Page 14

14

S ure enough, the captain’s not in the mess hall when it’s time to eat. Guard duty, I guarantee it. I didn’t check, though. Didn’t wander around, look for where a new lock’s been set. I went straight from a fresh set of clothing to food.

All the others, except for Ursula, are there. Magnusson stands by the dispenser with a covered box on his tray.

“Who would have thought you’d be the last one to eat?” Magnusson says, but he’s grinning, even as I take the tray from him and make him get a new one.

My heart’s racing as I sit down. I think Saraswati says something, but I don’t hear it. See, on a deep-space ship, the food’s mostly dried goods that pretend to be edible, and even the good stuff on a ship isn’t the real stuff, you know? But food that comes in a box? Food that comes in a box like this is special. There’s not much room for frozen goods. But frozen food is often . . .

“Ohhh.” A decadent groan escapes my lips, and Rian chuc kles.

Beneath the foil-lined top on the box is a real piece of meat. Like, real real. Not a composite. Not replacement protein patties. Real meat.

“Chicken breast, green beans, mashed potatoes,” Nandina says proudly.

Potatoes. I thought the meat was something, but potatoes? I haven’t had actual potatoes since I left Earth.

“Wait for it,” Rian says, reaching over the table to point to the little foil wrapped block on the side.

“No,” I say, my voice rising, sounding almost angry.

“Yes.”

“No.” My hand shakes as I pick up the cube. It’s cold but a little soft. I carefully pull back the foil.

Butter.

There are actual tears in my eyes as I look around the room. Their bemused smiles are proof enough that this is a meal they all knew was coming, a celebration for finding part of what they’d come all this way to find.

“I’m never leaving this crew,” I say. “You don’t even have to pay me. Just feed me.”

Magnusson puts his new tray down beside mine. “Hear, hear.”

I grab a fork and stab the chicken, lifting the whole breast up and cramming as much as I can into my mouth. “You can use a knife,” Rian laughs, but he’s wrong. The thing about real meat that I miss so, so much is the feel of it in my teeth. The way my mouth has to work for the prize. The way it’s not uniform.

This chicken has never been in a tube, and I know that with every sense in my body.

It hurts to swallow; it’s too much, and it’s not liquid; it doesn’t slide. I don’t care. The pain is part of the pleasure.

Across from me, Rian calmly cuts a piece of his chicken with a knife. I’m ripping apart my second bite before he even lifts his fork to his lips. Magnusson is mashing the butter into his potatoes like it’s a sacred rite. I can respect that. On my other side, First is experimenting—dipping the chicken in the mashed potatoes, then stabbing some green beans and stuffing them in their mouth before they swallow. Saraswati’s started with the green beans. Bad choice. They’re the weak link here; a vegetable and too soft and too close to standard fare. Maybe she’s saving the best for last. I don’t understand that mindset. Nandina’s like me, meat first, attacked with the brutality such a rare treat deserves. I knew I liked her the best.

I shear another piece of chicken off with my teeth, and Rian shakes his head. “If you eat too quickly, it’ll just be gone. Savor it.”

“You said I get three servings,” I say around a mouthful.

“Well, there are only five boxes,” Rian says. “So, you can have more food, but it won’t be this.”

I chew slower.

The captain’s not here. Guarding the cryptex drive, surely. But also giving me her celebratory dinner. I guess that makes up for leaving me to die with only one percent air in my tank.

“What’s the meal going to be when we find the key to the drive?” I ask.

“Steak,” Rian says. “And ice cream.”

“Fuck,” I breathe, barely audible.

Nandina puts down her fork. She didn’t know how much I knew about the ship’s mission, only that I already knew that there was a second piece needed to succeed. She knows now. When she starts eating again, I think, That’s all of them. They accept me now. Even the captain—when she found out I was the one who retrieved the drive, I could see a glimmer of respect in her shocked eyes. They’ve seen what I can do, and while I’m still a wild card in this carefully planned salvage mission, they trust me.

They...trust me.

They shouldn’t. But they do.

I swallow dryly.

It’s a bittersweet revelation.

I don’t like it.

But I also kind of do.

I’m not used to this, trust. The easiness of sitting at a table and sharing a meal and feeling like there’s nothing to hide. It’s...weird.

“You know,” First says, “you could be a part of the regular crew, if you wanted. Captain said so.”

I shoot a glance at Rian. “Told you she loves me.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “ Love is a strong word.”

I ignore that and turn back to First. “I suppose climbing up the rift was my interview?”

“At least you didn’t have to supply five different references and a background check,” Saraswati mutters.

Background check. They’ve probably already run one on me. Not something too intense—communication is still slow, but the Halifax might have a data linkup that could ping off the portals for some quick info, the basics. I dip my fork into my mashed potatoes, swirling the melted yellow into the creamy white. When I look up at Rian, he’s watching me intently. Definitely did a background check.

“I can’t join this crew,” I say, eyes sliding from his. “I’d be bored to death. But I’ll hitch a ride to civilization.”

“Well, we have you for a few weeks at least, then, anyway,” Rian says softly.

Something biting and sarcastic is just waiting to fall out of my mouth, but then...nothing.

He lifts his water bottle in the air. “To Ada.”

The others pause their meal, also lifting their glass.

Oh, no.

Oh, I hate this.

“The bravest of us all,” Magnusson adds.

“Or the stupidest,” Saraswati says. “There’s no way in hell I’d have gone down there, even with your jetpack, Ada.”

“It’s a good jetpack,” I say.

“Not good enough,” Magnusson says. “It got you down there but not back up.”

I swallow the automatic response rising in my throat. I’m proud of my suit, proud of its mods, most of which I’ve done myself. I force my shoulders down and say, “It all worked out. ”

Saraswati nods. “The rest of this is going to be tedious but not nearly as dangerous. Most of the debris field is relatively stable, far enough away from the existing fault line that I don’t think we’re going to have any more dramatic quakes that directly impact our search.”

“That’s too bad.” I fake a groan, and the others all laugh, and the conversation swings around to regular chatter.

After the boxes are empty, I take my tray back to the dispenser and get some of the regular food. Lentils aren’t quite as exciting now that I’ve had meat, but they’re still better than what I’d been living off of. As I slurp it down, I let myself pretend.

Pretend that Saraswati and Nandina can be my friends. That First and the captain like me. That Magnusson sees me as an equal, which is about the highest praise I think the man could give.

That Rian . . .

I can pretend.

For just this night.