“A lake? It’s very noisy for a lake. Surely it’s a waterfall?”
“Big lake,” I reply. “But not a lake.”
He scratches his chin. “A big lake that’s not a lake. I see.”
“Youwillsee. Are these to eat?” I point at the skewers. They smell incredible.
“That was the idea. Take some. They must be done by now.”
“Thankyou.” I don’t know if he hears the sarcasm in my voice about being graciously offered my own food. “Next time, perhaps can ask.”
He tilts his head. “Youdidask.”
“I mean you.Youask when take food for eat. And not we use that wood for food fire. Smoke not good. That wood better.” I point to the stack of sweet-smelling wood that Sprisk cut for us. The driftwood usually gives the meat a sour note.
He gives me a searching look. “Thatsepperwood is better. But it grows slowly and burns fast. In the tribe, we only use it when cooking for feasts or celebrations.”
“This not the tribe,” I snap. “Thismyplace.” Still, I take a bite out of a skewer. It’s tender and soft, nutty, and perfectly balanced by the seasoning. And, I realize, it’s not my meat at all. This is a different thing, tastier and richer. This must be something Kenz’ox brought.
Now, what’s the caveman word for ‘sorry’?
Nah.I provided the wood for the skewers. And for the fire. When he apologizes for moving into my home without even asking me, I’ll apologize for snapping at him.
The baby is asleep in her pack, where the main flap is now completely open. It’s a smart design, not really caveman-like at all.
I finish two skewers and go inside the saucer. Callie’s stuff is still there. I decide to leave it there until she returns.
Entering the control room, my skin creeps the way it always does in here. It’s so alien in the dim blue light, the soft shapes and the small size of everything. The panel lights pulsate slowly in the usual incomprehensible way.
We’ve never dared to open the consoles to try to find out what might be wrong with the saucer. We figure that if we can’t even work out those lights, or how it can fly in the first place, we sure can’t have any hope about actually fixing it. But I’ve been thinking a bit about cars after the heart-to-heart with Cora. I don’t really know that much about how those work, either. But if I opened the hood of one that wouldn’t start, and I saw one loose wire or connector that had been shaken out of its socket, then I would at least try to put it back and then see if it helped. Maybe the same goes for this thing. Maybe there’s something obviously wrong somewhere that I can easily fix.
I squat down and knock on the panels. The whole interior looks injection-moulded, but there are definitely some oval panels on the side of each console. Opening them may not be the smartest thing I can do—there may be radiation or poison gas or some other terrible thing inside. But at this point, I don’t feel like I have a lot to lose. I may be about to get kicked out of this whole saucer if Kenz’ox decides that he wants it for himself.
I get the little knife that Sprisk gave me and put the tip into the thin panel gap. The material looks soft, but it won’t budge at all,the way decent plastic should. I add as much force as I dare, but there’s not the slightest give in the material.
I try the other panels, too. The result is the same—they won’t budge. I’m about to give up, leaning on one panel to steady myself to get to my feet, when it gives off a softclickand swings smoothly all the way out on long, curved rails that take the panel completely out of the way like the trunklid of a sedan.
Inside the console, it’s completely dark, and I can’t even begin to guess what’s in there. I go outside, quickly find a lamp, fill it with the stinking dinosaur oil that Sprisk made for us, and light it. Kenz’ox watches from the fire as I disappear back inside.
Kneeling down by the open panel, I lift the oil lamp and look inside.
I expected wires or at least things that I would half-recognize. But the inside of this is nothing like that. There’s not a single wire to be seen. It’s all weird cylinders and cones and nets and dozens of shapes I can’t describe. And they all look like they’re made from glass in endless, sparkling colors. It’s mind-bogglingly complicated and at the same time so beautiful it would be a prized possession for any art museum on Earth—or a crystal factory. But this doesn’t look manufactured. It looks organic, like it’s grown by itself. The colors run into each other, the crystals seem to change their shape based on where the light hits them. I can see all the way through it, and the beauty is quite incredible…
A sound makes me snap out of my reverie. I must have stared at the mesmerizing complexity for twenty minutes—a complexity I can have no hope of ever understanding, much less repairing.
I press my hands to my face to stay in control. Sour tears burn in my eyes. I must have pinned a lot of my hope on those consoles, more than I even knew.
I stand up on legs that have gone stiff and slink out of the control room.
Kenz’ox is squatting at my sleeping spot. And he’s holding Callie’s mug.
“Don’t touch that!” I scream as I lunge for him, fury welling up in me.
He stiffens and holds the mug out towards me as if it were a shield.
I snatch it out of his hand. “This is Callie mug! You need mug, just say. Not take this!” I carefully put it back on the floor. “Nothing here for you! I already say! Nothing! Now go! Out!”
He slowly straightens up, having to bend to not hit the ceiling. “I think Aker’iz wants to eat from something other than the leather sheet. That’s why she’s being so loud while eating. My own mugs are too big for her. But I will make a smaller one. No need to use Callie’s.” He turns and walks out with the usual poise and confidence. When he moves, the air shifts with him. He’s too solid, toocalm. It makes me want to run after him and kick him. But only for a second.
