Author: Rachel Bach

“That’ll be enough of that,” I said, hand dropping to Sasha.

The aeons glared at me, and then the shortest one said, in perfect Universal, “This is none of your affair, monkey.”

Rage shot through me. These damn chickens had been faking the whole time. But I knew better than to let my anger show. I rested my hands casually on my hips instead, thumb moving easily over my gun. “I’m afraid it is,” I said, letting my Paradoxian drawl through nice and thick, just to make sure they knew exactly what kind of monkey they were dealing with. “Now, are you going to move along, or am I going to have myself a turkey shoot?”

And then, just for effect, I popped Sasha’s safety.

The birds shrank back at the metallic click, and the biggest of them shot me a nasty look. I responded with a nice, predatory smile, and like the prey Hyrek claimed they were, the birds turned and ran, their painted claws clicking on the metal as they trucked double time down the ramp. I could see Basil getting back on his feet through my rear cam, but he didn’t move an inch from my shadow until all the aeons were back at their trucks.

“Unload it neatly,” I warned.

The aeons squawked at me, but they were already pulling hover platforms around to get the crates. I watched until I was sure the birds weren’t going to screw us over before clicking Sasha’s safety back into place. “You mind telling me what that was all about?”

“Yes,” Basil answered.

I arched an eyebrow as I turned to face him. “What did you say to those girls, anyway?”

“I told them what I thought of their display,” Basil said, resettling his feathers with a shake. “And they aren’t girls. Those are males.”

I blinked. “But,” I said stupidly, “they’re so pretty.”

Basil rolled his huge yellow eyes. “I know it is difficult to lift your mind out of the rut of your humancentric expectations, but what you call pretty aeons call macho. The brighter the plumage, the more macho the male, and as you could see from that incredibly garish display, those are very aggressive males. Thugs, you might say.” He turned up his beak. “Painted claws and jewelry, ugh. How much tackier can you get?”

While he was talking, I was looking over Basil’s chocolate feathers with a new eye. “So,” I said. “If aeon males are brightly colored, what’s your story? Did your feathers never grow in or something?”

Basil puffed up into an angry ball. “Of course my feathers grew in! What kind of idiot are you?”

“The kind who just saved your drumsticks,” I said, giving him a flat look.

Basil snapped his beak closed, and for the first time since I’d met him, our bird looked almost ashamed. “It’s dye,” he said at last, swiveling his head so that his rust-red crest bobbed. “I dye my feathers to a female shade every molt.”

My face must have been a sight, because Basil got even poofier. “It’s not like I go around cross-dressing or anything!” he snapped. “I don’t pretend to be female, it’s just a personal choice. There are certain expectations put on males that I’m uncomfortable meeting.”

“You mean like being an aggressive, macho asshole?” I said, glancing back at the aeons, who were still whistling insults at me as they worked. “But you’re yourself, aren’t you? Can’t you just, I don’t know, not be a jerk?”

Basil heaved an enormous sigh. “You are so human.”

“Thanks,” I said. “You don’t mean that as a compliment, do you?”

“No,” Basil said.

I rolled my eyes, and Basil gave a long, whistling sigh.

“Look,” he said with uncharacteristic patience. “You’ve heard how all aeons can feel the Seval, right?”

I nodded.

“Well, it’s more than just knowing where the planet is,” Basil said. “‘Seval’ is a human transliteration of—” He chirped sharply, and he was right, it did sound like he was saying seval.

“There’s no actual corresponding word in Universal,” he went on. “But ‘flock’ is close enough. And the nearer I am to the aeon homeworld, the stronger the seval, the flocking urge, is. You’re human, so it’s easy for you to say ‘just don’t be that way,’ but I don’t have a choice. When we’re around other aeons, it becomes harder and harder to be an individual, to make your own decisions. The flock pulls at you until you become what the majority expects, whether you want to or not.”

I cringed. That did sound pretty horrible. “So you dye your feathers to get out of what’s expected of you?”

“I dye my feathers because I don’t want to look like a tacky, oversexed moron,” Basil snapped. “I get out by working a job that keeps me well away from the Sevalis. Most of the time, anyway.” He shot a death glare at the other aeons.

“Well,” I said with a grin. “At least that explains why you’re on the Fool. After dealing with a flock full of jerks, even Caldswell’s madhouse would be a step up.”

Basil turned on me so fast I almost fell over. “Listen, simian,” he said, the words whistling with anger. “I don’t know where you think you get off talking like that about the captain, but Brian Caldswell is a good man. I realize you Paradoxians have a hard time appreciating that idea since it doesn’t have anything to do with shooting, stabbing, or drinking, but try to get it through your thick helmet. I owe the captain my life and I will not tolerate you slandering him any further, do you understand?”

“God and king, Basil. It was just a joke.”

“Do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” I said, putting up my hands.

Basil nodded and whirled around, his claws clicking on the metal as he climbed the stairs two at a time. “I want to be informed the moment the captain or Nova gets back,” he announced. “In the meanwhile, make sure those idiots don’t eat the nuts they’re supposed to be loading.”

“Yes sir,” I said again, but the bird had already vanished into the lounge. I sighed at the empty stairs then turned back to the cargo ramp, yelling at the aeons to get a move on.

Despite the rocky ending of our escapade in the cargo bay, Basil was actually much nicer to me than usual when we prepped the ship for takeoff that evening. We had everything packed in and secured by the time the crew got back. Rashid kept me posted on arrivals, but I took care to stay on patrol and out of the way. I’d successfully avoided the cook since our incident last night, and I wasn’t about to break that streak now. Fortunately, he seemed to be tied to Ren. The two of them vanished into the captain’s quarters as soon as they got back, much to my delight.

It was full dark by the time Mabel and Caldswell returned. We had the ship warmed up and ready to fly when they got on, but we never actually made it into the air. When Basil called the tower for final departure clearance, the flight control office informed him that all flights were restricted due to a magnetic storm in the upper atmosphere. The sky was perfectly clear and full of stars, so I didn’t see what the fuss was about. Neither did Basil.

“There’s less interference here than there was on Wuxia,” he was shouting when I poked my head into the bridge to see what was going on. “What are they waiting for, a bribe?”

“Maybe,” Caldswell said. The captain was lounging in his worn chair with his feet up on the new instrument board in front of him. “Relax, Basil. So long as we get moving by dawn, we’re still on schedule. There’s nothing wrong with a peaceful night every now and then.”

Basil folded his wings in a huff, but he didn’t argue. Considering how he’d been acting all day, I’d expected a full-blown tantrum, but Basil’s demands about respecting the captain apparently went for himself as well. That, or he knew it was pointless to try to push Caldswell around. The man was about as movable as a mountain range.

It was kind of nice to have a peaceful night, and, other than our run-in with the thug birds, Ample certainly was peaceful. Even the automated harvesters had shut down for the night, leaving nothing but dark and the sound of the wind in the fields. We’d already locked the doors for liftoff, so I just left them sealed. With Rashid on the roof, there was no point in patrolling outside anyway. Anything hostile that got within a hundred feet of the ship would be shot before I could reach it.

Since I was avoiding the cook like the plague, I asked Nova to bring me up two plates from the lounge. She was confused by the request but did as I asked, bringing me two plates loaded down with delicious-looking food. I thanked her profusely and ate mine in a rush before taking the second up to Rashid.

My new partner didn’t look like he’d moved all day. He was lying exactly where I’d left him, flat on his stomach with his rifle ready. I’d have felt a little bad about that if not for the fact that he’d just earned a day’s wage for lying in the sun.

He took his dinner with effusive thanks and a fawning note to the cook over the com. Since he couldn’t shoot and eat at the same time, I sat beside him, enjoying the night air while I kept an eye on the rest of the ship through Rashid’s open handset. It was amazingly handy to be able to watch things inside even while I was on the roof, and I was making plans to see about patching my suit into the security system as well when I realized Rashid had gone still beside me.

He held up his hand before I could say anything, motioning me down. I obeyed, flattening myself on my stomach next to Rashid’s discarded plate. With the moon overhead and the Fool’s exterior floodlights, the night was actually pretty bright, but it still took me almost a minute to catch what had put Rashid on edge.

The tall crops in the field across the road from the landing area were moving. That wouldn’t have been weird except that there was no wind at the moment, and the crops were rustling in a straight line. Far too straight for a wild animal.

Cursing under my breath, I flipped on my density sensor and cranked the sensitivity as high as it would go. The field was at the very edge of my suit’s range, but the Terran armor pushing through it was big enough that I saw it no problem.

“There are two behind us as well,” Rashid said.

I looked over at him. The voice had come through my com, not my outside speakers, but I didn’t see a mic on his suit. Even stranger, my side camera had been pointed right at his face when he’d spoken, and his lips hadn’t moved at all.

Rashid’s eyes slid to me, and his mouth curled up in a tight smile. “Implanted throat mic,” he said without moving his mouth, lifting his head a little so I could see the tiny scar on his neck.

My eyes widened. Implants like that were expensive as hell. What kind of merc had Rashid been, anyway?

But this wasn’t the time for that. I turned my attention back to the shapes my density sensor had drawn against the plants. “I see four in front,” I said, swirling my cameras. “You said two behind us?”

Rashid nodded, pulling on a pair of extremely nice goggles I hadn’t even noticed hanging around his neck. “And two more on the left flank as well,” he added, tilting his head. “Might be too far for you, though.”

“But not for you?”

Rashid smiled. “I am usually a sniper, Miss Morris. If I can’t see far, I’m rather useless, am I not?”

He had me there. “Can you show me?”

He nodded, and a video feed patched into my suit instantaneously. Suddenly, I had a new set of eyes to look through. Very, very good ones. Whatever sensors Rashid had in those goggles, they were phenomenal. My suit counted ten enemies in total, all armored, in a ring around the field where the Fool was sitting, closing at a steady pace. That was threat enough for me, and I beeped Caldswell.

The captain answered immediately. “What is it, Morris?”