Cora stared intensely at the cards laid out in front of her. "Your move, Bee."
It had been forty-two solar cycles since she checked in, making one full
rotation
. When Cora asked Meli what had rotated, she just gave her a funny look. Bee, Tor's youngest brother, came to work with his mother, and was overjoyed to find someone that had never played
any
of his favorite games.
Today, he was teaching her to play Solor, a competitive hybrid of solitaire and sudoku. Cora wasn't sure how it was even possible to lose at this game, but she sure was.
Roshak days felt so much longer than Earth days.
Do I even remember how long 24 hours felt? How long am I asleep for?
"Aw, hm. Cora, do you have any red suns?" She flipped through the stack of cards in her hand. They were thin yet heavy, made of a light gray metal. "I do!" Cora pulled two cards from her deck, each with a red star painted on them.
Cora wasn't sure how long it had been. Her arm and legs were healed, Meli's brutal physical therapy working magic on her shattered bones. Her lower back and hips, however remained sore.
Probably had something to do with the tail her body decided to grow.
It was still rather short, easily concealed, but Cora was not a fan. The new, sharp teeth replacing the ones she'd knocked out were nice, as was the change in her hair texture, but the tail was difficult to deal with. Yesterday, she somehow managed to shut it in a drawer.
Agony.
That was the day Bee learned some swears in English.
"Your turn, Cora!"
She looked at the cards laid out in front of them. They made a grid pattern, one that was slowly starting to make sense to her.
Tai would like this game.
Meli returned from her rounds, her granddaughter clinging to her back. Mel had grown considerably in the past rotation. In the last week, she skipped learning to walk and instead chose to run, constantly colliding with the walls and furniture. According to Meli, this was common. Cora snickered at the thought of baby Tor charging at the walls.
"Oh, Cora."
She looked up. "Yes?"
Meli was standing over the egg crate, gently turning over the eggs. "I need to talk to you. It won't be a pleasant talk, but it's important."
Alarmed, Cora sat on the edge of the bed. "What is it?"
"We'll have two more mouths to feed soon. I have no idea when we'll get in contact with your colony. This place is free for you to stay at, but when you check out, you'll have lift with both arms."
Cora had already assumed as much, sans the Roshak idiom. Her mom had never raised her to be a freeloader. "Right, of course. That means, like a job?"
Visibly embarrassed, Meli rubbed at her head. "I wish I had the means to take care of you, but it's just Bee and I now, and..." She trailed off.
Waving a hand, Cora tried to reassure her. "I never expected you to, that's so much to ask of you. I'm not sure what I can do, but I'll do whatever you need me to."
At this, she relaxed. "That's good to hear. Actually, that's what I came to tell you. There's a couple positions here at the clinic that need temporary help. Everyone here already knows your situation."
Cora nodded enthusiastically.
Everyone
consisted of five nurses, one janitor, and two administration staff, all of whom she knew well.
"I know," Meli continued, "you'll eventually be reuniting with your colony. This is just a temporary thing."
During this conversation, Bee had left the bedside table, settling next to the egg crate. "Mom."
She waved a hand at him. "Not now, B-"
"Mom, one of the eggs is moving."
She blanched. "Already?"
Cora jumped up, joining them. Mel was to Cora's left, tiny fingers grasping the edge of the crate. Bee eyed her nervously, shooing her grabby toddler hands back from the eggs.
Surely enough, one of the eggs was rocking back and forth, tiny squeaks emanating from it.
"I'm only gonna say this once.
Don't
touch me." Mar fought to keep his voice calm, but it still came out as a snarl. The Sheevae servant stepped back, unwinding her arms from around him. "Sorry!"
He sighed. Things were
not
going well.
Tai poked his head into the common room. "You good?"
He held his arms out, giving Tai a long, dry look. "Do I look- Agh, shit. I'm sorry."
"You're not the only one suffering." Gingerly, Tai stepped out of the room and shut the door behind him. "Tor has been staring at the same light fixture for an hour now." He kept his voice low, casting a glance in the direction of their shared quarters. "I tried to get him to go eat and got this in return."
Mar looked up as Tai gestured to his nose. It was horribly swollen and bruised, with two black eyes to match.
"Shit."
It had been several days since Tor even left his quarters. Sighing, Mar stood. "I'll go talk to him."
"O-kay. You have fun with that. I'm going to get out of range." Tai turned, heading for the kitchen. It had been just under one rotation since Ray sent a message to the Sheevae queen. She'd been a little
too
happy to help them, promising find whoever had taken Cora. But they'd already spent hours interrogating port authorities and the furnace-keeper, Arch. Nobody knew anything.
It was as if Cora had just vanished.
Tor growled as Mar slid the door open. Della was curled up in a far corner, fidgeting with spare parts. He didn't look up.
Fuck, things are bad.
"Tor."
The engineer turned to face Mar, slowly. His teeth were already bared.
"You look like shit. And you smell like it, too." Mar ducked as Tor lunged at him, ducking again as he swung at him. "Is this helping? Is living like a cave worm helping you feel better?"
"My fucking daughter-"
Mar cut him off. "Is out there, while her dad is-" he gestured, unsure. "Doing this."
"What else should I do? We have to
sit here
and wait. And wait. And
wait
!"
"And you're the only one who's worried about them?"
Tor paused, looking back at Della.
"No, I'm not."
Della's languid gaze stayed on the rifle he was disassembling and reassembling. "You two are wasting your time and energy. We're leaving for a mission in fifteen marks. And you're fighting. I'm sure she would be
so
proud."
They looked up at the ship's clock. Tor gritted his teeth. "Fine."
He shoved his way past Mar, casting one last bitter glance at him.
There's no way this is gonna go well.
It did not.