one in her hand. It’s charred in a few spots and the middle looks a bit like melted frosting. All the tiny, glittering components have melted together and smooshed into a silvery mess. Disappointment flares inside me. “This isn’t an easy fix, is it?”
“Nope. I don’t even know how they made these particular parts, so replacing them - if we can even replace them - is going to be a real bitch.” She slides her square back into the wall and then carefully takes the panel from me and replaces it. “I’m not giving up, but it’s going to take time.”
Time’s something I feel like I don’t have. I fight back tears of frustration. “How long? Weeks? Months?” Just the thought of holding out for a few more months makes me want to crawl out of my own skin.
The look Harlow gives me is sympathetic. “Maybe longer, girl. I don’t know. I try to do what I can but this is alien technology. If I can’t plug part A into slot B, I might not be able to do anything. What I can do is pretty basic. And my time to work on things is limited, between Rukh and Rukhar, and day to day chores. There’s not a ton of time to fiddle with machines, no matter how much I want to.”
She’s right. Of course she’s right. There’s so many additional chores to daily living that they eat up a lot of day. You can’t just buy a new shirt from a store - you have to hunt the animal, cure the leather, cut it and sew it before you can wear it. Everything on Not-Hoth takes six steps instead of one, and it eats up the day. I know Harlow’s trying, but the thought of waiting months or longer? I can’t. I don’t have that time.
I put a hand on my forehead, trying to think. I can hear Rukh and Haeden talking quietly in the next room - I know they’re close because my cootie is purring madly. It won’t stop.
There’s only one way to make things stop if I can’t get my cootie out of me. Unease clenches my stomach. Sex with Haeden.
Sex with someone that hates me. Ugh.
I’ve had bad sex in the past. I’ve been abused by foster parents, raped by aliens, and gone on terrible dates where things got out of hand. I’ve made bad choices and I’ve had others’ bad choices thrust on me. I’ve survived it all. I can live if I have awful, unpleasant, unwanted sex again.
But the thought of bringing a child into this? It feels so wrong.
I’m trapped. I don’t know what to do.
“I’m sorry,” Harlow says. Her hand touches mine. “I really do wish I could help.”
“It’s okay. I’ll think of something.” I don’t know what, but there’s got to be a way out of this.
----
I retreat to one of the old rooms of the ship, just to get away from the others. Harlow’s busy with the baby and a jigsaw of components, and Rukh and Haeden are preparing food near the fire. I don’t feel like talking or holding the baby - for once - so I hide away where I can have some time to myself to think.
The back of the ship isn’t in use. Harlow and Rukh stay to the front, and the sa-khui never go exploring deep into the bowels. They don’t trust the ship, especially since the ‘walls’ (doors) started opening and revealing new passages. I head down one of these now, climbing up a pair of metal stairs that have withstood the test of time and moving down a narrow hall. The floor is pitted with holes and weak in some spots, wires and cables hanging from the ceiling. There’s a chilly breeze moving through the air that tells me the hull has been breached somewhere close by. But it’s quiet, and it’s private.
It’s also eerie.
There are traces that people used to live here - a forgotten scrap of clothing that’s nearly rotted away. An old circular canister whose meaning I can’t decipher. Something that looks like it was once a child’s toy. I touch nothing, feeling the need to exist here without disturbing things. I don’t want to dig up the past, I just want to make sense of the chaos in my head.
I sit on the edge of a hard cot that
“Nope. I don’t even know how they made these particular parts, so replacing them - if we can even replace them - is going to be a real bitch.” She slides her square back into the wall and then carefully takes the panel from me and replaces it. “I’m not giving up, but it’s going to take time.”
Time’s something I feel like I don’t have. I fight back tears of frustration. “How long? Weeks? Months?” Just the thought of holding out for a few more months makes me want to crawl out of my own skin.
The look Harlow gives me is sympathetic. “Maybe longer, girl. I don’t know. I try to do what I can but this is alien technology. If I can’t plug part A into slot B, I might not be able to do anything. What I can do is pretty basic. And my time to work on things is limited, between Rukh and Rukhar, and day to day chores. There’s not a ton of time to fiddle with machines, no matter how much I want to.”
She’s right. Of course she’s right. There’s so many additional chores to daily living that they eat up a lot of day. You can’t just buy a new shirt from a store - you have to hunt the animal, cure the leather, cut it and sew it before you can wear it. Everything on Not-Hoth takes six steps instead of one, and it eats up the day. I know Harlow’s trying, but the thought of waiting months or longer? I can’t. I don’t have that time.
I put a hand on my forehead, trying to think. I can hear Rukh and Haeden talking quietly in the next room - I know they’re close because my cootie is purring madly. It won’t stop.
There’s only one way to make things stop if I can’t get my cootie out of me. Unease clenches my stomach. Sex with Haeden.
Sex with someone that hates me. Ugh.
I’ve had bad sex in the past. I’ve been abused by foster parents, raped by aliens, and gone on terrible dates where things got out of hand. I’ve made bad choices and I’ve had others’ bad choices thrust on me. I’ve survived it all. I can live if I have awful, unpleasant, unwanted sex again.
But the thought of bringing a child into this? It feels so wrong.
I’m trapped. I don’t know what to do.
“I’m sorry,” Harlow says. Her hand touches mine. “I really do wish I could help.”
“It’s okay. I’ll think of something.” I don’t know what, but there’s got to be a way out of this.
----
I retreat to one of the old rooms of the ship, just to get away from the others. Harlow’s busy with the baby and a jigsaw of components, and Rukh and Haeden are preparing food near the fire. I don’t feel like talking or holding the baby - for once - so I hide away where I can have some time to myself to think.
The back of the ship isn’t in use. Harlow and Rukh stay to the front, and the sa-khui never go exploring deep into the bowels. They don’t trust the ship, especially since the ‘walls’ (doors) started opening and revealing new passages. I head down one of these now, climbing up a pair of metal stairs that have withstood the test of time and moving down a narrow hall. The floor is pitted with holes and weak in some spots, wires and cables hanging from the ceiling. There’s a chilly breeze moving through the air that tells me the hull has been breached somewhere close by. But it’s quiet, and it’s private.
It’s also eerie.
There are traces that people used to live here - a forgotten scrap of clothing that’s nearly rotted away. An old circular canister whose meaning I can’t decipher. Something that looks like it was once a child’s toy. I touch nothing, feeling the need to exist here without disturbing things. I don’t want to dig up the past, I just want to make sense of the chaos in my head.
I sit on the edge of a hard cot that
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