Tak gave a short, polite Aeluon smile that vanished almost as soon as it had appeared. His cheeks roiled with nervous conflict. He emptied the ash from his pipe, then began to refill it.
Pepper and Blue exchanged a worried glance. The same concern crept through Sidra. Tak knew, and they didn’t know him at all. I don’t even know him, Sidra thought. We had a nice conversation, and I confused that for knowing someone. So stupid. So stupid. And yet, of all the deadly serious things she was scared of in that moment – Tak calling the Port Authority, Pepper and Blue getting in trouble, the likelihood of the kit being deactivated with her still in it – the situational variable that was stuck in the loudest, most unhappy processing loop was the thought of Tak no longer wanting to hang out with her. So stupid.
‘Can we go home?’ she said quietly, doing her best to not meet Tak’s eye.
Pepper turned to the shopkeeper. ‘Listen. Tak. I’m truly grateful for your help today. We all are. And I’m really sorry for the scare you went through. Blue and I – we take responsibility for that.’
‘Pepper—’ Sidra said.
Pepper carried on. ‘We knew she was coming here today, and the potential for risk didn’t occur to either of us. It was a major oversight on our part. I can’t apologise enough.’ She met the kit’s eyes. ‘To both of you.’ Pepper pressed her lips together, choosing her words with care. ‘I know the situation here is . . . unusual.’
Tak gave a short, audible exhale – a relative rarity for his silent species. It was a scoff, a reaction that happened too quick for talkbox phrasing. Sidra’s pathways felt as if they were folding in on themselves. She wanted to go home. She wanted to be anywhere that wasn’t here.
Pepper didn’t miss a beat. ‘If you want money, we can pay you. That’s no problem. Or free fix-it services, we can arrange—’
Tak cut her off. ‘I won’t say anything. Okay? It’s fine. I’ve seen plenty of weird modder shit and I really don’t care. It is not my business. I just don’t want it coming back to me if this project of yours gets found out. I don’t know about this, okay? I don’t know about this, and I have nothing to do with it.’
‘You think she’s – it’s not like that. Sidra’s not a project.’
‘Okay. I told you, I don’t care.’
Blue helped the kit up. ‘C-come on,’ he whispered. ‘We, uh, we should go.’
Pepper sighed. ‘Okay,’ she said to Tak. A tightness crept into her voice, but she remained civil. She owed him, and she knew it. ‘Thank you for being cool about this.’
Sidra headed for the door with Blue, but something made her turn back around. She and Tak stared at each other across the long room. Sidra wasn’t quite sure what he was feeling. She got the impression maybe he didn’t know either.
‘I’m sorry,’ Sidra said. ‘I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.’
Tak looked not to her, but to the Humans accompanying her. Looked at them like you might look at a child’s parents if the kid asked something odd. Like you might look at the owner of a pet that strayed into your house.
‘I came here on my own,’ she said, her voice loud, her pathways spiking with injury and anger. ‘I came here. It wasn’t a directive. It wasn’t a task. I wanted to see you. I thought you could help me. I didn’t mean to cause trouble.’
‘Hey,’ Pepper said softly, putting her hand on the kit’s arm. ‘Sweetie, come on. Let’s go home.’
‘Wait,’ Tak said. ‘Wait.’ He was looking at Sidra now. His pipe smouldered between his fingers. ‘What—’ He paused, uncomfortable, unsure. ‘What did you want my help with?’
‘I already told you,’ Sidra said. ‘Twice, we’ve talked about it.’ She gestured at the kit. ‘This isn’t me. And you – you understood how I felt about that. Or you did, before an hour ago.’ She searched his face, looking for some glimmer of recognition, for that easy dynamic they’d fallen into when Tak had thought they were more or less the same. She saw only confusion and smoke. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said again. So stupid. She walked out of the shop and into the marketplace. Pepper and Blue followed close behind, their silence hanging thick between them. The crowd flowed around her, dozens of faces, dozens of names, dozens of stories in progress. She’d never felt so alone.
JANE, ALMOST 12
The shuttle hatch slid open. Jane entered, dragging her heavy haul on squeaking wheels. ‘I got some good stuff today.’ She knocked the dust off her shoes (made with thick rubber from a tyre liner, topped with cushion foam and a lot of wrap-around fabric from an old exosuit) and took off her jacket (more scavenged fabric, but from a real ugly chair). She left both by the door. ‘Check it out.’ She heard Owl’s cameras whir towards her as she started pulling stuff off of the wagon. ‘Switch couplers, fabric—’
‘What’s “fabric” in Klip?’ Owl asked.
‘Delet.’
‘That’s right. And what’s that thing behind the fabric?’
Jane glanced at the dead dog, hanging over the back of the wagon. ‘Bashorel.’
‘Can you make a sentence in Klip with that word?’ Owl asked.
Jane thought. ‘Laeken pa bashorel toh.’
‘Almost. Lae-ket kal bashorel toh.’