The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet

Day 45, GC Standard 307 OCTOBER 25

“So,” Ashby said. “Can you fix it?”

Jenks inspected the exposed insides of Ashby’s scrib with the attention of a surgeon. “I can tweak it,” he said. “But it won’t be a permanent fix. You need a new pixel array. Easy enough for me to hook up, but I don’t have one on hand.”

“But you can get it to stop hopping between feeds?”

“Yeah. The picture might start to degrade after a couple tendays, but it won’t—Wait. Uh oh.” Jenks paused. “You hear that?”

Ashby listened. Raised voices down the hall, coming from the algae bay. He sighed. “Not again.”

Jenks rolled his eyes. “I swear, they’d save so much time if one of them just spaced the other already.”

They followed the voices, which was easy enough to do. Pieces of the argument made their way to his ears as they got closer.

“—absolutely incompetent—” That was Corbin.

“—weren’t such a pain in the ass—” Sissix.

“—no regard for my work here—”

“—just communicate like a fucking functional adult, then maybe—”

“I did communicate, it’s just that your thick lizard ears won’t—” Dammit, Corbin! Ashby quickened his step.

“Hisk! Ahsshek tes hska essh—”

“Oh, yes, hiss all you want, it still doesn’t change the fact that I’m—”

“Enough,” Ashby said, entering into the room. Jenks hung back in the doorway, far away enough to be polite, but close enough to get a good view.

“Ashby,” Sissix said, feathers on end. “You tell this pompous, speciest asshole that—”

“I said that’s enough.” Ashby glared at them both. “Now, I want to know what this is all about.” Corbin and Sissix began yelling in tandem. Ashby put up his hands. “One at a time.”

“Your pilot,” Corbin said, in the same tone that an angry father might say your child to his partner, “pushed the induction lines past capacity. It put too much strain on one of my pressure caps, and now look.” Ashby looked to the fuel distributor. He couldn’t see the problem, but the green goo in a small number of tubes was lying still.

“I had no idea that he had swapped out the cap for a lesser model.” Sissix shot Corbin a murderous look. “And I still don’t understand why he did it at all.”

“I swapped it out because it was the only part I had on hand. In case you haven’t noticed, we haven’t had any market stops in a while. It was either make do with a lesser model or replace the entire apparatus. Which is what I’ll have to do anyway, thanks to you.”

“Yes, it’s my fault, because you actually bothered to tell me about any of this. Oh, no, wait, you didn’t.”

“I brought this up in the kitchen day before yesterday.”

“You weren’t talking to me! You were bitching about your lab to Dr. Chef! How the fuck was I supposed to know that it had anything to do with my ability to fly the—”

“In other words, you chose to ignore me. Perhaps if you’d pay a little more attention to the needs of others instead of acting so self-involved, then—”

“Stop,” Ashby said. He took a deep breath. “Let me make sure I’m hearing this correctly. This argument, which we could hear coming down the stairs, is all because of a minor incident involving a damaged pressure cap.”

“It’s hardly minor, this is going to take me all day to—”

“It’s minor,” Ashby repeated. “You lost one apparatus out of six. Fuel is still pumping, right?”

Corbin scowled. “Yes. But it’s a matter of—”

“Okay. So, in the future, you—” he pointed at Corbin “—need to tell Sissix about any equipment changes you make, because you cannot expect her to be psychically aware of what goes on in this lab. And you do not use that word aboard my ship, do you understand? Not to Sissix, not to anyone else. It is completely unacceptable. You apologize to her right now.”

“I didn’t—”

“Right. Now.”

Corbin’s face went even redder. “I’m… sorry,” he said to Sissix. His voice was tight as a sealing band.

“And you—” Ashby jabbed a finger at Sissix—“need to go way easier when making speed jumps, because there’s no way that cap should’ve burned out that fast.”

“We’re running behind,” Sissix said. “If we don’t—”

“I don’t care if we’re a tenday late. I don’t care if we’re a standard late. I am not going adrift out here, not when we’ve come this far. Be more careful.” He stared them both down. “I am only going to say this one more time. Get over whatever this pissing match is between the two of you. It is driving me crazy. It is driving the rest of your crew crazy. I know this has been a long haul, and I know we’re all tired, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to fly the rest of the way to the Core listening to you two scream at each other. Work it out. If you can’t, fake it. I do not want to have this conversation—”

The vox snapped on. “Hey, Ashby.” It was Kizzy. “Um, so, I kind of need you for something.”

“Can it wait?”

“Well, um, not so much, no, but maybe I could tell him—”

“Tell who what?”

There was a shuffling sound. Rosemary’s voice replaced Kizzy’s. “Ashby, we’ve got a Quelin enforcer on hold up here.”

He could hear Kizzy talking in the background. “Do you think I made him mad? I can’t tell, ’cause their faces don’t move.”

Ashby sighed and closed his eyes. “Lovey, transfer the call down here.”

Corbin stepped aside as Ashby took a seat at his desk. The pixels leapt into place. A male Quelin stared back, his armored face inscrutable, his black eyes shining.

“This is Captain Ashby Santoso. How can I help you?”

“This is Enforcer Bevel of the Interstellar Defense Bureau. As is stated in Section 36-28 of the Border Security Amendment, you are subject to a full search of your vessel and an inspection of all crew members.”

“We were already scanned when we entered Quelin space. Have we done anything wrong?”

“As was stated, this is a random search. The Interstellar Defense Bureau has the right to search any and all vessels at our discretion, regardless of probable cause.”

“I trust that my clerk has sent you our tunneling license and flight plan?”

“We have received the required materials, and your right to travel within our space has been confirmed.”

“Not to be difficult, but we’re on a tight schedule. Do I have the right to refuse this search?”

“Refusal will result in possible impounding of your vessel and incarceration of all persons aboard. Failure to comply with inspection officers is a violation of our GC membership agreement and is subject to prosecution under Executive Order 226-09.”

“I guess we’ll look forward to seeing you on board, then.”

“Prepare to be boarded in ten minutes,” said Officer Bevel. The pixels scattered as the call ended.

“What a charming guy,” Jenks said. “Bet he’s great fun at parties.”

“Only if he has the proper formwork for it,” Ashby said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Pain in the ass.”

The freight elevator doors clanked open. Rosemary and Kizzy hopped out. “Is everything okay?” Kizzy said. “Did I get us in trouble? I really shouldn’t answer calls ever, I get all stupid—”

“Nobody’s in trouble, but we have to let them do another search.”

“Why?”

“Because they said so, and because they’re Quelin, and because they’re really not the sort of people I want to piss off.”

“I hear on-board searches are a real pain,” Sissix said.

“We were fine on our last search.”

“Yeah, but that was just a basic scan for weapons and illegal tech. Trust me, they’ll search everything. And I hear they do blood screenings, too.”

“Why blood screenings?” Rosemary asked.

Jenks sighed. “Because of that asshole with explosive bots in his blood, I’ll bet. Remember that? That dumb speciest kid a few standards back, tried to prove a point during a border search? Didn’t even program them right. All he did was blow his own head off.”

“Funny how it’s always the speciests who ruin things for everybody else,” Sissix said. Corbin scoffed, but Sissix headed for the door before he could say anything further. “I’ll go get Ohan.”

Ashby’s eyes shifted between Kizzy and Jenks. “Do you two have anything stashed away that might make them freak out? Anything?”

Jenks thought hard. “Don’t think so.”

“Nah,” said Kizzy. “We drank the last of Bear’s homebrew kick last tenday.” She paused. Her hands shot up to her mouth. “Oh, ass!”

“What?” Ashby said.

She slid her hands up to the top of her head and twisted her hair. “I have a bag of smash in with my socks.”

“Good thing you thought of it now. Go toss it in the engine.”

“But…” Kizzy’s shoulders sagged. “You can’t get smash out here. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion.”

Ashby frowned. He was not in the mood for Kizzy reasoning. “This isn’t a debate. Toss it in the engine. Now.”

“Come on, Kiz,” Jenks said. He took her by the wrist and led her back to the freight elevator. “Let’s go do this awful thing.”

“I hate the Quelin,” she said. “They’re stupid and jerks and nobody likes them.” She lowered her voice surreptitiously as they entered the elevator. “If we smoked it now really fast, do you think they’d notice?”

“I can still hear you, Kizzy,” Ashby said.

She pouted. “Can’t blame me for trying,” she said as the doors closed.

Rosemary had seen vids of Quelin before, but even so, she was unprepared for the things that came clattering through the cargo bay doors. She tried to think of a more eloquent descriptor for them, but all she kept coming up with was lobster centaur. Chitinous blue exoskeletons, long horizontal abdomens, segmented torsos covered in jointed limbs, all topped with a mask-like face. Their shells were branded with symbols, studded with polished stones. She knew better than to judge a species by appearances, but between their knobbly looks and the call she’d witnessed earlier, she wasn’t warming up to them.

The rest of the crew looked uneasy as well, which made her feel a little better. It was common knowledge that Quelin were typically xenophobic, and it was rare to see them anywhere other than in their own space. Their inclusion in the GC was an arrangement of convenience, or so Rosemary had read. The Quelin had huge caches of natural resources at their disposal, and had been originally brought into the GC by the Harmagians, who had plenty of money and fancy tech to offer in exchange. Not that the Quelin and the Harmagians actually liked each other. It was funny how the potential for profit always seemed to trump antipathy.

Six Quelin entered the cargo bay, headed by the one from the sib call, Enforcer Bevel. He doled out commands to his inferiors (or so Rosemary assumed, since she didn’t speak Tellerain). Four of them left the bay, scanning devices beeping, pointed legs clicking against the metal floor.

“Line up and prepare to be scanned,” Enforcer Bevel said. So much for introductions.

The crew did as they were told. Rosemary ended up beside Sissix. They exchanged a glance. Sissix rolled her eyes and gave her head an irritated shake.

Bevel pointed a leg toward Ohan. “What’s wrong with them?” Rosemary glanced over. Ohan was shaking. Not violently so, but enough to see from a distance.

“They’re old and ill,” Dr. Chef said. “Nothing contagious. They have a degenerative nerve condition that makes it difficult for them to stand for an extended period of time.”

Bevel’s eyes were fixed on Ohan, but without eyelids or facial muscles, it was impossible to know what the Quelin was thinking. “They may sit.”

“Thank you,” Ohan said with a nod. They sank to the floor, trying to be as poised as possible. It seemed the Quelin could be reasonable after all.

Bevel shifted his gaze to Dr. Chef. “We will need to review their medical records in order to confirm your claim.” Okay, maybe not.

The other Quelin pulled a device from a bag hanging from her side. “We will now scan your blood, hemolymph, or other primary genetic fluid for contaminants, pathogens, illegal nanobots, and any other banned or dangerous substances. If you are aware of carrying any such things, let us know at this time.” She paused for a reply. No one spoke. “I will now begin the scan.” She walked over to Jenks, at the far end of the line. She stared for a few seconds. “You are unusually small.”

“And you have a shitload of legs,” Jenks said, holding out his hand.

The Quelin said nothing. She pressed the scanner against Jenks’ palm. There was a mechanical click. Rosemary heard Jenks suck air through his teeth. The Quelin studied the scanner. Apparently satisfied, she moved on to Ashby.

Jenks examined his palm. “What, no bandage, or…? No? Okay. Thanks.”

The Quelin worked her way down the line. Rosemary stuck out her hand dutifully when her time came. The jab of the scanner was unpleasant, but nothing to fuss over. Even though she knew there was nothing of interest in her blood, she couldn’t help but sigh with relief when the Quelin passed her by. Something about these sapients made her feel awfully tense.

Even though Rosemary couldn’t read the Quelin’s face, something about her changed when she scanned Corbin. Enforcer Bevel clearly saw it, too, as he beelined right for her. He looked at the scanner, and there was a brief flurry of unintelligible discussion between them.

“Artis Corbin,” Enforcer Bevel said. “Under section 17-6-4 of the Defense of Genetic Integrity Agreement, I am placing you under arrest.”

“What?!” cried Corbin. The other Quelin was already upon him, binding his hands with some sort of energy cord and pushing him toward the door. “I—I haven’t done anything!”

Ashby rushed forward. “Enforcer, what’s—”

Enforcer Bevel stopped him. “You all need to be questioned. We will hold you here. Interrogations will take place in an area of our choosing once we have completed our search of your vessel,” the Enforcer said. “Under section 35-2 of the Punitive Regulations Act, any request made for legal advice will be denied.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Ashby said. “The hell is going on?”

Rosemary tried to stay calm. None of them had done anything, not to her knowledge, and if the Quelin hadn’t figured out about her doctored ID file by now, she doubted they would at all. And as for Corbin, she couldn’t think of anyone less likely to break the law. This had to be a misunderstanding.

“You are not under arrest,” Bevel said. “Nor are any charges being made against you at this time. Failure to comply in full with your interrogation officer will result in imprisonment.”

Jenks glared. “The captain asked you a question. What did we do?”

“Jenks, don’t,” said Dr. Chef.

The other Quelin marched Corbin off the ship. “Ashby!” he cried. His feet dragged, but the Quelin pushed him forward. “Ashby, I didn’t—”

“I know, Corbin,” Ashby said. “We’ll get this sorted out.” He turned back to Bevel, fuming. Rosemary had never seen him so angry. “Where are you taking him? What did he do?”

Enforcer Bevel looked at Ashby with his flat black eyes. “He exists.”

They scanned his wristpatch, and took his clothes. He had yelled himself raw, but none of them would speak to him. None of them were even speaking in Klip. Their words clicked. Their eyes clicked. Their feet clicked when they hit the floor. It was like being in a metal insect hive—dark, hot, humid, and always clicking, clicking, clicking.

He didn’t know how far he was from the Wayfarer. They’d moved him onto a different ship. Or maybe an orbiter? He couldn’t say. There hadn’t been any windows or viewscreens (not that he’d seen, anyway). They’d shoved him into an enormous room, the size of a cargo carrier’s belly. The floor was pockmarked with smooth, deep pits, twice as deep as he was tall. If he squinted hard enough, he could see the glitter of eyes staring back at him from within their depths.

He tried to cover himself. The Quelin wore no clothes themselves, but then, they had shells. They didn’t need to be covered. They weren’t made of soft flesh and hair and lines and creases and misshapen folds you’d rather keep to yourself. He wished he had a shell. He wished that he’d been born to a species with spikes or horns or anything more imposing than the fragile sack that he was. He wished the Quelin could be the ones who were afraid.

They nudged him roughly toward an empty pit. “No,” he said, trying to force the tremble out of his voice. “Not until you’ve told me what I’ve done. I’m a GC citizen, and I have my—”

Within seconds, he wished he’d said nothing.

One of the Quelin grabbed him with its upper limbs, pinning him face-out against its plated torso. Segmented limbs closed around his body, like a wirey cage. The other Quelin lowered its face to the floor, flattening itself into a plank. Corbin hadn’t noticed how thick the plating was at the top of their heads. A curved, blackish-blue dome, worn smooth and thick with old scratches.

The Quelin charged him. The domed head rammed into his chest. Pain burst through him. He choked on his own breath, flecking the Quelin’s domed head with spit. The Quelin did not seem to care. The thing backed up, and ran forward again.

Oh, no, please, not—

He heard his ribs crack before he registered the pain. He heard himself cry out before he realized who it was. He sagged against the Quelin’s legs, but it held him upright. The second Quelin charged again.

The Quelin holding him must have let him go at some point, because he found himself on the floor, retching and shaking. He could feel the fractured ribs stab every time his stomach heaved. Low moans escaped from his mouth, but were cut short as his lungs fought for air.

They shoved him into the pit. He tumbled down the cold metal. His face hit the floor first. He felt blood spurt from his nose as it wrenched sideways. The Quelin who had broken his bones shouted to him in Klip, speaking eight angry words. In the hours ahead, they would be all he could think of.

“From now on, clone, you will be quiet.”

Ashby was the last to return from the interrogation. He joined the others at the dinner table. Everyone looked exhausted. Even Ohan was there, curled up under a blanket on a nearby bench. Dr. Chef had brought out a small batch of spring cakes. Nobody was eating them.

“Oh, stars,” said Kizzy. She ran over and hugged him around the waist. “I thought you were getting locked up, too.”

“I’m okay,” he said.

“You’ve been gone six hours.”

“Feels like longer.” He slumped into his chair. Dr. Chef placed a mug of mek in front of him. Ashby cupped his palms around it, letting the warmth bleed into his hands. He stared at nothing for a moment, took a deep breath, and looked to his crew. “Did any of you know?”

A general shaking of heads. “Not a clue,” Jenks said, lighting his redreed pipe. The ash piles on the plate in front of him indicated that he’d gone through two bowls already.

“We’ve been debating whether or not Corbin knew,” Sissix said.

“And?” Ashby said.

“We don’t think so,” Jenks said. Smoke leaked out from between his teeth. “Did you see his face when they dragged him away? He had no fucking idea what was going on.”

“I checked an old blood test,” Dr. Chef said. “There’s no question. There are some irregularities in his DNA that can’t happen any other way.”

“Why didn’t you notice it before?” Ashby asked.

“Because it’s the sort of thing you only find if you’re specifically looking for it. I didn’t have any reason to.”

Ashby sighed and leaned back. “This doesn’t change anything. I hope you all know that. Corbin’s a sapient individual, and I don’t particularly care where he came from. I know we all have our… difficulties with him.” He glanced at Sissix, who was picking at a spring cake with a single claw. “But he’s part of our crew, and we have to help him.” He looked around the table. Something was off. “Wait, where’s Rosemary? Did she not come back?” Had the Quelin figured out about her, too? Stars, how many crew members was he going to lose today?

“No, she’s in her office,” Sissix said. “She’s been combing through legal options for Corbin since the moment they let her go.”

Asbhy reminded himself to give Rosemary a raise once the tunnel was built. “I’ll go help her,” he said, pushing his chair back.

“No need.” Rosemary walked in through the kitchen, scrib in hand and pixel pen behind her ear. “But we’ve got a lot to talk about.”

“Let’s hear it.”

Rosemary took her place at the table. “Corbin’s being held at a nearby enforcement orbiter. They’ll be keeping him there indefinitely, before his case is processed.”

“What happens then?”

“If we do nothing, he’ll be sent to a Quelin penal colony. They’re labor camps, mostly, from what I’ve learned. Apparently most of the teracite ore in the GC is mined by Quelin prisoners.”

“Now there’s a happy thought,” Jenks said. “Nice to know what my circuit panels are made from.”

“How can they do that?” Dr. Chef said. “Corbin’s a GC citizen.”

“No, he’s not,” Rosemary said. “Since cloning is illegal in most GC territories, cloned individuals don’t get natural born rights. They have to go through the same application process that non-GC species do, even if they’ve lived in the GC all their lives.”

“That’s not fair,” Kizzy said.

“Yeah,” Jenks said. “But think of how rarely something like this happens. Lawmakers aren’t going to trouble themselves making new legal systems for something that affects maybe—what? A few hundred people, if that? You can’t find cloners anywhere but the fringe, and I highly doubt anybody who’s a part of it comes back to the GC. This probably isn’t something the GC has to deal with often.”

“Exactly,” Rosemary said. “And because of that, the unofficial policy when dealing with a discovered clone is to default to whatever the local laws are. If we’d found out about Corbin in, say, Harmagian space, he’d still have to go through the application process, but the only other thing that would happen to him is a footnote on his ID file. The only person who’d be arrested is his father. Which is probably happening as we speak.”

“Anybody know anything about his dad?” Kizzy said.

“He’s still on the Enceladus orbiter, I think. They’re not on speaking terms,” Ashby said. He turned to Rosemary. “So, let me get this straight. Since Corbin’s not a citizen, we can’t use any of our treaty rights to get him back?”

“Right. But there is a loophole. It’s just not…” She cleared her throat. “It’s not exactly ideal.”

“I figured as much.”

Rosemary fidgeted with her pen. “The terms of the Quelin’s GC membership agreement state that they have to honor any legally binding documents that affect GC citizens traveling through their space. This is meant for cases like… say, you have a Human and a Harmagian who have a registered partnership in Harmagian space.”

“Eew,” said Kizzy.

“Speciest,” said Jenks.

“I’m not speciest, they’re slimy.”

“It’s just an example,” said Rosemary. “Now, they wouldn’t be able to register their partnership with the Quelin, because interspecies partnerships aren’t recognized there. But since they’re already registered in another GC territory, the Quelin have to honor their partnership, legally speaking.”

“How so?” Ashby asked.

“Like if their ship crashed and one of them died, the Quelin authorities would have to recognize the other as their next of kin, even though they wouldn’t grant those rights to people living within their space.”

“Got it. But how does this help Corbin?”

“Well, when you start an application for GC citizenship, you have to have an assigned legal guardian throughout the process. A GC citizen who vouches for you.”

“Yes, I had to do that,” Dr. Chef said.

“How’s it work?” Jenks asked.

“It’s a formality more than anything. The idea is that you have someone there to help you fit in. They make sure you learn the language, learn the laws, understand the local culture and ethics, that sort of thing. They’re also responsible for helping you get your formwork in on time, and they have to come with you to your application hearing. It’s a sort of buddy system to help you integrate.”

“Seems stupid for Corbin,” Kizzy said. “It’s not like he has to learn Klip all over again.”

“So,” Ashby said, “if Corbin has a legal guardian, the Quelin have to release him to that person?”

“Yes, but we only have a narrow window to make it happen. We’d have to fill out the formwork, get the GC to approve it, and get it to the Quelin before they process Corbin’s case. I have a… friend I can contact. A minor GC official. I’m sure once they see it’s an emergency, they’ll sign off the formwork as fast as they can.”

“The same friend that, ah…?” Jenks said. He finished his question by pointing at Rosemary’s wristwrap.

Rosemary’s eyes swung down. “Yes,” she said.

“How long before the Quelin process Corbin?” Dr. Chef asked.

“No one knows. Could be days, or tendays. They could be doing it now for all we know, but I doubt it. From what I understand of the Quelin legal system, they don’t rush these things.”

“All right,” Ashby said. “Just show me where you need my thumbprint.”

“No, see, you can’t be his guardian.” Rosemary took a breath. She looked uncomfortable. “There’s a catch. And it’s a stupid, bureaucratic catch, but it’s one we can’t get around.”

“Let’s have it.”

“Quelin cloning laws aren’t just strict, they’re… I don’t even know what the word is. Unyielding. My understanding on this is sketchy at best, but apparently, the Quelin had a bloody interplanetary war a few centuries back, and it was mixed up with cloning and eugenics and all sorts of messy things. Nowadays, the Quelin don’t just see cloning as an ethically murky practice. They see it as evil. To them, Corbin’s very existence is dangerous. As such, their laws on cloning are a lot more comprehensive than what other species have on the books. It’s clear they thought about the possibility of clones entering in from outside their space.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning GC treaties or no, they won’t release Corbin to anyone who comes from a species that bans cloning. In their eyes, they’re doing those species a favor by keeping him away from the rest of the galaxy.” She cleared her throat. “So, the only way we can get Corbin back is if he has a guardian who comes from a species without cloning laws.”

“Who doesn’t have—” Ashby paused when he saw the hesitant look on Rosemary’s face. She wasn’t looking at him. He followed her gaze across the table. To Sissix.

Sissix blinked twice, her face blank. She put her palm over her eyes, arched her head back, and let out a long, angry sigh. “You are fucking kidding me.”

“Wait,” Kizzy said. “Whoa. You? Aandrisks don’t have cloning laws?”

“No, we don’t have cloning laws.”

“Why?”

“Because we don’t do it,” she snapped. “The idea never occurred to us. You know why? Because unlike you people, we think nature works fine on its own without tweaking it and hacking it and—and—oh, this is ridiculous.”

“Sissix—” Ashby said.

“Don’t say anything. I’ll do it. It’s not even a question. I’m not going to leave him to rot in some teracite mine.” She drummed her claws on the table. “So. Fine. What do I have to do? Sign some formwork, go to a few hearings with him?”

“Yes,” Rosemary said. She licked her lips, speaking more quickly. “And you have to be within the same system as him at all times during the duration of the application process.”

Sissix’s feathers puffed. “How long is that?”

Rosemary shrank into herself. Her whole body was one big apology. “Up to a standard. Maybe more.”

Sissix swore in Reskitkish and walked away from the table. She turned back toward Rosemary. “I’m not mad at you about this,” she said. “You know that, right?”

“I know,” Rosemary said, looking into Sissix’s eyes. Ashby watched an unspoken conversation pass between them. He studied them with interest. He had a suspicion, but now wasn’t the time to ponder it. There were more important things to think of.

Sissix sighed again, and tried to smooth her feathers down with her hand. “Well, come on,” she said. “Let’s go save the bastard.”

Sissix had only been aboard the enforcement orbiter for a few minutes, but already, she loathed it. No windows. No colors. Silent hallways. Humorless, angular design. Everywhere she turned, a sense of disapproving sterility. She understood that prisons weren’t meant to be cheerful, but this was worse than she’d imagined. It was the sort of place that inspired you to never do anything bad ever again. The only good thing was the warmth, but even then, the heat was thick, heavy. It felt like something you could chew on.

They entered a holding room, which contained nothing but several wall-mounted scanners and an imposing set of doors. “Wait here,” said her escort. The Quelin punched a code into a wall panel. The doors fell open, and Sissix nearly gagged on the air that drifted out, a miasma of unwashed skin and bodily waste. She pressed her palm against her nostrils and took a step back. How did the Quelin stand it? Did they even have a sense of smell?

She fought down her growing sense of nausea and tried to see inside the detention area. The light was too dim to make out much of anything, but she could see body heat rising from pits in the floor. Pits. Did the rest of the GC know about this? Surely someone in Parliament did. Did they care? Did it make them lose sleep at night, knowing that they shared council sessions with sapients who treated other species this way? Or was easy access to teracite enough to remove those qualms? The sick feeling within her grew, but now it had nothing to do with the smell.

And I’m here for Corbin, she thought, the notion refusing to sink in. She was in this hollow corpse of a place, after filing some seriously binding formwork that would leash her for a standard—a fucking standard—and all for Corbin. That biting, ugly waste. Why him? Why her? She could accept him being on the ship, she could deal with having to share the same food and air, but this—this was absurd. And unfair. And unearned.

After a few moments, she could see the Enforcer heading back to the doors, walking behind a Human man. There was something wrong with him. Sissix could see it in the way he moved. What had they done to him? She sucked air between her teeth as he came closer. A dark spray of bruises covered his torso, purple ringed with yellow. His face was a mess, and his nose hung at the wrong angle. He moved stiffly, clutching his side with one arm. His other hand was busy trying to shield his genitals. Humans. Honestly, after being beaten and dumped in a pit, that’s what he was worrying about?

But then Sissix saw the look on Corbin’s face. She thought it was anger at first, but no—it was shame. She would never fully understand Human modesty, but she knew how deeply ingrained it was in them. She also knew that every hard feeling she had toward Corbin was returned in kind. For him to be pushed around without clothes on was probably humiliating enough, but to be seen that way by someone he despised was the ultimate insult. Sissix wished that someone else could have been sent for him. She looked away.

“Are you sure you want him?” the Enforcer asked. “He is an abomination.”

Sissix glared. “Go get the abomination’s clothes.”

“They were likely destroyed.”

She took a few steps forward to Corbin, who was having trouble standing. She took his arm and put it around her waist, helping him to stand. Had she ever touched him before? She didn’t think so. There must’ve been a handshake, at least, when he’d been hired. She spoke again to the Quelin. “Do you have anything? A blanket? A towel? Anything?”

The Enforcer hesitated, then opened a wall panel full of medical supplies. Despite his unreadable face, Sissix got the impression that this Quelin was treading lightly around her. She was nobody, but her species was one of the big three in the GC Parliament, and they had far more pull than the Quelin did. Their species’ diplomatic ties were tenuously civil at best, and an Aandrisk treated poorly at the hands of Quelin Enforcers was the sort of thing the news feeds would pounce on.

The Enforcer handed Sissix a small blanket, made of some foil-like synthetic fabric. She helped Corbin wrap it around his waist.

“Thank you,” he said in a thin voice. It was obvious that he was having trouble drawing a full breath. His eyes were fixed on the floor, but Sissix could see him fighting back a small ribbon of tears. Just one more embarrassment he was trying to prevent. Sissix took her eyes off his face. She had no business seeing him like this.

“Let’s get you home,” she said. She led him out of the room, the Enforcer following close behind.

After a moment, Corbin spoke in a whisper. “I wasn’t sure anyone would come for me.”

Sissix said nothing. Nothing she could say would sound right, or honest. They continued down the hallway. Corbin winced with every step. After a while, he said, “Why you?”

She sighed. “It’s complicated, and you are not going to like what’s going on any more than I do. But it can wait until Dr. Chef patches you up. For now, let’s just say… it was the right thing to do.”

An awkward silence fell between them. “Thank you,” Corbin said. “I… well. Thank you.”

“Yeah, well,” Sissix said. She cleared her throat. “From now on, though, I get to crank up the temperature as high as I want.”

Four days later, Corbin sat at his lab bench, spreading algae on a sample card. The last batch had come out slightly tacky, and he wasn’t sure why. He spread the algae thin, so that he would be able to see the cells clearly once he placed the card into the scanner. A normal task, but it didn’t feel that way. Nothing did, not his lab, not his bed, not his face. But that was exactly why normal tasks needed doing. He would put algae onto the card, and he’d put it into the scanner. He’d do it again and again, until it felt the way it had before.

“Excuse me, Corbin,” Lovey said through the vox.

“Yes?”

The AI paused. “There’s a sib call coming through for you. It’s from Tartarus.”

Corbin looked up from the algae and said nothing. Tartarus. A prison asteroid, out in the Kuiper Belt. There was only one person who would be calling him from there.

Lovey spoke again, her voice awkward. “I can dismiss the call if you like.”

“No,” Corbin said. He wiped the smear of green slime from the end of his sampling tool and set it aside. “Put it through down here.”

“Okay, Corbin. I hope it goes well.”

Corbin gave a curt nod. The vox clicked off. With a sigh, he turned to his desk and gestured at the pixel projector. The pixels scurried into action. A blinking red rectangle in the bottom of the projection indicated that he had a sib call waiting. He watched it blink five times before gesturing to answer it.

His father appeared. Corbin hadn’t spoken to the man in four standards. He had grown old. A little heavy, too, which was surprising. His father had always pushed Corbin to eat healthy. Corbin could see it now, the familiar curves and angles and lines in his father’s face. The features were more pronounced, worn deep with age, but they were the same as his own. It was more than just familial resemblance. Corbin would wear the same face one day.

His father spoke. “They hurt you.”

Corbin leaned back in his chair, making sure that his father could get a good look at the fading bruises on his face. This was exactly why he hadn’t let Dr. Chef fix anything but the bones. He had been hoping for this moment, the moment in which his father would see what his hubris had done. “Hello, Marcus. And yes, I came back from prison with a broken nose and three cracked ribs. One came damn close to puncturing my lung.”

“I’m sorry, Artis. I am so sorry.”

“Sorry,” said Corbin. “I get ripped out of my home, beaten to a pulp, and thrown into some Quelin hellhole, only to be told that my entire life is a lie—and you’re sorry. Well, thanks, but that doesn’t quite cut it.”

Marcus sighed. “This is why I called, you know. I figured you had some questions. If you can stop hating me for a few minutes, I’d be happy to answer them. I can’t make many calls from here. Ansible access is a rare thing.”

Corbin stared at the man in the pixels. He looked so defeated, so tired. Corbin found himself shaken by it, and it made him all the angrier. “All I want to know,” Corbin said, “is where I really came from.”

Marcus nodded and looked down at his lap. “You know all those times you asked about your mother?”

“Of course. All you ever said was that she died in a shuttle crash. You never wanted to talk about her. Which makes sense, since she never existed.”

“Oh, no,” Marcus said. “I did have a wife. She wasn’t your mother, of course, but…” His eyes went somewhere far away. “Artis, I’ve never been good with people. I’ve always preferred my lab. I like data. Data is consistent, it’s steady, it’s easy to understand. With data, you always know what the answer is. If the data doesn’t make sense, you can always puzzle it out. Unlike people.” He shook his head. “I can never puzzle out people. I’m sure you understand.”

Corbin clenched his jaw. Dammit, he thought. How much of me is actually you?

Marcus continued. “When I was a young man, I took a posting down on Overlook.” Corbin knew the place. It was one of the few labs down on the surface of Encaledus. Strictly quarantined, to prevent contamination of the microbial pools below the moon’s icy surface. Only one person manned Overlook at a time, and those who were assigned there were on their own for at least a year. It was rare that people took an Overlook assignment more than once. “I thought it was the perfect place for me. I loved working down there. No people to disturb my work or get in my way. Except for her.” He paused. “Her name was Sita. She flew the supply shuttle that brought me food and lab supplies. She couldn’t come in, of course, but I could watch her through the airlock cameras, and we spoke over the vox.” Marcus smiled, a warm, private smile. Corbin was startled. He’d never seen his father smile like that, not once. “And as you may suspect, she was beautiful. Not beautiful like they do in vids or when they’re trying to sell you something. Real beautiful. The kind of beautiful you could actually touch. And she wasn’t from the orbiter. She was from Mars.” He laughed under his breath. “I thought her accent was so damn cute.” Marcus shook his head, as if clearing it. His voice became more grounded. “I was awful to her, of course. I’d snap at her if she showed up while I was in the middle of testing, and I’ve always hated small talk, so I barely gave her the time of day. I was like that to everyone, but she… she didn’t care. She always put up with me, even when I was an ass to her. She always smiled. She made fun of me, for my bad moods, for my uncombed hair. For whatever reason, it didn’t make me mad. I liked the way she gave me a hard time. I started counting the days between supply drops. At first, I thought I was just lonely, that it was a symptom of living in isolation. It took me a while to realize just how in love with her I was.” He ran his hand back through his thin hair. “And then I got us both fired.”

“You what?”

Marcus cleared his throat. “One tenday, I spent all of my free time cleaning up the station. Made sure it looked presentable. Set the table with the nicer food that I’d been saving in the stasie.”

Corbin gaped. “You did not invite her in.”

“Oh, I did. And she accepted.”

“But,” Corbin sputtered. “Does that station even have a decontamination flash suitable for Humans?”

“Nope. I was sterilized before I went down to the station. The only flash installed there was meant for food and supplies. Having her walk through it wasn’t even an option.”

“But your samples!” His mind reeled. Throughout Corbin’s entire childhood, Marcus had drilled him with the importance of preventing contamination. One time, he’d revoked dessert privileges for a month after catching Corbin eating candy in the lab. Corbin didn’t know the person that Marcus was describing. It certainly wasn’t the father he knew.

“All ruined,” Marcus said. “She had just enough benign bacteria on her to cause a few problems. The project leader was furious when she found out. Six months of work, gone. Sita was fired, and I was given the option to either start the year over or leave the project entirely.”

“You stayed?”

“Oh, no, I left. I had just had one of the best days of my life, and it was all thanks to that beautiful woman. We hadn’t even done anything that interesting. We just ate all my food and talked about everything. She made me laugh. And for reasons I still don’t understand, I made her smile. There was no way I was going to be locked away from her down on Overlook. I spent the next five years trying to put my career back together, but it was worth it.”

“So,” Corbin said, bewildered. His brain could not accept the image of his father as a lovesick young man willing to contaminate his lab. “You married her.”

Marcus chuckled. “Not right away. I begged and scraped and pleaded until I found somebody willing to hire me at the gene library. Awful job, but I was lucky to get anything at that point. The head lab tech there had done a year down on Overlook, too. I think he sympathized. Sita got a job with a cargo company based on Titan that didn’t ask too many questions, either about who she was or what cargo they took on. Shady work, but… well, we thought it was a good thing at the time. Since I was back on the orbiter, we could see each other more often. And after a time, I married her. We had five wonderful years together.” Marcus’s face grew tight, and for a moment, Corbin thought that he could see all the years of his father’s life press down upon him. “One morning, she told me she’d have to leave her job in a few months. I asked why. She told me she was pregnant. I was ecstatic. By that time, I’d crawled my way up to a better position in the library, and we had enough credits saved up to start thinking about living elsewhere. It was the perfect time to begin a family. I’d never even thought that a family was something that I’d be able to have. I mean, who’d love me?” His pixelated eyes found Corbin’s. Corbin said nothing. Marcus continued. “Two tendays later, Sita was making a run from Titan to Earth. Ambi cells. She normally didn’t make runs that long, but they were paying her double because of the valuable cargo. It wasn’t the sort of job she could say no to. Thing was, the bastards at the shuttleyard didn’t check to make sure that the containment seals were properly installed. This is before the GC really started cracking down on unsafe ambi. Bureaucrats don’t give a damn about anything unless it starts to affect a significant number of their constituents.” Marcus took a breath. “I’m sure you can guess what happened next.”

“The seals broke,” Corbin said. Marcus nodded. “I’m sorry.” He meant it, for Sita’s sake. At least an ambi accident was a quick way to go. The woman probably hadn’t had time to realize that anything had gone wrong. Still, unfortunate as the story was, it didn’t address the important question. “This doesn’t explain why you felt the need to clone yourself.”

“Doesn’t it?” Marcus said. “Sita was gone, and with her went the only chance at family I thought I’d ever get. I buried all thoughts of her, and focused instead on the child I could have had.”

“You could’ve adopted.”

“I wanted my own flesh and blood. Proof that someone had loved me enough to create a new life with me.”

Corbin scoffed. “You could’ve found a surrogate. You could’ve met someone else.”

“Yes, I’m sure you’d think that clearly if you were in the midst of grieving your dead wife,” Marcus snapped. There. That was the father that Corbin knew. At least he was on familiar ground now.

“So where did you do it?” Corbin asked. “Where was the vat that you grew me in?”

“Stitch. I took everything Sita and I had saved, and went to Stitch.”

“Stitch. Lovely.” Stitch was a fringe colony that served as a haven for the darker side of the modding community. Even visiting Stitch was liable to get you interrogated and slapped with jail time if someone back in the GC found out about your little trip. There weren’t many legal reasons for visiting such a place.

“After you were… well, after you came to be, I stayed a few more months, then brought you home.”

“How did you explain the infant?”

“I said that I’d met a woman on Port Coriol. We shared a night together, and next thing I knew, I had a son. I said that your mother couldn’t take care of you, so I took you home instead. I chose a non-augmented gestation process, so it did actually take nine months for you to fully form, and you aged at a normal rate. There was no reason for anyone to question it. My family chalked it up to me still grieving, but you know I didn’t talk to them much anyway. As for Sita’s family… they didn’t want anything to do with me after that. They’d never liked me to start, and I suppose they didn’t like the idea of me sharing someone else’s bed so soon after their daughter’s death.”

Corbin held up his hand. Old family drama was the least of his concerns. “You said non-augmented gestation process. Is there anything about me that was augmented?” Dr. Chef had told him there was nothing out-of-the-ordinary about his body, but he wanted to be damn sure.

Marcus shook his head. “No. The tech who made… the tech I hired kept trying to convince me to add a few tweaks, but I put my foot down. You’re the same as me. Flaws and all.”

Corbin leaned forward. “That’s why, isn’t it?”

“That’s why, what?”

“Mistakes were never okay by you. A broken sample dish, a dirty sock on the floor, a spilled cup of juice. It didn’t matter how well-behaved I was at school, or how good my grades were. I’d come home with a score card full of ‘excellents,’ but all you’d focus on was the one ‘average’ mark.”

“I just wanted you to be the best that you could be.”

“What you wanted,” Corbin said slowly, “was for me to improve upon all the mistakes that you had made yourself. You didn’t want me to be my own person. You wanted me to be a better version of you.”

“I thought—”

“I was a kid! Kids make mistakes! And it didn’t stop when I grew up, either, you never once stopped to tell me that you were proud of me or that I’d done all right. I was an experiment to you. You were never satisfied with positive results, you just kept looking for the flaw causing faulty data.”

Marcus was silent for a long time. “I am proud of you, Artis,” he said. “Though I’m sure that’s too little, too late. There’s no way for me to go back and be a better father.” He looked back to Corbin. “There’s one thing, though, that I’m very glad of.”

“What’s that?”

His father gave a sad smile and looked around the sterile prison room. “That it’s me in here and not you.” He sighed. “They told me that you have to reapply for citizenship.”

“Yes. I’m leashed to one of my crewmates for the next standard.”

“You’re lucky,” Marcus said. “Aside from Sita, I never had any friends good enough to do that for me.”

Corbin shifted in his chair. “She’s not a friend,” he said. “She despises me, in fact. Just not enough to let me die in a Quelin prison.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Artis. Even unpleasant bastards like us deserve company.” He smirked. “That’s a quote from my wife, by the way.”

Corbin exhaled something like a laugh. “I’d have liked to have met her,” he said. Something occurred to him. “Though if she had lived, I wouldn’t exist.”

“No,” said Marcus. “But I’m glad that you do.”

Really? Would you have traded her for me, if you’d known? “How long is your sentence?”

“Twelve standards,” Marcus said. “I’ll be an old man once I get out. But I’ll be fine. I’ve been treated well here so far. And I’ve got a cell all to myself. I can finally catch up on my reading.”

Corbin noticed a spot of dried algae gunk on his desk. It was a good thing to focus on. “One more thing,” he said, scratching the gunk away.

“Yes?”

“My birthday. Is my birthday my real birthday? Or my pulled-from-vat day, I suppose?”

“Yes. Why?”

“I don’t know. It’s been bothering me.” He looked around his lab. “I have to get back to work now.”

“Yes, of course,” Marcus said. “The guards will be telling me to end the call soon anyway.” A pleading look filled his eyes. “Maybe… maybe we could…?”

They stared at one another. There was more distance between them than just pixels and space. “I don’t know,” Corbin said. “Maybe.”

Marcus nodded. “Take care of yourself, son.” He waved his hand. The image faded. The pixels withdrew.

Corbin sat listening to the humming pulse of the algae vats. After a while, he picked up his scrib from the desk. He opened his log program and made a quick entry.

October 25. Still my birthday.

“You’re pensive tonight,” Lovey said.

“Am I?” Jenks said.

“Yes,” Lovey said. “You’ve got that little crease between your eyes that you get when something’s on your mind.”

Jenks rubbed the skin between his eyebrows. “I didn’t realize I was so easy to read.”

“Not to everyone.”

Jenks leaned back against the wall with a sigh and pulled his redreed tin from his pocket. “It’s this whole thing with Corbin.”

“Ah,” said Lovey. “I think everyone’s still shaken up. Corbin hasn’t been sleeping well. He stays up late accessing his personal files. Mostly pictures of himself as a child.”

“Please don’t tell me that stuff,” Jenks said, stuffing his pipe. “You know I don’t like snooping.”

Lovey laughed. “You’re not snooping. That’s what I’m doing. You’re just gossiping.”

“Oh, well, if that’s all.” He lit the pipe, sucking air through the burning leaves. The smoke in his lungs made his shoulders go slack. “Poor Corbin. I can’t imagine being thrown for a loop like that.” He turned his head, pressing his ear against the wall. “Is that your tertiary synapse router making that click?”

“Let me check. It’s functioning normally.”

“Hmm. I don’t like that sound.” He moved to face the wall and removed the access panel. His eyes darted over the lace of blinking circuits that lay within. “Yeah, see, right here. The shunt’s worn out.”

“Save it ’til morning, Jenks. That’ll take hours, and you’ve been working all day.”

Jenks frowned. “Okay, but you wake me up if you experience any gaps in memory.”

“I’ll be fine,” Lovey said with fondness. “I can’t even tell that anything’s wrong.” Jenks replaced the panel. Lovey spoke again. “I don’t think Corbin is what’s bothering you.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Then what is?”

“I don’t know, but I wish you’d say.”

Jenks sighed, exhaling. The tiny worklamps overhead cast beams of light down through the smoky swirls. “I’ve been thinking about your body kit.”

Lovey paused. “There’s a catch and you didn’t tell me.”

“No,” said Jenks, taking the pipe from his mouth. “No catch. This whole deal is as respectable as you can be in black market business. Even the price was fair, all things considered.”

“Then what’s troubling you?”

“Corbin’s dad. That guy must’ve spent a fortune on getting himself cloned. Somehow, he was careful enough to not only make sure that Corbin never found out about it, but that the law never found out, either. And he got away with it for decades. Corbin’s more than passable. He’s the real deal. No tweaks, no enhancements. Hell, even Dr. Chef didn’t notice until he made a point to go looking for it. And yet…”

“And yet he still got caught.”

“Yeah. After all that money and all that planning, that poor bastard’s locked up in prison, and Corbin’s lost his citizenship. And that’s after he got the shit kicked out of him by those fucking Quelin.” He sat up. “Look, we always knew getting a kit would be risky. But I’m not sure I really thought about what that meant. I mean, okay, I knew prison would suck, but I’d always figured that if the law was on my ass, I could just take you and go to Cricket, or maybe a fringe planet somewhere. Wouldn’t be perfect, but it’d be safe. But all this mess with Corbin got me thinking about what would actually happen if we got caught. Let’s say I got caught with the kit before I uploaded you into it. Okay, I’d go to jail, Mr. Crisp would go to jail, but you’d be fine. You’d still be here, on the Wayfarer, with all our friends. Kizzy could look after you until Ashby got a new comp tech, and you’d still be here when I got out. But what if we didn’t get caught until much later on, not until after you were in the kit? What if it was, like, ten years down the road and we’d stopped being careful? What if one of us said the wrong thing to the wrong person, or what if bio scanners got good enough to see what you really were? What if we got stopped by the Quelin again and they wanted to do a blood scan? I’d still go to jail, but they’d dismantle you, Lovey. When my sentence was up, you’d be gone. Not away, not somewhere where I knew you were safe. Gone.”

Lovey was quiet. “The kit’s on its way, Jenks.”

“I know.”

“And you can’t get your money back.”

He sighed. “I know. But it won’t break me. And besides, maybe we can still use it. Maybe the laws will change down the road. We could just wait until it’s safer. Or until I leave the ship, or something.”

“This was my decision too, you know. You didn’t push me into it.”

“I know. And I won’t tell you no, not if it’s what you want. But I’m scared. I’m starting to think maybe I wanted this so bad that I didn’t let myself acknowledge just how fucking dangerous it is.” He looked down at his hands. “As bad as I want to hold you, I don’t know if it’s worth the risk of losing you forever. Maybe it’s better to just go on like this and know that there’s no chance of somebody taking you away.”

The room was silent, or as silent as it could be. The air filters hissed. The cooling system surrounding Lovey’s core hummed. “Jenks, do you remember when we first talked about this? When I told you all the reasons why I wanted to have a body?”

“Yeah.”

“I lied when I said it wasn’t for you. Of course it’s for you. I do think it’d present some wonderful opportunities for me, and I imagine it to be a very good life. But it was always, always for you. I wouldn’t have thought to do it otherwise, not in a serious way.”

“But… you said. Your pros and cons—”

“Were things I came up with after I’d decided that this was something you deserved. I wouldn’t have ever mentioned it if I thought it would make me unhappy. I do have some self-respect, after all. But yes, it was for you. And if it scares you more than it excites you, then there’s no point to it. I’m happy here. I’m happy with you. Would I like a body? Yes. Am I willing to face the risks? Yes. But I’m content as is, and if you are too, then maybe that’s enough for now. Not forever, maybe, but we don’t need to rush. I can wait for the galaxy outside to get a little kinder.”

He swallowed. “Lovey, it’s not that I… I mean, I want this so much, I just—”

“Shh. Come in further,” she said. Jenks snuffed out his pipe, put it back in the tin, and moved toward the pit. He reached for the sweater lying on the floor.

“Leave it,” she said.

He could hear her cooling system shut down. “Not for too long,” he said.

“Not for too long.”

He took off his clothes and climbed into the pit, as he had done many times. He sat down and leaned back against her core, his bare skin bathed in her glow. Without the chilled air, she felt like sunlight, only softer.

“I will always understand if you need to find someone who can give you more than this,” Lovey said. “I wouldn’t hold that against you. I sometimes worry that I am holding you back from the kind of life an organic sapient should have. But if you choose this freely, then I don’t need a body, Jenks. We’ve always been together without one. I don’t know how to love you any other way.”

He pressed his back against her, pressed the soles of his feet, his shoulders, his palms, trying to soak in as much of her as he could. He twisted back and brought his lips to her. He kissed the smooth, warm metal and said, “I don’t see any reason to change the best thing I’ve ever had.”