Chapter Five

Riston

Terra-Sol date 3814.243

Something was wrong. The footsteps Riston heard when ze was close to a hatch—any hatch on the ship—were hurried. Conversations were happening in either whispers or shouts. Tension that bordered on anxiety seemed tangible, a buzz in the air that vibrated against zir skin until ze itched with it. The feeling was only made worse by how little information ze had on why the crew was so on edge. Cira normally messaged them when something important happened, just so they didn’t accidentally run afoul of a sudden shift in the crew’s routine, but so far zir comm had stayed stubbornly silent.

Impatience, worry, and the persistent itch drove zem to wander down to deck three, where Novis’s general and crew storage rooms were. If Cira needed to talk to zem and couldn’t send a message, this was where she’d leave a sign. Even knowing that, the sight of the small black R written on the inside of a maintenance hatch made zir heart jump. Ze hadn’t expected to find anything. She’d never used the emergency signal before.

How long had it been there? More importantly, what the hell had gone wrong?

Taking the long way up grated at zir patience, but it was probably a worse idea than usual to be careless today. Ze traveled as quickly as ze could while keeping zir passage silent. The trip up to deck twelve still took far too long.

Twenty minutes. Riston crawled and climbed and scraped zir shoulders against walls in spaces too small for zem to comfortably fit through.

Thirty minutes. Ze shivered through sections of the ship that hadn’t felt a blast of heat from life support since the full maintenance check a Terra-Sol cycle ago.

Forty minutes. One deck away—one measly deck—ze crouched in the dark waiting for a group to split up and go to their damn rooms instead of lingering in the hall talking. It was zir own fault. This path dead-ended, and ze’d forgotten. Worse, going backward wasn’t an option because someone had entered the shafts a few turns back and was working on something back there. The only way forward was to wait for the way to clear and stroll across the hall like ze belonged there to the service hatch on the other side.

It was moments like this Riston wished harder than ever that ze really could belong here, that the uniform ze wore meant just as much as the ones covering the group in the hall. But if wishes were oxygen, no one would ever need a vac suit in space, ze thought bitterly.

Finally, they moved on, and Riston was able to finish the journey. Nearly seventy-five minutes after finding the tiny R nine decks below, ze arrived. Ze pulled zir tablet out of zir bag and stared at it, wondering if ze should message Cira to let her know ze was here. But no. There must be a reason she hadn’t messaged zem for this meeting. Ze’d have to wait for some other sign that it was safe to come out.

Bam. Bam-bam. The pattern vibrated through the door two and a half hours later. It jolted Riston out of a fitful doze, and ze stared at the flat metal surface with wide eyes. That had sounded like someone slamming a metal pipe against the door. Or maybe like a girl knocking with her cybernetic arm. Tentatively, ze pressed the latch and opened the door.

Cira was waiting for zem, and yet this wasn’t the Cira ze’d gotten used to. The girl who had nearly blushed at receiving a gift and impulsively kissed zir cheek was nowhere to be seen. Standing before Riston was an overstressed officer of the PSSC.

“Tink’s been messing around in engineering,” she announced as soon as their eyes met. Normally expressive brown eyes were hard and ringed in worry lines, and both hands—flesh and cybernetic—were trembling faintly. Her typically pristine uniform was mussed, and she was breathing as though she’d run the whole way here. “She can’t do that. I’m not sure it’s even safe for her to be listening through the air vents in the area anymore. Meida is suspicious. She’s down to either ghosts or Novis growing an independent mind as her possible explanations, and when she eliminates those, she’s going to start looking for an actual person again.”

“What about her crew?” Riston asked as ze forced zirself to step fully into the room and closed the door. Pax ships had the best minds in the system because they either raised and taught them or stole them from the rest of the quadrant.

“Tink’s too damn smart for her own good. She came up with a solution to a power problem that none of the engineering crew could solve. Stars, some of them couldn’t explain it even after they had it laid out in front of them.” She shook her head, her silver hair swinging. “Meida already doesn’t believe any of them came up with the idea.”

“I’ll talk to Tinker and make her see sense.” The conversation was already overdue—Riston hadn’t had a chance to talk to her about the toolbox ze’d found yet. It was weird, though. If she’d been spending her time down in engineering messing with the power systems, what would she have needed to do all the way up here? Not that it mattered. What was important now was finding out exactly how bad the situation had become. Tink fixing a power glitch would never account for the tension he’d been feeling on the ship or for Cira resorting to worst-case-scenario emergency signals. “What else happened?”

It only made zir anxiety worse when Cira dropped her gaze and rolled her right shoulder. Tension tended to affect the seam where machinery met muscle first, and Riston had noticed a long time ago that when Cira adjusted and stretched that side of her body, the news she dropped on zem was always bad. “Look, I can’t tell you why, but the situation for all PCCSs is becoming dangerous, and everyone is on alert.” She finally met zir eyes again. “Teams are watching for anomalies in every system on the ship, which means you have to go back to how it was in the beginning, at least until things calm down.”

Riston stiffened, even as ze nodded. The first few months on the ship had been claustrophobia inducing. Ze’d been so scared of discovery ze’d found a dark hole to hide in and almost never came out. It had been awful, and returning to it sounded worse. From the frown on Cira’s face, she knew exactly what she was asking.

“I’ll let you know when the situation changes and you can breathe a little easier.” There was a hesitation before she added, “You know I wouldn’t ask for this if it wasn’t important.”

“I know.” And ze refused to be responsible, even in part, for bringing the wrath of anyone down on Cira’s head. The others were just as devoted, so ze had no problem promising on their behalf, “We’ll do whatever we need to.”

“Good.” Yet Cira still seemed uncertain. “And despite everything, I’m also kind of proud of Tinker. She’s…” Blatant admiration warmed her eyes. “The girl is something special.”

“She is.” Contributing more than near-monosyllabic responses seemed impossible when zir mind was spinning so much. “She always has been.”

“All of you are.” Cira took a breath, the furrows on her brow embedding deeper into her skin. It took her several seconds to work up to saying, “If they can’t stay to the outskirts anymore, though, maybe it’s time for them to move on. Everyone’s talents are so wasted here.”

They, she said, but Riston knew ze was included, too. It could’ve sounded like a threat, but Cira’s tone was soft and her expression understanding. Despite that, and even though ze’d already been thinking the same thing, hearing it from Cira hit like a blast from a pulse gun.

“I’ll talk to the others about it and let you know.” Zir voice cracked on the words.

“It’d be difficult to the point of impossible for me to stay isolated for so long,” she continued gently, rolling her shoulder again. “That’s one of the reasons I was so reluctant to say yes when you asked if you could stay. It’s necessary for this to work, though, and all of you agreed to it. But that doesn’t mean you can’t change your minds. There’s a lot of quadrant out there, and a lot of opportunities. Not all of it is consumed by war.”

“I know. I’ll…” A lump rose in zir throat, and ze had to cough twice before ze could speak again. “I’ll talk to them. Promise.”

And ze would. After warning them about the current situation, Riston was going to have to force every stowaway to seriously consider leaving Pax Novis behind. Ze’d almost been identified on Mitu Station, the kids were getting careless, and it seemed that something had riled up the entire Pax fleet. There were only so many signs ze could make zirself ignore.

Leaving had been nothing but a quiet fear before, yet maybe it was time. If they were able to make a home out of service shafts and stolen space, having a whole planet or station to hide on would be easy. Together, they could survive anywhere. With them, Riston might even be able to survive ripping zir own heart out and leaving it and his dreams of legitimately joining the PSSC behind with Cira.

Treble and Shadow were already in the usual gathering space when Riston arrived, an unusual occurrence but not one ze planned to question. The smile Treble gave zem at first faded fast. It disappeared entirely when ze dropped Tink’s toolbox onto the ground with a rattling clank.

“Stay here,” Riston ordered before Treble could speak. “We all need to talk.”

Since digital messages were currently out of the question, ze’d fallen back on their own emergency code. Ze’d left several signs in commonly used corridors as ze passed through, but now ze traveled farther to hit places the others came back to time and again. Then ze headed back to the junction to wait. And wait. And try not to grind his teeth as he waited more. This was the problem with sending messages via marks on metal—the delay. It took three hours for all five of them to gather in the small space. Tink was the last to arrive.

“My tools!” Her round face lit up as she reached for the battered box.

Riston moved it behind zirself with zir foot. “Sit down, Tinker.”

She stopped so fast it was like an energy shield had popped up between them. Comical shock widened her upturned eyes. The others were looking at zem like ze’d ordered her to throw herself out an air lock. Tink regained control in a couple of blinks, took a couple of slow steps back, and silently lowered herself to the ground. The wary caution on everyone’s face was as unsettling as it was unsurprising. Ze was a caretaker, not an enforcer. They’d been lucky, ze supposed, that they’d never previously needed the kind of warnings ze had to deliver today. Almost none of the stowaways ever brought on board had.

“I spoke to Cira again today.” As ze knew it would, the words made them all take notice. For everyone’s safety, in-person meetings between Riston and Cira were kept to a minimum. Two within a few days of each other had only ever happened once—when Greenie had picked up a vicious virus after a planet visit and the treatments Riston had had on hand weren’t working.

“Again?” Greenie hesitantly asked.

“After Mitu, she gave me supplies to pass on, but today…” Ze took a long breath. “I’m sure you all noticed the shift in the crew.”

Treble, Tink, and Greenie nodded. Shadow didn’t move, but Riston could almost feel his attention sharpen. Slowly, Riston talked about the tension, the itch, and the emergency meeting. Remembering Cira’s strained expression and the fear-tinged frustration in her voice made the same feelings rise in Riston’s chest, but anger quickly crushed it all into one painfully solid ball, anger at himself and the four stowaways for putting Cira in this position. It came out in his tone when he said, “We’ve all gotten careless, and that stops now.”

Laying out all the stories ze’d told Cira on their first meeting and everything Cira had told zem today, ze lit into them. Ze warned Greenie to stay away from the botany labs, scolded Tinker for leaving her toolbox in the open, told Treble to keep her distance from Yeocin Iyana, and then went back to Tink for messing around in a system as important as the power to the damn ship.

Every time someone tried to interrupt with an excuse or an explanation, Riston raised zir voice and talked over them. Why they did it didn’t matter. Ze knew them well enough to assume they each had a logical or earnest reason for their actions; ze didn’t want to know what it was. If ze knew the why, it’d be so much more difficult to come down on them as hard as ze needed to. It’d also be harder to hold to the orders ze had to give. When ze finished censuring them, ze let silence settle for several long breaths. “We need to disappear indefinitely.”

They glanced at one another and then back to zem, their expressions overfull and unreadable. Treble was the one who asked, “Disappear how, exactly?”

“Together or separately, we have to find a hole to hide in and stay there. No trips through the main corridors at all except in times of dire need.”

“Or bodily functions?” Treble arched her brow, her tone lilting as though it was a joke. It wasn’t. Her fingers pulled at a thread in her oversize sweater, and her shoulders were tense.

“Or bodily functions,” Riston agreed. There was no second option for that. Showers would always be a risk because their only option was the stalls on the recreation level. Toilets, though, were scattered throughout the ship. “But if any of you put this ship and our place on it at risk again, I’ll tie you to my wrist and drag you off Novis at the first available dock. Cira has put everything she has on the line to help us. We will not repay her by being careless.”

Riston let the words sink in and watched their faces. Treble looked frustrated and Greenie seemed contrite, but the furrows on Tink’s face made her look confused. Only Shadow seemed to be taking this in stride, but he’d long ago earned his nickname—unless Shadow sent out one of his gossip dialogues, Riston never knew what he spent his time doing, and that was exactly how all of them needed to live: invisibly.

“If you don’t want to—or can’t—handle hiding indefinitely, then the five of us need to have a serious talk about looking at Novis’s flight path and picking a new place to live.” Riston’s words were quiet, but their impact was visceral. Greenie flinched, Treble’s jaw dropped, Shadow grunted in surprise, and Tink’s eyes filled with tears. “If that’s the case, I want us to stay together. I never thought I’d find another family, but you guys are it, and I don’t want us to split up if there’s any way to avoid it. So go get your things in order, decide where you’re going to lay low until the next supply drop, and think about what I said. All of it. I have a feeling we’re going to have to make a decision on this sooner than any of us would like.”

Especially since Riston had futilely hoped ze’d never have to make this choice at all.

It was a somber and subdued group who split up a few minutes later. Riston watched them go, feeling like the air in zir lungs was made of elements far heavier than oxygen and nitrogen, and each breath made the sensation worse. Tinker was the last one to leave because it took her a while to fit her toolbox into the bag she usually carted it around in. Her movements were slow, and her expression was still pinched and furrowed. In a way, she looked so much older than eleven. For the first time, ze considered the possibility that even if they voted to leave Pax Novis, they might not want to do it together. Forced cohabitation was one thing. Choosing to stay when there were thousands of other options was another one entirely.

Unless, of course, one or all of them was captured by Novis’s heightened security sweeps first. That was also quickly becoming a very real possibility.

When her bag was slung over her shoulders, she stopped at the foot of the ladder and turned halfway back, one hand resting on the steps built into the wall.

“Did Cira at least like her presents, Zazi Novis?” Tink spoke to the floor, and the words were so quiet Riston almost missed them.

When the question registered, it felt like zir heart chipped. “Yeah. She’d been wanting to play with one of those for a while apparently, and she thought the frame was beautiful, so you all did good. She said thank you. And so do I.”

She tried to smile, but it was a sad shadow of her usual bright grin. “That’s good.”

Turning to the ladder, she took the first step up, then stopped. Stepped back down. When she turned toward him again, her eyes were still on the floor, but her mouth was parted like she had something to say. Until she changed her mind. Her thin lips disappeared into a straight line and she shook her head sharply.

“Tink, what is it?”

“Nothing.” And the tone in her voice made it her final answer. She turned back to the ladder and began climbing again. “Thanks for bringing my tools back, Zazi Novis.”

Riston knew ze’d made the right choice today—the only choice—but standing alone in the junction, ze still felt like an inconsiderate, controlling dictator. Leadership had been handed to zem by seniority and circumstance, not chosen. Although it had been nearly two cycles since Treble had come on board, the first of the group, apart from Riston, to make this ship a permanent home, ze hadn’t quite gotten used to the weight of being in a position of authority. Worse, as ze rubbed zir temples and took several long, deep breaths, ze couldn’t shake the fear things were going to get a hell of a lot worse before anything got better.

And ze hadn’t even remembered to tell Tink that Cira was proud of her.