Page 64 of The Cerulean Sister
Calliape and I idle toward the door, wondering if it's truly time to leave for the night and meet again in the morning for official departure.
"Alright!" August announces. "I am sick of going over the plan and what could go wrong. I refuse to spend our last night that way."
"What else is there to do?" Calliape asks and quickly moves out of the way when he brushes by us.
"Tradition." He slams the side of his fist into the door's command panel and smiles as it seals us in.
"August," 99 warns, not amused by the sudden break from the intense strategy session.
In return, August wags a finger at him and then marches to the metal ladder that leads to the rest of the ship, disappearing up into the next level.
"Where are you going?" I shout.
"I will need at least one of you to help me! The rest . . . stay put," he calls down.
Calliape's huffing laugh is cut short as she folds the distance from the cargo hull to whatever August is doing in the ship.
99 still has the same surly posture when I turn back to him.
"We should keep going over the plan." He clenches his fists.
I unfold two of the metal chairs attached to the wall, making myself comfortable, and pat the one next to me. "What do you think they are doing?"
"He wants us to eat a meal in the hull . . . Superstitious." He joins me and leans back, stretching his long legs out into the space.
"Or a welcome distraction."
"I don't need a distraction, Ferren." He lets out an exasperated sigh and removes his helmet, placing it at our feet.
"We have gone over everything countless times. The stone retrieval was not even this thorough," I joke.
"It is not the same." His tone is blunt, shrouded in the fear of losing me, but then his knuckle runs along the top of my thigh. "I did not love you then."
I place my hand on the side of his face, pulling away his fixated stare of where he touches me. "99, we will be successful again, and no, it is not the same becauseweare not the same as before, but you have to know, First Mother herself could not keep me from returning to you."
He leans in and kisses me, releasing a throaty sigh.
"Oh, sorry," Calliape says as she descends the metal ladder, the echo of her boots making me jump.
I smile, certain my cheeks are flush, and quickly smooth out the fabric on my leg where 99's soft touch turned gripping the moment I pressed my lips to his.
"Coming down!" August announces as he expertly descends the ladder with a lidded metal pot.
It's full of ship stew with its gel-like consistency, which only takes moments to heat up in the food warmers.
Calliape pushes a tote over with her foot and hands 99 and me bowls for the traditional last dinner in the cargo hull before we depart tomorrow morning.
August eagerly serves us, slopping the contents into our bowls and chatting about the artificial smelling flavors.
We are together as a family, crowded around a tote at the bottom of the ship, and it’s perfect. Calliape looks happy while August does his best to make us laugh, spouting exaggerated tales of delivering goods to strange people far off and away.
I lean against 99's side as we eat and eventually feel the bounce of his huffing laugh as he listens to the ridiculous story.
I soak it all in, memorizing each of their faces and voices to hold onto when I am back on Cosima, so that I can use these memories as a beacon if I find myself lost there.
I hold 99's hand as we slowly make our way back to our home. We are both content to float around in our tether, savoring the entanglement of being in the other person's tired thoughts.
After our meal, Calliape decided to stay the night on the ship, placing her things in the private room near the pilot’s suite. August began some last-minute maintenance tasks, ones even 99 seemed to think unnecessary, but the need to keep busy is understandable.
