15: Starship Afternoon
PARTWAY up the Swift’s access ladder, clutching the next rung with already aching paws, I froze, Ersh’s admonishing Do you ever think before you leap, Youngest? ringing in my ears. Not that I heard her voice, but the memory was there to stay and cropped up every so often.
I preferred remembering Paul’s Let’s take a moment, Es. With a similar meaning but far more soothing and occasionally came with a snack.
Nia was somewhere above me. I angled an ear. By the sounds, Paul, Rudy, and Lesy had entered the ship below me. No one could use the ladder to go up or down while I was on it and, for a brief moment, I contemplated hooking an arm and leg around a rung and staying here for the duration of the trip, simply to avoid the problem.
Which wouldn’t work, if only because the ship couldn’t lift without its captain on the bridge punching the right buttons. Then there was the whole issue of those not secured and strapped down for lift slamming into bulkheads—
With an inner sigh, I pulled myself up a rung and, grudgingly, reached for the next.
The other advice Paul would give me was One thing at a time, Es. I might have a slight tendency to fuss over everything simultaneously—under the circumstances, not useful. So, what was the first thing?
Get an Esolesy Ki back to the Library.
A thing having attached to it an improbable sequence of other things, given Nia’s presence, starting with Lesy presently being her Human-self. I pulled myself up another rung.
I might be fussing over nothing. Lesy would cycle unseen somewhere, Nia leave with a Lishcyn—I’d let Paul explain about the truck delivering an alien—then Paul, Rudy, and I would lift bravely into the sky and all would be fine. Other than the chasing monsters with a boom part.
One thing at a time, I reminded myself.
Even if dozens of people had watched Lesley get on the ship in memorable fashion, or rather lack of, and not get off again, surely Nia would accept our explanation that our artiste had ducked into a cabin to clothe herself or meditate.
I began climbing with renewed optimism.
Four rungs later, feeling the vibration as a larger being took hold below and began the climb, I thrust my head through the opening at the top and found myself looking at a pair of legs. Legs in spacer coveralls ending in mag boots and for a fraction of a heartbeat I let myself pretend it was just a final member of the crew ready to leave.
“Why were you growling, Esen?” Nia Mavis demanded in a worried whisper, easing back to let me climb out. “Is something wrong?
“Ladders,” I muttered, forcing my ears up as I looked past her.
But yes, something was wrong, and from what I could see? It was far more than Nia’s unexpected presence and disguise. Our plan had a serious flaw—one I sincerely believed should have been anticipated by my Human friends.
The Largas Swift wasn’t small, it was ludicrously tiny.
All there was at the top of this ladder was a roughly circular room, barely larger than the antechamber below and packed with inflated seats making it exceedingly difficult to spot any operation stations to prove this was the bridge. An opened door on the wall led to another tube, with its ladder, leading up.
“Where’s the accommodation?” I blurted.
Nia pointed up. “In the crew quarters. That’s where I’ve been. When I heard the bells—I thought it was time I came out,” with a hint of belligerence, as if I should know all this.
Because I didn’t, I blinked woefully. “But—why are you here, Nia?”
“To bring what you and Paul asked for.” She placed a possessive hand on the bag hanging from a strap over her shoulder. Her eyes flashed. “It’s my responsibility as a representative of the Botharan Planetary Government and isn’t leaving my possession.”
I wasn’t sure what was more unsettling, that planet-destroying ordinance—at least the boom part—could be carried around in a bag—
Or that Nia was determined to stay with it.
No, what had my tail curling between my legs was the thought of Lesy entering the Swift when it held the boom and Nia. I managed not to nip with an effort, but a growl deepened my voice. “Does Paul know about this?”
An uneasy look. Probably the growl. “He set it up. The truck. The rear ladder and open port. For you—in case you decide not to risk space travel—”
A deeper growl.
“Mostly for me,” she modified. “To sneak this on board if I got it before the truck left the hamlet.” A disquietingly careless pat of her bag, then Nia plucked the sleeve of her coveralls. “I’m a surprise.”
Not one we needed—
Rudy’s head and wide shoulders filled the hole in the bridge floor. His eyes widened as he saw who was with me and he opened his mouth—
It’s not entirely fair to say I panicked.
Still, there might not have been an abundance of reasoned thought involved as I frantically waved both paws at Rudy before I pushed Nia—and the boom—ahead of me into the next tube. Hopefully Paul’s cousin would guess I wanted him to plug access to the bridge so I could get Nia out of sight before mostly naked Lesley Delacora arrived—
And Paul discovered we’d too many Humans on board.
Halfway, Nia stopped, twisting to give me a clear what are we doing look.
Having no idea yet, I put my mouth around her ankle and let her feel my fangs through her boot.
She hurriedly resumed climbing. I tongued out boot-taste and bent an ear, hearing Paul’s voice and Rudy’s deeper one, along with a cheerful giggle announcing my web-kin had reached the bridge and was likely trying the seats for bounce.
What was I to do?
First and foremost, Lesy mustn’t suspect Rudy’s knowledge of Web-beings. While I couldn’t be sure what she’d do? Cooperate would not be remotely part of it.
My paw grasped the next rung. Fortunately, my Elder would never cycle in front of a stranger. I’d doubts she could make herself do it in front of our Human friends, unless planning to take their mass. Not happening.
Unfortunately, the Largas Swift was the size of a closet and Paul needed, somehow, to arrange privacy for Lesy to become me and Lesley to stay—and that clearly wasn’t going to be in the accommodation we’d planned to use for Lesy because we’d Nia, who’d been hiding in it already—
I felt I’d been climbing ladders forever.
—plus whisk Esolesy Ki to the landing field and on the train before the crowd grew restive.
Not to mention my own conundrum. My sole job before liftoff was to reassure my web-kin I hadn’t let another raindrop know what we were.
Whining to myself, I followed Nia out the hole in the top, unsurprised by this point to find myself in a third sparse circular space with a series of curtains tied against the outer walls. The Swift’s version of cabins, no doubt. There were three more inflatable seats, these collapsed in rolls, and, yes, the predictable opened door on a tube going up. The conveyor tube had obligingly stopped here, our luggage still secured on their hooks.
What I couldn’t see was— “Where’s the accommodation?!” I whispered rather desperately.
Nia reached for a handle on the wall I’d overlooked and pulled. An opaque bag oozed from a slit, expanding with a hiss into a firm, adult-Human-sized column. Oh good, I noted almost hysterically. Has a zipper. With the requisite efficient little connectors and unpleasant suction things inside.
Meaning it wasn’t the tubes that would be gravity-free for our journey, but the entire ship. Explaining the handles and cupboards on the ceiling I’d been too preoccupied to notice until now.
As a Lanivarian, I felt I’d a perfect right to feel the onset of spacesickness at the mere thought. I’d bite Rudy some place tender for this.
Still, if not for Nia’s unexpected presence, we’d have managed. My dear friend was a wonderful improviser—a skill Paul claimed I’d encouraged him to develop—and I was confident he’d have thought of something.
Maybe.
Unaware she’d single-handedly demolished an unlikely-but-all-we’d-had plan, Nia sat gingerly on one of the seats, easing her bag onto her lap, only to get up again to move a buckle out of her way. During this, her face went through an interesting sequence of expressions from frustration to discomfort to—when she realized I was watching her—a calculated calm I didn’t believe for an instant.
“You haven’t been to space.”
“I most certainly have,” Nia countered. Her gaze traveled around, lingered on curtains and bare metal, the hatch waiting to cover the hole in the floor, and she caught her lower lip between her teeth. Her eyes met mine. “Not in something like this,” she admitted sheepishly.
“Where you aren’t supposed to be,” I told her, my brain finally working. We should have stayed on the bridge. Let the others see her, let her exit down the ramp like the crew she pretended to be—
It wasn’t too late. A thought I’d remember later.
“Nia, you have to leave.”
Her wide mouth curved down. “I’m afraid I can’t, Es.” She held up the bag. “I knew I’d never get authorization, so I jigged up. After you left last night, I took it from Mal’s safe.”
She stole the boom?! On Paul’s word and mine, Nia risked her career. Risked everything and I sat, unable to hold back a whimper of dismay. “Nia—what have you done?”
“What I had to.” Her eyes held a fierce and remarkably familiar determination. “We’re all in danger if we don’t stop the Null.”
If there were Cosmic Gods, they had to be laughing. To stop the Null, this ship had to leave Botharis.
To leave, I had to convince Lesy everything was going to plan, so she’d do her part.
And to do that? I had to be Human. In front of Esolesy Ki, Bess—supposedly arrived on the truck that actually brought Nia—was to tell Captain Rudy Lefebvre that Esen the Lanivarian had snuck down the rear ladder and left on the truck, and explain to him that Lesley Delacora was indisposed and wouldn’t be seen for the remainder of the journey.
Only then, as far as Lesy was concerned, would all entities be accounted for and the security of our Web preserved—
Skalet wouldn’t fall for it. Lesy, on the other hand, merely needed an excuse not to be bothered and to check out her new clothes sooner than later.
I went to the tube and stared up wistfully.
“It’s packed with cargo,” Nia said in a small voice. “I thought about hiding there—but there wasn’t room.”
And she’d have died during lift, a dreadful consequence I’d let others explain, having my own to worry about. Someone was coming up the ladder from the bridge.
I was out of time.
Paul wasn’t going to like this.
I reached inside my jacket and pulled out a child’s garment, dropping it on the deck by my feet. “Nia—”
At her quizzical look, I fell silent, resigned to my fate. Either she’d be like Duggs and accept me—
Or not.
I loosened my grip on this me, shedding excess mass and what had been a favorite outfit as a small puddle of water.
And stood before Niala Mavis as Bess.
I did up the fastenings of my coveralls—a garment that mimicked the adult version—just as Rudy, doubtless prodded by Paul, heaved himself into the crew quarters. I smiled up at him. “Hello, Rudy.”
“Welcome to the Swift. Paul said you’d be up here—Bess.” The big Human actually winked before returning to script. “Where’s our Lanivarian?” He looked around, getting no help from Nia.
Who’d raised her fist to her mouth when I’d cycled and had yet to move. She wasn’t in shock, that much I could tell, for after her eyes flicked to Rudy, they returned to me, brimming with unasked questions and the beginnings of what I thought might be comprehension.
Yes, I wanted to tell her. I’m Paul’s secret. I’m why he stayed away. I’m why he’s back.
But now wasn’t the time. “Esen left,” I told Rudy in this me’s soft, higher-pitched voice. Listening, Nia gradually lowered her fist. “She gets really spacesick, you know. She decided to stay home. But I’m here!” I added a little twirl to distribute my clothes properly. And because this me liked spinning and hadn’t for quite some time.
“That you are.” The corners of Rudy’s eyes crinkled with amusement. Then again, he enjoyed this version of me for reasons more to do with being a Human without a family than sense. “Nia.”
“Rudy.”
They knew each other. How could they not, she Paul’s former love, and Rudy the one cousin who’d rushed to welcome Paul home between adventures and sat raptly to hear his stories? His blunt features were composed and I refused to guess what he was thinking. From her slight frown, I was reasonably sure Nia grasped she wasn’t the only one to know about me.
Later. I stamped my foot impatiently, that being something my Human-self did. “Nia’s brought the boom.” I didn’t give her title.
She gave me a different, considering look, then she lifted the strap over her head and passed the bag to Rudy. “I’m told it’s stable.”
His grunt was unconvinced as he took the thing with greater care than she’d carried it, keeping the bag tight to his body with an arm. “I think we’ll all feel better once this is locked in.”
With the dexterity of a primate, Rudy stepped into the next ladder tube, pausing to swing the door closed behind him.
Nia, who’d started to follow, stopped and turned to me. “I—I wanted to keep it in sight.”
“I’m much happier not seeing it, thank you,” I confessed. “If it helps, there’s nowhere else for it to go.” And we’d blow up with it.
She gave a numb little nod, likely catching what I didn’t say.
All things considered, Nia Mavis was doing very well for her first exposure to a Web-being. No screaming being a bonus. I put a finger to my lips. “Stay here.”
With that, I went down the ladder much more easily than I’d climbed it, intent on seeing how Paul was coping with his difficulty. Who was also mine.
Lesy.
Paul was in the tube, an arm hooked around a rung. I came down as far as I could, and he grinned up at me, pointing to the closed door to the bridge. My clever friend.
A light taptap and he opened it, stepping out. My oft-contrary web-kin was, to my relief, her Lishcyn-self. She didn’t look up, busy adjusting the strap of my—her bag to fall correctly. A tidy ear flicked my way. Aware, that was.
Though slightly paler than usual, Paul stood aside to give me room. His eyes bored into mine as if trying to see through my skull, his grin somewhat fixed. Tell me you’ve done it, that was.
“Rudy’s using the accommodation,” I said promptly. “I told him Esen left. The back hatch to the truck,” in case anyone forgot the story we’d prepared.
Lesy swiveled at the hips to regard me, a Lishcyn’s neck built more for strength than mobility. She was every bit as gorgeous and mature as I’d remembered, with glorious thick tufts of hair out each ear. “And when the captain is finished with his biology, you can tell him, Bess, that Lesley Delacora took one look at this—this inadequate bucket of bolts—and left with her.” A disdainful sniff. “So true. You couldn’t pay me to travel in such a ship.”
Paul closed his eyes briefly—which might have been in thanks or to restrain himself—then my first dear friend picked up an elegant piece of luggage by its carry strap and smiled warmly at Lesy. “Time for your grand entrance, Esolesy Ki.”
Recognizing the abrupt distraction on her face as an ominous flutter in either stomach two or five—or both, given Lishcyn anatomy and reflex—I clambered over seats to where our bags now rested and reached in, pulling out a good-sized protein bar. “There’s fudge in it.”
Lesy shoved it in her mouth without removing the wrapper, chewed and swallowed, then flashed me a grateful tusk, its glamorous inlay of precious shell catching the light to send sparkles around the Swift’s cluttered bridge. “Delicious.”
“Shall we?” Paul urged, gesturing to the ladder.
“Of course.” She stepped into the hole and dropped, landing with a heavy thud that reverberated the plating beneath our feet. An airy, “Do bring my clothes!” followed.
Paul and I exchanged identical looks, both being Human at the moment.
We’d done it!