Joston
“Later, we’ll go over the schematics,” I say to Aeryen, who’s the most fickle being I’ve ever encountered.
In less than a day, he’s fallen in love with piloting, with the Marinax, with the entire engine room and the trafence boards in particular, with intergalactic travel, with Aymee Desryx, and probably a little bit with me. But just a small little bit. And it’s only because I’m the catalyst for all his other new loves.
If I’d landed on Engra and docked the way I was required to, he probably wouldn’t even like me. Well, come to think of it, I wouldn’t like me.
“Thanks for fixing that, guys,” Aymee says, directing her gratitude more toward Aeryen than me.
“It was easy!” Aeryen says. Gotta admire his crazy confidence.
“Well, some are more talented than others,” Aymee says.
“True,” Aeryen says, like he’s a wise old sage or something. The kid cracks me up.
“They’re showing Parst tonight,” Aymee says. “Again.”
“The Treachery of Joston Parst?” Aeryen says, practically boiling over with yet more excitement. “That’s my favorite vid ever!”
“It would be,” I say, wondering what the hell I’m going to do tonight. See if Lasson’s got any of that Sircean brandy left, probably. And stay down in the engine room with Aymee while I overindulge in the stuff.
“Sorry, Joston,” Aeryen says. “But it is my favorite vid. I love the part where that guy’s hand rots off!”
“Yeah,” I say. “You cannot believe how many Choryneans there are with only one hand.”
“Really?” Aeryen says.
“Well,” I say.
“You’re lying,” Aeryen says. “I thought you weren’t going to lie.”
“I thought you were conducting an experiment,” I say, “not acting as my moral compass.”
“Aymee,” Aeryen says, determined to never be in over his head, “I can’t be a compass, can I?”
“Certainly not,” Aymee says as she repositions herself on her chair for maybe the twentieth time in the last two minutes. “Joston is lying. There’s no one on Choryn who’s had their hand rot off. Joston Parst is a made-up story. You know that—right, Aeryen?”
“Yes,” he says, “and I think Joston is a great name.”
“He’s not completely evil,” I say, defending Parst. “He does save that she-bear.”
“Only because he has to,” says the know-all kid.
“I give up,” I say.
“Lunchtime,” Aymee says. “Hungry?” she says to Aeryen.
“Yes!” he says.
I help Aymee up from her chair.
“When’s the birthday?” I say.
“You’re having a birthday?” Aeryen says. “Will there be a party?”
“I’m having a baby,” Aymee says, pointing to her impressive abdomen. She let me feel it once when the baby was kicking. Pretty amazing stuff, this procreation.
“Not for another month, at least,” Aymee says. “So it’ll be a while before there’s a party.”
“Too bad,” says Aeryen.
I expect he thought that besides flying a transport raft, visiting the Marinax, fixing trafence boards, and keeping track of my inevitable lies, he was also going to get to attend a party.
“Too bad indeed,” I say. “But you are going to get to sample some interesting Chorynean food. Actually, Aeryen, it’s Chengdry food.”
Aymee stabs a glare at me in much the same way Niya’s done a few times. I guess I’m not supposed to say anything, but Aeryen’s going to find out sooner or later. Aymee noticed right away. Any Chorynean would.
“What’s Chengdry?” Aeryen says in a rare admittance of ignorance.
“It’s—” I start, but Aymee interrupts me.
“It’s the most delicious food anywhere in the Seven Galaxies,” she says.
“And—” I start again, but Aymee intercepts me before I have a chance to say anything else.
“And it’s the specialty of our chef on the ship,” Aymee says. “You’ll love it.”
“Let’s go!” says Aeryen. It’s obvious he’s dying to race around a bit, so I point down the corridor that leads to the mess and he takes off.
“He’s got to find out eventually,” I say to Aymee when Aeryen’s well out of earshot.
“He does,” she says, “but not today. And not from us.”
I see Aymee wince again. This time I’m sure of it.
“Are you okay?”
“Chlo says I’m fine,” she says. “Right on schedule. Nothing to worry about. The closer to the delivery you get, the more sensations you have. I’m driving Nik crazy.”
“I didn’t think Big World Terrans were capable of crazy,” I say.
“If they’re married to a pregnant Chorynean, they are,” Aymee says as she readjusts the Big World marriage band on her left wrist. They have no such physical object to represent mating on Choryn.
Then why am I picturing a similar band on Niya’s wrist?
Maybe she was wearing a bracelet and I’m just remembering it. Or maybe she is mated and I’ve lost my ability to ferret out the truth and this image has arisen to remind me.
“I hear there’s trouble on Engra,” Aymee says as we near the mess.
“There are barriers up on some of the roadways,” I say, “but I didn’t notice anything else.”
“Nik told me there’s talk of rebellion and that we have to accelerate our schedule here. That’s the real reason you were called back early.”
Aeryen runs back toward us, ending the conversation.
“Let’s go!” he says. “I’m hungry!”