Izhima by Tamsin Ley

Author:Tamsin Ley
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781950027606
Publisher: Twin Leaf Press

13

BETHANY

Izhima and I enter the captain’s cabin, and I feel like I just stepped inside an old charcoal grill. It’s not hot, but dark soot covers every surface—from the bed at the back of the quarters, to the knick-knacks on the inset shelves, to the tall, round table where the captain is sitting. He’s studying a holographic screen with symbols I can’t read. Just beyond him, a small round viewport looks out onto the stars, the first view of the outside I’ve seen since coming on board. It reminds me of that terrifying moment when we were blasted out of the airlock, and I turn my gaze away with a shudder. Cleaning the cabin is going to be horrible in more ways than one, I can tell already.

Izhima steps past me, his bare feet kicking up small puffs of black dust, and I take a step back, covering my mouth and nose. “Is it safe to breathe in here?”

The captain frowns. At least, I think he’s frowning. His mandibles are turned down like a malformed mustache, and his buggy eyes are narrowed.

Izhima reaches for my hand and pulls me inside next to him. “Forgive us, captain. We didn’t realize you were female.”

Female? I blink at the captain, trying to determine why Izhima thinks that. Is it because of the soot? God, what the hell is this stuff? I gulp and ask, “Will one of you please tell me why everything’s black?”

Izhima points toward a ceiling corner. “G’naxian symbiote dew.”

I squint toward the corner and make out what appears to be a forest-green, winged beetle about the size of a dinner plate clinging to the wall. Another shudder runs through me; I’m pretty sure dew is just a polite term for feces.

The captain clicks three times, each sound deeper than the last. Sadness? “I have no younglings to lap it up.”

“My condolences,” Izhima says with genuine feeling.

I don’t understand, but my sister’s chihuahua means the world to her, and she loves to talk about it, so I ask, “Does your symbiote have a name, captain?”

The captain blinks at me like an owl, one eye at a time. “G’lurr.”

I can’t tell, but I think she may be pleased that I asked. “Great name! My sister has a pet too. A dog we call Beanie. He’s not much bigger than G’lurr.”

The captain’s spines flare, jutting from her head and shoulders like the crest on a bird.

Izhima nudges me and speaks in a soft voice. “A symbiote isn’t a pet. It produces a substance used to feed G’naxian infants.”

My heart constricts, and I look at the captain with fresh eyes. This dew stuff is their version of baby formula. Did she lose a baby? Why else would the symbiote be producing so much? And why is it spread all over the damn room? Much as I want to ask all these questions, I decide to save them for later, when Izhima and I are alone. The last thing I want to do is offend anyone more than I already have.

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