Becky Chambers: The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet

“Have you been up to your room yet?” Kizzy asked. “I made the curtains, but if you don’t like the fabric, just say so and I’ll tear ’em right down.”

“I haven’t been there yet,” Rosemary said. “But I’ve been admiring the rest of your handiwork so far. Must not be easy adding onto an old model.”

Kizzy’s face lit up like a globulb. “No, but see, that’s why it’s so fun! It’s like a puzzle, figuring out what kind of circuits the old ones will talk to, adding new bits to make things more homey, staying on top of all the old framework’s secrets so we don’t blow up.” She gave a contented sigh. “It’s the best job ever. Have you seen the Fishbowl yet?”

“The what, sorry?”

“The Fishbowl.” Kizzy beamed. “Just wait. It’s the bestest.”

Corbin’s peering eyes snapped to the comp tech. “Jenks, you cannot be serious!”

Jenks’ metal tin was full of redreed. He had stuffed a hefty pinch of it into a small, curved pipe, and was now lighting it with a welding tool. “What?” he said, his voice muffled through clenched teeth. He sucked air into the pipe, causing the shredded fibers to spark and smoke. The faint scent of burnt cinnamon and ash hit Rosemary’s nose. She thought of her father, who was always puffing the stuff as he worked. She pushed the unwanted reminder of family aside.

Corbin placed a hand over his nose and mouth. “If you want to fill your lungs with toxins, fine, but do it in your quarters.”

“Calm down,” said Jenks. “This is that tweaked strain the Laru cooked up. Bless their eight-valved hearts. All the mellow of fresh redreed, without any of the toxic stuff. One-hundred-percent good for you. Well, not bad for you, anyway. You should try some, it’d do wonders for your mood.” He exhaled a stream of smoke in Corbin’s direction.

Corbin’s face tightened, but he seemed reluctant to press the issue further. Rosemary got the impression that for all his bluster about the rules, Corbin didn’t actually have any authority over the techs. “Does Ashby know about this mess?” Corbin said, gesturing at the floor.

“Relax, grumpy,” Kizzy said. “It’ll all be fixed and put away by dinnertime.”

“Dinner is in half an hour,” Corbin said.

Kizzy’s hands went to the top of her head. She grimaced dramatically. “Oh, no! For serious? I thought dinner was at eighteen?”

“It’s seventeen-half now.”

“Balls!” Kizzy said, diving back into the wall. “We’ll talk later, Rosemary, I’ve got work to do. Jenks, get on my shoulders, buddy, post haste!”

“Hup!” Jenks said, placing the pipe between his teeth and climbing up.

Corbin continued down the corridor without another word.

“It was nice meeting you,” Rosemary said, hurrying after Corbin.

“Nice meeting you too!” called Kizzy. “Ah, shit, Jenks! You got ash in my mouth!” There was the sound of spitting, and a twin set of laughter.

“It’s a wonder we’re not all dead,” Corbin said to no one. He said nothing else as they continued down the corridor. Rosemary had deduced that small talk was not his forte. As uncomfortable as the silence was, she felt it best not to break it.

The corridor curved inward, connecting to the other side of the ship. At the apex of the curve was a door. “This is the control room,” Corbin said. “Navigation and tunneling controls. You won’t have much need for this room.”

“Is it all right to see it anyway? Just to get my bearings?”

Corbin hesitated. “Our pilot is probably working in there now. We shouldn’t disturb—”

The door opened, and a female Aandrisk stepped out. “I thought I heard a new voice!” she said. Her accent was husky around the edges, but it was the clearest Rosemary had ever heard from her species. Not that Rosemary had much experience with Aandrisks. As one of the Galactic Commons’ three founding species, they were a familiar sight throughout the galaxy. Or so Rosemary had been told. The Aandrisk standing before her was the first that she had ever spoken to directly. Her mind raced, scrambling to remember what she could of Aandrisk culture. Complicated family structures. Virtually no concept of personal space. Physically affectionate. Promiscuous . She mentally slapped herself for that. It was a stereotype, one that every Human knew whether they wanted to or not, and it smacked of ethnocentrism. They don’t pair up like we do , she chided herself. It’s not the same thing. Somewhere in her head, Professor Selim was frowning at her. “ The very fact that we use the term ‘cold-blooded’ as a synonym for ‘heartless’ should tell you something about the innate bias we primates hold against reptiles ,” she pictured him saying. “ Do not judge other species by your own social norms. ”

Determined to do her professor proud, Rosemary braced herself for some of that Aandrisk cheek nuzzling she’d heard about, or perhaps another unexpected hug. However this person wanted to greet her, she was going to flow with it. She was part of a multispecies crew now, and she was going to be graceful about it, dammit.

But to Rosemary’s disappointment, all the Aandrisk woman did was extend one of her clawed hands, initiating a handshake. “You must be Rosemary,” she said warmly. “I’m Sissix.”

Rosemary wrapped her fingers around Sissix’s scaled palm as best she could. Their hands did not fit well together, but they made the best of it. Sissix was too alien for Rosemary to label her as beautiful, but… striking . Yes, that was a better word. She stood a head taller than Rosemary, and her body was lithe and lean. Moss green scales sheathed her body from the top of her head to the tip of her tail, fading into a paler shade over her belly. She had a smooth face, no nose or lips or ears to speak of, just holes for breathing and holes for hearing and a small slit of a mouth. A multicolored shock of feathers covered her head like a short, festive mane. Her chest was as flat as a Human man’s, but the contrast between her thin waist and her muscular, saurian thighs gave the illusion of feminine hips (though Rosemary knew that impression also stemmed from cultural bias; male Aandrisks were built exactly the same as females, only smaller). Her legs were slightly bowed, as if poised to spring, and her fingers and toes were capped with thick, blunt claws. Each claw was painted with lazy swirls of gold, and looked to be filed down. She wore a pair of loose, low-slung trousers, and a vest held together with one button. Rosemary recalled Professor Selim saying that Aandrisks only wore clothes to make other species feel more comfortable. Between the clothes, the accent, and the handshake, Rosemary got the impression that Sissix had been around Humans a long time.

Sissix had not been the only thing to exit the control room. A waft of hot, dry air had followed her out the door. Rosemary could feel waves of heat emanating from the room beyond. Even at the doorway, it felt smothering.

Corbin’s eyes narrowed. “You do know that interface panels start to warp if they get too hot.”

Sissix flicked her yellow eyes toward the pale man. “Thank you, Corbin. I’ve only been living on ships for my entire adult life, so I have no idea how to safely manage internal temperature settings.”

“I think this ship is hot enough as it is.”

“If anyone else had been working in there with me, I would’ve cranked it down. Honestly, what is the problem?”

“The problem, Sissix, is that—”

“Stop.” Sissix raised a palm. She looked back and forth between Corbin and Rosemary. “Why are you showing her around?”

Corbin clenched his jaw. “Ashby asked me to. It’s no trouble.” His words were noncommittal, but Rosemary could hear the same insincerity that had masked his face when she stepped through the airlock. The cold fist reappeared in her stomach. Ten minutes on the ship, and already somebody didn’t like her. Fantastic.