A Closed and Common Orbit (Wayfarers #2)

Sidra wasn’t sure whether to laugh or feel insulted. ‘Of course not.’

‘Well, I don’t know, maybe they asked you the wrong question, or—’

‘Stars. No. I said it was code taken from the Lovelace Monitoring System, which is entirely true. More importantly, my professor reviewed my work – the exact steps I’m about to talk you through – and he said it was perfect. I know this will work.’

‘So . . . you can copy your code, and edit that. But you can’t edit the code inside your own core.’ Tak’s entire face was a frown.

The kit gave an exasperated smile. ‘Tak. Please.’ She reached out and touched the implant in his forehead, ringed with faded scar tissue. ‘You think your fathers didn’t worry when they sent you in to have something implanted in your brain? You think their fathers didn’t worry, too?’

Tak said nothing for five seconds. A pale, caring blue filled his cheeks. ‘Dammit. All right. Okay.’ He placed his hand atop the kit’s and sighed again. ‘I need some mek first.’





JANE, AGE 19


Jane stared at the ceiling, willing herself to get out of bed. Come on, she thought irritably. Get up, Jane. Get the fuck up. You can do it. This is the last one. Last one.

She sat up. She always slept longer than she should these days. She didn’t know how a person could sleep so much and be so tired.

She tied her clothes around herself. Bunches of fabric hung loose at her hips. She glanced at herself in the mirror, but didn’t look long. She knew what she’d see. Ribs. Bones. Hollow eyes. Being inside that body scared her, but it was the only body she had, and if it scared her, well, then she wouldn’t look at it. Being scared would just waste time she didn’t have.

‘Last time,’ Owl said, following her down the hall. ‘You can do this.’

Jane opened the stasie. The shelves were filled with meat and mushrooms, stacked and counted, divvied up as evenly as she could. There was enough for two people to eat two fillets and one bowl of mushrooms per day for thirty-seven days, plus extra to get her to and from the fuel factory. She’d have to go two days without eating – one on the way there, one on the way back. Laurian would have to skip a day, too. She hoped he’d be fine with that. He’d have to be.

She stared at the food, all the food she couldn’t eat. She hated it. She hated how much work it took to gather and prepare. She hated the smell of the meat, the texture of the fungus. She hated the pieces of dog staring accusingly at her. She hated how much closer the live ones circled her these days, how much bolder they’d gotten ever since she’d started skipping meals.

She ran her tongue over the spot where another tooth had fallen out, a ragged snap at the root. It had been gone two weeks, but the gum still bled a bit, sharp and metallic. She had a few scrapes on her legs from the last food trip that weren’t healing well, either. She looked gross, she knew. Would Laurian find her gross? His problem if so. He could either deal with her grossness or stay put. Up to him.

She leaned her head against the stasie door. She was so tired. Stars, she was so tired.

‘You’ll be all right, Jane,’ Owl said, but her voice wasn’t sure. The screen in the kitchen wasn’t on, which meant Owl was hiding her sad mouth, her worried eyes. Jane hated that, too. She didn’t want Owl to feel that way on her account.

Jane nodded and tried to smile, just to make Owl feel better. ‘Last time,’ she said, moving food from stasie to satchel. ‘Last time.’





SIDRA


The surface market was overwhelming as ever, but Sidra felt she could walk through it a little braver now. This time, she didn’t have to shrink away from strangers. This time, she was prepared.

‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ Tak was watching her closely, as he had been since they left his shop. There was no need for it, but the intent was appreciated.

Sidra started to say the words I’m fine, but another possible response appeared, a far more tantalising one: ‘I don’t feel any different.’ Her pathways buzzed gleefully. It wasn’t true. It wasn’t true. There was a difference in her – not a big one, but she could feel it. I don’t feel any different was a nice, colloquial way to reassure someone that she was okay, but an hour before, she wouldn’t have been able to say it.

She managed to keep the kit from skipping.

A shopfront caught her eye. ‘I want to go in there,’ she said, making an abrupt turn.

‘Wait, what—’ she heard Tak say as she stepped through a smooth, curved doorway. It was an exosuit shop, filled with everything an organic sapient needed for a stroll out in space. Suits for different species stood smartly on display, as if their occupants had just stepped out. There were rocket boots, too, and all manner of breathing apparatus. Another Aeluon stood when they entered, clearly eager for customers. Her cheeks flashed in greeting to Tak.

Becky Chambers's books