‘He’s teasing, Tupo,’ said Ouloo with exasperation. ‘Stars.’ She shook out her fur and turned her attention to the adults. ‘Well, there’s no reason for all of you to be shy, too. Please, make yourselves at home!’

Speaker had spent her entire adult life learning how to navigate interactions with other species. Her people operated by insularity, and even when they did make their homes in mixed settlements, they kept largely to themselves (for reasons no Akarak needed reminding of). Speaker had honed her natural talents of linguistic quickness and what Tracker called ‘social sponging’ in order to enter the multicultural melee, to gain entry to places her peers typically could not. Her skills in this regard were malleable by necessity, as you never knew what sort of sapient you’d need to talk to. She prided herself for her flexibility in that regard. With the exception of a small collection of trusted market stops and reliable contacts, she rarely found herself in the same place twice, and part of what made her and her sister good at their work was her ability to adapt to whatever the scenario called for.

But as she stood at the edge of the garden, faced with food and flowers and small talk, a realisation dawned on her. Varied as the places she visited were, they all shared one element: practicality. She frequented fuel depots, tech swaps, hydroponic suppliers, medical clinics, libraries, bustling markets, water stations, government bureaus, shuttledocks, and other such functional locations. She knew how to trade and enquire and haggle and win over, and had done all of these with alien species of every shape and size.

Not one of them had ever invited her to hang out with them.

Easy as this scenario should have been, Speaker found herself facing a tremendous challenge. She had to maintain the air of confidence she knew was so crucial to appeasing other species, while navigating a situation she’d never been in and was unexpectedly nervous about, while also keeping the part of herself that was desperate to talk to Tracker shut away for the duration of the gathering.

She took a breath, and marched her mech suit forward.

Fortunately, she did not have to be the one to launch a conversation. Roveg was keenly chatting to Captain Tem as he heaped his plate with snacks, the frills around his thorax flexing with excitement. ‘I have to say, Captain,’ he said in his stormy accent, ‘that is a beautiful shuttle you have. Caught my eye immediately as I flew in.’

‘Ah, thanks,’ Captain Tem said, nibbling at something from her own (more modestly filled) plate. Speaker did not grasp cheek colours as well as she wanted to yet, but the Aeluon looked pleased, and said nothing further on the matter. Captain Tem didn’t boast or brag, but neither did she demur. She acknowledged that her shuttle was a nice one, and left it there. Speaker noted that.

Roveg leaned toward Captain Tem just a touch. ‘I would assume from the, ah, robustness of your ship that you’re joining us from more dangerous territories,’ he said. His voice took on the sort of well-intentioned yet clueless empathy of someone who knew nothing of real violence beyond the fact that it was bad and you had to be careful bringing it up. Not that Speaker had any real understanding of the matter herself. Though she commonly worked with people who had an intimate relationship with mortality and the means by which it could be used, she and Tracker had both long ago resolved that their home would have no weapons and their hands would never get bloody. The darker sides of the galaxy were something she knew by proxy, not directly. Still, what she did know was enough to ensure that she’d never raise the topic herself, not as Roveg was doing now. His interest was blatant, despite being smothered beneath an imposed layer of tact.

But whatever personal insights Captain Tem had, she kept them to herself. ‘That’s right,’ she said, as nonchalant as she’d been at mention of her shuttle. A short reply, Speaker observed, followed by a deft pivot. ‘Just finished a cargo drop and now I’m on leave. Going to visit a friend for a few tendays.’

‘Her friend’s a Human,’ the child said from under the table, joining in at last.

‘Ah, I love Humans,’ Roveg said jovially. ‘All the ones I’ve met are just the most fascinating people. And such a history they have! I hear Mars is quite a charming little place.’

Captain Tem continued to swerve. ‘My friend’s Exodan, so I wouldn’t know.’

‘Oh, really?’ Ouloo said. It was her turn to become inquisitive. Speaker wondered if she and Roveg together might be a bit much. ‘That’s so … gosh, I don’t know. So rugged, isn’t it?’

The Aeluon did not laugh aloud, but Speaker got the feeling she was laughing all the same. ‘I’ll be sure to tell him so,’ she said dryly. Her inner eyelids flicked across sideways, and she shifted her gaze, pulling Speaker into the conversation. ‘And what about you?’ she said. ‘Where are you headed?’

Speaker swallowed her nervousness, and moved the suit into the circle.

Pei had no idea how to interpret an Akarak’s facial expressions, and she found that gap in knowledge uncomfortable. Roveg’s face didn’t move at all, but she’d long ago learned to accept the impossibility of reading Quelin. Speaker, on the other hand … well, who knew much of anything about Akaraks to begin with? She knew they were a nomadic, scattered species, their homeworld stripped by the Harmagians of anything and everything usable in the years before the Hashkath Accords put an end to that sort of thing. She knew their species lived in GC space proper, not the fringes, but she was pretty sure they did not have a seat in Parliament (which, now that she was thinking about it, seemed off). She knew the only ones she’d ever come face to face with had been trying to steal her shit, and that those were the only stories anybody ever told about their kind. Beyond that, she knew nothing. She’d never had reason to think about that realm of ignorance before, but now that it was standing right in front of her, she found herself bothered.