Every day is a holiday of one sort or another in space.

There are countless New Years, a variety of Thanksgivings, and at least ten different versions of something like Halloween, since apparently scaring yourself silly and dressing up are nearly universal desires. There’s the one-offs, extremely culturally specific holidays that leave the rest of us scratching our heads and wondering how the hell that happened (try explaining Easter to an alien… you’ll see what I mean).

And then there’s the gems, the ones the rest of us want for our own. The Eliki holiday of Lian-zi is a particularly charming example, a holiday dedicated to rituals of friendship and a whole array of incredible foods. This braided bread illustrated the ideal Eliki friendship, one where each person maintains their own unique identity while working with their friends to create a truly remarkable whole.

-the Interstellar Love of Cooking, Volume One

* * *

Dove and I scrubbed ourselves till all traces of the Diamond Kiss were rinsed away, then climbed into the deep communal tub and soaked – next to a chattering mother and daughter who eyed Dove’s tattoos with expressions of delighted horror – until we were both flushed and light-headed from the heat. It was worth it to feel clean, truly clean, and warm and relaxed from the top of my head to my toes.

We headed out to the nearest comm station next. I’d already written out my messages on my phone, so sending them went quickly since all I had to do was transfer them to the workstation and pay the fees.

There were two messages waiting in my account, and I transferred them to my phone, then sat on a curved plastic bench near Dove’s kiosk to wait for her to finish. The first was a brief check-in from Mr. Bell, asking how the trip was going and whether I needed any help. I’d already messaged him with exactly those kinds of details, so I opened the message from my mom next.

Hers was a cheerful reply to my stories about the Sedalai, and she’d included the kimchi recipe I’d asked for. It mentioned a new roommate but strangely, omitted any details. That was unusual. Mom was the sort who told me every last thing about the people in her world, and though I reminded myself that she might be trying to conserve money by keeping messages short I had my doubts. I scowled, irritated that I couldn’t grill her for specifics.

“Where next?” Dove asked as we wandered out of the communications office.

I checked my watch. “Plenty of time to get food and look for my great-aunt’s friends before we meet Amur,” I answered, and ignored the pointed silence that was her only response. She thought it was dangerous to look for people who’d known Rosetta, while I insisted it was worth the risk to gather information before walking into who knew what kind of situation on New Mexico Prime.

I pulled out my phone to reference the note Mr. Bell had sent. “Ahn McConnell at the Darking Bog and Barnaby Okomoto – retired professor.”

“You sure it’s not the Barking Dog?” Dove asked, sounding unaccountably grumpy. “What kind of place is it, anyway?”

I glanced sideways and paused, realizing in the harsh street lighting just how tired she looked. Her face was puffy and her eyes were bloodshot, and guilt washed over me as I remembered how she’d stayed up the last few nights to keep watch. She’d slept some during the day, but in the noise and light of the ship it couldn’t have been restful. And she had to be at least as hungry as I was, considering that we’d been living on ration bars and bits of cafeteria meals smuggled out by the aliens for the last few days. The hearty bowl of nooni yakki that was our last real meal felt like a distant memory.

“A bar, I think,” I answered as I took her arm and resolved to stop at the first restaurant we saw.

I gawked as we walked down a broad road that was lined with businesses, hotels, and administrative offices. The receptionist was right – there were several bookshops near the communications office, and the only thing that kept me walking instead of stopping to look was the increasingly dire growling of my stomach. Most people on Earth read books on their phones, but paper books remain a niche market and vintage ones are especially popular. I would have guessed that no such thing would exist in space, so I marveled at the stacks of yellowed pages, some shelves laid out with what looked like crisp new editions and others a motley of sizes and shapes that reminded me of my favorite thrift stores.

There were other types of stores as well, and I noticed art supplies, tech, a plant nursery, and a fascinating storefront with taxidermy and bones from no species I’d ever seen.

The route took us through a narrow, tunnel-like corridor that dipped below surface level. I could tell because the top half was made of some translucent material that showed the dark, rocky surface of the planetoid at around shoulder height. Above that, the distant outlines of other nearby structures loomed and glowed against the darkness.

As we neared the end of the corridor I saw a massive dome rising in front of us and a sound that grew from a gentle buzz to a roaring cacophony as we stepped out into a vast circular space. Our little walkway connected with a wide road full of people and market stands that was lined with small closet-like businesses in the curved polymer buildings along the edges. Dove pulled her arm away and returned to her usual, more watchful pose, but I couldn’t help just turning around in a slow circle to take it in.

Straight ahead, the road continued on, rising gently toward a hill that sat at the high, central part of the dome. A complex of buildings in all shades of blue mushroomed over the hill and at the very center, a shimmery white tower sprouted out of a circle of green trees. It seemed to pass right through the top of the thick protective shielding that allowed this almost earth-like vista to exist.

I chuckled softly as I realized that they’d built their university a literal ivory tower. I shook my head in amazement and continued my slow rotation. A layer of smaller, purple shaded buildings circled the hill like ripples in water after a stone has been tossed in. They transitioned into taller golden-orange buildings not far from where we were now, and I realized we stood as though at the outer edge of a great wheel, where one of the spokes – the road that climbed to the university – met the outer ring, the wide boulevard filled with people, carts, and good smells.

“How did they build this,” I breathed in wonder, and made an expansive gesture with my arms, trying to indicate everything – the dome, the rising buildings with their lovely gradations of color, the pale tower pointing at the stars. I didn’t think the discounted and – to the Kithari, anyway – outdated station kits ex-Earthens had bought off the Potluck could have been used to build something so beautiful.

Dove shrugged. “A lot of places started with the kits, then went big on their own after they had time to learn the tech, mine for resources, that sort of thing. A few even contracted with free space aliens to help them with different tech than the Potluck offered. I think they planned Octavia from Earth, though, and brought a lot of what they’d need. New Rome makes this place look like a backwater, but Octavia is far more beautiful.”

New Rome was where my grandmother lived. I shivered, wondering what it was like, and decided to change the subject. I pointed at a nearby food stall that had a clever counter lining the outer edge and a few empty stools to one side.

“Let’s see what they have,” I suggested, and Dove went along with it so readily that I knew she was as hungry as I’d guessed.

This was the problem with hiring security, I reflected as I ordered a sampling of dishes. They never got time off, and they’d slowly starve to death rather than put the client out in any way. I huffed as I pushed her down on a stool and went to the counter to get our drinks, annoyed that she didn’t speak up more. I wondered if having two bodyguards was better because they’d look out for each other, or if you’d just have two silent martyrs starving while you acted like a stupid tourist instead of one.

I held it in while we ate our way through bowls of spongy noodles something like udon and a plate of fried potatoes topped with an addictively spicy sauce. That left a pile of dumplings, and as we nibbled more slowly I waited till she met my eyes before I brought it up.

“You’re worn out,” I observed. “Is hiding it supposed to keep us safe?”

She paused and stared at me, dumpling halfway to her mouth, the doughy bite precariously balanced in her chopsticks. She set it down and shrugged, face wiped blank again after the initial moment of uncertainty. “I’m fine. I’d tell you if I was too far gone.”

I didn’t believe her, but I nodded and poured more limeade into her glass. I let her get a few more dumplings down before trying a different angle. “Do guild members usually work solo?” I asked, taking a sip of my drink.

She made a frustrated sound and stabbed a dumpling with the end of one chopstick. “For low-risk missions, one is enough.”

I watched as she mutilated the poor dumpling until it separated into bits of dough and filling. “Why did you say one would be enough? I would have hired another person if you’d told me.”

“I didn’t think you’d need it, and I knew you couldn’t afford it,” she answered calmly, or it would have appeared calm if I hadn’t seen what she’d done to her food. “Having more people along makes you stick out, and I didn’t expect what happened on the mining ship. My recent jobs have only skirted the edges of free space. There’s always been weird religious stuff out here, but not like this. This feels like – like the pot is about to boil over.”

“That makes sense,” I agreed. “And you’ve gotten me this far. I just need to know you’ll tell me when you need to eat or sleep or – anything else. Just because I’m your client doesn’t mean we can’t watch each other’s backs. Right?”

She gave me an offended look and set down her chopsticks. “You’re not just my client. You know that, right?”

I felt my face grow hot as I remembered her thumb stroking my palm, the quivering line of pleasure that shot through my core. How was I supposed to respond to a statement like that? “We’re friends,” I said, waiting for her reaction.

She nodded. “You stopped being just my client the day you told me about Michael,” she told me. “And you finished me off when you pulled your food stash out to show Stolla. You’re insane, Rose. No one travels with beans.”

“Aliens travel with beans,” I yelled and threw up my hands. And that was when I saw an old-fashioned pub a few storefronts down. In brassy gold letters atop old fashioned many-paned glass windows, The Darking Bog. It didn’t mean that Ahn McConnell would still be there, but it was a good place to start.

“We found it!” I told Dove, feeling triumphant. “Want to share a drink?”

She turned to see where I was looking, then shrugged. “A small one,” she clarified. “Just a sip for me, I don’t drink when I’m working.”

We paused to take a closer look before entering. It might have been the thick old-fashioned glass windows, but the lighting inside looked dim and smoky. Lamps hung from the ceiling but gave off a moody glow that barely touched the shadows. A long bar ran the length of the room and tiny tables crowded the rest of the cramped space. It wasn’t much larger than the kitchen back home, and I marveled at the quantity of humans and other species who’d managed to find a seat.

Every table was full, and most of the seats at the bar were taken though one near the door sat empty. It was probably the most unpopular because you’d have to constantly squeeze to one side just to let anyone through.

“Don’t you hate crowds?” Dove asked hopefully.

I shrugged. “Just one drink so we can ask about Ahn. Okay?”

For a reply, she opened the front door and surveyed the room, then gestured to me and watched as I crammed myself onto the tiny stool. There wasn’t anywhere for her to sit, so she settled for standing right behind me, pressed softly against my back in a way that felt distractingly good.

The bartender was a small, middle-aged human with red cheeks and bushy eyebrows. He reminded me of a hobbit, and I felt myself smiling foolishly at him when he asked what I’d like.

“Drinks for seated customers only,” he said apologetically in a voice marked heavily with the twangy free space drawl, “fire marshal’s rules. But your friend can stay as long as she makes space when people need to get through. Any sign of uniforms and she’s out, though. Deal?”

“Perfect,” I agreed. “I just want a quick drink. You have a specialty?”

He gestured to the glittering shelves that rose to the ceiling. “We specialize in real Earthen whiskeys, but we’ve got half of free space represented here. You’ve got that tender Earthie accent,” he smirked, “so you should try something special.”

I nodded eagerly and watched as he lifted a clear bottle from the shelf and poured a tiny glassful of a brilliant ruby liquid. He slid it across the bar and watched as I sniffed. When I hesitated, he poured another tiny shot glass full and dumped it into his own mouth with an appreciative noise.

I took a sip and hissed at the sour-sweet, fiery tang that filled my mouth. It tasted like grapefruit, currants, and chilies, distilled to their essence and blended in a perfect harmony. It also tasted like pure alcohol underneath all the flavor, and I was glad the glass was small.

“That’s incredible,” I told him. I couldn’t imagine quaffing the thing in one go like he had, but he probably had practice. “Can my friend take a sip? We could trade off on the stool so it’s legal.”

“Rrrlian pinberry liqueur,” he said fondly, like someone discussing their puppy or a new baby. “Lethal stuff, but great in small doses. This is the only bottle I have, they don’t trade much. Give her a sip, you can have another glass when that one’s gone if you want,” he said with a magnanimous expression as though he was doing us a great favor. And perhaps he was, if the stuff was as rare as he claimed. Dove’s eyes bugged out as she took a sip and she passed it back with a warning look which I could read clear as day.

“Only one for now, but I might come back tomorrow.” I saw another patron at the bar trying to get his attention, so I decided I’d better get my question out in case this was my only chance. “Does Ahn still work here? Ahn McConnell?”

He gave me a curious look and turned away to slide the beautiful cut-glass bottle of red liqueur into its slot. He held a finger up, then bent to fill a mug of frothy beer and slid it across the counter to the feathery blue alien who’d been angling for more. He glanced around for a moment and then, satisfied that all customers were momentarily content, turned back and leaned close enough that I could smell a mixture of hoppy ale and spicy pinberry on his breath.

“She owns the Bog,” he answered, “but she’s more of a morning person. You friends?”

“My great-aunt was,” I explained. “Do you think she’d see me?”

His bushy eyebrows drew together as he looked me over. He grunted and reached under the bar for something, then placed a slip of paper and a pen on the counter by my drink. “Can’t say. Ahn is… unpredictable. Write a note, and I’ll bring it to her after my shift. Check with us in the morning and I’ll let you know what she says.”

I scribbled a quick note and held it up for Dove to approve before handing it over. “It’s nice of you to help,” I told the bartender as he slipped the paper into his shirt pocket. “You’re open in the morning?”

“Crews work all hours to keep the station running,” he explained as I paid for my drink and gave him a generous tip. “Nothing like a full Exy breakfast with an Octavian sour before bed. See you then,” he saluted, and turned to a small, scaly customer at the end of the bar.

We took a roundabout way back to the hotel, climbing the hill with its crowning opalescent tower. The restaurants and shops faded away, yielding to a quiet residential quarter with laundry hanging between the buildings and cats wandering the alleys, a profusion of shrubs and pots stuffed with edible plants tucked into every open niche.

We wandered hand in hand past kids playing jump rope and a pair of women sitting on milk crates and playing cards, one muttering under her breath in a sing-song way while the other dealt. The lilac residences melted into taller blue buildings, more official looking structures that marked the beginning of the university district, and fruit trees filled the air with green growing smells. Then we turned to take another of the spoke roads back down the hill, walking more quickly now because Amur was due at the hotel at any moment.

He was waiting for us there, a slim bag over one shoulder and his eyes glued to the ground while a security guard from the Diamond Kiss leaned against the wall next to him, absorbed by something on his phone. The man grunted when he saw us, then held out a device that looked a little like a remote control.

“For the anklet,” he muttered. “Make him keep it on or you’ll lose him, this one’s a troublemaker.”

Dove stepped between us, which was lucky since I’d been about to grab it and throw it in his beefy face. She took care of the courtesies, too, blocking me with her shoulders as she thanked him with false heartiness and shook his hand, then pointedly waved as he walked away.

Behind her, Amur and I stood, silent and awkward, he with his head bowed and me scowling at his anklet.

“He’s gone,” Dove said. She hit a few buttons and there was a popping noise from the device on Amur’s ankle. “You can take it off,” she added when he didn’t move, just stood there hunched over while gripping his bag.

“If that’s what you want,” he replied, and my heart sank at the words as he bent to remove the anklet and held it out to me. I hurled it against the ground as hard as I could, then jumped on it a few times for good measure. I turned to see both of them watching, Dove with a grin and Amur with a look of utter bemusement.

It was Amur who broke the silence. “It’s kind of you to purchase my contract,” he told me. “What sort of work will I be doing?”

“You’re free,” I told him, my chest heaving as I caught my breath. “You helped us, and I owed you. Now we’re even. You should have been free years ago, but they’ve been doctoring the books.”

He stared, and goddammit – there was that almost-smirk again, taunting me. “You bought my contract… to free me?”

“My lawyer’s doing the paperwork – you’ll have your papers by tomorrow afternoon. What do you want to do? I’ll help, as much as I can.”

His face twisted, and for the life of me I couldn’t begin to read the new expression that was taking shape there. “You, Rose Rossi, bought my contract to free me,” he repeated, shaking his head. And then he threw his head back and laughed, a hoarse bark that he quickly muffled with both his hands. I shot Dove an alarmed look and she shrugged, as if to say I warned you.

“Sure did,” I agreed. “Is that okay?”

Amur pulled himself together, dropping his hands as his gulps of laughter subsided. “Of course it’s okay,” he told me, hiccuping a little as he straightened his jacket and wiped tears from his eyes. “Just… ironic, and unexpected. And a waste of money, since I’ll probably end up with a new contract within the month.”

“Not necessarily,” I told him a little desperately. “I can give you some money to tide you over while you look for a place to go. Or… there’s one other option.” I paused, even now reluctant to say it.

Unexpectedly, I didn’t have to. Dove stepped forward and put an arm around my shoulders. “Come with us to New Mexico Prime,” she told Amur. “I’ll buy you a ticket on our transport. Rose has property there, so you can stay with us while you figure out what to do next.”

Amur looked at me questioningly. “You said you’re here because of a family feud. What’s at New Mexico Prime?”

“Good question,” Dove huffed under her breath, and I had to smile even as I looked around to make sure there was no one to overhear.

“We think my grandmother is after something hidden there,” I told him. “And at this point it’s just a hunch, but after seeing what she’s up to, if there’s anything I can do to get in her way… well, I’ve got to try. So I can’t promise it will be safe, but you’re welcome to join us if you’d like.”

Amur looked at the ground, then wandered away and for one mad moment I thought he would leave without saying anything at all. He picked up the tangle of plastic, metal, and wires that had been his tracking anklet and examined it, then dropped it back to the pavement and brought his boot down hard.

“I need to think,” he told us. “This is... a lot. The paperwork will be ready tomorrow?”

I nodded. “It will, and you're welcome to stay here at the hotel if you want." I fidgeted uncomfortably with the hem of my shirt, reluctant to say the things that were on my mind but afraid I'd regret it if I didn't. I cleared my throat and decided to go for it. "But, like, in a totally platonic way," I blurted out, my face flushing with embarrassment.

“The two of you are together,” he said matter-of-factly, and my face grew even hotter at his assumption. “Everyone on the ‘Kiss knew. You do realize you’re not the only lesbians in free space, right?”

There was a note of kinship in the way he said it, and I filed it away to think about later. I found myself grinning at him, and he ran a hand through his hair and smiled back, the radiance lighting his hollow face in unexpected ways. Then he excused himself, promising to return tomorrow night to pick up his papers and let us know his decision.