“Oh, I’ve got a long list of names for you, my flufferskunk. Anyway, do you want me to include some details from your memory, so the next Kodiak will know it’s really you?” He told me earlier that he wanted me to hardwire copies of my missive into theAurorafor the next Kodiak. He doesn’t trust himself to focus enough to record anything coherent.
“That’s heavy,” Kodiak calls down. “Hold on, let me chart our path through this next field, then I’ll let you know a few things. Okay. Ready. Future Kodiak: One, you don’t like manicotti as much as you tell Ambrose. It’s just your way of having something to say. Two, you don’t need to spend as much time getting ready for when you’ll see Ambrose, since he’ll only start to tease you for being so vain. Three, settle into kissing Ambrose as soon as possible. You’ll enjoy it very much, and you’ll only have time for so many kisses.”
My vision wobbles. “Those aren’t the details I was imagining. I thought it would be something more like ‘You had your wisdom teeth pulled on a Thursday.’”
He laughs.
“I much prefer these,” I say, voice wet.
His laugh turns into a rattling cough.
I love you,I want to say. Instead, the words that come out are “time for a break.”
“Hold on, just this one . . .”
“No. Now.”
Kodiak’s body emerges from the opening, one trembling ankle at a time. I stand in gravity and catch his weight as best I can. It’s gotten easier over the days, since he’s lost a lot of mass. Once he’s out, we take a rest on the floor, his breathing rapid and shallow. I wrap him in blankets.
Kodiak’s skin is cracked and red. His lips are flaked, andbleeding wherever the flakes meet. We don’t have anything like moisturizer, but I’ve been centrifuging the meal sleeves for vegetable oil, and I massage it into his skin, one fingertip’s worth at a time. His forehead, cheeks, earlobes, and then down along his body. His face has hardened, but as I work the oil in, the scowl on his lips relaxes into something like a smile.
“I should tell you where I am in the nav, so that you’ll be able to figure it out,” Kodiak says. “In case I—”
“I’ll be able to figure it out,” I say. “Don’t worry.”
“This is all... really painful,” he says, clenching his jaw.
I stop massaging him and stroke his hair, land a soft kiss on his lips. For Kodiak to say that, the pain must be great indeed.
“Could you... get me a blanket?” he asks, his eyes closing.
He’s already got two over him.
“Here’s what we’ll do,” I say. “I’m going to bring us to my sleeping berth, and we’ll get cozy there. You’re not going back up for a few more hours.”
“Absolutely not,” he says weakly, eyes still closed. “I need to go... nav.”
“I know you. You’re up there double-checking courses that we won’t need for another year. There’s no rush to get you back.”
“That’s not true, Ambrose,” he whispers. “There’s so little time.”
All the same, he doesn’t protest when I tug him toward my sleeping berth. My body is the best way to keep him warm, and I also need the feel of him, of us together. While I can have it.
I lie on my side against the wall, and there’s just enough room on the shallow berth to arrange Kodiak beside me. The bed doubles as a crash station, so I use the emergency restraints to keep us stable. I don’t want him falling off while we’re sleeping. With Kodiak’s new skinniness, the belts easily strap over both our bodies.
I tug one blanket and then another over us. “This... is nice,” he says. “Maybe I will... doze for a while.”
“It is nice,” I say, nuzzling his neck.
I don’t sleep while he dozes. I probably couldn’t even if I wanted to, and I don’t want to. I don’t want to miss a moment of this warm, breathing human beside me. I run my thumbs over his eyebrows. When I do, they unknit, relaxing in sleep. “Li Qiang,” he says. “I’m sorry.”
I’ve never heard that name before. I mull who it could be as I run my fingers through Kodiak’s hair. “Shh, it’s okay,” I say.
His brow relaxes again. “I hope... you’re proud,” Kodiak mumbles.
“I’m sure Li Qiang would be proud,” I whisper back.
He settles into the easy breathing of deeper sleep. I finally follow him.
