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“I want to spend a day like this,”he answered, standing in front of her narrow closet. “The translator oversimplifies and assumes. This way, we know what we’re saying.”
“It’s kinda unsettling,” she said.
“Agreed. But…” His eyes moved to her in consideration. “You’re the type of woman who likes to see under the hood of your ship. This is like that. It feels more honest.”
She couldn’t form a valid counterargument. She was curious—but Caligher…
Caligher as she knew him was comfortable. He was the only comfort she had left in the universe, and the thought of him being strange… sort of made her want to cry.
She swallowed the lump of emotion in her throat, averting her eyes.
“One day,” he repeated, picking up her robe and coaxing her to wear it so he could nudge her toward the shower. His voice murmured pleasantly behind her as her feet hit the icy hallway floor. “We’re not that different, Lucca. I think you’ll be surprised.”
He started the shower, filling the room with steam. “We’re different,” she grumbled. “You’re a morning person.”
He made sure the water was set at the temperature she liked, taking the robe gently and guiding her into the water. It melted her aches away. He came in behind her and closed the shower door.
* * *
The day passed at a slower pace than usual.
Things she’d seen in her ship a thousand times before looked different in this new light. Every word was more measured.
He cooked two slabs of the space leech meat—and shoved his bare arm into the oven to do it.
The outer layer of the creature’s skin had been separated and stored elsewhere. It had a hard epidermis that functioned as a shield, absorbing the dangerous radiation of outer space. Lucca must not eat it, but it could be cured and purified and used as leather.
The inner meat was safe for consumption. It tasted like squid. She didn’t dislike it, but she couldn’t see herself eating nothing but squid from here on out. There was enough meat in the ice chests to feed a whole village.
Caligher brought a machine into the kitchen and set about activating it. Lucca watched him from the table as her mind fantasized about everything bagels and coffee.
“What exactly is that supposed to do?” she asked, watching him tilt and lean over the machine as if it might make better sense from a different angle.
He pounded it on the top with a fist, saying, “We can dehydrate the excess food to preserve it.”
“Thank god, because I was gonna ask how we were gonna eat all that.” She stepped up beside him, tilting her head at it. “How’s it work?”
Caligher’s spine straightened, a weird expression crossing his face. “I’m not sure… I’ve never had to use one.”
She studied him instead of the machine. His chest was slightly puffed out, his eyes raking over the machine, looking lost and confounded. The fins down his body rustled up like snakes.
If her eyes were working right, she would say he looked self-conscious. And he was trying his best not to show it.
She burst into affectionate laughter.
Yeah, this was still Caligher.
And he was all hers.
They stood closely side by side, neither of them experts. She tried to make sense of the strange symbols, just as she had for every new thing on this ship when she’d first inherited it. There was a chamber she hoped was for salt—sort of like the detergent section of a washing machine. Another chamber for the meat or food in question. And there were tube attachments on the back that hooked up to the water and air lines in the kitchen.
She squealed with delight as the tubes clicked into place and the machine began humming. One of the copper chambers heated to near scalding and she quickly backed away.
“There!” she exclaimed. “If it sits, it fits, I say!” He shot her an affectionate grin, tail coiling around her upper thigh, and she added, “That isn’t universal advice. Some things fit but really shouldn’t go together.” She stared at the rumbling machine, praying it didn’t make their spaceship blow.
Once they confirmed that the salting machine wasn’t on the verge of explosion, they made for the cockpit to check their course. Then they lounged in the false garden. Lucca basked under her new heat lamp, smelling the loamy scent of the alien dirt and trees. It wasn’t a large enclosure, and the sunlight wasn’t real, but it did make her feel warm.
Caligher curled up beside her, toying with her hair as she toyed with his tail.
