wanted and never be thirsty.
That’s it. He was thirsty.
And he smelled food.
The girls chattered to some man, all three of them laughing quietly. Kyle . He blinked and oriented himself to the direction of the voices. They must have gotten up and gone past him into the kitchen. Since he could hear all of them, it was safe to bolt for the privy.
Kyle fed them a better breakfast than Onor ever remembered tasting. It was the same base stuff as always, protein and vegetables, breakfruit and enhanced water, but Kyle had added a salty sharpness that lingered on Onor’s tongue.
Ruby asked, “How’d you make that so good?”
“Magic,” Kyle said and grinned.
“Nope.” Marcelle teased him. “Magic’s only in stories. What’cha got?”
Kyle pointed at dried flowers and plants hung upside down above the sink. “I have a friend who works in the gardens. He planted these for me.”
Hidden resources. “That was the best breakfast I ever had,” Onor told him.
Ruby asked, “Has there been any news? Will they tell us where our families went?”
Kyle grunted as he reached up to set two clean drinking bulbs into their holders. “Reds don’t tell us much yet. I’m on day shift. I’ll take you to see Owl Paulie on the way, if you like. I imagine C-pod was laid out the same, so you can find your way back.”
They dodged more people in the corridors here than at home, probably from the relocation. Onor recognized a few, waving but not stopping. Hopefully the reclamation center and the gardens would hold up to so many new mouths.
They passed B-pod’s common. It, too, was like theirs. Except it had pale blue walls painted with orange and red and yellow fish rather than pale orange walls decorated with gray and brown and black birds. Refugees wandered or sat on benches, looking lost and worried. He spotted old Ben standing against a wall, observing.
Ix’s voice startled him, tumbling from all of the speakers at once. “All home personnel report for normal duty. Repeat. All home personnel, all pods, report for duty as usual. Anyone wounded in yesterday’s accident is to report to medical by the end of this shift. All off-duty crew members are to report to common at 15:30.”
Ruby looked sour. “They could at least tell us if the ship’s still falling apart.”
“I guess we get the day off,” Onor said. “That’s some information.”
Ruby grinned at him, and Marcelle thumped him on the back, hard. Damn her. She could stop pushing him around any time.
Owl Paulie lived in the retirement warrens near medical: rows of small places with good access to doctors, extra handholds on the wall, and extra grime on the corridor floors and walls.
Owl Paulie’s set of two rooms smelled like age—mostly dry but with a slight sour tang. Kitchen and living room had been crammed into the same space, with three locked drawers and one set of shelves that held pots and games strapped down. Ruby, Onor, and Marcelle pulled chairs out of the wall and sat close enough together to touch. The only padded chair was red, with handmade cushions. Although it wasn’t big, it dwarfed its occupant.
Owl Paulie’s limbs were knobby and thin as robot arms. His skull threatened to burst free of his skin, and big, laughing eyes hid behind folds of wrinkles. As soon as Kyle left them, the old man held his hand out to Ruby and said, “I’ve heard much about you.”
Her cheeks reddened and she smiled faintly. She asked, “What do you know of us? From where?”
“Of you, Ruby.” Owl Paulie shook a bit as he sat. His voice was so soft. Onor held his breath, leaning in close to the old man’s dry, cracked lips. “Hugh’s told me how you sing, and how you fight everything. He admires you very much. For both skills.”
Ruby looked as surprised as Onor felt.
Owl Paulie took a tiny sip of water and kept going. “Hugh told me what he heard last night. That the sky gave way in your park and showed you the belly of The Creative Fire .”
He
That’s it. He was thirsty.
And he smelled food.
The girls chattered to some man, all three of them laughing quietly. Kyle . He blinked and oriented himself to the direction of the voices. They must have gotten up and gone past him into the kitchen. Since he could hear all of them, it was safe to bolt for the privy.
Kyle fed them a better breakfast than Onor ever remembered tasting. It was the same base stuff as always, protein and vegetables, breakfruit and enhanced water, but Kyle had added a salty sharpness that lingered on Onor’s tongue.
Ruby asked, “How’d you make that so good?”
“Magic,” Kyle said and grinned.
“Nope.” Marcelle teased him. “Magic’s only in stories. What’cha got?”
Kyle pointed at dried flowers and plants hung upside down above the sink. “I have a friend who works in the gardens. He planted these for me.”
Hidden resources. “That was the best breakfast I ever had,” Onor told him.
Ruby asked, “Has there been any news? Will they tell us where our families went?”
Kyle grunted as he reached up to set two clean drinking bulbs into their holders. “Reds don’t tell us much yet. I’m on day shift. I’ll take you to see Owl Paulie on the way, if you like. I imagine C-pod was laid out the same, so you can find your way back.”
They dodged more people in the corridors here than at home, probably from the relocation. Onor recognized a few, waving but not stopping. Hopefully the reclamation center and the gardens would hold up to so many new mouths.
They passed B-pod’s common. It, too, was like theirs. Except it had pale blue walls painted with orange and red and yellow fish rather than pale orange walls decorated with gray and brown and black birds. Refugees wandered or sat on benches, looking lost and worried. He spotted old Ben standing against a wall, observing.
Ix’s voice startled him, tumbling from all of the speakers at once. “All home personnel report for normal duty. Repeat. All home personnel, all pods, report for duty as usual. Anyone wounded in yesterday’s accident is to report to medical by the end of this shift. All off-duty crew members are to report to common at 15:30.”
Ruby looked sour. “They could at least tell us if the ship’s still falling apart.”
“I guess we get the day off,” Onor said. “That’s some information.”
Ruby grinned at him, and Marcelle thumped him on the back, hard. Damn her. She could stop pushing him around any time.
Owl Paulie lived in the retirement warrens near medical: rows of small places with good access to doctors, extra handholds on the wall, and extra grime on the corridor floors and walls.
Owl Paulie’s set of two rooms smelled like age—mostly dry but with a slight sour tang. Kitchen and living room had been crammed into the same space, with three locked drawers and one set of shelves that held pots and games strapped down. Ruby, Onor, and Marcelle pulled chairs out of the wall and sat close enough together to touch. The only padded chair was red, with handmade cushions. Although it wasn’t big, it dwarfed its occupant.
Owl Paulie’s limbs were knobby and thin as robot arms. His skull threatened to burst free of his skin, and big, laughing eyes hid behind folds of wrinkles. As soon as Kyle left them, the old man held his hand out to Ruby and said, “I’ve heard much about you.”
Her cheeks reddened and she smiled faintly. She asked, “What do you know of us? From where?”
“Of you, Ruby.” Owl Paulie shook a bit as he sat. His voice was so soft. Onor held his breath, leaning in close to the old man’s dry, cracked lips. “Hugh’s told me how you sing, and how you fight everything. He admires you very much. For both skills.”
Ruby looked as surprised as Onor felt.
Owl Paulie took a tiny sip of water and kept going. “Hugh told me what he heard last night. That the sky gave way in your park and showed you the belly of The Creative Fire .”
He
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