SPEAKER

As things stood, there were two good possibilities: Tupo could wake up before the eight-hour mark, or their signal could get through to emergency services. If neither of these came to pass, then they’d have no choice but to put Tupo in medical stasis, and then … then they’d have to see. There was no way to make the good possibilities happen, no way to know if they’d happen in five minutes or five hours or never. So the only option before them was to wait, without any idea of which reality they were waiting for.

Speaker stood with the others in the common area, where they’d stepped out to discuss what came next. It was doubtful Tupo could hear them, but nobody wanted to scare the child on the off-chance that some of their words were drifting through xyr unconscious state.

‘Well, we’ve got the scan going, at least,’ Captain Tem said. ‘I’ll keep an eye to make sure none of those warning signs pop up.’

‘And I’ll keep trying with the comms signal,’ Roveg sighed. ‘There’s not much I can do about jammed traffic, but I can set the scrib up to automatically send a flag every five minutes.’

Speaker glanced at Ouloo. The Laru’s eyes weren’t focused on anything. She was rubbing her forepaws together, over and over and over. Speaker turned the suit to face her. ‘Ouloo, I know this sounds impossible, but you should rest. We might be here a while.’

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ Ouloo said.

‘You can use my bed,’ Captain Tem said. ‘She’s right; your body’s going through it right now, too. You should take it easy so you can jump in if … well, if it’s needed.’

Ouloo continued to rub her paws. ‘I do like Aeluon beds,’ she said quietly.

Captain Tem smiled blue. ‘Mine’s really good, too.’

Ouloo looked around the group. ‘You’ll come get me, right? If any – if anything—’

‘Of course,’ Speaker said.

The Laru bobbed her neck, and let Captain Tem lead her away.

Roveg sighed and flexed his legs. ‘Not quite the evening we were expecting, hmm?’ He rubbed his face with his top-most toes. ‘Stars, I need some water. I should never drink with Aeluons.’

‘I saw a kitchen on the way in,’ Speaker said. ‘Or at least, I think it was a kitchen. There was food in it.’

Roveg leaned in conspiratorially. ‘Every Aeluon room I’ve ever seen looks exactly the same,’ he said in an unimpressed tone. ‘So your guess is as good as mine.’

The room Speaker had seen did turn out to be a kitchen, but they couldn’t find a damn thing. Both she and Roveg put their respective appendages on the walls here and there, trying to figure out where the cupboard openings were.

Captain Tem appeared in the doorway after a few futile moments. ‘What … is going on?’ she said.

‘Captain, where the hell do you keep your drinkware?’ Roveg said.

The Aeluon made an amused expression. She walked up to a spot on the wall that looked like every other, pressed her palm on it, and opened the panel. She removed a small bowl and held it toward him. ‘Will this work better for you than my cups?’

Roveg chuffed irritably at the wall he’d failed to open. ‘Yes, thank you. Water, if you wouldn’t mind.’

‘Is Ouloo lying down?’ Speaker asked.

‘Yeah,’ Captain Tem said. She filled the bowl from a dispenser of some kind. ‘I doubt she’ll sleep, but …’

‘I don’t see how anybody could,’ Speaker said. She shook her head as if drying herself off. ‘I can’t imagine how she’s feeling.’

Roveg took the bowl of water from Captain Tem, but he didn’t speak, and he didn’t drink. He stood silent, staring at nothing. ‘I can,’ he said.

Speaker and Captain Tem both looked at him, and the room grew heavy.

The Quelin took a long drink of water and shifted his eyes. ‘I have four sons,’ he said quietly. ‘I carried their eggs on my shell for a standard, and they all hatched on the same day. Their mother and I were friends, nothing more. It’s a common arrangement – two friends who both want to have children and haven’t found a romantic partner to do so with. I enjoyed her company. I cared about her, but I did not love her. But my boys …’ His mouthparts clicked with a fragile sound. ‘I never knew what love was until I saw them for the first time. I remember them stumbling around, unable to speak. I tried to clean them off – they were all wet, and covered in eggshell, but they didn’t understand to hold still. They couldn’t speak. They didn’t understand what they were, what anything was. But they understood me, somehow. Each one of them, in turn. They stumbled, and they tripped, and by chance, they saw me. And once they saw me, they stumbled right at me, deliberately. They shivered against me, as if they – as if they knew I was the one thing that would keep them safe.’ He took another sip from the bowl. ‘So, yes. I have some idea of how she must be feeling.’

The weight in the room increased. ‘That must be so painful,’ Speaker said, ‘to have been sent away from them.’

‘Don’t feel sorry for me,’ Roveg said. ‘Please don’t. I knew the stories I was telling might get me into trouble, and I did it anyway. I was stupid and cocky and thought I wouldn’t get caught, but I understood the risk. It wasn’t enough, though. The risk of robbing my boys of their father wasn’t enough to keep me quiet. And I know. I know that makes me a selfish person.’