Moss interjected, “You have a curious conversation dynamic. Documenting for future analysis.”
And theDestitutedeparted yet again.
Two hours later, Torian lounged on the couch watching Celise double-check the numbers against Moss’s data. She hadn’t been joking—she actuallyhadbrought an entire air sampler. They were typically used to discover toxins in her patients’ homes, but now it was verifying every ridiculous claim Torian had made.
She couldn’t think of a more satisfying way to spend their evening.
“Still think I’m crazy?” Torian drawled.
Celise waved a hand, muttering under her breath. After a moment, she glanced up from the datapad. “Can you blame me?This—” She gestured at the speakers above them, at the mossaround them, at the inky black of the wormhole through theDestitute’s plenaria windows that still occasionally flashed with blue light. “—is ludicrous. None of this should be feasible.”
“Compare our analyses, please. If the samples are inaccurate, it is likely caused by your poor testing equipment, not my systems,” Moss said.
“It’s exceedingly accurate,” Celise replied grudgingly. “Your air is as pure as the best open field in Rhymarra. You are literally matching the ionite standard set for humans.”
Moss was also haughty. “I am the standard for humans, yes. I have spent enough time sampling your space station air and analyzing human breathing patterns to know exact levels. Our visit to Rhymarra only confirmed my data.”
Torian liked figuring out how things worked, but poring over endless datafiles and analyzing microscopic contaminants made her want to pull her hair out. (She knew from experience. She still had a tiny bald spot from Advanced Chemistry, visible if she parted her hair just right.)
No,Celisewas the scientist between the two of them. Her sister pushed a few blond strands behind her ear, squinting at her sampler. It looked like a big cotton ball atop a stick, and she’d dunked it into various vials to test what it collected. Now she peered at a bright orange vial.
“Do you realize what this means, Tor?” Celise asked. “What Moss could do for humanity?”
Ah, yeah. About that.Torian shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t think Moss wants to fix humanity’s problems. We locked it in a dark, empty hangar for over a hundred years.”
Moss didn’t respond, which felt like confirmation enough.
Celise winced. “Oh. I’m terribly sorry, Moss.”
The computer replied: “It was not your fault.”
Maybe Torian was making assumptions, but she heardIt was Dutch’s,loud and clear. Still, it felt like progress that Moss didn’t voice it.
Celise sighed, dumping the liquid in the vials into the sink.She disposed of the cotton ball next, wrapping up her experiment. Torian stretched out on the couch, as proud as a cat preening in the middle of a busy walkway.
Her sister reluctantly met her gaze.
Torian’s smile grew wider.
Celise huffed.
“Go ahead, Lise. Say it.”
They both knew what Torian meant.
Celise grumbled something that sounded like a curse, then admitted, “Fine.Fine.You aren’t hallucinating. I’m…” Celise paused, pulling the words through gritted teeth: “I’m sorry for doubting you.”
“You haven’t coughed in an hour,” Torian pointed out.
Celise didn’t seem impressed. “That’s not uncommon. My attacks come and go.”
It still felt like a victory to Torian.
Celise finally settled onto the couch, perching beside Torian. Their shoulders touched. Celise cleared her throat, and for once, it didn’t prompt a coughing fit. She fished into her nearby backpack, pulling out a ball of yarn and a set of knitting needles. “Well, this is my first vacation in years. I’m ready to relax.”
“Of course, Doctor,” Torian drawled, pushing off the couch to sit at the table. She’d finished her model of theDestituteand was working on one of Vaesa now. It was a much bigger challenge, considering Torian had only seen it in person once, and the details inside each auxiliary dome were tough to nail down.
Celise watched her sorting scrap pieces to adhere to the new sculpture for a few minutes.
