Page 54

The shift from the dim hold to the stables’ bright interior was jarring. Signy knew what the orbital station looked like from the outside—she’d seen pictures—but she had no preconceptions about what was within. After someone scanned her visitor’s pass and waved her on, she entered a corridor made for human passage, a rounded tunnel that encouraged you to keep moving forward. The floor she couldn’t walk on was light gray. The walls were pale white. The lights set into the ceiling allowed for few shadows. It wasn’t off-putting, but it wasn’t inviting, either. It reminded her of a hospital, more than anything. A place to be used and worked in. Signy could respect that, boring though it was.

The corridor led her to a large room that kept to the same aesthetic. Two dozen or so people floated about in there, either working or heading toward their work. Some operated switch panels; others were in conversation. To them, this was an ordinary day in a familiar place, and Signy wasn’t anything other than a background detail. She felt decidedly out of her element, unsure of where to go. She looked around for an obvious place to start—a front desk, a check-in panel, maybe a—

“Hey, Signy!”

Signy turned her head and saw Cora, waving hello. The pilot moved herself expertly along the wall, pushing off the base of each handhold with a light, casual tap. She was dressed much the same as everyone there: comfortable canvas pants with zippered pockets, a thick pair of socks unhampered by shoes, a snug jacket sporting a number of patches. The meanings of the patches were lost on Signy, except for the pilot corps’ logo sewn into the fabric over Cora’s heart. It was a good look, a smart look. Professional and capable.

Signy took in the smile, the jacket, the taps along the wall made effortlessly as afterthought, and she couldn’t explain it, but she felt . . . safe. Cora made Signy feel safe, in this strange place, even though she hadn’t done anything. She simply looked like the sort of person you wanted next to you when a lot of things went wrong.

“Is this weird?” Cora grinned. “I always forget that this must seem weird to people who don’t work here.”

“It’s . . . different,” Signy said. “I’ve never been in a station like this. Spacecraft, yes, but never a place that held still.”

“Well, technically, we’re not holding still,” Cora said. “Anything that orbits anything else is just falling, in a loop. We’re falling forever around Fortune right now. Which, uh, is a terrible thing to tell someone who isn’t used to being up here, so, I probably should’ve saved that for when we’re back on the ground.”

“Yes,” Signy agreed good-naturedly. “You should have.”

Cora’s grin sparkled. “Sorry.” She glanced back at the airlock. “Was your flight okay?”

“It was fine.”

“Looks like you were a champ about it,” Cora said as she gave Signy a brief once-over. “Some of the scientists that come up here, they look like they’ve been put through a shredder. I don’t blame them. It’s rough. But you, you look like you do this all the time. Unless you’re doing a really good job of pretending you’re not about to spew.”

Signy grew a little bit taller at the compliment; she allowed a small smirk. “I can’t say I’d want to do this all the time,” she said. “But it wasn’t so bad.”

Cora gave a single nod of approval. “Well, um . . . do you need the bathroom or a snack or anything, before we do this?”

“No, I’m all right.” Signy had read up on how to use the bathroom in space, and she hoped she wouldn’t need to. It did not sound like an experience worth chasing.

“Cool,” Cora said. “Okay. We’ll just need to stop by the lockers so I can get my helmet, and then—”

“Wait.” Signy blinked. “I’m sorry, do you mean—” Helmets hadn’t been part of any prior conversation. “Are we going—” She pointed at the airlock, a bit stupidly. “—out?”

“Oh—god, no.” Cora laughed, but not in a mean way. “No, you can’t go outside without spacewalk training. Colibri is in her pen, and we’re gonna go see her through a window. The helmet’s not a—not a breathing helmet. It’s what I’ll use to talk to her.”

“Oh,” Signy said. “I didn’t . . .” She paused. “I didn’t realize you’d be doing . . . that.”

Cora’s smile didn’t falter. “You did say you wanted to meet her.”

“I said I wanted to see her. You don’t have to . . . to talk with her, if you don’t want to.” That wasn’t part of the deal, Signy would’ve said, if they hadn’t been in earshot of others.

Cora cocked her head. “Does that bug you? How come?”

“Well, it’s just . . . from what I’ve read, it’s . . .” Signy frowned a little as she searched for words. She felt awkward about this, like she was imposing, somehow. “It seems like a very”—ah, there it was—“very personal process.” Intimate, was the word Signy didn’t use. Vulnerable. From what Signy understood of this—which was next to nothing, she had to admit—rorqual pilots weren’t entirely themselves when connected, and the internal experience sounded intense. Signy felt as though she were about to knowingly walk in on an acquaintance sitting naked in her home.

Cora, on the other hand, didn’t seem ruffled about having an audience. What did ruffle Cora? Signy wondered. It wasn’t acting oddly in front of a near stranger; it wasn’t asking for illegal medication; it didn’t even really seem to be her serious health condition. Signy knew better than to judge the entirety of a person by two interactions, but Cora appeared to go through the world much like she’d come into this room: a few easy taps and a big smile.

Signy liked that.

“If it bugs you,” Cora said, “we don’t have to talk with her. We can just have a look through the window. But she is eager to meet you, if that changes anything.”

Signy raised her eyebrows. “She is?”

“Mhm.” Cora nodded. “But no pressure, though. I know this is brand-new to you, and what’s most important is that you’re comfy with it. This is for you, after all.” She pointed her thumb over her shoulder toward another corridor. “We could go to the cafeteria and have a chicory first, if you wanna chat about what it’s gonna be like.”

Signy studied Cora for a moment. She had freckles on her nose, a little constellation that sprayed out onto her cheeks. That detail had escaped Signy’s notice at the shop. “How do you drink chicory up here?” she asked.

“Oh!” Cora chuckled. “You get it in this little pouch. It’s like a . . . triple-sized toothpaste tube.”