Page 63 of Tail, Dark and Handsome: Celestial Mates
At this distance, she expected communications to be limited to audio-only and low-quality with interference from the asteroids.
“Mari? If you’ve been murdered, I will kill you dead,” Joseph said, sounding as crisp and clear as if he were standing next to her. She had to hand it to CayneTech. They made top-notch communication systems. Their ships left a lot to be desired, but no matter where you traveled in the deep black, the ship never lost network connection.
“That seems like an overreaction on your part,” she replied, already feeling more relaxed. “I need you to sing the song.”
“What now?”
“The song. You know which one. It’s important.”
He paused. Static cracked over the connection. “I’m working right now.”
“So am I, and it’s a lot more serious. I need to focus and I can’t, so I need the song.” One of the great things about her brother was that he never questioned her when she said something was important. He believed her.
“Hold on.” More static and the sound of voices in the background. “Are you actively dying right now? Are these your last breaths because that’s not cool, Sunshower Marigold,” Joseph said.
“I’m actively trying to fly through an asteroid field. Not dying.”
“For real? Shit.” Static drifted over his voice, but Mari could hear the alarm.
“It’s fine, Joe,” she said. “I’m just having trouble finding my zen. The song?”
The door opened behind her. “Marigold? My room is cold.”
“Is that him? Sounds like a twerp,” Joseph said.
“Come and have a seat, Zero,” she said. “Safety harness. Your dad seems to think gravity is an option. And he’s fourteen, Joe. Be nice.”
“Oh, shit. Sorry, kid.”
Mari rolled her eyes. “He thought you were your dad,” she whispered to Zero.
“Is it okay if I stay with you?” Zero asked.
“Sure. Don’t touch any buttons unless I tell you to.”
“Aren’t you mad at me?”
The alarm went off again, snagging her attention back to the screen. The ship dipped down as two massive boulders moved to clear a space.
“Silence that, please. And I’m upset with your behavior, but not with you,” she said. “Joe?”
“Here,” the distant reply came. “I had to lock myself in a storage closet, just so you know. This is embarrassing.”
“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need it.”
“Fine,” he dragged out the word as if being punished. After a bit of throat-clearing, he stumbled over the first line, restarted, and found the melody. Just like that, stress eased its grip, and Mari remembered the entire song, including all the verses. It was a scrap of a tune that rhymes badly but never failed to make her feel better. When she had been ill in the hospital, Joseph sat at her bed just rhyming words to cover the beeps of machines and the noise of other patients. Since then, whenever the other felt bad, they sang the silly song.
Zero watched with confusion on his face. Maybe the lyrics failed to translate.
“Again,” she said, gesturing for Zero to join.
They sang the entire thing twice, Zero mumbling the words, then growing bolder. By the end, the ship had cleared the densest cluster.
“Status report,” she commanded the computer. Shields were decent but depleted. Smaller debris burned in the shield, but the larger chunks of rock pinged and battered the hull. “So far, no breaches,” she said.
“Can I ask now?”
She gave her brother a quick rundown, careful to avoid naming who changed the flight plan. Zero sank into his seat, chin tucked down defensively.
