Lyric blinked. “Ah, yes.”
“Lyric is also a botanist,” Amelia said slyly. “I figured that might be helpful, considering all the moss on your ship. Maybe they can solve two problems at once.”
“The moss on my ship isn’t a problem,” Torian retorted, offended.
But Lyric had perked up. “There’s moss on—on your ship?” Half of their statement was mumbled as both Amelia and Torian glanced their way. They sank into themself. “Um, can I help?”
“My ship’s exhaust pump broke. We thought we’d fixed it,but… well, apparently the parts were pretty old.” Torian grimaced. “I’m really hoping you have something better.”
Lyric nodded, glancing at Amelia for confirmation.
She smiled. “It’s okay. Torian is a very close friend. I’ll vouch for her.”
Averyclose friend?
That appeared to be all Lyric needed. They wiped their palms on their pant legs, which were smeared in grease from the maintenance bot. “I can… um… I can be there in an hour?”
“We’ll transmit the hangar information,” Amelia said. “Be careful approaching; we had a run-in with a Luminas crowd earlier, but I think it’s fine now.”
Lyric was clearly no stranger to that kind of situation, because they nodded.
She turned to leave.
This was too fast; Torian was still in awe at the plant wonderland around them. She lingered in the doorway. “Hang on. How did you grow a fern on a space station? The lack of humidity did mine in.”
Rest in peace, Palm, she thought.
Lyric had already edged back to the bot, but they glanced at the floor by Torian. “Humidifier. Custom built.”
“I tried that. Yours must be amazing.” Torian tried to squint at the machine beside their ferns, but couldn’t get a good look. And it felt rude to pry, especially with Amelia obviously pulling her out the door. Torian offered a smile. “Well, maybe you can show me how you constructed it.”
Lyric tilted their head. “Um. Yeah.”
With little else to say, Torian waved and left.
IDENTITY: Mechanical Operations and Support Systems
→SUB-IDENTITY: Moss
TIME/DATE: 17:14/Januous 14, Year 90113 [System U2Ab Universal]
LOCATION: Colony 4 [human]
The humans were staring.
This was appropriate—theDestitutewas magnificent, so itshouldbe admired by humans and every other species in the galaxy. But after over a century in a dark hangar, it was a bit unnerving to see the crowd gathering in front of the ship.
I was unsure if I was supposed to stay hidden, remain a secret, or reveal myself. These were smuggling humans, which meant their trustworthiness was low—but they were also captained by Torian’s not-romantic partner, so perhaps they were safe. The hostile humans had already been removed by this station’s example of law enforcement. The remainders must have loyalty to their old crewmember.
Possibly.
I stayed silent, gathering more data. Outside my ship, one smuggling human elbowed another. “What do you think, Bartlet? Piece of shit, isn’t it?”
“It’s worth more than you are,” the smuggling human, Bartlet, responded.
[I’d already released spores into this hangar, but bypassed anything from Colony 4 in favor of attempting access to Amelia’s ship. So far, my moss colony hadn’t grown enough to bypass major security features, but I had obtained a roster of the crew. I reviewed Bartlet’s file: cook, fifteen years of service—first with Opula, the current quartermaster, then with Amelia. Extensive parts of their file were redacted.]
The person Bartlet was speaking with was named Lent, classifiedas an engineer human. “Fuck you, too. I’m just saying, she could have found a nicer ship.”
