6. “That thingy makes oxygen for the ship?”

SIX

“That thingy makes oxygen for the ship?”

I met three other Veloc during the tour of the ship, all members of the Emerald Crests. Within three minutes, my parents enthralled the giant feathered murder machines. If left to their devices, I feared my parents would take over the Veloc clan’s entire planet. They charmed my hosts, and it didn’t take long for my hosts to retaliate and charm my parents. It took me an hour or two to accept the reality of the situation.

I would be returning to my home fairly often with feathered murder machines in tow, else my parents might wilt away from grief over having their newfound joy taken from them. The tour ended up taking seven exhausting hours, which Herserael finally brought to a close when I failed to contain my yawns.

He promised future communications, terminated the connection, and showed me to one of the unclaimed quarters, of which they had five. I would get to choose the one I wanted after I was rested, fed again, and went through my basic tests.

I luxuriated in sleeping without being attached to some form of machine, but I woke with an itching head and lower back. I could only assume my tail grew where the spine met my ass, as I wanted to scratch the whole thing off. Rather than scratch, I got up, got changed into yesterday’s clothes, and went on a search for someone who could show me how I was supposed to get clean.

Like it or not, I would tolerate the itch for as long as possible.

I found one of the younger Veloc on the voyage, Gersenalt, engaged in a rather heated argument with a piece of equipment in the hallway. Parts littered the floor, grease caked the Veloc’s feathers, and I wondered how much work he’d have ahead of him. “Are you okay?”

According to the Veloc’s explosive snort, nothing was okay, nor would it be okay again. “It fights me.”

That much I could tell without needing a manual to understand what any of the parts did. “Is there anything I can do to help? I can provide hands, but I know nothing about these machines.”

“Hands are useful. Yes, you can help.” Gersenalt pointed at a rather greasy tube made of metal. “Once I have this seal back into place, I will need you to put that over the seal while I hold everything in place.”

I grabbed the tube in question, examining both ends. “The side with or without the screw threads?”

“With. You will screw the tube into place over the seal. I will handle tightening it once it’s in place.” With his crest plastered to his skull, the Veloc resumed working, and after a few minutes, he grunted, adjusted the contraption he worked on, and pointed his nose at a round section with threads matching what was in my hand. “Screw that into place, please.”

“Here?” I asked, putting the end I’d selected as the probable one into place before regarding the Veloc.

He cooed and nodded.

The tube put up a fight, but between my determination and his general strength holding the other piece in place, I got it on, triple checking to make certain I’d threaded the screws properly. “Like this?”

Gersenalt turned the device on his lap, took hold of the tube, and finished screwing it into place. “You did quite well. Almost tight enough to hold. That will improve as you go through physical therapy.”

Like some sorcerer in his element, Gersenalt reassembled the machine. I watched with wide eyes, marveling he understood what bits went where. Once finished, he spent an unholy amount of time checking over his work. Once satisfied, he got up, lugged the machine down the hall, and opened a panel, revealing a mess of tubes, metal bits, and chaos.

It took him ten minutes to return the machine to its proper spot, after which he reattached the tubes and all the other bits. Once done, he pressed a flashing red button in the control panel.

The device whirred to life, and he cocked his head to listen to the sound. He then pressed a nearby button and said, “Please test the auxiliary oxygen generator.”

“Roger,” Waldren replied, his voice coming from a small box. “There are no initial warnings on the system.”

My eyes widened further. “That thingy makes oxygen for the ship?”

Gersenalt hooted his amusement, and his crest lifted. He gestured to the center of the whirring machine. “There are several shiftgem crystals in there, which produce oxygen and water for the ship. This is the backup system, and it threw a warning shortly after departure from Schawna Major. Cousin Waldren worries, and as he’s worked recovery on numerous derelicts, he has four backup systems capable of oxygenating the ship. We usually do maintenance on all systems every three months, but we got the call to come assist you right before our maintenance cycle. We’ve been doing the work as maintenance flags appear, but let’s just say my featherless kin has been stressing himself over the state of his beautiful wife.”

“You call the ship his wife?”

The Veloc showed me his sharp, pointy teeth. “She is as expensive as any wife.”

“More expensive,” the surly man muttered. “The comm is open, you feathered freak.”

“Quite on purpose, I assure you. Your beautiful wife will be well. Our guest helped me reassemble the system, as she came out of her quarters to explore several hours ahead of our estimated schedule.”

Well, as I had already defied their estimations, I decided a little whining was in order. “I itch, and rather than scratch, I got out of bed.”

“Ah, yes. Herserael wanted to see how you were progressing. Not as well as we would like, apparently. I will take her to the medical bay so the itching can be addressed along with cleanup. I took the liberty of greasing everything.”

“You greased it?” Waldren asked.

“It was already apart, so why not grease it?” Gersenalt regarded his greasy feathers and heaved a sigh. “My feathers are doomed.”

“Your feathers will be fine. The system is checking out so far. I’ll comm you if any of the tests reveal any issues.”

“There are no other systems that need to be worked on, right?” the Veloc asked, his tone so wary I fought the urge to giggle.

“The system is clean of flags. I am not responsible if a new flag shows up, but this time, I am not tricking you into cleaning up only to have to get greasy again.”

The giggle I’d been fighting back slipped out. “What did he do to you to deserve that?”

“He exists,” Waldren informed me before something clicked.

“My uncle is the Veloc who won his sister,” Gersenalt informed me. “As such, I carry the burden of his humor. It doesn’t help that I tease him about this at every opportunity. Don’t fret. I have earned my fate. My uncle offered to sacrifice me to Waldren in an effort to earn some favor. It has worked to a limited degree. Had I been a behaved hatchling, I would be home with my mate working on convincing her we should have hatchlings. But she joined forces with the rest of the clan, thus resulting in my eviction.”

The fondness in his tone made me smile. “Is she also an Emerald Crest?”

“Oh, no. My mate is a Scarlet Tail who married into the Emerald Crests. The Scarlets—the entire lot of them—are wicked temptresses, as evidenced by her taking over our clan with her iron claws.”

I wanted to meet his mate, who sounded like she could take over worlds if given an opportunity and an excuse. “They aren’t all female, are they?”

“Oh, no. The males just know better than to get in the way of their mates and daughters. They’re an adventurous and brave clan. We’re adventurous in that we’re more inclined to travel the stars, but we are less aggressive than they are. It works well for us. The Scarlets tend to view the Emerald Crests as a clan to be safeguarded, especially our hatchlings. We’re most likely to be targeted due to our disposition.”

I’d heard of traffickers on my world, as homo sapiens were common targets, also due to our general disposition. “Are there more clan types than named after crest and tail colors?”

“Tails, breasts, crests, backs, and tails tend to be our predominant groupings. There are others, but they’re rare.” Gersenalt gestured to his clawed feet. “Feet is one, and they are to be approached with care, no matter the color. The clans named as such tend to fight with all their natural weapons, and they are not inclined to cap their claws. If you hear about a Veloc being involved with the mass slaughter of other species, one of the Feets was likely involved. They tend to hunt traffickers and live out among the stars, making it so the rest of us can stay safe and cozy in our nests. We will all indulge in violence as needed, however.” He made a point of showing me his capped claws. “These are not just for show.”

“Frankly, I’m amazed that you can work on something like that machine with those claws!”

He showed me his hand, wiggling padded fingers beneath the claws. “When claws do not suffice, we use our fingers, although they are not nearly as dexterous as homo sapiens . The claw tips are textured, and they are quite strong, which helps. Learning fine-tuned movements with our claws is something we practice when young, so we are not at as much of a disadvantage as one might think.”

Without the distraction of observing him fix the machine, the itching made itself known, and I eyed his claws. “How good are those at scratching?”

“Quite, but there will be no scratching on my watch. I will restrain you should you try. I can, should I desire, carry you around by your wrists while you are reduced to standing on your toes, and you will not be able to pull free no matter how hard you try.”

I held out my hands. “Demonstration, please.”

Hooting a laugh, the Veloc complied, taking hold of my wrists in one hand, the padded claw tips pressing against my skin. With zero evidence of my weight bothering him, he lifted me off my feet and let me dangle for a moment before easing me down to my toes. “We learn how to restrain excitable homo sapiens in safe fashions. My uncle’s mate often becomes excited and requires such tethering to keep her from investigating newcomers. Like you, she is inclined to pet any Veloc to cross her path.” He herded me along, forcing me to prance around on my toes. “We have done experiments with intrigued homo sapiens , where they climb all over us with the goal of making us move from our chosen position. They rarely succeed.”

“Waldren tossed Herserael to the floor,” I commented.

“You cannot see this, I know, but your ears just betrayed you, perking forward with interest when you made that comment. Your tail has also fluffed. The body language you express seems to match Palta’s. Most interesting. Does our little cousin interest you, or are you curious on how he can throw a being far larger than himself?”

“I really want to know how he threw Herserael,” I admitted. “It seems useful being able to toss a Veloc to the floor.”

“It is a matter of gravity. He waited for Herserael to be off-center in balance and took advantage of his position. Without that leverage, homo sapiens simply cannot toss us no matter how hard they try. Had Herserael been balanced, he might have lost a few feathers to the attempt but little else. We’ve worked hard to make sure the homo sapiens within our clan are best able to defend themselves.” The Veloc’s tail twitched. “Such encouragements come at a price, as Waldren has discovered it is possible to ride us. Most will not allow such things willingly, but when we do not wish to harm our troublesome homo sapiens , he takes advantage of that weakness to do what he wishes. And sometimes, he wishes to establish his status as a pest through pouncing onto our backs and remaining until he is ready to depart and go back to whatever it is your kind does when behaving.”

I giggled at the thought of Waldren scrambling onto the back of a Veloc and staying there, all without permission. “Your clan must really like him to put up with that.”

“We like his sister more, but we are fond enough of him despite his status as a frequent pest.”

“What other things has he done?”

The Veloc grinned. “I would be pleased to tell you all of his dirty secrets.”

After an hour of itching, I snapped so hard it took three Veloc to contain me. I landed several bites on Gersenalt, kicked Herserael numerous times, and I attempted to scramble my brains, bashing my forehead into the thick skull of Alban, the eldest Veloc—a green, yellow, and red male who found my plight fascinating.

While Gersenalt held my wrists together, Herserael pinned me long enough for Alban to give me several injections. One needle, taken directly to the ass, had stoked my fury to the point I’d unleashed threats to pluck all of them for a new pillow.

A rather bemused Waldren observed, safe out of my reach. “I’d read the reports about the problems with her itching, but they neglected to record temporary psychosis. This could be an issue.”

Alban’s hooted laughter drew my attention to the elder Veloc, and I hissed at him. “She is a feisty female, this is true. The feisty ones are always troublesome, but they are worth keeping around. They tend to be clever as well as stubborn. Her tolerance? Quite admirable, really. We now know her tolerance for the itching problem, and we will be certain to medicate on the appropriate schedule. Her nerve endings are healing nicely, and she has full mobility of her tail and ears. This is a useful incident.” After stowing the expended syringes, the Veloc dug his capped claws into my hair and scratched, light enough to relieve the itch. I went limp and still. “There, there. This should tame the beast.”

“Without injuring her?” Waldren demanded.

“The site has fully healed. It is the new nerves causing the problem. Unattended scratching might create injury, but a little to offer relief is permissible. That does not mean you can scratch, young one. We will scratch for you until the healing process finishes. We will only test if you itch every few days, and we will make certain to numb it before you try to murder us or rip your new ears and tail off.”

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled.

Alban gave the other side of my head a healthy scratching, and by the time he finished, the itching subsided to something I could ignore with a little work. “You have nothing to be sorry about. We understand that some of our tests may result in our patient threatening to pluck us for pillows. A potent threat, especially now that we know you will bite if provoked.”

“And scratch,” Herserael added, and the Veloc hooted his amusement. “And attempt to use her skull as a weapon.”

“She gets full points for determination,” Waldren stated. “And now that our medical entertainment is over for the moment, it’s time to prepare for the jump. Camellia, am I correct in understanding you have zero training regarding jumps and protocols?”

“I have no training,” I replied, and once the Veloc released me, I brushed my clothes off and straightened, careful to ignore the urge to give my scalp a good scratching. “I understand the basics, but I don’t know if my basics are correct. I learned them from a book.”

“Pretend I’ve never been on a ship in my life and tell me what is supposed to happen with a jump,” Waldren instructed. “Keep it to as simple terms you can. If you want to become a shiftgem engineer later, that’s something you can pursue at your leisure.”

“Every jump enabled ship has a special drive that interacts with the shiftgem gates. I’m not convinced it’s actually science, but the gems in the gate, which is an archway somehow locked into a fixed location in space, activate the gems in the engine of the ship. The gems then unite the connecting archways and shunt the ship through. If everything goes correctly, the ship materializes through the other archway and floats out to space. If something goes wrong, the ship may not jump—or it might be torn to pieces.”

Waldren nodded. “That’s as good a base explanation as I’ve heard. I have several gem colors on board with a drive allowing me to switch out the cores to best match the gate we’re going through. While my ship isn’t the fastest in the universe, the Veloc gifted me with sufficient shiftgems to utilize any gate—even the ones requiring black stones. This is where things get touchy. The gate that allows us to make the journey to your world in two weeks uses black shiftgems. The gate has… issues.”

“Issues?” I blurted, my eyes widening, as his tone implied the gate itself was alive. “What sort of issues?”

“It has a mind of its own. Most people only use the gate if there is an emergency. For example, when Dauntless came to your world, the captain was aware that there were a lot of people in critical condition. The gate reacted accordingly—and shunted the ship within a ten minute flight to your world. We’ve been traveling longer than ten minutes, as I’m sure you’ve noticed by now.”

“I had.” I considered him with a frown. “We’re not in an emergency, so you aren’t sure if the gate will send us to where we want to go?”

A faint smile appeared before he smothered it. “Precisely. Sometimes, the gate responds to the needs of the crew—and sometimes, the gate is aware of those who need assistance in some other portion of space and decides a ship might become someone else’s salvation. Space is a vast and dangerous place—and the Veloc have a rule. If the shiftgem gate calls, we answer. And that rule tends to mean we get sidetracked fairly often if we use one of the touchier gates.”

“Like this one.”

Waldren nodded. “And with your situation, we simply don’t know what will happen. The shiftgem within your brain might even react to the gate. This is about as experimental as it gets. We won’t know what will happen until we try the jump. No is an allowed answer. If you aren’t comfortable with the risk, we’ll take a different gate and extend our voyage.”

I shook my head. “It’s fine. It’s better to find out now rather than later. What do I need to do?”

“Not much. I’ll have you in the command area of the ship. I’ll put you in the co-captain’s chair and let you get your first taste of working with a spaceship. The Veloc prefer to hide in their nests, where they can be safely tethered. Jumps unnerve them, and they’ll cap their claws so they don’t shred their nests.”

“And Palta?”

“She will be in her cubby in my quarters. Her bed closes and has sufficient padding to protect her, and she has her own life support system. There’s also a water dispenser, waste receptacle, and a food dispenser. If something happens to us, she’ll be able to survive for three months. There’s even a heater so if the systems shut down, she’ll be okay.”

My eyes widened. “That’s incredible.”

“It cost me a fortune, but I refused to take her into space until I was certain I could make her as safe as possible. But now that I have her system sorted, I can replicate it in every quarter. When I had the ship refitted, I made certain every habitable space was fitted with the necessary connectors for the system. The battery is the expensive part; it requires a complete collection of shiftgem crystals. But she’s worth it.”

That she was. “Can I see the system afterwards?”

“Sure. I actually have all the components for a second system, so I can show you the whole thing. When we got word about your situation, I gathered the equipment. The Veloc are obsessive, and if they feel like you need an animal, you will be getting an animal. And Veloc tend to believe homo sapiens of all stripes need animals to thrive.” Waldren shot Herserael a glare, and the subject of his displeasure laughed.

“I haven’t had a pet before,” I admitted. “I was always too busy looking at the stars than being willing to take care of an animal I’d probably have to leave behind.”

“On most exploratory ships, a pet wouldn’t be an option. I make the concessions and pay the prices to have Palta—and the Veloc sometimes bring their pets along, too.”

Alban snickered. “I have a parrot that was originally bred on Earth, but my beloved refused to let me take her off planet this time. It’s her turn to keep Rosie company.”

“Do you all have pets?”

As one, the Veloc nodded. Herserael said, “We’ll keep an eye out for a friend for you. Unless Palta decides she likes a male of her kind, it probably won’t be an Andean like her. But that’s not a bad thing. If Palta does make friends with a male, he’ll likely become Waldren’s companion as well. It’s better for the cats to be kept together.”

That I could readily understand. “Or we could find a male for Waldren, and then we could go on a quest to find another pair for me. We will be overrun with them within a few years and create an empire of cats.” I’d read just enough about genetic diversity to understand with four cats from different lines, with the science of genetic manipulation available, we could repopulate the species and give them a new lease on life—assuming we could gain access to the machines needed to do it. “We could make a conservation project for cats like Palta. I mean, have you looked at her? She’s adorable, and her kind deserves to be spread far and wide.”

The Veloc hooted their laughter and Waldren sighed. “Cats like Palta generally sell for over a million standard galactic credits, Camellia. However much I would love to further their species, it’s not precisely affordable—and finding three cats with the appropriate genetic diversity would be a challenge.”

“Kittens,” I replied, as I felt the word fully explained my stance on the situation.

“It would only take one or two profitable derelicts to make her idea a reality,” Alban commented, and he flashed a toothy grin Waldren’s way. “You worry about flying the ship, I will retire to my quarters and worry about sourcing felines. Palta is an excellent hunting companion, and our world can sustain the species when they’re companion beasts. We may have a habitat suitable for wild release, but we would have to genetically modify at least three hundred kittens for proper diversity, breed them, and then scatter the animals throughout their territory. Not impossible, but a challenge—and stocking their territory with suitable prey might be a challenge.”

“Might?” Waldren blurted. “Where are we going to get three hundred Andean kittens?”

“We’ll breed them, of course.”

I burst out laughing at the Veloc’s enthusiasm. “I should apologize for giving your clan bad ideas, but I like kittens.”

“You like all animals and plants, even ones that would try to kill you,” Herserael informed me. “Your parents were quite clear regarding your tendencies. Waldren, I’ll leave her in your capable hands. Call for me should the itching symptoms manifest again. Otherwise, tend your ship and begin teaching Camellia your captain ways. It’s never a bad thing to have more beings capable of flying this thing.”

Waldren snorted. “You’re all trained for emergencies.”

“If I were meant to fly, I’d have wings,” the Veloc countered, giving a shake before departing.

The other Veloc likewise fled, leaving me alone with the disgruntled man. “I swear. They do it just to irritate me.”

“It does seem to me like they have identified one of your shiny red buttons and depress it at will just to see what you will do,” I agreed. “Unlike them, I’m not afraid of learning to fly a ship, although I will regret it, as I am certain the price of a space faring vessel easily exceeds the amount for an Andean mountain cat.”

“By a significant margin. Most pilots get their ships used and on payment plans or through a company they fly for. I’m fortunate; my ship is mine, but it’s only mine because Veloc are wealthy. They’d have to be. They wear shiftgem crystals in their feathers because they like it.”

“Those are shiftgems?” I blurted.

“Every last one of them,” Waldren grumbled, wrinkling his nose. “I’m pretty sure my sister’s husband sold some of his baubles to buy my ship—and didn’t miss a single one.”

“But where are they getting the gems?” I thought about the ridiculous number of jewels the Veloc wore in their crests and on their tails. “There are so many of them.”

“Most of their worlds are shiftgem producing planets, and planet busters steer clear of any planet the Veloc own—or live on. Should they attack a Veloc’s planet, the entire species would rise up and destroy every planet buster in existence without remorse. They would paint the universe red by the time they finished. It’s gotten to the point the Veloc are considering such a mission, however. They tire of lost lives for the sake of profit. But when they aren’t showing off their hunting skills, the Veloc mine for shiftgem crystals—and on some places on their worlds, all they have to do to mine them is walk around the ground and pick up any they find.”

“Are you saying I could, if the Veloc let me, just walk around their planet and pick up enough shiftgems to buy an entire spaceship?”

“Yes.”

Well, that explained a lot. “So, you’re saying the Veloc are the bazillionaire romantics of the universe.”

“Well, my sister doesn’t mind how much currency she has available to her should she desire something, that’s for sure. I hate being idle, so my sister’s general lifestyle would not work for me.”

I raised a brow. “She has to contain a Veloc, Waldren. They seem like a handful on a good day.”

“You truly have no idea how right you are,” he replied, and he gestured for me to follow. “As there is no time better than the present, let’s get to the bridge and test our luck with the gate. If you believe in any higher power, now’s the time to start praying.”

I didn’t but I chuckled at the thought of Waldren resorting to something like prayer to get through the gate without incident. “It can’t be that bad, can it?”

“I really hope we don’t find out.”