Niri. I sigh inwardly. Gods love the old woman. She won’t leave me alone. Ever since I returned from my father’s funeral, she’s been hovering like she’s a mama zenda and I’m her spindly legged colt. “Under here,” I call out, because she’s going to find me anyhow. “Watch where you step.”
“All this snow,” Niri exclaims, and I hear her feet crunch onthe ice. “Brr! Give me a regulated-temperature cabin any day of the week.” As I glance over, she picks her way across the parts-strewn snow under the ship and makes her way toward me. She has a sweater held tightly around her lanky frame, and the metal tips on her horns are icing up. I imagine mine must be coated, too. She’s got a breather on, at least.
“You’re not dressed to be out here,” I tell her, turning back to the next screw I’m carefully pulling out. It’s corroded as well, and looking a bit stripped. Damn. Captain’s going to blame me if this shit’s all rundown and busted. It’s my job to keep things in shape down here, and I’m wondering if I somehow missed something or if I’ve been too occupied to notice the poor state of the engine. Either way, I’m keffing ashamed.
“I won’t be out here long. I just came out to see how you’re doing.” She comes and stands next to me, shivering as she gazes around her. “How’s it look?”
“Not good.”
“That’s because you’re a pessimist,” she says crisply. “I’m sure you can fix it.”
I’m sure I can, too. “Eventually. There’s a leak in here somewhere. Hate that I missed something vital.”
She makes a noise of agreement. “It’s not like you to be sloppy, but you’ve had a lot on your mind.”
Here we go. I remain silent, focused on my task so I don’t have to think about what’s coming up.
“How are you handling things? You’ve been quiet today. Not that you were very talky before, but I’m a woman. I notice these things.”
Niri’s also old enough to be my grandmother, and twice as nosy. “Fine.”
She snorts, and I feel her thwack me on the side a moment later. “Don’t give me that shit. Before you left you were allwounded inside and strong outside. Since you came back, you’re just hollow all over. You wanna talk about it? Or about what’s bothering you today?”
“No.”
“Mardok, don’t be an asshole.”
I’m not. “That’s Trakan’s job. As for what’s crawled up my ass…I just don’t wanna be stranded.” Understatement.
“Fair enough. And Trakan’s an asshole because he’s got a girl back at spaceport and misses her.”
Does he? I didn’t know. I wonder if I should feel guilty. We’re a small crew—four strong—and we should be close. I should know if Trakan’s got a girl waiting for him. I did notice he’s been huffing carcinogels a lot more. “Mm.”
“You got someone waiting back at spaceport for you?”
“No one.”
“Well, that’s your problem.” Her crackling, imperious voice softens. “You’re lonely.”
I clench my jaw. I’m not lonely. Can’t be lonely when you crew on a ship as small as this one. Can’t afford it. I’ve been out on runs for months at a time. Never know when I’m going to be back somewhere for longer than a day or two, and that suits me fine. Haven’t been with a girl since I left the military. Prefer it that way, really. No one to make miserable while I’m gone. No one to stay up at night, terrified and weeping and wondering if I’m missing in action, like my mother worried about my father. I’ve got my hand when I’m lonely enough. It’ll do. “I’m fine.”
“Was the funeral nice? Did they shoot the coffin into space, or did you buy a plot on one of the moons?”
Gods, she’s not going away, is she? I bite back my sigh. “Cremated.”
“Ah. And your family?”
“I’m it.”
Her voice softens. “Are you sure you’re all right, Mardok? I think of you like one of my sons, and you just don’t seem to be yourself lately. I worry, that’s all. Got nothing to do but look after you and Trakan on these long voyages. Captain Chatav’s so healthy he doesn’t even need a damn medic.”
I grunt. She’s not wrong. Chatav’s very into balanced nutrition bars instead of meals, and drinks nothing but herbal teas. Works out every day in the ship gym and can probably bench press my entire body without breaking a sweat. Trakan’s skinny and thin. I’m muscled, but I don’t bulk. It’d look ridiculous with my bionic arm. As if my missing arm knows I’m thinking about it, it aches, and I flex my hand. Even with a metal arm and six years of living with it under my belt, the phantom pain doesn’t go away. Probably never will. “Promise I’m fine.”
I don’t know what to say to her. The words stick in my throat. What do I tell someone like Niri, who’s acerbic and cusses like any soldier but has the heart of the softest kitten? She’d never understand my relationship with my father. That we fell apart when my mother died and our last conversations together were angry, bitter ones. That I got the call two days after he died, and we never had final words to say to each other. That our last ones were full of hatred. That he thought I was a weakling for leaving the military behind, even after it shattered my body and nearly broke my mind. I still dream about the people on Uzocar IV, and my men. I still hear them screaming. In my mind, I still hear the ship flying away…without us on it. Sometimes when I close my eyes, I can smell the bodies of the dead. It still kefs with my sleep.
My father’s funeral was a military one. Being there around all those soldiers? Brought back all the hell I’ve worked for six years to bury. Made me remember, when I took a job onThe Tranquil Ladyspecifically to forget. Which reminds me. “You still got the sleep meds I like, Niri?”
“I do.” The concern creeps back into her voice. “You’re not sleeping again?”
