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

hadn’t asked Tupo to trim xyr fur, and she would not add an asterisk to this victory. ‘It looks good,’ she lied, then added, honestly: ‘It’s nice to see your eyes.’

Tupo mumbled something unintelligible, looking pleased.

‘Well,’ Ouloo said, surveying the kitchen. ‘How about we clear some space, and then I can take over the dumpling production.’

‘No,’ Tupo said. Xyr neck raised up assertively. ‘I. Am making. Breakfast.’ Xe lowered xyr head and shoved it against Ouloo’s side, nudging her toward the door. ‘Go back to bed. Or do something else.’

‘But—’ Ouloo began to fret over the mess, the wasted oil, the probably ruined pan. Her child glared back at her, frowning mightily. ‘All right, all right,’ Ouloo said. She ran her tongue over her incisors as she thought. ‘But maybe … maybe sunrise dumplings are something we could make together, another time. I can teach you how. What if right now, you made melon porridge?’

Tupo’s neck drooped. ‘That’s not as fun.’

‘You’re good at it, though. That last batch you made was pretty tasty.’ This was also true, even though the presentation had left much to be desired.

Tupo looked simultaneously reluctant to admit defeat, and relieved to be given an out. ‘Well … okay.’ The glare returned. ‘But you can’t help.’ Xe took the pan and spatula back, and gave her another shove. ‘Go away.’

Ouloo laughed and surrendered her territory. ‘Okay,’ she said, backing out of the kitchen. ‘Okay. You’re the boss.’

Going back to bed was out of the question, so Ouloo headed for her grooming cabinet, and thought through the day as the robotic hands washed and curled. Much as she preferred to see her dome filled with visitors, business had been good and steady, and a day with no guests was a rare opportunity to knock out projects in a leisurely manner. She could touch up the paint on her shuttle, she thought, but it wasn’t urgent, and wasn’t the sort of work she was in the mood for. The scale scrub stock in the bathhouse was getting a bit low, but she wasn’t about to make a new batch of that with the kitchen as it was. Oh, but the garden – she’d almost forgotten, with how busy she’d been. She’d received some new plants for the garden nearly a tenday ago, which were still waiting in their drone crates. She’d been so excited to receive them, but everything else had gotten in the way, as so often happened. Yes, that was the perfect thing to do on an empty day. She bounded out of the cupboard once the grooming program was complete, properly coiffed and full of energy.

‘I’m going to the garden,’ she called as she headed for the door. ‘Please don’t burn the house down.’

Tupo presumably heard her, but the only reply she received was the sound of something non-breakable clattering to the ground, followed by muffled swearing.

Ouloo walked through the door without another word. She didn’t need to know.

She ducked over to the office to grab a slice of her neighbour’s jenjen cake to tide her over, then loaded up a pushcart with the drone crates, plus garden tools and paw covers. Ships and shuttles criss-crossed overhead as she ferried her cargo down the path – some landing, some ascending, some orbiting high above. Just another day. There had been a time shortly after she’d bought the patch of planet beneath her feet when the closeness of the sky-borne vehicles made her crane her neck all the way back every time one of them passed. She remembered Tupo – so fluffy and heart-achingly small then – crowing the categories of ships in view. That’s a cruiser! That’s a cargo hauler! That’s a … uh … a ship! The charm of that habit had quickly worn thin, but Ouloo couldn’t deny that she’d shared in the sense of amazement fuelling it. She had thought, then, that she’d never grow tired of looking at those incredible constructs, that they’d always be a bit magic to her. And they were, when she actually took the time to stop and think about it. But she didn’t need to look at every single one anymore. They would always be remarkable to her, but in the present moment, the thing that grabbed her attention most was the ground she now stood on. The ships above were strangers, machines carrying other lives and other plans. The world inside Ouloo’s dome was small, sure – but was there any world that wasn’t, when you stacked it up beside everything else? The dome was her world, that was the key thing. She had started with a blank slate and had built something upon it. She could put a sign here, slap some paint there, change whatever didn’t suit her fancy. That was a powerful thing, to Ouloo, more powerful than the biggest ship with the biggest guns. A ship like that was good for only one kind of job. The Five-Hop, on the other hand, could be whatever she wanted it to be. That was more compelling to her.

The path wound its way into the garden, its paved edges now softened by bowing branches and playful vines. The summer ferns were exploding with new leaves, each still spiralled tightly inward around itself, waiting for the right moment to unfurl. The eevberry bush was in full bloom, and the pollinator bots diligently wove their way from flower to flower, ensuring there’d later be fruit to fold into pastry dough.

She parked her cart by a bed filled with mistdrops, though not for much longer. These, she would replace with the newcomers. She opened the smaller of the two crates, revealing thirty egg-like capsules, waiting in tidy rows cushioned with protective foam. The capsules were transparent, and within each stood a small plant anchored in ghostly blue grow-gel. She’d been told all of the plants’ names ahead of time, as well as how to care for them, but every variety in this box was a mystery to