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

Ouloo put her tray of cakes in the stasie (Speaker recognised that appliance, at least). ‘Here, I’ll take those,’ Ouloo said, retrieving the tray from the suit’s hands. ‘Thank you so much.’

‘It’s no trouble,’ Speaker said.

‘Oh, oh – but before I do.’ Ouloo set the tray in the stasie with the door open, then darted around looking for something. ‘I’ll box some up for you to take back to your ship.’ She paused. ‘Will they be all right for you to eat?’

‘I don’t know. What’s in them?’

‘Well, let’s see – sun beans, sugar, baking syrup, teth flour—’

‘Ah,’ Speaker said regretfully. ‘I know teth flour, and I’m afraid I can’t eat that.’

‘Oh, no!’ Ouloo said. The Laru became a portrait of disappointment. ‘I’ve done such a bad job looking after you.’

‘It’s all right,’ Speaker said. ‘You’ve never met one of me before.’

‘True, but that’s a reason, not an excuse.’ Ouloo tapped a paw on the floor, thinking. ‘Does your species have dessert?’ she asked. ‘You know, as a concept?’

‘Yes,’ Speaker said. ‘We do.’

Ouloo’s neck corkscrewed lightly behind her head. ‘Any you know how to make?’

‘Oh,’ Speaker said, surprised by the question. ‘Um, yes, actually. Not many, but …’ She rifled through a mental list of recipes she could reliably succeed at. ‘I guess you’d translate it as rest-day custard. I know how to make that.’ She cocked her head. ‘Are you asking me for a recipe?’

‘Yes. And if you’re keen, I’d love for you to teach me how to make it,’ Ouloo said. ‘Just in case any more of you come by.’ She looked Speaker in the eye and smiled. ‘Or if you come back.’

‘If I’m travelling this way, I absolutely will,’ she said. She meant it. ‘So. Custard. I doubt you’ll have all the ingredients.’

Ouloo’s paws bounced with excitement in a way not entirely unlike her child’s. ‘Does that mean you’re going to show me?’

‘Yes.’ Speaker laughed. ‘Though, I’m going to need to go back to my shuttle. I don’t think I have everything I need there, either, but—’

‘Oh, we’ll improvise,’ Ouloo said. ‘We’ll muddle through, and if it’s a mess, it’s a mess.’

And so Speaker found herself back on the path outside, heading to the shuttlepad to fetch whatever ingredients she had. What a strange day it was, she thought. She’d had a fancy meal with a Quelin, told an Aeluon to fuck off, and was now on her way to teach a Laru how to make her mother’s custard recipe. There were other, better, more pressing reasons for why she wanted to talk to Tracker, but once the important things were sorted, Speaker couldn’t wait to tell her about all of this. She thought maybe she’d write her a letter later, so as not to forget the details. She wouldn’t send it, of course – it wasn’t an emergency, and she wasn’t about to be one of the people making the comms jam worse over something frivolous. She began to draft a message in her head as she stepped into the airlock and waited for the air to cycle through. Sister, you won’t believe the day I’ve had, she thought. I know you hate coming planetside, but I wish you’d been here for this—

The hatch opened, and with it, the letter vanished, along with the recipe, the fight, the breakfast, any memory of anything that wasn’t in front of her right then.

On the floor, limbs sprawled, neck twisted in on itself, nostrils shut against air they could not breathe, was Tupo. Unmoving. Unbreathing. Unresponsive.

Scattered before xyr, resting where they’d fallen, lay two pieces of cake.

Dys 238–239, GC Standard 307

IN THE EVENT OF AN EMERGENCY

EVERYONE

An alert light flashed; someone was in the airlock and wanted to come through the hatch. Whoever it was, Pei was not in the mood. She stood in her shuttle’s kitchen, leaning against the pantry and drinking a large cup of water. She was in that stage of intoxication where she was beginning to entertain the possibility that maybe – just maybe – she’d overdone it.

The light continued to flash. She would get it, of course. It was probably Ouloo, making a fuss. No, that wasn’t a kind way to think of it – Ouloo was checking in, most likely. Pei knew it wasn’t nice to keep her host waiting, but she also really didn’t feel like talking anymore. She wanted to sit in proper quiet and be with her feelings and—

Her implant buzzed, and a loud, rhythmic thudding accompanied it.

Someone wasn’t just at the hatch. Someone was kicking the hatch.

Frowning purple, Pei walked over to a monitor panel and gestured, pulling up the view from the hatch’s security cam. Her inner eyelids flicked hard. It wasn’t Ouloo. It was Speaker.

As soon as Pei processed what Speaker was carrying, she dropped her cup and ran.

The fucking hatch finally melted open. Captain Tem stared at Tupo, lying limply in the mech suit’s arms. ‘What the hell—’

Speaker cut her off. ‘You said you have medical equipment,’ she said.

Captain Tem snapped into action just as Speaker had. ‘This way,’ the Aeluon said, hurrying down the surreal hallways of her soft-shelled ship. Speaker followed with equal speed. She ignored the empty weapon racks and hanging sets of armoured clothing, saving her disgust for another time. She tried to keep Tupo’s long limbs from falling out of the suit’s grasp, but stars, it wasn’t easy.

She arrived at what amounted to a small med bay – a decent-sized room with a bed, a bot scanner, and various supplies for patching people up. Captain Tem activated panels and monitors with one hand, and opened a hole in the wall with the other. ‘Where did you find xyr?’ she asked.

Speaker moved the suit in and lay Tupo on the bed as gently as she could. The bed moulded itself around the child, hugging xyr limbs supportively. ‘On my ship,’