muscles and the shine of her skin. How had it not even occurred to her? The symptoms of shimmer had been drilled into her as a kid, and there’d been a time in her late adolescence when every random cramp or odd angle of light had made her go oh stars, is it happening? But she’d been too young for it then, and was on the cusp of too old now, and she’d long figured, over the decades of nothing happening, that she was one of the many who wouldn’t.

Why the fuck was it happening now? Here? On top of everything else? Was this really the best time her body could come up with?

Her head swam. She felt like the shuttle was upside down, or that the gravity had been switched off. It’s a