“Easy to say when yours looks like that,” I call back.
She laughs. Beautifully, of course.
When I’m dry, she leads me to the crew cabin next to her own. It is small, but a grand step up from my cubby. It has a bunk, a desk, lockers, and a holovid player. As well as loads of candy and Blue space charts. I eye the mattress like it’s made of ham. After sleeping on metal, it might as well be. Wrapped in the towel, I stand awkward under Aurae’s gaze. Not sure what to do. I’ve never felt more clumsy and ugly than in the Pink’s presence. She might as well be made of air. Maybe it was that insecurity that made me snap when she came to my defense. “Thank you,” I say to her. “For speaking up for me. Who is this Athena then?”
“She is a teacher, and a leader. She freed me when I was younger than you are now.”
“So what is she? Like the Ares of the Rim?”
“Ares was a warrior. Athena is…a builder. At least to me. You’ll have to decide for yourself when you meet her. Cassius will be coming with clothes. Do you need anything else? Perhaps a lullaby? It’s been a frightful evening.”
“I’m not nine. Oh. It was a joke.”
“Not everyone is aiming at you, Lyria. Glad you’re aboard,” she says and sweeps away.
I wait in my towel on the bed until a knock comes at the door. Cassius enters and tosses me a bundle of clothes. “My old pilot left her gear behind. Since you’re in her quarters, figured, well. Might be a little long in the limbs, but it’s the best fit we have.”
“Thank you,” I say. “Where’d she go?”
“Who?”
“Your old pilot.”
He grimaces. “With my other crew member.” He hesitates. “With Lysander au Lune.”
I stare at him. “A Lune.” He nods across the hall to Darrow’s door. “A Lune slept there?”
“You’d find out sooner or later—”
“Mad,” I say. “A Lune there. Me here?” I laugh, stunned. “Why’d he go?” I ask.
“He chose to be a Lune.”
“Oh,” I say a little darker. “And she chose to be a Blue?”
He seems surprised by my question, pleasantly. “Yes. Tailor them however you like. There’s sewing supplies in the machine shop, though be wary in there. It’s a sty these days. I made you a plate too. Some of that ham. But no eating in your room. Eat at the table like a civilized human. Can’t stand crumbs on my ship. Must have standards.”
I watch him for a moment. “The Pink isn’t here.”
He frowns. “And…what does that mean?”
“You’re sweet on her. Why else would you be so nice to me?”
“Shall I be rude?” he flirts and I blush. “Is that your bent?” He sighs. “Maybe that’s the fashion now. Haven’t been back to Mars in an age.”
“No,” I say. “It’s just…I know who you are.”
A cloud appears over him, dimming his features. “And who’s that?”
“You…well. You’re the Betrayer. The Turncloak. You let Darrow into the Dragonmaw to strike down Octavia the Tyrant. And…you killed Ares.”
“I did.” He pauses. “A long time ago.” He looks sad now. Maybe for a moment he thought someone didn’t know of his infamy. Maybe for a moment he thought he got to make his own first impression. He’s so downcast that I feel a kinship with him, a need to lift him up. How many times did others change when they learned I was a Gamma?
“They chose to be a Gold and a Blue, so they left,” I say. “You’re still here.” He looks at me with twinkling eyes. “Could use the company while I see about that plate. You can tell me about theArchimedes,and my job. I want to be a good hand. I won’t be dead weight. I can’t be.”
He considers. “Do you drink whiskey?”
“Red eyes. One-hundred-forty-proof blood.”
