Page 66 of Experimental Voyage
“Well, if you want to be adopted by Veloc, that’s definitely a good way to go about it.”
“I’m angling for adoption by a clan of feet, hands, or tails. That way, the Emerald Crests will have adequate protection. The Crimson Feet are a preferred contender, as they’ll make excellent hatchlings with Emerald Crests. I’m going to be at least a little picky, as whichever clan gets adoption rights must be willing to work with my death horses. We come as a set.”
“You will not have any trouble on that front with any Veloc clan,” Waldren promised. “For beings insistent on eating most things they come across, they are remarkably fond of animals.”
“I feel that’s an understatement. Animals or people fall into three categories for them: to be romanced, to be eaten, or to be petted. And while they will swiftly dispatch those to be eaten, as a general rule, they become unreasonable when romance or petting is involved.” I rolled my shoulders, stretched, and sighed. “Do you want to go to one of those hotel things, stay on board your ship, or visit my dorm? Because I need a break, and I won’t break your ship being stupid.”
“I’ve broken my ship sufficiently being stupid. I’ll visit your dorm and get lodgings near your school. I’ve been told there are good ones nearby. But isn’t your school quite the hike away?”
I pointed at my death horses. “They love the run, so as long as you’re willing to ride Pestilence, I’m sure they’dloveto take us back to their stalls and their supper. I just recommend that you hold on tight. They can run fast, they can run far, and they view the Veloc hunting grounds as a challenge to overcome.”
TWENTY-TWO
“I don’t know if I should be thanking you for wrecking your ship so badly or scolding you for it.”
For three weeks,I toiled repairing Waldren’s poor ship. I questioned how the Veloc had managed to do so much damage just from swapping out parts not quite the right size, but I needed to replace more than a few components as a consequence of their meddling. To make it clear I understood why poor Waldren suffered, I sent the bill to the Veloc along with a challenge.
In order for a Veloc clan to be eligible to adopt me, they needed to contribute to the stalls for his ship, provide a matched set of shiftgem crystals suitable for his engine cores, or acquire a new upgrade for one of his ship babies. I made it clear the stall system needed to support five death horses, include life support systems, and count as plush accommodations for my hoofed companions. It took less than a week after issuing the challenge to understand I had made mistakes.
The Crimson Feet had misinterpreted upgrade parts to mean I wanted an entire ship, the kind of racer capable of turningViva green from envy. According to the registration papers, she was mine, she was compatible with Waldren’s coupling unit, and she was large enough for my mandated five stalls, one Andean mountain cat, one songbird the size of Squeakers, and ahomo sapienscompanion.
The ship also came with a handwritten coupon for piloting instruction so I would be qualified to fly my racer at my whim.
The Crimson Feet’s hired pilot parked my ship nearby, and he loved everything about the modifications for my beauty, especially the stalls, which could support a death horse for a period of six months using a new automated system. Ration cubes would provide sustenance, their waste would be processed and ejected from the ship, and a special generator in each stall provided fresh water.
Then, most importantly, should five and a half months of emergency situation be reached, my precious animals would be put into stasis. The stalls were connected, although the death horses could be separated if needed. There was even a special assembly in case of injury, allowing me to keep them off their hooves for however long was needed.
I questioned how much the stasis systems cost.
Each stall had its own stasis system, it administered the sedatives based on the input species, and it could handle anything from Squeakers in size tohomo sapiensto my death horses—and the machines had already been calibrated to handle all known species.
Not only could the stalls handle putting one being into stasis, but it could handle two beings at one time.
In a true emergency, we could put ourselves into stasis with hope of survival upon revival.
After our venture to Melody, I understood the significance of the Crimson Feet’s gift. If we were ever knocked off course again,if we were yanked into unexplored space, we could persist for even a thousand years until someone found us.
The other Veloc clans had joined forces to provide upgrades for Waldren’s ship, but I suspected everyone understood the situation well enough.
There would be brawling and festivities, but the Crimson Feet had offered the one thing I needed most: security in freedom. They gave me everything I needed to fly, and they gave it to me in such a way I could venture forth with those most important to me.
Upon finishing the upgrades and confirming they worked in all tests, I hunted for one of my instructors at the school to go over my work, as I would need his approval to pursue my next stage of certification. The old man, a Deltan who’d fallen in love with space travel but feared flight, loved everything about riding Pestilence to the landing pad while I kept Plague happy. Waldren waited on his cargo ramp for us, and judging from the impatient way he shifted his weight, he wanted clearance to get back into space where he belonged.
“Thank you for coming, Halgrissi,” Waldren said. To my amusement, he even tried to smile, one of the customs he struggled with due to his upbringing.
“I don’t know if I should be thanking you for wrecking your ship so badly or scolding you for it.”
“The upgrade kits were sabotaged.” The man shot a glare at the flock of Veloc outside of his ship. I’d lost track of the number of clans that had sent representatives to posture for my amusement—and to instill jealousy in the man I wished to romance, assuming I could fling sufficient hints his way.
He either wanted to play hard to get or failed to understand I wished to engage in romancing.
“His clan and some accomplices replaced many small components with components that looked quite similar but notexact. The differences were sufficient enough to fail the installs and trigger the sensors, but they were close enough the system couldn’t detect precisely which parts were at fault,” I explained, pointing at the box of compromised pieces. “They did this for hundreds of parts. Waldren helped their scheme through trying to fix it without understanding the problem, so I had to reset all his software before fixing his hardware.”
Halgrissi checked the box, dipped his hand into the box containing the wrong sized bolts, and laughed. “That’s going to make a mess of any ship in a hurry. Do they love or hate you, Waldren?”
“Hate, surely.”
Palta barreled into the cargo bay with Squeakers following, chirping and peeping the entire way. I laughed at the pair’s antics. The cat tended to be chased, and whenever the bird won, she snuggled into her friend’s plush coat. I intervened, scooped the bird up, and kissed her head. “You’re getting a new suite for takeoffs and landings, sweet baby. Mommy just set it up for you yesterday.”
