Sal awoke with a head that was melting from the inside out. More than anything he did the previous day, including running off to stop a bomb, he regretted drinking so much. He crawled out of bed, desperate to get some water in his system, and was slightly confused to find he was back on Fifth Spoke. He swore he had fallen asleep at O’Malley’s, so why was he back on the Cambiar ship? Problems for later. Now, he just wanted to stop the radiating waves of agony.

  Staggering, Sal made his way into the kitchen area of the lounge room and prepared his typical hangover cure of chocolate milk, or anything close to milk, fried eggs, breath mints, and a fistful of painkillers. As he was busy splitting the yolk of an egg, clicking his teeth in frustration, Xin walked out of her room with tangled nest of hair, half naked. An immediate, worrying thought gripped Sal, even if he had woken in the next room over.

  “Uh, hey Xin. I can’t remember much of last night. Did.. did we…?”

  “Nah, not this time. Last night was Ace.”

  A drained, husk of a Cambiar slid out from the door in Xin’s room, barely alive. He looked like Sal’s head felt.

  “Salvador… help me…” the alien wheezed out. “She’s too much… I thought it was meant to be fun. I think she’s a succubus.” Well, that answered one question in Sal’s mind. Guess humans and Cambiar could bang… somehow.

  “Ah shush your complaining. You’ll be fine.” Xin already had her sunglasses on. What kind of woman had sex with sunglasses on? Oh right, Xin did. “So, I got my fun last night. How was little Xeena?”

  “Xeena? She was at O’Malley’s?” Sal vaguely remembered talking to a lot of people, especially Dusty about something. Afterwards, someone had brought something soft for him to pet or squeeze? Was it that pet rat he had heard about? Either way, he remembered giving something a nice feel. Oh god, maybe it was Abel messing with him in some way. He shuddered at the potential diabolical pranks his friend might have done with an unconscious Sal.

  “Right, you conked out before she arrived, I think. She and Abel dragged you back here.” She seemed happy about her little ceremony, had a big grin the whole way back.”

  Sal continued making his hangover cure as he asked, “So, last night went well? Nothing too crazy?”

  Xin gave a look over her shoulder at Ace who had collapsed on the couch. Shrugging, she said “Guess so. Only a few people needed to go to the medbay. On the alien side, the Cambiar ran some tests this morning on the salvaged S-Drive from Ruby Eye but they said it was fine. Oh, apparently Titus and Curtin had a big shouting match this morning, watch this.”

  She slid over to the kitchen counter and passed her comm-device along. Sal saw a video playing and watched as he dished up his eggs. The video was recorded halfway through a conversation, or argument as it appeared, and seemed to be filmed in one of the officers rooms the Cambiar had modelled after Starheart’s.

  “-no you listen to me you useless prick! This is treason! I have more than enough reason to declare you a traitor and killed on the spot! So, who are you working for huh? Doctrine? GaltCorp? Or, let me guess, Paradise? I bet you would fit in there nicely, Fornax.” Curtin was in the centre of the room, bellowing at a steadfast Titus, gloved hands behind his back.

  “Sir, I would be happy to explain if you would-“ Titus tried to speak but was cut off.

  “Explain? Oh, I am sure my troops here would be happy to explain to you with their pistols.” Despite his bluster, everyone else in the room, from lowly managers to deputy heads of departments all looked concerned and uncertain. Even Curtin’s own bodyguards stood off to the side, some rubbing their necks in embarrassment.

  Sighing, Titus attempted to continue. “Sir. I will make myself clear then. I am not working for any of Henry and Huell’s rivals. I serve the CCH and all their people with the upmost of my abilities. However, based on the contents of the messages you wish to send back to headquarters, I cannot sit back and let them go through without informing the crew. Those were my terms from the beg-“

  “Terms?! You dare speak of terms on my ship?” It took Curtin a moment to remember they were not on Starheart. Clearing his throat, he said “I am commanding leader here. My word is to be followed, no ifs, ands, or buts. And here you stand, directly stating that you disobeyed me directly. How can you not call yourself a traitor?”

  As if a dam had burst, Sal saw rage in Titus’ eyes. “I am not a traitor! I will never act against humanity and our people. However, begging H&H to bring all their military forces with orders to fire on any unidentifiable ships in this system, which, if you are using your brain, directly targets the Out-Han fleet, is beyond madness! You are damning all the CCH to war with the Cambiar for no reason! So yes, I did delay those messages, for the sake of our people, and to prevent even more deaths. I have sent messages for assistance back, but not the sort you want, Curtin.” Acid rolled off his tongue. It was hard to make out, but Sal could see Titus flexing a gloved fist behind his back.

  People around the room murmured and whispered amongst one another. If the news was true, it had obviously unsettled many of them. The people of Starheart were generally devoted to the company, but only to a point. Suicidal actions leading to interspecies war was likely a bridge too far for many. Curtin saw the response and howled.

  “Silence! I will have order. As Chief Executive Captain, I hereby strip Titus Fornax of all roles and ranks within Henry and Huell Incorporated, effective immediately. If anyone wishes to join him, be my guest.” Silence crushed the room. Almost satisfied, Titus readjusted his glasses, turned and strolled out of the room. The video ended.

  “Whoa. Well, didn’t expect that.” Xin lit up a vapour cigarette, twirling the end in her lips. Quietly, Ace moaned from the couch. The rush of news did little to help is headache, but the chocolate milk was good enough to file the edge off the pain. Some of Titus’ previous conversations made a little more sense in hindsight. And as for the Captain? Curtin had never seemed the sort to find the Cambiar entirely fantastic, but to attempt to trigger a war with them? That sounded absurd, but he had made no attempt to deny his actions.

  “Has the Captain said anything since?” Sal wiped a chocolate moustache off his actual moustache.

  “Nope, radio channels have all been quiet. Titus sent some messages out before he got stripped from the system, something about expected arrival times from the company.”

  Xin was flicking through some photos, which Sal quickly realized were rather indecent snapshots of her previous night and looked away. Eating his eggs, he found that indeed he had been messaged by Titus. It was a simple message – ‘Tomorrow at noon, evacuation fleet. Be ready for anything.’

  The ominous message was not lost on Sal, yet the timeframe was what tightened his gut. Tomorrow. He had little time to prepare for H&H’s arrival, far less than he expected. Frankly, H&H should have arrived long before if Titus hadn’t been fixing the messages for Curtin. Perhaps he was trying to arrange something before then? Sal hoped he would get the chance to speak to him in time. He tried to reply back to the message, but Titus had already been deleted from the H&H comm system, and it simply resulted in an error. Pushing his plate away, head pulsing with every heartbeat, Sal considered his next options. Thankfully, it would seem that destruction at the hands of Curtin had been averted, but the arrival of H&H was inevitable. He needed a walk. Getting ready and sliding his jacket on, he left both the drained Cambiar and a rather proud of herself Xin to their business.

  Salvador wandered the halls of Fifth Spoke, taking in the ship’s atmosphere. Much had changed from his first arrival, yet the light scent of lavender was still carried in the air. He passed the workshops, with Onusian workers fabricating materials which resembled those of human usage, such as panels of wood and cotton clothes, but with tools and organs that certainly of Cambiar origin. Many had a half dozen additional limbs cutting, sawing and spinning constantly. As he walked by, a few took notice and waved but many more were absorbed in their work. Marching onwards, he ascended in an elevator, complete with aggravating muzak playing, to reach a library of sorts. Hoping to avoid his own questions and past, he went searching in the Cambiar’s instead. Unlike most of the ship, this area was not converted into a human style, and retained the black-green lumpy surfaces of the original Fifth Spoke design.

  He had never been much of a scholar, mostly getting the information he needed from word of mouth, with the exception being his mechanical studies. The small receptionist at the front desk was a bit confused when he asked for a Cambiar book of history, but acquiesced. It was a thin thing, barely a finger-span wide for nearly a thousand years of history. The pages were made of a skin-like material, an odd texture in his hands. The outer bindings were sealed with a thick chitin. With some weight, it made a heavy sound when placed on the table that appeared to have grown out from the wall. Though its contents were, thankfully, not of the topic, the biological nature of the book reminded Salvador of some sort of evil Necronomicon.

  Even with a relatively small size, the first half was made up almost all the long history of the Cambiar. It consisted of dry descriptions of colonisations of planets and the construction of various space stations. Sal found the scale fascinating, with hundreds of star systems settled upon by the ancient Cambiar empire, for no other reason than to expand. No mention of arts, culture, or any sort of emotive response to their existence was mentioned – just the instinctual need to produce more of the species and spread out. The second half of the book recounted the events following The Great Awakening and detailed a turbulent period of self-discovery. The book had been written by Out-Han scholars and mostly followed their discoveries at this time, with a small conflict between the Ten-Tri and some other faction being the only form of any conflict noted. One point of interest was that, based on the numbers in the book, the fleet in New Horizon was barely the tip of their forces. Across their sliver of the Cambiar empire, they had navies that dwarfed the total amount of ships of any human faction. Between the split up fragments of the old Cambiar empire, the number must have been astronomical.

  Sal was broken from his studies as a clicking, mechanical sound alerted him to a new presence. Looking up, he saw Keeper Thomas. Though much of his frame remained the same, a distinct change took Sal by surprise. His blank face plate, previously only made up of four horizontal grates, had been replaced with an almost human face, made of separate sliding components. Standing proudly before Sal, hands on his hips, Thomas smiled softly.

  “Hello there, Salvador. What do you think?” Thomas whispered, reminding Sal he was in a library.

  Sal replied in a similar whisper, “It looks good, Thomas. The Cambiar made you that?” Thomas nodded. “How are you doing since our last talk?”.

  “Well. Very well in fact. Aside from the whole bomb situation, which I must thank you for dealing with. I was afraid of losing Starheart, both sentimentally and for my current plan.”

  “Current plan?” Sal questioningly stared at him.

  “You see, now that my restrictions have been lifted, fully thanks to the Cambiar doctors, plus a bit of help from Michaels, I have been investigating the S-Drive some more.”

  Sal was concerned he was going to talk more about what the Keeper saw in Sal’s mind during the jump, but Thomas raised his hands in appeasement. “Ah, don’t worry about that, I won’t speak of the incident. What I am most interested by is the readings from the engines. As you know, Ruby Eye’s main fusion and S-Engine was placed on Fifth Spoke following the vessel’s destruction. This allowed me to make some investigations of my own.”

  “Off the books, I take it? Has Curtin taken notice of your situation?”

  “Ah, not yet. I think he has bigger fish to fry, so to speak. Titus’ argument and message is causing some serious disorder across the fleet at this moment. So, whilst I am working against H&H policy, I think no one will care for now. What I found was that the emissions of both Starheart and Ruby Eye’s S-Drives are normally absorbed completely by their shielding. This stops it from randomly collapsing the waveforms of everything around it. That would be rather bad if you couldn’t tell.”

  “Naturally. Go on.”

  “Well, occasionally, a rare wave was emitted from the drives. This emission is far different from the normal one harnessed to transport our ships around. I believe that when this other type is emitted, and a specific QIS pattern is affected, it results in the strange effects we had during the last jump. This was a hunch, and likely incredibly rare, requiring specific people and all, but curious nonetheless.”

  “Huh, interesting. So, me and Michaels were the only ones who had the strange vision?”

  Thomas shook his head. “Not exactly. Some others had it, but in nowhere near the detail. Their Keepers only saw a fraction of what I saw with you two. What I wanted to know was whether this oddity was related to only our ships drives or every S-Engine that exists. I found by comparing both Starheart’s and Ruby Eye’s Schrodinger engines that both naturally emitted these rare waves at a low but consistent rate. If properly directed, I am certain it could be used to test this strange reaction.”

  “Well, that’s rather odd, but what does it mean?”

  Thomas faked clearing his throat, preparing himself. Spreading his arms wide, he declared, “No idea. I have no clue at the moment. But, interesting to think about, isn’t it? So far, I’ve only told Michaels and another Keeper who I convinced to break his restrictions. They seem to agree with my early ideas, but neither are sure what it means yet.”

  “Hmm, me neither. Sorry, but physics isn’t my field of expertise. If you find this interaction only works with people who can fix things, mechanical or biological, then I guess you’ve found your men. Otherwise, I’m as lost as you.” Sal threw his arms up.

  “So, freaky visions aside, what do you think about H&H coming tomorrow?”

  A grating sigh left Thomas. “It is… difficult to say I welcome them with joy. Thankfully, due to Titus, we have reduced the risk of an immediate war taking place, but I am still cautious about the future. There is the potential risk that the arrival of H&H will lead to the stowed away infiltrators attacking. Even if that is not the case, I worry that H&H will attempt to force us to go with them, the Keepers that is. I will stand my ground as much as possible. The Out-Han seem happy enough to let me stay with them and have implied they will hide me if possible. But what about you Sal? Will you go with them?”

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  An unspoken question lingered in the air. Would Sal tell H&H about Thomas, and this other Keeper he had solicited?

  Sal answered back, “Your secret is safe with my, Thomas, no matter what. As for going back…”

  The answer seemed obvious. Why would he? What was waiting back on Titanlock for Salvador Vigino? Some crappy, mid-class life that he had idealized from a place of insecurity about his self-worth? Despite the idiocy of entertaining the idea, a dark cloud in his mind told him something simple that had wormed in over the years, burrowing deeper into his cortex – Sal didn’t deserve a better life with the Cambiar. Being crushed under the weight of isolation would suit a man like him better.

  Thomas read his indecision and eased off. “I understand. It’s not an easy choice. Nevertheless, I hope you can spend the rest of your time with the Cambiar in good spirits. You deserve that much, Sal.” With that Thomas left to his research.

  Part of Sal wanted to believe Thomas’ words.

  Xeena had gotten Sal to touch her. Well, in a sense, and likely in a way that would raise some eyebrows about consent, but if no one knew, no one was hurt right? Justifying her own actions, Xeena walked with a swing in her step as she made her way to Sal’s dormitory. Having switched out her dress for something more casual, she was looking forward to seeing him. She would do it, she would say to Sal, loud and clear that she, Xeena… hmm. Surname, that was something she had forgotten. She’d spent so long thinking of a regular name, and in the end just sounded out the G from her designation and added a ‘na’ at the end but had forgotten the surname. Ah hell, humans took each other’s surnames, so why couldn’t she take up Vigino? That seemed fine.

  Wait, didn’t humans have to get married for that first? As she reflected about the potential consequences of a human-Cambiar marriage, she entered the dormitory and saw Ace lying on the sofa, motionless, as Xin browsed her comm-device.

  “Xin! It’s Ace, is he ok? He looks in rough shape.” Xeena was panicking. Was Xin that oblivious to her partner’s plight?

  “Nope, not dead. Just dying.” A gravely wheeze escaped the limp Cambiar. “Still alive for now. Somehow.”

  “Don’t mind him. He’s just being a sore loser.” Xin said. She was sipping on her energy drink and flexing a bicep, admiring her own form. “Couldn’t stand a bit of power fucking.”

  “You can say the ‘sore’ part again. Cambiar don’t even have bones, and I feel like my non-existent pelvis is broken.” Ace looked towards Xeena and weakly held out an outstretched hand. “Xeena, don’t fall for their lies. Humans are foul, foul monsters. They just drain you over and over.” He took a moment to evaluate Xeena’s form. “Or I guess, pump you full in your case. Sal hasn’t stuffed you yet, has he?”

  “Ace, no! Well, not yet. Maybe soon!” Xeena sheepishly admitted.

  Xin let out a whoop as she cracked open one more energy drink, adding another empty can to the ever-growing pile next to the overflowing kitchen bin. Considering how the entire race of Cambiar had acted so far as generous hosts, Xin’s slob-like behaviour beginning to grind on even Xeena’s nerves. Was this what the rest of the Torchers had to deal with? Regardless, she hadn’t seen any sign of Sal yet. When she asked the duo, they declared their lack of knowledge. As she was preparing to leave, another pair entered the dormitory.

  Dusty and Titan came in practically entangled. Titan had an arm around Marcus’ shoulders and was currently sticking her digestive tendril down his throat in a forceful recreation of a kiss. Drawing a few stares, they eventually disconnected.

  “Titan, what did I say about PDA?” Dusty breathed out, panting.

  “Sorry. I wanted to show them we weren’t missing out, Puppy.” Titan growled, doing her best to shove the young man’s head between her titanic breasts as she stood behind him. Wait, was she technically naked? Xeena wasn’t sure. The carapace with rather nipple-like points might count as clothes, but probably not.

  Well, that answered that. It seems everyone was getting busy with the Cambiar, which only enthused Xeena more. Well, everyone apart from Abel, but that was different. Stannock was almost certainly messing around with Big S, though the idea of someone having intercourse with a body double of themselves still felt bizarre, even to a Cambiar.

  “Um, hey guys. Seen Sal this morning?” Xeena asked the new duo awkwardly.

  “Hmm. I think Abel said he saw him going to Starheart. Maybe our dorm over there?” Dusty sounded rather tired. Not as bad as Ace, but significantly drained. The light hobble he had reinforced Xeena’s growing hypothesis that all sentient species capable of sex, hell even the Cambiar had overcome that hurdle, were all horndogs. In the case of Titan, the size difference didn’t seem to have stopped them. How the hell did the two of them even…

  Xeena’s mind was getting off topic quickly. She left the dormitory, with Titan’s grinding indicating she wanted more from the young man, and headed for Starheart. True to his word, Xeena found Abel and Pippa resting by an ice cream stand, with the Cambiar behind the cart even wearing a silly little hat. Waving Xeena over, she grabbed an ice cream to match the pair who had devoured their own. Hers was strawberry, her favourite flavour since she had first sampled human cuisine.

  “Hello sister, how goes your morning? I didn’t see you last night, so I hope your celebration went well?” Abel was sitting on a bench, hands behind his head as he relaxed in pure bliss.

  “Thank you, Abel! Yes, it went very well.”

  Xeena could already feel the code she’d ingested being processed by her body. If she wanted, she could start growing any of the castes’ specialized structures in mere days, possibly hours if she forced it. Xeena couldn’t help but feel that there were some gaps between many of the XNA structures she was processing for developing new organs or parts. They could still be made with enough compressed biological material, material she had been saving up for months until she decided what caste she wanted to try, but the actual construction and growth of the parts would always take some time, time she wished she could shave off. Only then would she be able to scare Sal like when he showed her ‘The Thing’. That asshole. Wait and see how much he would like it when she opened a chest mouth or something. He’d the one owing her lunch. Or… something else as a favour.

  Realizing she’d spaced out; she found Abel gently waving a hand in front of her eyes.

  “Anyone home?” He said, his Caribbean accent think with concern.

  “Sorry, just thinking. Big day tomorrow.” H&H’s response fleet was not far away.

  “Yeah man. Big day. I’m not sure what’s going to happen.” Abel looked at Pippa who was oblivious to the discussion and still snacking on the waffle cone. “I want to stay. I think it’s fair to speak for all of the Torchers when I say that. If the Out-Han would let us, that is.”

  Xeena was almost certain of what the Rexias’ views on their human visitors would be but nodded vigorously regardless. She wanted the humans to stay, needed them. Without them, Cambiar life and culture would remain as stagnant as it had been before Sal’s arrival. Work, sleep, work, sleep. That wasn’t a life, it was a job. A job that never ended. Having humanity with them, though? That was what was necessary for the Cambiar to truly grow and develop. To try and experiment, for both good and bad. Either that, or they could keep some humans as willing ‘slaves’ if H&H refused to give up their contracts. Eh, Dusty didn’t look like he had much of a choice in the matter.

  “I think we’d like that. I certainly would. Say Abel, I heard Sal went back to Starheart, maybe to your dorm. Did he say anything on the way past?”

  “Uh yeah. Said he wanted to be alone for a while. That being said, I’ve known Sal for a long time. There are times when he genuinely wants to a mopey molly, and this ain’t one of them. I think if you want to see, then go for it. It would probably do him some good.”

  Determined more than ever, Xeena finished her treat and headed for the docking ports.

  Yelling over his shoulder and catching some stares from passersby, Abel shouted “Tell him to use a condom!”

  Xeena couldn’t help but giggle as she crossed the boundary into Starheart. It was time.

  Sal entered the Torchers dorm for the first time in weeks. It was… peculiar. The air was stale, as the ship had only recently had its ventilation fully running. Walking across the stained carpet, Sal looked across the various posters Dusty had arranged, Stannock’s little makeup counter in the corner, the full-length mirror Xin used to plan out new tattoos, and the well-used dartboard with dented wiring. Reminiscing on the night he won against Marcus, Sal threw a couple darts for fun. Being on Fifth Spoke had messed with his sense of gravity, and all his shots went low.

  Pushing through his apprehension and kicking one of Xin’s stupid energy drink cans out of the way, Sal entered his bedroom and flicked the lights on. Everything was as he left it the morning his alarm clock was tampered with; an idea that made him smile. Having been sleeping since becoming a guest of the Cambiar, Sal had drifted away from using his alarm, and the idea of waking up at his old routine now felt a bit offensive.

  He passed his small desk of potential financial schemes he had planned if he went back to Titanlock, should the expedition not have found anything in New Horizon, and stiffened as a wave of nausea rippled across his body. Was it the part of himself that had been enjoying life with the aliens revolting in disgust against his previous, self-centred schemes? Turning away, he brushed the papers into a drawer and closed it shut.

  He came to the real reason he had come back. His bed laid perfectly prepared, as he liked it, as Sal reached underneath to pull his black trunk out. A small strip of paper, almost invisible to see without directly looking for it, was still wedged in the previous position since last time. It hadn’t been opened, of course not. Yet, Sal felt the need to keep it locked and hidden, like a stain covered up by a photograph.

  As he reached to unlock it, he heard a disturbance in the room behind him. Sal feared that since he stumbled upon the goreskins during Ruby Eye’s investigation that whatever traitors were lurking amongst the crew would come after him. Disarming the last bomb on Starheart didn’t help his paranoia either. Reaching for a weapon from within his jacket, he approached his door. Swining it open, and grasping at the screwdriv– the missing goddamn screwdriver he forgot to replace, damn it, damn it!

  Instead of some corporate assassin, Doctrine cyborg ninja or, worst case scenario, a naked Stannock admiring himself in the full length mirror, it was Xeena. Phew. She was a little startled at him leaping out the door, but they quickly relaxed

  “Oh hey, Xeena, good to see you.” He said, doing his best to appear natural and failing. He’d told Abel he wanted some time alone, but soon felt he couldn’t fault the Cambiar’s good nature. “How are you doing? Sorry I didn’t see you last night after your celebration, I stupidly drunk too much.”

  “P-please don’t worry Sal, it was all good! I just… wanted to see you. Make sure you are all ok.”

  Sal sat on the tatty couch, now tainted in his mind by Marcus’ previous comments, and invited Xeena to sit on the not-quite so trashed armchair next to it.

  “I’m good. I think. Still a bit rattled by the whole sudden bomb defusal yesterday, but I don’t think anyone could blame us feeling that way, right?”

  “I would say that’s a relatively normal reaction to a life or death situation. We did well, didn’t we?”

  “Hell yeah. I certainly couldn’t have done it without you. In a way, you saved my life as much as the crew say we saved theirs.”

  “Oh? Surely a deserve a reward for such courage, such bravery?” Xeena struck an exaggerated pose, flexing a bicep that didn’t even exist as a muscle group on the alien.

  “Hmm, how to reward you?” Sal softly mused aloud. “I don’t think any more movies would be good for your heart so that’s off the table…”

  “I can watch movies! Just no more horror flicks! You just seem to love watching those.”

  “What I love is watching you react to them. It’s great seeing you squirm.”

  “Well maybe, we can work something out. A schedule of movies with and without squirm expectations perhaps?”

  “Yeah, that’d be fun.” Thinking about the future and spending more time with Xeena opened Sal’s mind back up to the thought of H&H arriving tomorrow. Even as he tried to force a cheerful expression, it fell from his face instantly. No fa?ade could hide the apprehension, the burning fear inside.

  “Sal? What’s wrong? You look sick.”

  Sal met her eyes, dozens of small black marbles dancing behind her visor. “Xeena, how much do you think the past creates the future? Are we making our own lives, or following the one our past selves made?”

  “What makes you bring this up? Is it… H&H coming tomorrow?”

  “Yeah. That. I’m just… Look, this is going to sound strange, but I went to the library. I didn’t even know what I wanted to read, but I found a book on Cambiar history. For the first half it was a list of everywhere the old Cambiar empire spread, just a boring checklist. The second half was mostly people being confused and trying to find themselves. It made me think. The Cambiar have so much potential, so much they can do. But what about humanity, Xeena? What about people like me?” Sal’s face twisted in hurt.

  “I think everyone can make a good future for themselves, Sal. Especially someone like you. I used to think that I was searching blindly in the galaxy for something that might not be there, but I still searched despite the odds. And I found humanity. I found you. Why, Sal, why do you feel this way? Can I help?”

  Sal had unconsciously been gripping his hands together. He released them, the tension sore along his fingers, and let them hang loose. Could he open up this crack to her? He’d sealed it shut whenever anyone asked, even Abel. He believed it would be easier to try and fill it in, but perhaps it showed signs of greater damage, and needed to be pried open before it could be rebuilt.

  “Xeena, do you mind if I show you something?”

  “Of course, Sal.” No wonder she was fine with it; he was the one being mopey.

  With an audience, he had newfound strength to pull the case fully out from under his bed and brought it into the main room. Hands steady, he unlocked the padlock from the clasp and swung the lip open. Within sat a single item.

  It was of koa wood, grains soft and sweeping across its length. The rich, almost golden colour gave it an almost ethereal feel to Sal, something that should be seen and not touched. The strings were on the older side and hadn’t been replaced since he had locked the trunk, all the way back on Titanlock. The more he had looked at it as time went on, the more it felt like his hands would sully its essence, his weak heart spilling over into its form. Lightly adjusting the tuning, it was ready. He held it out for Xeena to hold.

  His father’s guitar.

  It was the last thing he had from anyone in his family, and the only thing of worth his father had made, Sal included. As such, the more he used and tweaked it, the more he felt it rot before his very eyes. Xeena gently took it from his and admired the woodwork. Stroking the strings, she seemed to appreciate the feel beneath her claws. She went to give a strum but stopped herself short. Sal nodded, pushing her on, and she played a few simple chords. In her hands, they sounded perfect. Passing it back, he held in his lap, and adjusted his hands. Could he play it again? After so long? After what he had tried so desperately to bury had begun to consume him from within?

  The only thing that could convince him was remembering his father’s words.

  ‘Don’t try to force it. Let the guitar become comfortable, and let the song come to you, when you are ready.’

  After a couple breaths, the song found Sal. He played the song he knew best, an instrumental tune from Earth, passed from father to son until it reached Sal. The name had been lost, but the notes were clear and strong. The introduction was gentle, easy, almost imperceptible to someone not paying attention. However, the intensity grew, filling Sal’s body. The tempo quickened, notes light but separated by deep, strong strums after every few bars. Once the tempo peaked, Sal had to maintain it. Even as he played with full concentration, he made the occasional mistake, the sound breaking the flow ever so slightly. Yet, unlike his past, the song continued onwards, unabated by previous failures. A pause midway through the song gave Sal the time he needed to focus on the last part. The notes decreased in pitch, accentuated by taps on the guitar’s body, growing in strength until the thumps became a backing for the chords.

  Sal reached the conclusion of the song and let the final notes ring out. The strings slowed, stopped, and the music was silenced. Breathing slowly, Sal considered placing back in the case, as he had every time he had finished the song – better to keep it out of view so he could no longer corrupt it. However, he instead decided to place on side, facing the door. For now, it could stay out, out in the light.

  When he returned to his seat, he felt unburdened, as he always did after his mostly bi-annual performances to an audience of himself. That would ease the weight, at least for a while. Eventually, the silence had to be broken.

  “Sal. That was beautiful.”

  “Thank you, but I can’t make anything that beautiful, however. You can thank my father and his father for that song.”

  Xeena gauged him for a moment, almost calculating the right words to say. “Wouldn’t you say that without you, the song would never continue to exist, even if he first made it? Or taught you it, I suppose. That song sounds old.”

  “I guess.”

  They sat in silence for a while. Sal looked down, unable to face Xeena. The cork was half-cocked; the guitar had made sure of that. He just needed the next step.

  “Salvador, do you want to talk about it? About your past? I can see it’s eating you away.”

  Looking up, he couldn’t resist the tears pooling at the corners of his eyes.

  “It’ll hurt, you know. I’ve never said the words aloud before.” Sal desperately hoped she would relent, leave the past to lie unknown.

  “I know, Sal. A lot of things hurt. Sometimes we have to go through pain before things get better. If it really stings, we can stop. Try and continue later, ok?”

  Sal knew there might not be a chance for later. Henry and Huell had made sure of that. Damned Titus, if only he could hold their arrival a few days more, then he could forestall this unwanted, but definitely needed, freeing of his soul.

  “Alright. I’ll tell you.” Sal slowly slipped off his jacket and lifted his shirt. He never liked displaying his chest around others. Revealing himself fully, and willingly this time, to Xeena he displayed the crisscross of various scars across his chest, a wide, split across the chest from shoulder to hip displayed unpleasantly clear.

  And Sal spoke the words.