Page 37 of Kit
There was a band of pressure on Nick’s thigh that tightened at his words. If he wasn’t drugged to numbness, it might have hurt.
“No,” Kit said hoarsely. “Not until it heals. We’ll be in Aridia by then.”
Nick sighed with relief. He heard the distant, muted sound of water rushing against the hull. Something clinked across the room, metal on metal. Kit’s tail sifted against the sheets, and the leather of his gloves creaked as he ran his handworriedly against Nick’s wrist. Nick opened his eyes to find himself facing a wall.
“Don’t move,” Kit warned.
“I’m getting a look at you,” Nick responded dully. He groaned as he rolled to face into the room. He didn’t register any of the furniture or even the size, his attention going straight to Kit. Perched forwards on a chair next to the bed, Kit’s clothes were orderly, but his eyes were shadowed with dark circles. Guilt radiated from him in waves. “Kit.”
Kit’s head turned down. Nick reached for the tail curled around his leg. Kit twitched, the limb attempting to slide away, but Nick tightened his grip. “I knew what would happen. I chose to act anyway.” Before Kit did, and got punished in ways far more horrifying than a few lashes on the back. “Look at me.”
Kit did, peering at Nick through long lashes.
“I don’t regret it,” Nick said.
Kit’s confusion masked his guilt. His lips parted, but Anna’s sudden reappearance in the doorway stalled whatever he’d been about to say. She called Kit, who struggled to remove his tail from Nick’s thigh. As if the limb had detached itself from Kit’s control, it refused to release him. Kit was whining, a low guttural sound as he took hold of his tail in both hands to unwind it. Nick, even in his half-aware state, saw the conflict on Anna’s face as she watched and grasped the difficulty.
Nick’s eyes slipped shut as the door closed, and from seemingly nowhere, a hand was poking at his own.
“Are you sleeping?” Mini asked.
Nick was transported back to his childhood. He was a kid, just turned twelve, and home from school with a cold. Laurence, by virtue of being cute, had convincingly begged their dad to let him stay home and ‘mind’ Nick. It had built to tears, and Trevor gave in. Laurence had spent the entire day delivering constant health checks, usually waking Nick from a dead sleep, and keptpestering him until he moved into the living room so Laurence had company while watching his show. At least the scrambled eggs he’d made for Nick had been tasty.
Nick ached for home.
“Sleeping,” he confirmed.
“This one’s sprouted.”
Nick opened his eyes. Mini crouched next to the bed, holding one of the pots. In the centre of the rich brown soil was a sprout of green. Three delicate leaves grew from a thin stem.
“Help me sit up.”
Mini took Nick by the arms and practically hauled him into a sitting position, and Nick took the pot to examine the plant. He’d made numerous attempts to grow coffee at home, always leaving it on windowsills, in greenhouses, even planting seeds next to heaters to keep them warm. They never took. Never even began to sprout.
“It looks healthy,” Nick said, thrilled.
Mini’s tail lashed from side to side, a puppy wagging its tail. “The other two are smaller.”
“But they’re sprouting too?”
He nodded. Still looking at the plant, Mini said, “He spread it out so your skin wouldn’t break. It’s only two against your shoulder blades that split skin.”
Nick didn’t look up from the plant. “You saw?”
“I saw you keep your promise to protect him.”
Nick haddelayed. Not protected. Not yet, anyway. He slid his hand to his arm, circling the part that had burned. He’d paid attention this time. “It was this symbol that rebelled her. Just this part.”
Mini leaned in, studying what Nick outlined carefully with wickedly intelligent eyes.
The door opened, and Nick shifted his attention back to the plant. The little miracle. He waved over Kit. “Look. They’ve started growing.”
Kit approached and peered at the plant.
“I didn’t even think about them when we moved ship. Good job bringing them,” Nick praised Mini, who preened. “Coffee usually takes several months to grow, and then a few years to mature fully. After that, it’ll produce seeds like the ones that we planted, and we can take those, roast them, crush and grind them up, and brew a cup of coffee.” As Nick spoke, he realised he was giving instructions so they’d know what to do when the time came; Nick would hardly still be with them in a few years’ time to instruct them. Conflicting emotions filled him at that thought. “You can roast them to prevent sprouting, but they don’t last forever. And once you grind them into powder, you should use them within the hour to get the best taste out of them.”
Kit and Mini both listened attentively. Neither seemed put out by the prospect of having to wait years to reap the rewards of their efforts.
