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Cora thought as fast as she could manage. She couldn’t even remember what she’d been talking about two minutes ago—wait, had it even been that long? Or longer? Fuck.
Somewhere deep in her brain, the same part of her that knew when it was a bad idea to order one more round was shaking her by the collar. Play it cool, right now.
She put on a sheepish face. “You’re gonna be mad at me.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Dr. Coleman said.
Cora shut her eyes and exhaled. “I was taking ginger for a while last year,” she said. “But then I stopped. I know, I should’ve told you—”
Dr. Coleman made a sound like a schoolteacher who had just caught Cora cheating. “Yes, you damn well should have,” she said irritably. “I swear, you all and your fucking supplements.” She let out a sigh that encompassed the entire pilot corps. “Why did you stop taking it?”
“My girlfriend said it’s bad for me, and she’s way scarier than you when she gets mad.”
“Ha!” Dr. Coleman laughed. “Well, I’m gonna have to work on my performance, then. Tell Signy thank you from me. That stuff will ruin your liver.”
“So I was told.”
Cora hoped that was the end of the conversation, but Dr. Coleman continued to look at her tablet. “It’s more of a pronounced trend than I’d expect solely from ginger clearing out of your system, though.”
Cora’s mouth went dry. She said nothing. Her on-board sober self was clapping her hand over her mouth.
A few brutal seconds passed. Dr. Coleman shook her head and shrugged. “They add so much garbage into those things, though. Sugar, caffeine, god knows what else. You must’ve been swimming with additives.” She nodded, seemingly satisfied with that explanation, then glanced at the wall panel again. Something there made her laugh. “Were you actually scared I’d be mad at you?” she asked, pointing. “Your blood pressure shot up.”
“Did it?” Cora said, making sure she laughed, too. “I, uh . . . I dunno.”
“Please,” Dr. Coleman scoffed, tapping a few buttons. “If I got mad every time one of you idiots put something stupid in your body, it’d be my blood pressure I’d worry about.” She switched off her tablet. “How do you feel about some food in an hour?”
Cora took inventory of her body, paying attention to the stomach that hadn’t needed to process anything solid in two weeks. She didn’t feel hungry yet, but she did feel steady, and that was the important thing. “I think I’m ready for it, yeah,” Cora said.
“Good.” Dr. Coleman pushed off the wall, on her way back to the door. “I’ll see if I can keep the vegetables to a minimum, since they’re not a real thing.”
Cora chuckled until the door shut. Once it did, she collapsed—or she would have, if there’d been any gravity to speak of.
Okay, she thought. Okay. I think she bought it. I think so. Christ.
She pressed back into the gel cushions, letting them hug her tighter. Pressure helped. Softness helped. “Five things I can cook,” she said, closing her eyes. “Peanut noodles. Mycoloaf. Thumbprint cookies. Mushroom lasagna. Beer bread.”
Are Signy’s plants not of her love? Colibri had asked.
Of course they are, Cora had replied. But she still eats them.
Why?
Because we must, or we’ll die.
Would you eat me, if you needed to?
No. I told you. We don’t eat friends.
I do not understand the distinction you are making. Are Signy’s plants of a different love than friendship?
Yes, I believe so.
A love like the two of you are of together?
No, not like that kind of love.
Would you eat each other, if you needed to?
