The tunnel was made from the same solid, white metal as the portal door, and was not the suffocating red throat that Pea had been picturing. She only had a few moments to feel relieved about that, however, before the valve irised closed behind her and she was left in darkness.
The metal tube was only just high enough for her to walk upright, and was a few meters long. In the sudden pitch darkness, the companion was almost grateful to be wearing a helmet in case she knocked her head on something.
Almost.
She stumbled forward, hands outstretched, her breathing suddenly very loud in the confined space. Where did this helmet produce oxygen?
A surge of adrenaline at the thought had Pea running her fingers frantically along the lip of the collar around her throat, trying to find an edge. Trying to yank the horrible thing off her head. There was nothing to grip. The helmet stayed stubbornly in place.
Pea stopped in what she thought was probably the middle of the tunnel and forced herself to drop her hands. She breathed deeply and slowly. It isn’t a real helmet, she told herself. It’s one of those game Items that does magical things. Aditi said it would be fine…
She would have to wait until she was back on Aditi’s ship, and have the other woman remove the helmet for her.
But could she trust Aditi?
Weariness rose up inside her, a bone-deep ache that Pea knew instinctively that leveling up could not cure. She wanted to sit down in this tiny, black space where no one could see her, where no screaming alarms could suddenly bellow in her ears, where no furry arseholes could attack her and then immediately expect forgiveness, and just… sleep.
However, the one bright light that shone through this long, long day had been Junebug. Pea didn’t know if she could trust Matt or Aditi- or even herself- but she trusted Junebug.
So she let her anger surge out, just a little.
A focused jet of anger directed at herself.
“Stop whining,” she muttered quietly, hoping Junebug couldn’t hear her. “Get your butt in there. The only one holding up our nap is you.”
Prodded by her own words, the companion stumbled forward. Her outstretched hand found the other iris valve and before she had time to worry about how to open it, it folded in on itself and she was inside the alien ship.
The light was a dim, warm yellow. It came from a thousand glowing spots smattering the curved walls like freckles. Pea was relieved to see that the so-called cavity was at least the size of a room, and there was no goop in sight. The air was warm and dry, with a sweet smell that Pea couldn’t quite place.
The surfaces surrounding the companion- the walls, the floor, the ceiling- were all the same pebbled texture that Junebug sported on the outside, although here the pebbles ranged from tiny scales the size of a thumbnail, to the smooth, broad backs of melons, all dappled with the glowing spots. Junebug’s skin was a deep, burnished copper where the dim light concentrated, with bare hints of the oily iridescent patina that shone in the sunlight.
A line came to her, as if whispered by her previous self.
“All things counter, original, spare, strange…”
Pea chased the memory, but it vanished as quickly as it arrived, leaving only the certainly that the air around her smelled of roasted chestnuts.
The chamber was round and even, like the inside of a massive egg, marred only by a steep slope at one end that rose up to a strip of black, bisecting the wall at about shoulder height.
Pea felt awash with relief that her surroundings were not the hideous, dripping pit of stomach acid that she had- perhaps not-so-secretly- feared.
As she gazed around herself a rippling sensation, like a tiny, sun-warm brook, burbled under her bare feet.
A weird echo to her relief filled her from the toes up.
“Ju-Junebug?”
The alien relief in her body turned to joy in an instant, like golden dye whisked into a bucket of paint.
“I’m here,” Junebug said and its high-pitched, melodic voice seeped through the walls in every direction. “And you’re here! I can feel you. I couldn’t feel anyone before.”
Fear swamped Pea before she could tamp it down. The young alien could feel what she was… feeling? Thinking?
Junebug was violating her mind?
“No, no, no,” Junebug said and a frantic need to help whooshed up Pea’s body in a tornado of bubbles.
“Don’t be scared. Please don’t be scared of me.”
The golden joy darkened to charcoal and Pea was nearly overwhelmed by despair. She grappled with it as if it were a huge, wet dog, smothering her, pawing frantically at her ankles while she drowned in black fur. Pea found herself on her knees, which only made the sensation worse.
She stumbled upright, limiting her physical contact with Junebug and beat back the mournful dog as best she could.
Junebug, can you hear me? Pea yelled inside her head as loudly as possible.
To her relief, the young alien didn’t reply, and its despair remained constant.
So it was only emotion that it could detect, and share. If share was the right word. It felt more like being waterboarded by the moods of a toddler.
Pea realized that this was going to be hard, even without considering that she was already exhausted. She took some deep breaths again and concentrated on feeling happy to be with her friend. At first it was almost impossible. The despair eclipsed her thoughts until she was almost convinced that everything was terrible and nothing would ever be happy again. What was the point in fighting? What was the point in trying at all?
What helped was realizing that Junebug had been fighting this battle alone. It must have been agonizing to be so used to having someone there to help regulate its emotions, and then have that someone ripped away forever. When that thought threatened to overwhelm her, Pea let her anger help beat it back. She would not contribute to Junebug being unhappy. She was not going to let this black dog win.
Slowly the gray was streaked by trickles of light, and then a flood of gold saturated everything and Junebug was happy again. The black dog that had been clawing at the companion’s legs vanished.
Pea closed her eyes with relief.
As she did, a deep clunk sounded from outside and the room lurched so violently that Pea was flung against the walls.
“Ow, fuck,” she swore and that red, hot anger that had helped her so much reared into the forefront of her mind.
Pea felt Junebug flinch away. The emotions she sensed around her flushed a sickly green. Fear. It was tiny bug feet crawling over the whole front of her body, which was pressed against the walls.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” the little Ship cried and it stopped so quickly that Pea stumbled back to the middle of the chamber, just barely catching herself from falling on her arse.
“It’s OK! Really!” Pea said and fought to make it feel OK.
She was intensely grateful that Junebug couldn’t hear her thoughts, which she briefly allowed to express all the anger and pain from her body being flung around like a toy, yet again. Why did she not borrow a damper Item from one of the two people who didn’t volunteer to enter the alien ship?
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
As she hurled insults at the inside of her own skull, the companion forced herself to get gradually more inventive.
Amusement finally cut through the fear that crawled around her feet, like a hot scoop through ice-cream.
Pea wasn’t sure if she was learning, or if fear was just easier to soothe than despair, but she managed to get herself and Junebug both back into equilibrium much more quickly this time.
Gradually the golden colour that seemed to be Junebug’s happy place suffused Pea, although nows it had a soft, green patina, like metal that was slightly tarnished by age. It would have broken Pea’s heart if she hadn’t been concentrating so fiercely on happy thoughts.
“Second star on the right, and straight on ‘til morning,” she whispered to herself. Being genuinely happy for someone else’s sake was no cakewalk, but it seemed to be working.
“Junebug, do you mind if I sit down in here?”
“Of course you can!” Junebug said and the floor trembled slightly as the alien restrained itself from bouncing.
Pea stepped gingerly over to the sloping wall, and realized that the strip of black above it was the same long, dark sensory organ that Junebug had pressed against the dome to watch them. It disappeared into the walls on either side of the chamber, like a road sign grown over by a tree.
Pea realized it probably used to be bigger. Of course it did, since the chamber itself used to be much bigger. Pea caught herself wondering whether the room was closing in on her and deftly avoided the thought.
Dropping down onto the slope, Pea found her eyes just barely at the level of the black strip and the rest of her supported by the sloping wall. She could see deep, regular holes in the wall underneath her that puzzled her briefly until she pictured the giant grubs that Matt had mentioned.
The holes were claw marks, for the Mother to grip onto her child while they flew around together.
Pea let that thought fall away without examining it too hard, but hooked a couple of fingers into the topmost holes.
They were very far apart. Junebug’s Mother was not a small being.
She was now leaning on her front, on a relatively high angle, and peering straight through the dark, smoky pane in front of her. It seemed to be almost a foot thick, and was speckled with inky inclusions like tiny, black fish. Still, she could see the lights of Aditi’s ship through it, and that helped the companion to orientate herself.
As soon as the bare parts of her body touched the pebbled surface, Junebug’s emotions surged into her more strongly. Pea winced at the overwhelming nature of it, but tried to hide her fear from Junebug. It was impossible not to get a sense of the alien now, and it was exactly who Pea expected it to be. It was a sweet child, overwhelmingly concerned with making sure ‘Mother’ Pea was safe and happy.
“OK, Junebug, I think I’ll be fine now. Could we try moving a bit?”
“Yes!” Junebug said. It accelerated at what Pea assumed to an alien born in space, was a gentle pace, but to Pea was like a hand squashing her flat.
Her fingers pressed deeper into the clawholds, until she brushed the bottoms of them and suddenly everything leapt into sharp relief.
The companion was no longer only Pea. She was Pea-Junebug and they were flying together. The Junebug part of her gave a delighted squeal that Pea felt rather than heard and started into a loop-de-loop that flung Pea back into her own body. She clung to the wall, struggling not to fly off and bounce off the chamber floor.
“Sorry, Mother Pea,” Junebug said forlornly, and stopped in place so suddenly that Pea was pressed down again and her fingers slid back into place.
“Holy crap,” Pea said aloud, testing to see whether she still could, as the solar system rushed back into view and her consciousness joined again with Junebug.
Her voice sounded distant, as if she were speaking into a microphone and listening to her words from a speaker on the other side of the room. However, she could still speak, and she could still hear. Her body was fine, it just felt… not very important right that minute.
“It’s OK, Junebug. I just… I wasn’t expecting…”
“I knew you were a Mother!” Junebug interrupted her. Its voice was gleeful, and thankfully it still seemed to need to speak out loud in the chamber, so there was still no chance of it hearing Pea’s private thoughts.
Aside from a genuine need for privacy, Pea knew she swore way too much to let a kid listen to every word that went through her mind.
The emotional toll was much less overwhelming as well, now that they were more in sync. The weird physical sensations that had been brushing against her skin stopped, and Pea was able to examine Junebug’s emotion without feeling like she was drowning in it.
And then there was the view.
Every shred of the companion’s reluctance dissolved as she looked out into the local solar system with what felt like her naked eyes. Junebug sat lightly in her mind, like the best kind of imaginary friend, simply pleased to be there.
The nearby star blazed, and sparkled off the chunks of debris which drifted some distance away. Stars glimmered in the distance, a handful of diamonds strewn across a black void.
Pea could see her own escape pod clearly, only a few meters away from her.
It was a golden sphere half the size of Junebug, and dwarfed by Aditi’s ship. The transparent dome shone dully in the light of the nearby sun and Pea could even make out a tiny Aditi lounging on the couches, although there was no sign of Matt.
“Can you tell Aditi that I’m alright, Junebug?”
“I already did,” Junebug said. “Mother Aditi says to ‘have fun’. She also suggested that I put a… a seated belt on you?”
“A seatbelt. I doubt you have one of those,” Pea replied. She felt Junebug’s confusion and then elaborated. “It’s a strap to hold humans in place when they’re in vehicles that move quickly. I didn’t think it was going to be this much of an issue or I would have….”
Pea trailed off as a heavy warmth crept up the sides of her body.
She held her panic close, like a fragile thing encased in thin glass, as she examined what was happening. Junebug, unable to provide a traditional seatbelt, was shaping its own body around Pea. The companion had sunk into the pebbled surface and flaps had sprung up to hold her into place, including locking her hands into the clawholds that were her connection to Junebug.
“Like this, Mother Pea?” Junebug asked, a thread of green anxiety woven through their interlinked minds.
Pea gritted her mental teeth and nodded. Her body would be safe as long as they didn’t do anything too drastic. It was fine. It was a great idea.
Just splendid.
She definitely needed to bring that inertia damper next time.
And there would be a next time. Now that her body was safely clutched to the alien’s side, it took the opportunity gently swoop around the other ships.
They danced.
All traces of fear and distrust were blasted away by Junebug’s sheer joy and relief at being together with a friend. By the elation that was all Pea’s own as they soared through space, propelled by Junebug only knew what.
They circled the escape pod, cresting over the dome several times. Junebug was tickled when Pea explained that Aditi was waving to them, and that it was how humans said ‘Hello’.
Then they made a joint decision and eased into the debris field. Pea had only seen it as a nuisance- a deadly one- but now she could understand why Aditi’s eyes had shone when talking about its potential.
There were massive chunks of wreckage among the smaller bits of dust, pieces of Ship that might have multiple intact rooms inside them. It would take months just to catalog the larger pieces.
Pea-Junebug also took note of much smaller objects that could be useful. A candelabra with flames still burning, even in vacuum, sped past, then a faceted crystal larger than Pea was tall. Junebug caught sight of a massive chest in the distance that looked like something out of a pirate ship, spinning end on end.
Pea explained the human items as much as possible to the alien, as they both studied the area and tried to detect Matt’s Ship. Junebug tried to understand, but mostly seemed happy just to be exploring.
Pea hadn’t actually seen the Ship before, but Junebug held a picture of it in its mind that Pea could make out, although it was hazy, like something seen through fog. She suspected she and the alien did not actually see in the same spectrum, but as far as she could tell, his ship was an aerodynamic thing, shaped like a paper glider, with a thick triangular prism along the bottom length.
The first flush of happiness from the adventure buoyed them both for almost an hour, but eventually Pea realized that Junebug was almost as tired as she was. Sleep was something humans and Quentith had in common, and no matter how large Junebug might be, it was still a child, and it had had a long day.
Pea-Junebug was ready to give up and try again after a nap when they finally spotted it. The sharp lines and angles of Matt’s Ship peeked out from behind another chunk of parkland.
The Ship was a charcoal gray, with its name, The Setting Moon, painted in light blue letters along the side. They pulled up alongside it, carefully avoiding bigger lumps of dirt trailing from its neighbor.
“How do we…?” Pea asked, then paused as her body yawned.
She was being attacked by sleep from two angles. Pea-Junebug tried to shake off the sleepiness with bouncing, and then with slow, careful twirling, but it came creeping back almost immediately. It seeped through Pea like… well, like she was being lowered into that warm vat of goop she had anticipated so pessimistically.
Pea would have pinched herself, but she couldn’t move her hands.
Goop wasn’t so bad, right? It was warm and comfy and…
“Junebug, wake up!” Pea said out loud. They were both drifting away, mentally, but more importantly, literally.
“We need to get out of the debris field before we can sleep,” Pea insisted and threw so much urgency into her friend that the little Ship flinched. The sudden jerk caused Pea enough distant pain that she woke up even more.
Junebug let embarrassment and regret flood their minds and then swiftly swept behind the other ship and nudged it in the direction of the escape pod.
Junebug-Pea noticed that one wing of Matt’s ship was crushed and barely attached to the main body. The sight struck them both as hysterical and it was all Pea could do to keep herself from giggling like a mad woman.
Luckily, they hadn’t gone too deeply into the debris field in their search. They quickly maneuvered the broken ship back to the others.
Pea thought how wonderful it was to feel like she was working in a team, even though technically Junebug was doing all the actual labor. Searching out the best parts of the debris and assembling them into a habitat was going to be fun.
Soon she would have her own room, and her own place to sleep.
Pea could only hope it would be as comfortable as she was right now.
As Junebug followed Aditi’s instructions and gently guided The Setting Moon to dock with the spiky Christmas tree of a Ship, Pea found that she could no longer resist.
She closed the eyes of her real body, felt herself adrift on a warm sea of emotion, and finally fell into a deep sleep.