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Signy pulled a face much like she had when she’d been reading the small print on the pill sleeve. “I don’t want money,” Signy said. “Asking people to pay for their lives is cruel.”
“Oh. Uh. Okay. What do you want?”
Signy turned the bottle this way and that, making the pills inside tumble. She sucked her lips, and nodded once. “I want to see Colibri. Up close, if possible.”
It was Cora’s turn to be surprised. “Why?”
“I’ve never seen a rorqual before,” Signy said. “Pictures, videos, but not the real thing. I want to understand why you’re going through all of this for one. Is that allowed?”
“Uh—yeah. Yeah, definitely. We can bring guests up to the stables, if we put in a request. There’s pretty strict rules about visitors, though. There’ll be paperwork and stuff.”
“That’s entirely fair,” Signy said. “You follow the rules in my house, I’ll follow the ones in yours.”
Cora considered this. She wasn’t opposed, but she wasn’t sure Signy knew what she’d be getting into. “When was the last time you went to space?”
“Oh. Not since I was . . . I would’ve been ten, I think.”
“The peanut butter hop?” Cora asked.
“Is that what you call the flights we went on in school?”
“That, or the kiddie catapult, but that sounds way worse.”
Signy breathed one lone chuckle. “You’re right, it does.”
Cora gestured emphatically with both hands. “I’m not trying to put you off of this, really, I just need you to know—the ride up and back is rough. Way rougher than when we were little.”
“I assumed as much, since they don’t do the kiddie catapult anymore.”
Cora grinned, but stayed serious. “I’m not exaggerating. It’s bad. Pilots who do it all the time still get sick. And I can’t get you on our shuttle. You’d probably have to book a jump seat on a cargo craft, unless you wanna pay out the nose. It will not be a comfy trip.”
“I take the ferry twice a day,” Signy said dryly. “Is it worse than that?”
“It is worse than that, yes.”
“Maybe it’ll make me appreciate my commute more.”
Cora laughed. “Okay. Okay, if you’re up for it, I’ll put in a request today, soon as I get home. And I can pay you back for whatever flight you book, too. That seems fair, yeah?”
Signy weighed that, then nodded. She handed over the bottle of pills. “Chase every dose of ginger you take with one of these, and follow it with a big cup of water. Do not skip the water. If you think you’ve had enough water, drink a little more.”
Cora looked at the bottle in her palm. A Body’s Best label, same as you could get at any drugstore or pantry shop. Vitamin C, it read. “And this is . . . safe?” she asked.
Signy gave a small nod of approval, and Cora realized this had been a test. “Yes, it’s safe,” Signy said. “It’ll help repair liver damage, which isn’t as ideal as doing no damage at all, but it’s something. It’s fairly benign, though you might get a bit of dry mouth and experience some sensitivity to light.”
“What, like, things look a little too bright?”
“Mhm.”
That didn’t sound too bad, Cora thought. “And it won’t . . . I mean, it won’t make my head unclear, right?”
“It won’t cancel out the cognitive effects of the ginger, if that’s what you’re asking. But whether the ginger on its own will remain enough to keep you floating above your symptoms, I have no idea. That’s beyond my expertise.”
What was Signy’s expertise, exactly? Plants and medicine, sure, but how did she know this stuff? How did she get here? How had she learned about onions and water plants? Why did she make medicine, on top of all that? Why wasn’t she working in a med clinic or something? What the hell was her deal?
Cora wondered all those things and a thousand more, but for the moment, she was increasingly bowled over with the dawning understanding of Someone’s gonna help. Someone’s gonna help us. It was so good, and so welcome, and didn’t feel real at all.
Signy pointed to a spot near the airlock, and Cora snapped back to attention. “You see that shelf of plants in cute little pots over there?” Signy asked.
