Total pages in book: 175
Estimated words: 166095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 830(@200wpm)___ 664(@250wpm)___ 554(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 166095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 830(@200wpm)___ 664(@250wpm)___ 554(@300wpm)
Dora was right. Tonight was great.
DORA
WEEKS LATER
I set plates in the dining area on Jerrok’s ship, trying to figure out the best way to make the mismatched dinnerware look special. Sophie’s agreed to keep Jerrok occupied and away from our end of the station while I have a private dinner with my mates. It’s thoughtful of her, considering that we’re the interlopers on their station, but Sophie is just an incredibly sweet person who aims to please. I nudge one of the plates to hide a dent on the edge of the metal, and then nudge it again.
Everything has to be perfect for our big conversation.
It’s been a week since we got back to Jerrok’s station. We spent well over a week on Risda III, soaking up sunshine, eating so many fried leaves I never want to see one again, and checking in on Simone. She’s been assigned a little farm that’s on the side of a hill, which isn’t great for crops, but she got extra meat-stock DNA in exchange and she’s thrilled. She can’t wait for her first cows. She’s loving farming and having her own house.
We checked in on Rhonda, too. Last I heard, she was cozying up to the avian family that runs the store. She does not yet have a farm, and wasn’t in a hurry to get one. Bethiah thinks she’ll have a husband or a new owner of some kind within the year. Kinda sad, but what can you do for someone that doesn’t want to be independent?
Before we left, we even got to visit Bethiah’s friends, Kim and Nassakth. He’s a praxiian and she’s a human, and they have three adorable children that Bethiah swears are named after her (they are not). I got to visit their homestead and while it was lovely and the children were sweet, it just emphasized to me that I was making the right choice. I don’t want to farm and settle down and have kids. I want to see the universe with my mates.
I was glad to leave Risda and its sunshine, and I think both Bethiah and Jamef breathed a sigh of relief when we left, too. They would have stayed to farm with me, but I wouldn’t ask that of them. I just love that they offered.
After that, things felt like they were falling back into place. I’ve had a few lessons on flying the Pleasure Spot with Jamef. I’ve helped Sophie work in her terrarium and worked on my plants. I’ve practiced my blaster work with Bethiah. When we’re not together, Bethiah works on upgrading a few systems on the ship to a more stable version, and Jamef helps Jerrok scrap to pay for our lodging.
It’s nice. It’s cozy. It’s almost home, though I think I’d rather be traveling. I’m told we need to spend a few months hiding out and then Jamef and Bethiah will check on their bounties and see if the fees have come down enough that they can be paid off. If not, we’ll pay a visit to Kaatir and my buddy Hazza.
Everything’s great.
I gaze at the table I’ve set and then nudge one of the plates again. Tonight needs to be perfect, because there’s just one last thing to discuss—the clone marker modifiers that Zakoar of the Broken Back gave me. I still want to take them and change my DNA so I don’t read as a replica, but I need to make sure both Jamef and Bethiah are on board. So I’m making us a private dinner. We’ll have a nice meal, flirt a little, soften my mates up, and then I’ll lob the big bomb. I’m not sure how they’ll take it. Jamef is against me getting any sort of body modification, and Bethiah said just the other day that she was glad I didn’t get an arm cannon.
Granted, I was fingering her at the time, but still.
They might not like the idea, but if it keeps me safer than being marked as an illegal clone, I think we should consider it.
I set down a pot of noodles and veg just as Jamef enters the room. “Bethiah’s going to be a little late,” he tells me. “Sorry.”
“Late? How is she going to be late? I told her about this earlier so she could finish her scrapping and clean up.”
He shrugs, sitting down at one seat and reaching over to pick a bit of veg off the top of the noodles. He tosses it into his mouth and adds, “Jerrok got a delivery so she’s probably helping with that.”
I make a face. “Well, that timing sucks. I just made dinner.”
“She’ll eat it cold. You know she doesn’t care.” He picks at another bit of veg. “Tastes good.”
Mollified by the compliment, I serve him up a heaping portion and take the seat right next to him. We eat and talk about the nothings of the day, his tail idly curling around me from time to time. I watch him as we have dinner and his mood seems good, so perhaps it’s a smart idea to run the whole “modification” thing past them one at a time. “Can I talk to you about something?”