Chapter Three

Riston

Terra-Sol date 3814.237

It had been hard for Riston to let zirself think of the other stowaways as zir friends. They weren’t friends, at least, not in the way people normally defined friendship. They didn’t even know one another’s names. Their real names, the ones logged upon their birth by the citizen registries of their home planets, were gone. So was “home” in whatever form it had previously existed. Pax Novis had been a better home than the warring families and planets they’d come from. So, they weren’t friends, but the five Novis stowaways—Tinker, Treble, Shadow, Greenie, and Zazi Novis—had become allies first and something far more important soon after.

In the beginning, they’d served as sources of information and conversation for one another, but the bond had deepened quickly once each declared their intention to stay. Somehow, they became family, and Riston was more grateful for their companionship and trust than ze knew how to explain.

The first cycle on board Pax Novis had been peaceful and had gone a long way toward giving zem the silence and security ze needed to sort through the chaos of zir own mind. Eventually, however, the silence and isolation had become oppressive, a weight to be borne as payment for the sense of safety being on board Novis brought. Ze may have been the first to stay, but the others had joined in quick succession, and they’d created a community. To Riston, it was still a luxury to be able to bounce ideas off someone other than the voice in zir head, and it was a luxury ze was taking full advantage of today. The theories running through zir mind were as serious as a ship flying through an EMP minefield.

“I’m telling you, it looks pretty and well-run on the surface, but Nea-gi is on the verge of something big.” Riston and the others were sitting on the floor of a mid-deck junction, all of them buzzing with the adrenaline of a planetside visit. Where their rush came from excitement, though, zirs had the sharp bite of worry. “If Nea-gi’s government breaks down, the whole system will follow, and Primis will be overrun in less than a month, probably by more than one army. The mines on the surface will either be destroyed to avoid one side gaining control, or they’ll be shut down until that system stabilizes.”

“Always worried, always thinking.” Treble’s tone was more singsong than usual, and the smile on her sharp-featured face broader. The sound echoed softly off the metal walls, but this spot was so far forward it was almost never accessed by the crew. Being overheard wasn’t as much of a concern here, which is why they tended to use this space as one of their primary meeting points. “Zazi Novis always looks out for zir little Novites.”

Smiling despite zirself, Riston rolled zir eyes and dropped zir head back against the junction’s wall. None of the stowaways were more than a few cycles younger than zem, but they’d still somehow come to feel like zir kids. Or exasperating younger siblings. It depended on the day.

“Even if the planet does collapse, it doesn’t matter. PSSC Control will give Novis a new port to visit from that light-year long waiting list of theirs, and everything will be basically the same for us.” Greenie shook his head, his shaggy brown hair flopping into his blue eyes. “Besides, this war has been a stalemate for centuries. If someone doesn’t start losing soon, it’ll go on for the next few hundred cycles, too.”

“It does matter!” Riston tried to remember that none of them had studied the war like ze had. They didn’t pay attention to the dangerously unstable quagmire their current intragalactic political arena had become. None of them had the same motivations, though. Riston had learned enough about their pasts to know ze was the only one in the group who had literally watched their home, their city, and their entire family destroyed before their eyes in the middle of the so-called stalemate. “If one planet falls, it endangers the whole system. And the impact won’t stop there. Every occupied planet in the quadrant will feel the repercussions. And guess what happens to the trade ships if there’s no one to trade with? Or if the flight paths through the systems aren’t treaty protected anymore?”

“We’ll either get blown up or starve to death when the ship’s systems begin to fail, and the hydroponics bays stop producing food.” Treble’s morbidly practical words almost sounded optimistic in her light, melodic voice. She swept her long blonde hair over her shoulder and began to separate it into sections to braid. “Either way, there’s nothing we can do about it.”

So we shouldn’t worry about it at all, was the unspoken addition. Riston didn’t agree, but ze didn’t argue, either. It was a point they’d debated already, and ze knew by now ze couldn’t change their minds on this.

Trying to think of something else to say, ze picked at a loose thread on zir fingerless gloves. They’d once been white before frequent wear and infrequent access to the laundry turned them dingy gray; they were still stark against zir dark skin. It was cold in this section of the ship—since it was rarely used, the engineers didn’t waste energy warming it—so the Novis stowaways were always bundled in layers. Underneath the extra clothing, they wore standard duty uniforms of Novis crew. In uniform, it was easier for them to hide in plain sight when they absolutely had to access the main portions of the ship. Unfortunately, that thin cloth only did so much against the lingering chill in these sections of the ship. Riston ducked zir chin closer to zir chest, burrowing into zir own clothing, zir mind still annoyingly blank.

Except…why did it smell like peppermint in here? Ze’d smelled it when ze first arrived, and the scent hadn’t dissipated yet.

“Well, for now Nea-gi is still there, and their trade posts are still full, so happy birthday, Zazi Novis.” Greenie held out a white box, his thin lips curled into a shy smile.

“What?” Riston stared, zir gaze jumping between Greenie’s blue eyes and the box. A gift. Which made no sense. “I haven’t ever told you when my birthday is.”

Even if zir birthday was today, ze wouldn’t deserve a present. All the times ze’d lectured the others on caution and constant awareness of their surroundings had clearly been wasted when ze was the one who’d run straight into the only person on the station—possibly the only person living in that whole system—who could identify zem on sight. It was doubtful that anything Minya might have told security would do much more than create a security report on Mitu with zir real name on it. Still, carelessness caused trouble, and trouble cost lives. Ze should tell them what happened and use the mistake as a lesson.

“Which means today could be it,” Tinker countered from her seat on the floor, never looking up from the pile of spare gears and scrap metal in her lap. Her chin-length black hair had swung forward, hiding her face, but Riston was sure ze could hear her smile. “You always tell us it’s somewhere between rude and ridiculous to turn away help, so take the present, Zazi.”

Riston rolled zir lips between zir teeth and studied the others. Even Shadow grunted from the access tunnel above their heads, dropping a tiny piece of the protein bar he was eating on Riston’s shoulder. Considering how rarely Shadow participated in these conversations—even as much as rolling his eyes or flicking small pieces of food at people to agree or protest—Riston swallowed the arguments ze wanted to make. And the story ze had been on the verge of telling. They’d put this together for zem; ze wouldn’t ruin the moment for them.

“How did you even get the credits to buy anything on Nea-gi?” Riston asked, running zir fingertips over the box. Whatever it was, there was no way ze could accept this if they’d fallen back on old survival habits and stolen it.

“I didn’t.” Greenie’s smile turned smug, his blue eyes strikingly bright even against his pale, freckled skin. “I traded the stall owner for advice about her garden.”

It was a smart trade. Greenie was only thirteen, but he spent most of his time on Pax Novis researching, and experimenting with, growing things. His advice was probably worth more than whatever the woman had given him in return. Riston opened the top and found…a piece of paper?

“Thanks, but, umm…” Riston picked it up. Paper was rare—as in it was rarely seen or used—but that was because it was essentially useless. Hoping ze was wrong and the item was more than a kitchy antique, ze asked, “What is this?”

“Not what you’re thinking it is.” Tinker finally looked up, her dark brown eyes lit with excitement. “It’s something for you to give to Cira next time you report in.”

Attention sharpening, Riston asked again, “What is it?”

“Art.” Obviously, the undertone in Treble’s voice added.

“Are you sure?” Riston held up the thin white material. It was more resilient than ze’d expected, but it didn’t seem a worthy gift for Cira Antares. She’d saved all of them more than once, and she was risking everything she cared about every day they stayed on her ship. She deserved everything, and all ze had to give her was this. “It’s awfully white.”

“No, it’s awfully new. A company came up with a brilliant microthin screen and an even smaller processor.” Grinning, Tinker jumped up and took the device from Riston. She pressed the corner between her index finger and thumb, and a simple menu appeared in the center. “This is absolutely stellar. It’s a single-purpose unit loaded with a huge catalog of art—ancient pre-colonization Earth stuff and some things from before the war.”

As she spoke, her fingers moved across the screen, searching through the database for “flowers.” Dozens of thumbnail images appeared on the screen.

“It only contains art that’ll fit the proportions, so display shouldn’t be a problem,” Greenie said, as Tinker handed it back with a flourish. “It’s really hard to scratch or break because it was designed for soldiers who are constantly restationed. They can load it with vids and stills from home. Or they can load art.”

“Wow. That’s…” It was the best gift Riston had received in ages. “Thank you.”

“Hold on.” Tinker skipped back to where she’d been working and scooped up her project. In a few steps, she was back in front of Riston, presenting her work to zem on flattened palms. “Give her this, too.”

It was a frame. Although it was made of gears, wires, and scrap metal, the design was delicate, and the open space in the center was the perfect size to fit the thin screen. It even left one corner exposed to allow access to the menu sensor.

“This may be your anniversary, but you’re the one who proved staying long-term was possible, so that’s why she was willing to let us stay, too,” Treble said. “You’re not the only one who wanted to say thank you somehow.”

“I wouldn’t be here without you both.” Tinker nodded, her round face innocently earnest. “You don’t accept thanks, and I can’t just go up to Cira and offer her a hug, so helping you say thanks is the best we can do.”

“Just try not to sound like the lovesick fool you are when you give this to her,” Treble said. Greenie laughed, Tinker grinned, and above them Shadow audibly huffed. Thankfully, Riston had stopped being embarrassed that the others knew about zir hopeless crush on Cira.

Accepting anything from the others was never easy. Riston was too used to being on the other end of the exchange, passing out supplies or medicine or whatever else was needed. Receiving felt wrong, but they were right; she would love something like this.

It’s not for you, ze reminded zirself again. It’s for Cira.

The distinction was enough to erase zir hesitation. It was illegal under the PSSC charter and license for any Pax vessel to carry passengers who weren’t secured in cryopods. The only exceptions involved catastrophe and emergency rescue operations; it didn’t cover transporting orphans. Captain’s daughter or not, Cira could be imprisoned, banished from the PCCS and imprisoned, or even executed for helping Riston and the others.

To keep everyone safe, Cira especially, she couldn’t spend much time with her stowaways, a fact Riston tried not to regret. It left zem putting far too much importance on arbitrary anniversaries and their brief weekly meetings. It was probably a good thing their time together was so sparse—it kept Cira from noticing zir feelings for her. It was hard to fit anything but necessities into those stolen moments. They had to use the time to prevent potential problems, consider new passengers, and hand off supplies. She’d risked everything she loved, and continued to risk it, for people who had been barely more than strangers. Even three cycles later, Riston couldn’t delude zirself into thinking they had progressed much beyond that point, yet when ze’d asked to stay, she had said okay. There wasn’t ever going to be a way to repay her, but gifts like this might be a start.

So Riston said thank you and accepted their offerings on Cira’s behalf.

The group parted ways a few minutes later, each heading back to their own hidey-hole.

Surviving on a ship as big as Pax Novis was as easy as it wasn’t. It took three things: knowing the crew’s routines, knowing the signs of those routines changing, and knowing how to use both of those to stay hidden. Greenie had predictably found a space on the hydroponics deck, Tinker had found a rarely used crawl space on the engineering deck, and Treble mainly stayed on the same deck as the family suites. No one knew where Shadow spent his time, but Riston guessed he slept in a different service tunnel every night.

For Riston, home aboard Pax Novis was a junction near a bay of escape pods on the crew’s cargo deck. Ze’d chosen carefully, and ze took time every day to make sure ze left it looking utterly uninhabited. There were storage compartments in this junction intended to be a place for the engineers and maintenance crews to stow supplies and extra tools, but Novis’s crew didn’t use them. That allowed Riston a small space to store zir few possessions.

And few they were. Everything ze owned fit in a single compartment less than a meter wide, and the only security against discovery was a hidden catch that had been installed by a previous stowaway. The top silently slid open, and Riston shifted aside the small stack of clothes, the blanket and pillow, the stash of food, and the various trinkets to reach zir tablet.

It was an older model, without the extendable screens that had become common, but it was the most important thing ze owned. After Cira created a dummy test account for zem, it had given zem access to the ship’s library. Riston had had the same privileges as the crew’s children for the last year and a half. Despite the restrictions, it was far from useless. It gave Riston a portal to millennia of books, vids, and music. Ze could see all ship-wide broadcasts, play games, pull up star charts, and catch up on the education ze’d missed trying to survive on Datax.

Most importantly, ze could message Cira.

All communications were recorded, logged, and filed in the system, so ze and Cira spoke rarely and always in a simple code they’d come up with along the way. After every station day, there was always a chance she’d bring back a new passenger. It didn’t happen often, but there was always a chance.

Need any help tomorrow? ze sent. If someone new was on board, she’d turn down zir offer of help. They’d meet either way—they always did the morning after leaving port—but this code gave zem time to prepare for bringing a new stowaway into the fold.

Yes. The answer came back instantly. I thought I’d have others, but they couldn’t make it.

No newcomers. Good. As much as Riston wanted to help the kids as lost as ze’d once been, each new stowaway meant someone else in the galaxy who knew what Cira was doing and who could, if they let information slip, ruin everything.

0630? Cira asked.

I’ll be there, ze typed and sent. I’ll help with anything, ze almost added. Any time. But saying that wasn’t a risk ze was ready to take. Not now, and probably not ever. Admiration from afar was one thing, but believing ze could be worthy of anything more from Cira crossed over into dangerously delusional territory. The most ze allowed zirself were gifts and gratitude.

Carefully, ze placed the framed screen in zir storage compartment, removed the blanket and pillow, and then sealed it up for the night. Leaning against the wall of the junction with the pillow behind zir back and the thick blanket spread over zir knees, Riston brought up the next lesson in the astronavigation class. As much as ze wanted to stay on Pax Novis for the rest of zir life, no one could hide forever. The only way ze wouldn’t get sucked into the worst of the war as soon as ze left this ship was if ze had some expertise to offer other than meat filler for a military uniform. Ze spent the next hour learning about astronavigation and trying to quash the naively persistent hope that ze’d one day use this information as an officer of the Novis crew.

Despite zir best efforts, ze spent the entire night dreaming about being exactly that.

…

Sleep never came easy when Riston was only hours away from seeing Cira. The importance of the next day and the gift waiting to be given made sleep even harder to hold on to that night. Ze spent most of the night watching various scenarios play out inside zir head. The imaginary moments with Cira were like training simulations—three-dimensional, eerily real, and doomed to failure every time.

At 0500, zir tablet chimed, the sound not coming through the small speakers embedded in the device but straight through the inner-aural comm everyone had implanted when they were children. It was the signal ze’d been waiting for.

Riston placed the gift and zir tablet in a small pack and then, cautiously and quietly, ze climbed up into the familiar maintenance crawl space between the decks and traveled toward the port side of the ship. 0500 was the middle of alpha shift, and most people were usually either asleep or firmly ensconced in their work. Ze still moved as silently as possible. It should’ve been an easy trip straight across a single deck, but only the ship’s main corridors ran in straight lines. The access tunnels and maintenance shafts Riston and the stowaways lived in were labyrinthine; ze’d gotten lost more than a few times when ze’d first come aboard. After three cycles, ze could travel these hidden passageways with zir eyes closed. In fact, ze sometimes did exactly that. There were many places that weren’t usually lit because they were rarely used. Riston only knew them by the feel of the composite under zir hands, the pattern of ridges and indentations on the walls, and the way the air smelled.

Practice and patience guided zem onto the recreation deck and into the locker room without being seen, and ze quickly ducked into a stall. Stripping quickly, ze tapped a control to activate the shower. A mist of warm, soap-infused water gathered on zir skin for several seconds before sonic waves efficiently cleansed zem of dirt, sweat, soap, and water. Clean and dry, ze shoved zir uniform—the same black, white, and red outfit that yeocin on the ship were issued—into a chute in the wall. A menu appeared on the display above, offering zem an array of sizes to replace the clothes. Selections made, the clean, folded, and pressed garments dropped into a central slot.

Although Riston avoided looking in the mirrored surface behind the door of the stall, ze did glance down as ze smoothed the borrowed uniform. Borrowed, ze reminded zirself. Not stolen, but also not yours.

But in a way, even though ze would give it back the next time ze risked coming down here to shower, it was stolen. It was as stolen as zir place on this ship and the very air ze breathed. Wearing the PCCS uniform reminded zem of that truth with painful clarity, especially today, with yesterday’s shuttle conversation lurking in the back of zir mind, but ze didn’t have a choice. It really was the only way to pass through the occupied parts of the ship unnoticed.

Riston checked to make sure ze had everything, then ze slipped out of the room. Head down, ze aimed for the paths hidden behind the ship’s walls and between its decks. The trip would’ve been simple in the main corridors; ze could’ve headed for an elevator in the starboard foreleg and gone up two decks. It was a ten-minute trip at most for the crew. Through Novis’s crawl spaces and maintenance tunnels, the trip took nearly forty-five minutes. The route was excessively convoluted to avoid any areas where teams might be working, and ze had to go away from zir intended destination more than once in order to reach specific ladders. Thankfully, ze knew how to plan for that kind of travel and still arrived at the meeting point early.

When ze approached the maintenance hatch, ze ran the pads of zir fingers over the plate marking the location. 12FS-M1: deck twelve, forward, starboard, maintenance hatch one. Cira had chosen this spot as their meeting place two Terra-Sol cycles ago because no one else ever came up here. There wasn’t a reason to apart from scheduled maintenance or when securing particularly tricky cargo. Despite how cramped the space was, how it smelled of metal and stale, recycled air, and how cold ze always got sitting on the metal floor to wait, ze had a strange fondness for this place. Almost all zir in-person interactions with Cira had happened here.

Ze took zir pack off and slid to the floor with zir back against the only smooth wall. For the next twenty minutes, ze ran astronavigation simulations until the soft chime of an incoming message made zir hand jerk across the screen, inputting the wrong data. Alarms lit up the simulated control panel, and the virtual Novis crashed into a rogue comet. Ze cringed at the message that popped up on the display:

Mission failed. Ship destroyed, and all lives lost.

Do you want to try again?

That message was galling most of the time, but today it didn’t bite quite so deeply. The message that interrupted zem had been from Cira. She’d arrived, and she was waiting on the other side of the hatch. Ze sent a reply, and seconds later the door opened, letting zem out into the brightly lit, utilitarian space. It was a single room with white walls broken up by three air-lock doors that had a discordant slash of bright red running through their centers like a warning. Or a wound. Dark gray grated flooring kept the space from being too glaringly bright. The otherwise open space was only broken up by an elevator, a small bathroom, and racks of storage for numerous vac suits. That elevator and the maintenance shafts were the only connections to the rest of the ship. No hallways connected this forward section of deck twelve to the saucer-shaped living quarters at the rear of the ship. Ze still scanned the area with a wary eye as ze stepped through the door.

Cira was the only one there, and she was smiling. “Hi. I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

Ze tried not to stare as she closed the door behind zem. She’d changed her hair again. It had been naturally dark and tightly curled when they met, but ze soon learned that was unusual. Most weeks, it was far more colorful. It had been a rich green, a happy blue, and a vibrant red at one time or another, but there was something especially striking about the crimped silver-gray cloud surrounding her oval face today.

“What?” she asked.

Riston startled, suddenly realizing ze’d been silent too long. “Nothing, I— It’s just, you…” Ze moved zir hand in a vague gesture around zir own head. “It’s nice.”

Nice was such an understatement it was practically a lie. It looked beautiful. It reminded zem of metal with the consistency of a storm cloud. The silver stood out in stark contrast to her black, white, and gray shipboard uniform and looked gorgeous against her tan skin. Ze wanted to brush the soft-looking strands away from her face, but ze kept zir hands firmly locked at zir sides. Touching wasn’t a liberty ze had the right to take, not without her permission.

“Oh. Thanks.” Her own hand moved up to touch her hair, and she smiled. Then she seemed to remember something, because her expression faltered. “Is everything okay? You looked worried when you came back from Nea-gi.”

Ze wasn’t going to admit to being more upset about a brief conversation on a shuttle and an inability to afford a decent present for her, so ze gave her a different truth. “I don’t know if everything is okay, but it’s nothing either of us can fix.”

She nodded, seeming to understand what ze’d meant. “I thought you might’ve seen the same things the captain did. She was talking like the station might blow up behind us.”

It wouldn’t be the first time a station had gone up in smoke and screams. Thinking about it wouldn’t help anything, though. All it would do was give zem renewed nightmares of Ladadhi.

“How are the others?” Cira asked after a beat of strained silence.

Riston smiled as ze began to talk. “Tinker now insists superluminal speed can be improved on by at least a factor of ten if people start thinking about the laws of astrophysics as guidelines instead of literal laws.”

Although Cira rolled her eyes, her smile was fond. “For her, they probably are.”

“True, but don’t ever tell her that. She might actually break gravity or something,” ze joked. “In a bizarre turn of events, Shadow has developed a fascination with gossip and keeps sending us transcripts of overheard conversations.” Riston pulled up zir terminal and showed her several of the transcripts. “It’s starting to feel like a long, convoluted play.”

“And you’re only getting the periphery.” A wry smirk tilted across Cira’s lips and wove through her tone. “Just imagine what you don’t see.”

Riston snorted. “That’s what you think. But did you know that Yeocin Malcolm Marlowe has been pining after your very own Commander Halver Liddens for the past two cycles?”

“No,” Cira said on a gasp, her brown eyes flying wide.

One eyebrow rising, ze added, “Even more interesting is the fact that this is apparently mutual.”

“The man who swore, on multiple occasions, he would never find a single person he was willing to tie his heart to is secretly in love with one of the most serious, reserved, and monogamous members of the crew?” A grin spread across her face. “Tell me you’re not joking,”

“Not even a little,” Riston assured her as ze tried, and probably failed, to hide zir smile. “On top of that, neither of them thinks the other is interested and has therefore resigned himself to disappointment while still doing everything he can to make the other’s life better. Including spending almost every credit to their names leaving anonymous gifts for each other. Malcolm is convinced someone is messing with him. Halver has so far assumed every single present has come from someone different.” Riston shook zir head with exaggerated sadness. “They’re clueless and doomed.”

The peal of laughter that burst out of Cira echoed off the walls like they were standing inside an ancient bell. It rang like a chime, and Riston reveled in the sound even after Cira clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles. “Stars, that’s why Halver has had to have the captain pay his fines planetside for the past year!”

She laughed again, softer this time but no less full of delight. “If Shadow is this good, I might have to find a way to loop myself into those updates of his.”

“I’ll let him know you’re interested,” Riston promised. Anything that amused her was good. She was too young to carry as much stress and as many responsibilities as she’d piled onto her own shoulders. Both of them were, but ze couldn’t really do much about zir own plight.

“What about Greenie?” She asked the question evenly, but the light in her eyes had already begun to dim.

“Well…Greenie has the new, frustrating habit of staying in the hydroponics lab on deck seven too long.” Ze began to wish ze’d saved Shadow for last. Lying to Cira hadn’t ever been an option, but the gathering of worry lines around Cira’s eyes as ze spoke made zem regret having to share this truth. “He hasn’t been seen, but he’s been there long enough that he’s probably come closer to being spotted by the botanists than he’s let me know about.”

“You’re right. The crew in hydroponics has commented that two of their experiments are doing better than expected. Please tell him to be careful.” She thought for a moment and frowned. “Or I can tell him myself if you think he’s stopped taking your warnings seriously.”

“I’ll warn him.” And if Greenie didn’t listen, Riston would lock him in a supply closet until the lesson sank in. They’d have to leave him at the next planetary port if his risks endangered the others. It was what they’d all agreed to when Cira gave them permission to stay.

“And Treble?”

“Has been surprisingly little trouble lately,” ze said. Cira chuckled, just like Riston had hoped she would, and the sound made zir heart jump. “She has, however, been harboring a growing crush on Iyana, the yeocin who just started her internship with the cargo crew. The level of detail Treble knows about the girl is almost worrisome, but Treble’s also been unusually cautious, too. No one has caught even a hint of her that I’ve heard.”

“She must really be falling hard for Iyana. Treble’s only careful when she cares.” Then Cira blinked and smiled softly. “Sometimes I forget it’s only been three cycles since you came on board, and less for the others. I feel like I’ve known all of you my whole life.”

“Yeah. I know what you mean,” ze said, voice suddenly hoarse and zir heart skipping beats. Three cycles, she’d said. Even if she wasn’t going to celebrate the anniversary of zir arrival, she remembered it. Maybe she would know why today mattered.

It was as perfect a moment as ze was going to get, and yet fear and anticipation balled up in zir chest until it felt like ze couldn’t breathe. If ze waited any longer to give her the gift, ze might pass out from lack of oxygen.

“I, uh…I have something for you.” Of course, as soon as ze reached for zir bag, zir hands shook and zir grip slipped. Fumbling, ze kept zir eyes on the bag, glad zir dark skin wouldn’t flush and give away zir embarrassment. Why did ze always feel so incompetent in front of her?

Ze finally opened the right pocket of the bag and withdrew the tightly rolled screen. When ze offered it to her, she seemed as confused as ze’d been when Greenie had shown it to zem. Then her fingers touched the material and her eyes widened.

“Is this… Is this one of the new flex-screens?” She took it and pressed each corner. When the third brought up the menu, she grinned. “I’ve been wanting to play with one for months. Where’d you even get this?”

Even though the others were probably hoping ze’d claim credit for the gift, especially after seeing how excited she was about it, ze couldn’t bring zirself to do it. “It’s from all of us—especially Greenie. He traded some advice on a garden for this.”

“Must’ve been some advice,” Cira murmured as she scrolled through the stored images.

“Must’ve been some garden,” Riston countered.

She laughed. “That too.”

Ze explained the screen’s system the way the others had yesterday, even though ze was sure she could figure it out on her own, and ze showed her some of zir favorites in the stored gallery of art. Then ze opened the bag’s main compartment and pulled out the frame. “It also comes with this.”

In the brighter light of the forward deck, Riston noticed new details to the frame. The recycled wires were laid out like the overlay grids on an astronavigational map, and certain sections of metal had an incredible shine to them, almost as though they were twinkling stars. Tink had outdone herself.

Cira’s smile softened when she ran her flesh-and-blood fingers over the contours of the frame. “This looks like Tinker’s handiwork.”

“Got it in one.”

“It’s beautiful. I shouldn’t take it, though.” She held screen and frame out, her expression full of regret. “If my mothers see this, they’ll ask too many questions about where I got it.”

“Adrienn.” Thankfully, ze’d expected this and had already come up with a perfectly logical explanation. “If you show it to Adrienn and warn zem about the ruse, I’m sure everyone will believe ze brought it back from Nea-gi for you.”

Though her hand retracted a little, there was still indecision in her brown eyes.

“Really, Cira. Everyone knows how close you are to Adrienn. No one will question it.”

“I guess the others aren’t the only ones starting to take risks,” Cira murmured, eyes on the gifts.

Never risks that would hurt you, Riston wanted to say, but ze honestly wasn’t sure who Cira was talking about—zem for giving her the gift, or herself for accepting it.

“You know it’s not anywhere close to my birthday, right?” she asked, glancing up.

“Yes. This is…” An anniversary present. Ze managed to keep those words inside zir head and say instead, “This is more of a thank you for everything you do.”

“You’re welcome, Riston.” Her hands tightened on the gifts, and ze smiled, relief filling zem with giddy energy. “And thank you, too.”

“You’re—” The words collapsed on zir tongue when Cira leaned down and pressed a fast, dry, completely chaste kiss against zir cheek. The contact was brief, there and gone in less than a second, but it was enough to light zir entire cheek aflame. Stars, it was enough to light up zir whole body. Automatically, zir hands began to rise even as questions sped through zir mind faster than a starship. What had the kiss meant? Should ze hug her? Had ze been wrong about the odds of their relationship shifting? What had the kiss meant? Did she even consider it a kiss, really? What had the kiss meant?

Eyes dropping, she cleared her throat and moved away, sidestepping zir rising hands without seeming to notice the gesture at all. Riston’s racing heart stuttered as Cira reached for the large bag sitting just behind her and carried on as though absolutely nothing had happened. “Speaking of Adrienn, ze added some extra meds to this week’s bag. Erryla didn’t mention hearing anything about it, but ze said there was a virulent flu running through Mitu. Since you all spent time on the station, ze wants you to take something as a preventative measure. Ze’s giving it out to the whole crew, too.”

Riston nodded on autopilot. Yes, of course. Preventative was always better; they couldn’t exactly go walking into the med bay if they got sick. Most of zir mind was stuck playing a single moment on repeat, though, and trying to discern intention and motivation from a moment the length of a single heartbeat.

She effortlessly lifted the heavy-looking bag with her cybernetic arm and sifted through it with the other hand, pointing out the additions or changes to their weekly rations. Sometimes they were delivered in person, but often Riston simply collected the stowed bag and went back into hiding. This week, she’d included new fingerless gloves for them all and several extra blankets.

“You never say anything, but it’s got to get cold,” she said. “And it’s been a long time since I gave you the last pair of gloves. They’re probably close to useless by now.”

Zir chest warmed at the gesture as much as the words, and the pure rush of affection that ran through zem was enough to nudge aside zir panicked confusion over her lips meeting zir cheek. It wasn’t an expensive gift—all five pairs of gloves were mended and clearly hand-me-downs from the crew stores—but here it was, tangible proof of how often they were on her mind.

Zir emotions had swung back and forth between extremes so fast in the space of a few minutes that ze was starting to feel disconnected from the moment. This didn’t seem real. It was more like one of zir rare good dreams in which everything actually went well for zem. She’d kissed zir cheek, the faint touch leaving a speck as bright as starlight on zir skin, and they’d exchanged gifts. Maybe hers hadn’t been given for the same reason as Riston’s, but that didn’t matter. The fact of the exchange felt significant, as though this interaction had somehow changed everything about their situation and brought the impossible down into the orbit of possibility.

It hadn’t.

Riston had long ago resigned zirself to loving Cira from afar and had already accepted the necessity of leaving Pax Novis eventually. Probably sooner rather than later. In less than one cycle, ze’d be turning eighteen. Besides, Cira’s original offer had been for a fresh start somewhere new. It was probably far past time ze took her up on the second part of their deal, especially if a meaningless gesture and a moment of general kindness was enough to make zem start spinning possibilities out of dust and calling it starstuff.

First, though, ze had to convince the family ze’d made for zirself to leave, too.

Cira left first, disappearing into the elevator after a blessedly quick goodbye with zir presents hidden in her now empty duffle. Ze was about to leave, too, when ze noticed a spot of green that didn’t belong. It was an instantaneous anchor to zir scattered, overly optimistic thoughts, yanking zem fully back into reality with an almost painful abruptness.

A toolbox was poking out from behind one of the rows of vac suits. It wasn’t the standard-issue shiny, reinforced box the ship’s mechanics carried. This was battered and scratched, and it looked as if it had been painted more than once; the most recent paint job had been green, but black and red poked through in spots. It was Tink’s, but she’d never left it behind before, not even in moments when they were about to get caught. She hardly ever let it out of her sight, and Riston hadn’t known her to come up to this section of the ship at all. There was no reason to. Nothing was here. It looked like Riston wasn’t the only one who had been careless recently.

Damn. If anyone from the crew found this, there’d be a ship-wide scan for life signs and a deck by deck, tunnel by tunnel sweep. Not even Cira, their protector and patroness, could help them stay hidden.

Thank the stars Cira hadn’t noticed it first. She would’ve laid into zem for this kind of carelessness, and rightfully so, and Riston might never have worked up the nerve to give her the present, and ze would still have no idea what her slightly chapped lips felt like against zir cheek.

Riston whistled softly and then listened for the echo of footsteps. Maybe Tink had been up here working on something and had been chased away by Cira’s approach. There was no answering call.

Ze couldn’t leave the toolbox here, but ze really didn’t want to carry it through the narrow access tunnels; crawling with a metal box was impossible to do quietly. For zem, anyway. Somehow Tink and Shadow could both manage it. Sighing, Riston checked to make sure the box was securely closed and then pulled off zir jacket, placing the thick fabric under the toolbox. Hopefully that would be enough to muffle the noise as ze carried or dragged it through the ship.

One thing was certain. Ze was going to have some very strong words with Tink the next time ze saw her. If even she was getting this careless, ze might have to get them all off Pax Novis and away from the possibility of putting Cira in danger far sooner than ze’d thought.