Tupo burst out laughing.
‘What?’ Roveg said. ‘What’s so funny?’
‘You are,’ Tupo said, giggling heartily. ‘That looked hilarious.’
‘Tupo,’ Ouloo moaned.
‘What’s hilarious?’ Roveg said with good humour, craning his head back toward Tupo as far as his shell would allow. He was well aware that full-bodied dexterity was not his species’ strong suit. ‘Show me what’s so funny.’
‘You were like …’ The little Laru dramatically threw xyrself over, limbs flopping noodle-like into the grass.
‘You’re the one with crazy legs, not me,’ Roveg said. He shifted his eyes toward Ouloo. ‘But not you, of course,’ he added with conciliatory charm.
Ouloo made a teasing face at him. ‘I’m sure,’ she said. She rolled over with far more grace than her offspring, and the two snuggled together into one shaggy pile, facing up toward the sky.
Pei followed suit, breathing deeply as she hit the grass. It was peculiar, Roveg thought, hearing sound come from her mouth rather than the implant in her throat, even if the only thing audible was the sway of air. ‘That’s nice,’ Pei said through her talkbox. The words were layered atop the asynchronous sound of her breathing, making the distinction between organic noise and synthetic speech all the more striking. ‘City fields are nice and all, but they’re not quite this, are they?’
Roveg clicked his mouthparts in agreement. ‘When was the last time you lay down under a real sky?’
The Aeluon let out another heavy breath. ‘Sohep Frie, probably. When I was a girl.’ She rolled her head toward him, her cheeks a delicate blue. ‘A long time.’
‘I’ve an idea,’ he said, ‘but only if it’s not a bother. Ouloo, is it possible to turn off the garden lights?’
‘Oh, that’s no bother at all,’ she said. As though it were the most casual action in the world, she reached into her belly pouch and pulled out her scrib.
Roveg’s frills twitched involuntarily. ‘Do you … keep … belongings in there?’ he asked.
‘Why not?’ she said. ‘It’s been a long time since it was occupied, and I don’t plan on it being so again. Might as well use it for something.’
Roveg decided to not pursue that line of questioning any further. He recalled using her scrib in Pei’s shuttle the day before. He decided to not think further about that, either.
Ouloo made a couple of gestures at the scrib, and all the lights at the Five-Hop dimmed and deactivated. Roveg’s eyes adjusted quickly to the twilight. Stars, but it was lovely out.
Roveg shifted his gaze, and noticed Speaker sitting in her suit, which was likewise in a sitting position. She seemed unsure of what to do. ‘Can you lie down in that thing?’ Roveg asked.
‘I … yes?’ Speaker said. ‘There’s no mechanical reason I couldn’t. I’ve just never done it.’
‘You’ve never laid down and looked at the stars?’ he asked.
Speaker did not appear to understand the point. ‘I live in space,’ she said. ‘I see stars all the time.’
‘We all live in space,’ Pei said, ‘but it’s … it’s different, from the ground.’
‘Come,’ Roveg said. ‘You must give it a try. And if your suit gets stuck, we’ll get you back up.’
Speaker was right about the suit’s mechanical capabilities, but it was strange to be lying down that way. She didn’t spend much time lying on her back to begin with, and doing so in her cockpit was downright odd. But once she’d adjusted to the weirdness – and figured out how to angle the cup of suckingly sweet pudding so that it wouldn’t spill everywhere – she took in the view with thoughtful silence. She did see stars all the time. The windows of her ship were full of stars far more often than not.
But Pei was right. This was different.
‘They’re so … soft,’ Speaker said with surprise. ‘They’re not as sharp. Is that because of the dome?’
‘No,’ Roveg said. ‘It’s the atmosphere. It mutes them. And see how they—’
‘They move,’ Speaker said. She laughed. ‘I’ve read books in Klip that made mention of the stars twinkling, but I thought … I thought they were just being poetic. Like they were comparing them to jewellery, or glass. I didn’t think …’
‘That they did that?’ Roveg asked.
‘Right,’ Speaker said.
‘Why do they twinkle?’ Tupo asked.
‘Air currents,’ Pei said. ‘You know how when you make tea and you look in the mug when it’s really hot, you can see the liquid swirling around itself?’
‘I don’t like tea,’ Tupo said.
‘You like soup,’ Ouloo said.
‘Yeah,’ Tupo said.
‘And have you seen that swirl?’ Ouloo asked.
‘Yeah,’ Tupo said.
‘Air does the same thing,’ Pei said. ‘And it makes the light shining through it wiggle.’
‘Which one’s Uoa?’ Tupo asked. The Laru species’ home system.
Ouloo let out the sigh of a parent who’d been asked a good question for which she had no answer. ‘I have no idea,’ she said.
‘Well, let’s find out.’ Roveg wriggled a few legs behind himself awkwardly, trying to get at the satchel tied around his abdomen, currently smooshed between his back and the ground. ‘Tupo, can you reach the big pocket on the side of my bag? I’m trying to get my scrib.’ He knew Ouloo’s scrib was more handy, but … no. Never again. Thankfully, Tupo obliged, and placed Roveg’s own scrib into his waiting toes. ‘Thank you very much,’ he said. He made a few gestures, then held the device up to the sky. The scrib chirped in response, and displayed a map of the stars behind it. ‘Let’s see,’ Roveg said, scanning. ‘All right, well, we’re not at Uoa yet, but do you see that orangish one?’
‘Where?’ Tupo asked.
‘Yeah, where?’ Pei asked.
‘Here, follow my leg.’ Roveg extended a single thoracic leg and traced it from horizon to heavens. ‘Come up from here, go left for a while, and then …’
‘Oh, I think I see it,’ Pei said.
‘I don’t!’ Tupo
