Orphan Stone

By Cody L. Stanford

Erzsébet Warren doesn’t let anything get in her way. It’s been just a few months since Erzsébet was made an orphan when her father murdered the rest of her family. Now she wants to do something fun, like mining diamonds in the dangerous rings of Saturn. But Erzsébet doesn’t anticipate that the place is crawling with hated chimera-boys, humans who genetically alter their bodies to become part animal. Nor does she count on a ship full of vicious pirates, who not only want to steal the miners’ diamonds but also have a personal grudge against Erzsi. And least of all, she never thought she’d fall in love with a chimera-boy. Erzsébet’s adventures rack up no end of trouble for both the daring diamond miners and the dissipate and deadly pirates. But when pirates try to take over the huge mining station, it’s Erzsébet’s cunning improvisations that help the outgunned miners fight back.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cody L. Stanford
• Release date: May 28, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458199898

Cody L. Stanford

Cody L. Stanford lives in Overland Park, Kansas. He attended the University of Missouri at Kansas City and is fascinated by the arts, history, politics, mythology, and other elements that shape the forces and foibles of human nature. His stories have appeared in Toasted Cheese Literary Review, The Piker Press, and The New Orphic Review. When not writing, he occasionally spends time working with tigers and other exotic cats at a nearby feline conservation park.

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Orphan Stone

By Cody L. Stanford

Copyright Cody L. Stanford 2011

Smashwords Edition

Cover Design by Wendy Barsotti

Dedication

For my sister Melinda Combe, who, as a young girl, wished more than anything to be a fighter pilot. Here are the stars I hope she always wanted.

Acknowledgments

The paradox of writing is that one must do it alone, and yet one cannot do it alone. Several people helped with the writing of Orphan Stone, including Bruce Memblatt, who has read everything I’ve written, and my sister Melinda Combe, who has enjoyed my writing and helped out in many ways. Both of them read Orphan Stone in early drafts and offered feedback on its development. Wendy Barsotti got a kick out of creating the terrific cover for Orphan Stone. My friend Danny has proved that someone can believe in me even when I don’t believe in myself. Finding a home for the orphan Erzsébet has been tough. I think her knack for invention would say that self-publishing is right up her alley.

Orphan Stone

Orphan Stone — 1. A dangerous rock ejected from Saturn’s rings by quirky gravitational pulls; a hazard to ring-proximate navigation. 2. An alternate term for the philosopher’s stone (alchemy). 3. Any agent of sudden change, metamorphosis, or catastrophe.

Chapter 1

Erzsébet Warren had developed a bad habit of blowing things up.

Thirteen-year-old Erzsébet was officially too young to be a pilot, but today it didn’t matter. She flew the Chronos Corporation’s small minecraft on her first mining mission in Saturn’s rocky rings. As she steered her craft toward the ringstone field, an orphan stone shot out at her. Erzsébet dodged the rock and it flew off on its initial trajectory.

First one, right outta the gate, Erzsébet said. Gonna be a rough day, eh, Bat?

There was no reply; she was alone in the cockpit.

Erzsébet found and drilled two diamond-heavy rocks, extracting nearly three kilos of Lucifer diamonds. She sidestepped another orphan stone and stored the last diamond in her craft’s hold. The minecraft’s scanners pointed out another promising target stone. Erzsébet was flying toward the rock when a third orphan stone whizzed into view. The egg-shaped stone was about a meter round, just the right size to go orphan.

Damn it, Erzsébet said. Saturn had better quit snapping his slingshot at me! She dipped the right wingstrut of her minecraft and the stone flew over it.

That was close, Erzsébet said. The stones’ rate of appearance is above average today, don’t you think? She shook her head. Even though Bartholomew wasn’t with her, it felt rude not to speak to him.

What miners called orphan stones were dangerous rogue ringstones fired out of Saturn’s rings by gravity spikes in the close quarters of the stones’ orbital plane. A skilled pilot only had to make a simple evasive maneuver to get out of the way and watch the stone fall back toward Saturn to rejoin its fellow rocks huddling like rocky rodents around the gas giant.

Erzsébet watched the latest orphan stone sail past her craft. The view was backdropped by the dun-colored cloudtops of Saturn. Brown stones; brown rings; brown planet. After seven years living atop Jupiter’s colorful clouds that stretched away under her family’s farm platform like a vast and swirling rainbow sea, dull brown Saturn was a definite letdown for the girl.

Erzsébet waved to the departing orphan stone and prepared to turn her craft. Buh-bye, Rocky. Go fly up someone else’s butt for a change.

The egg-shaped stone made a sharp turn and came after her, a wizened brown wolf chasing a tender lamb.

What the… Erzsébet hauled her craft into another evasive maneuver. Elaborate banks of engines at crucial pivot points on the minecraft’s hull allowed the ship to fly in turns and climbs and dives not unlike an atmospheric terraplane.

Orphan stones that steer themselves. That’s a first. Erzsébet stuck out her tongue at the orphan stone. "This is just…not…fair." Directly below her lay the dense field of ringstones she was mining. Erzsébet dropped the craft carefully to evade the stone again.

The orphan stone dropped with her.

"Aw, for cryin’ out loud! Aren’t you supposed to get only one chance at me?"

Erzsébet dipped her left wing this time. The stone shot past, then slowed to turn around behind her. Bat, whaddaya think… Erzsébet paused; Bartholomew wasn’t there to help. She accelerated her minecraft and the stone followed. Oh, great. It’s a stray rock-dog. Erzsébet banked and weaved; the stone banked and weaved. And it loves me. Someone call the animal cops; I think it's got rabies! Erzsébet dived and climbed; the stone dived and climbed, following her every move. She pushed more power to her engines through the steering triggers, but the orphan stone closed the distance between it and the minecraft.

Isn’t there a leash law in the outer planets? Erzsébet twisted her craft in its flightpath a bit to confirm visually what she couldn’t affirm from the rear vidshooter screen. Yup, there’s an exhaust trail behind Fido back there. Her suspicion was doubly confirmed when another vessel much larger than hers heaved into view from its hiding place underneath the ringstone plane. Battered, blast-scored and, yes, brown, the ship was a decrepit old military transport. At one time decommissioned and sold for scrap, the vessel was resold before being broken up, and now served an entirely different and illegal purpose. Near the ship’s bow, over the faded remains of its former military name, was emblazoned the word Merciless.

Is that what I think it is, Bat? Erzsébet cursed under her breath. She counted on Bartholomew to tell her what little she didn’t already know about ships and flying. Without him she felt as if part of her brain had been removed.

Erzsébet turned away from the Merciless, and the stone faithfully followed.

Pirate missile, she said. Camouflaged as a ringstone. Comes to life when its proximity monitor feels a craft fly by, right, Bat? Damn the hole in her heart; she missed him terribly. Inseparable before the tragedy that killed her family, Erzsébet had grown even closer to Bartholomew during their lonely three-month wait for rescue from the scorched remains of Dandelion Platform 7.

Very tricky, Bat, Erzsébet said. How do we get out of this? No answer; it was all up to her now.

The pirate ship Merciless closed in on its prey, ready to clean up the diamonds from the minecraft’s hold after the missile did its work. Erzsébet kept eluding the missile, which was ready to explode on impact with her vessel. Or if the missile failed, the pirate ship could simply blast Erzsébet out of space with its laser cannon. But Erzsébet had a chance to outrun the lumbering Merciless in her more nimble minecraft if she could get rid of the pesky missile first.

Your first lesson in life, Erzsébet said to the not-there Bartholomew, is that your enemies don’t care about you. She swerved her craft up as the missile thrust closer; it missed, but still followed her. Nuh-uh. They don’t care that I’m a kid. They just wanna scoop up my diamonds after I’m dead. It’s easier for them than capturing the ship and breaking into the hold. Diamonds’ll survive the explosion, right, Bat?

Erzsébet banked to her right, turbo-boosted her thrusters, and dived for the stonefield below. Gotta catch me, Rocky! She saw a gap in the clustered stones, and angled her craft to zip between them.

The missile followed through, unscathed.

Erzsébet cursed and headed for some straggler stones dangling below the ringplane. She slalomed around them, hoping the missile would miss a turn and detonate on a ringstone.

Erzsébet checked the rear vidshooter screen; no such luck. Fido’s still hungry, Bat. The pirate ship dipped into view. Don’t ‘yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum’ just yet, gentlemen. Erzsébet’s palms grew sweaty on the steering triggers. She would be able to do this if she could talk it out with Bartholomew; she could handle the fear if he were with her. After all, it was only with Bartholomew’s help that she had been able to save her own life back on DP7.

Erzsébet took a deep breath and gripped the triggers harder. I killed my own father, she whispered to herself. I think I can handle a stinking little pirate missile.

She looked up at the ringstones. Out here, up and down were terms of convenience oriented to Saturn’s poles, just as units of time around a planet of fast days and endless years were rendered, for sanity’s sake, in earthtime.

Time to dance, Fido. Erzsébet swung her craft out to the far end of the ring section and climbed up through the gap. She flipped her vessel over and over to confuse the missile, which rolled after her like a boiling brown egg. Above the ringplane she slalomed around straggler stones again. Her strained bank-bank engines whined like tortured birds.

The pirate missile kept pace with her, undestroyed and undeterred. Erzsébet figured the darn thing would laugh at her if it could.

In her head, Erzsébet imagined Bartholomew’s reply: "It’s probably got an AI chip, missy. So he is laughing at you."

You would know, Bat. Erzsébet saw the pirate vessel come into view again above the ringstone plane. The battered ship was closer now, and turned to aim its forward lasers at her to end the chase before the Outer Planets Patrol saw what was happening.

I think, Erzsébet said, this is enough fooling around with it, don’t you? She imagined Bartholomew’s reply.

"You’re the one, Bartholomew would have reminded her, who has to fool it."

Right, Bat. Erzsébet examined the craft’s control panel, not much different from the one in the sim program on which Bartholomew had taught her to fly. Engines; hold bay doors; drillers; chippers; saws; augers; hackers…

Erzsébet said, Y’might think the Chronos Company would give us weapons systems with all the pirates around.

And there: four claws under the ship that held the stones in a firm grip while other tools chipped away the worthless rock to get at the Lucifer diamonds inside.

The missile kept pace with her; the pirate ship revved its turbo-thrusters. Soon there would be laser cannon fire, and then no more Erzsébet.

The missile, like a ball; the claw, like a hand. Erzsébet hated sports, but during their three months alone on DP7, Bartholomew had developed an odd fondness for an antique terragame called baseball. He dug into old data files and found hundreds of games to watch, featuring teams with strange names like Yankees, Red Sox, Royals, and a mid-twenty-first century championship dynasty called the Mets. Erzsébet had seen enough baseball out of the corner of her eye, while reading books, that she now knew what to do.

Erzsébet grinned out of the minecraft’s forward window. Thanks for the idea, Bat. She wiped her wet hands on the legs of her faded green jumpsuit, and grasped the steering triggers again. Tighten up your training bras, boys and girls, ’cause here we go!

Erzsébet jerked back on the triggers and whipped the minecraft around, turning its bottom hull toward the pirate missile’s flightpath. The bank-banks hollered in protest.

Oh, be quiet and fly, Erzsébet said. The screens from the two vidshooters below the craft fuzzed up, but she could still see the claws. Damn thing should have a thinkpilot, she said, but the minecraft didn’t come with the quirky and unstable mindlinks that controlled some other vessels. The pirate missile came fast at her.

I need more hands. Gently now, Erzsébet told herself as she extended a claw; grasp the missile and follow through so the explosive doesn’t blow. She easily imagined nervous Bartholomew telling her this was not a good idea.

"It’s your idea, baseball Bat. Erzsébet shot out a claw on the left underside of the minecraft and caught the missile. She pivoted the ship around twice to absorb the missile’s momentum, the turned the bottom of her ship toward the closing pirate vessel. Here’s one over the platter, boys!" Erzsébet pulled the claw back and pitched the missile like a speedball…no, fastball back at the pirates. For some reason she thought of a terracity called Pittsburgh, and tried to remember one of the baseball terms she had learned — stake, stock; no, strike — to call out, but her breath burst from her lungs as she was knocked back hard in her chair.

The minecraft’s bank-banks couldn’t handle Erzsébet’s pitching maneuver and the ship began to tumble out of control, end over end.

Aw, crap! Erzsébet grabbed the steering triggers, but she could barely move her body. The craft’s gravs and antigravs went berserk trying to compensate for the g-forces of the tumbling ship. She saw the pirate vessel explode while her craft flipped away from it, and she weakly called out, Steeeeeeerike! from her tight, breathless lungs. The minecraft tumbled toward the next ring section out, and Erzsébet turboed her thrusters; one last chance, one last try; the thrusters gave her no response, no more control, and the ringstones came closer and closer; damn it, Bat, I could really use your help right —

Erzsébet’s minecraft slammed into a large ringstone and exploded.

The minecraft cockpit disappeared, and Erzsébet was back in her grey chair in front of the grey console inside the grey-walled simulator test chamber on Outer Planets Mining Station 3. A few of the grav/antigrav units under the ceiling and lining the edges of the floor blinked fitfully, worn out from simulating the wild maneuvers of today’s test subject.

Erzsébet pulled a wire from the port hidden behind her right ear. She looked up at the raised observation chamber. Behind the Crystaplane window the four stunned faces watching Erzsébet appeared pale, even the black-skinned face of the director of flight instruction, Mr. Ketter.

Bill Ketter leaned over the console in front of him and keyed a button. His voice echoed in the almost bare test chamber. How old did you say you were?

Erzsébet tossed back long black hair that fell below her shoulders. Thirteen. But I’ll be fourteen in four months. In January.

Doris Rizzi, a retired miner with loosely curled grey hair, was the director of mining operations for Chronos. The girl was born in…

Carrie Sidwell, a bespectacled, brown-haired young psychologist, checked her notes. 2111. On Earth.

A terrapup. Statistician Jin Zhang was armed with his ever-present and charmingly antique clipboard, stocked with sheets of real wood-pulp paper. They always make the worst pilots.

A brushed-silver bat flew behind and above the examiners’ heads. The toy’s body clicked with laughter, and he waved his broad wings at Erzsébet.

She waved back. I missed you, Bat.

Bartholomew the robot bat loop-the-looped near the ceiling of the observation chamber. I heard. Too bad you’re dead now. He turned to Bill. Can I go see her?

Bill Ketter was tall, with greying temples and a trim, charcoal-colored suit. He disliked the bat’s perilous antics. No. Bill turned off the intercom and talked to the other three representatives of the Chronos Mining Corporation. He ignored the pouting and swooping bat.

Erzsébet watched; she couldn’t read lips well but got a sense of what they were saying.

Doris Rizzi shook her head. I’ve known pilots with over three decades’ experience that couldn’t have come up with a move like that.

She still lost the ship, Jin said.

She’ll have to learn to be more careful, Bill said.

Bartholomew zipped close enough to Bill’s head that the man felt the chill of the bot’s metal body. That’s what I’m always trying to tell her, the bat said.

Bill disdained a reply. Fourteen in four months, he said to the others. She’ll be old enough to apprentice then. To learn how to mine diamonds.

She is awfully young, Doris said.

Bill looked out the window at Erzsébet’s watchful and determined large brown eyes. Be a shame to send her back so close to age.

It’ll take her four months to get there, Carrie said. And she doesn’t want to go back terraside.

Jin used an actual ink pen to calculate the loss of a real minecraft to the Chronos Corporation. You all know who she is, don’t you?

Some orphan kid, Doris said.

Yeah, a pretty wild one, Jin said. Some people still don’t believe her version of events.

Bartholomew gave Jin an angry look, but kept his small steel mouth shut.

Doris felt the bat zip past her as it buzzed Jin; she asked the statistician, What events?

She’s the DP7 kid, Jin said. She burned up an 800 million dollar crop of giant dandelions.

Bartholomew flew in tight and peevish circles. We were trying to save her life.

Jin made a dismissive snort. So she says.

Doris glanced at the small girl in her large pilot’s chair, and asked Jin, What do you mean?

Some say she killed her family herself. For the money. Jin looked up at the bat. Got her toy here to help cover it up, make it look like —

Jin. Bill frowned at the statistician. The Outer Planets Patrol and the Dandy! Corporation cleared her story. If I had any doubts about her, she wouldn’t be sitting here right now. He keyed the intercom again and spoke to Erzsébet. "Are you sure you want to do this, Miss Warren?"

Yeah, Erzsébet said. What else am I going to do?

Go home, Carrie said. You have relatives terraside.

I’m not a friggin’ turfcrawler, Dr. Sidwell. I’ve been living off-terra since I was six.

What about her relatives? Doris said.

Her closest is an uncle, back on Earth. Bill spoke to Erzsébet. We contacted your uncle Kip Warren right after your distress call from DP7.

Erzsébet laughed derisively. I can’t imagine he’d wanna have anything to do with me.

Why not?

He’s a creep. Can’t hold a job; always mooching off my dad. I think that’s why we came out here to farm dandelions. My dad just wanted to…get away from him…said he…my dad said…

Bill watched Erzsébet lower her eyes. Said what?

Nothing. Erzsébet let her hair fall around the olive-brown skin of her face. She hoped the testers thought her right hand went to her eyes just to scratch an itch.

Doris shook her head. It was her father who went nuts, wasn’t it?

Nutty as a fruitcake, Bartholomew said.

I’d prefer, Carrie said to the bat, "that you not disparage the mentally maladjusted community with your snide insults."

Yeah? Bartholomew said. "Well, when you watch some nutbag turn himself into a monster and start to eat his family, then maybe you’ll —"

Bat! Erzsébet’s voice shattered across the intercom like wind-blasted chimes. "Will you shut up?"

Aw, geez, I forgot she could hear me. Bartholomew landed on Bill’s left shoulder. "Can I go in to her now?"

Bill pressed a button, and the hatch to the sim chamber opened. Bartholomew flew to Erzsébet, landed in her lap, and apologized. The girl stroked his wings tenderly and forgave him.

She’s a tough flyer, Doris said. She’d make a good pilot.

She’s damaged inside, Carrie said. She needs another psych evaluation and a terrashuttle ticket.

She needs to go home, Jin said, and play with less expensive toys than our minecraft.

Erzsébet looked up with wet eyes; she’d heard that, too.

Bill glared at his companions. The three of you — He glanced at Doris, then back to the others — "The two of you, be quiet. We don’t even know who to send her to. We haven’t heard from the uncle since our first call to him. Erzsébet’s probably right; he’s some lowlife who wants nothing to do with her care. He actually has a few misdemeanors in his file. Bill leaned over the console and spoke to Erzsébet. I know a family that operates one of our mineships. They have three kids, one of them a girl your age. You can live with them until —"

"I don’t want another family," Erzsébet said.

Someone has to take care of you, Bill said.

It’s just four months!

A lot can happen to a little girl in four months.

I’m not little!

The law says you are.

Put me on some other mineship, then.

There aren’t any other mineships I’d trust you to be safe on.

Bartholomew piped up. I can protect her!

Uh-huh. Bill locked stern eyes on Erzsébet. That’s your choice, miss. Take it or go back to Earth.

Erzsébet sighed. "Do I have to stay with the family after I turn fourteen?"

Bill returned an even bigger sigh. Legally, no. You can try for assignment to another ship then, if you like.

Good! Then I’ll take it. Erzsébet started to stand up, and Bartholomew launched off her lap into the air.

Um, miss?

Yeah, Mr. Ketter?

You still haven’t passed the test. Let’s try again. You, bat, whatever your name is, get back in here.

Bartholomew circled Erzsébet’s head. Don’t forget about me.

She grinned up at him. How can I? You’re like a part of my brain.

"When I bite into your head I am part of your brain." Bartholomew flew back into the observation chamber. Erzsébet sat down and plugged the sim wire into the Neteyes port behind her right ear.

Bill sealed the hatch, then pressed a button on the console. And Erzsébet?

Erzsébet saw the grey room disappear, and once more she was at the controls of a minecraft preparing to undock from its mother ship. Yes, Mr. Ketter?

Remember what our minecraft can and cannot do. Don’t be too creative.

Okay. Erzsébet brushed her hair back and whispered to herself, Like hell.

Chapter 2

Another week passed before Bill Ketter woke Erzsébet one morning in her tiny cabin, a windowless chamber normally used by pilots for some quick shut-eye before they headed out again. Erzsébet rolled off the narrow cot and padded in her bare feet to the speaker in the wall, where the intercom buzzed.

Yaw, Erzsébet said through a yawn.

It’s Bill Ketter. Pack up and get dressed. You’re leaving. Bill clicked off the line.

Erzsébet gave Bartholomew a worried look, but the bat shook his head.

The morning terrashuttle has already left, Bartholomew said.

The interior of the liftpod was huge; a cargo-hauler with seven meter high ceilings. Industrial green paint peeled from the cargo-scarred metal walls. Erzsébet and Bartholomew entered the liftpod behind Bill, and the massive steel hatch slid closed with a bang.

The hammering of heavy equipment grew louder from beyond the closed hatch while the liftpod clattered its way down to the docks of Outer Planets Mining Station 3, which the miners called Oppums 3 for short. Erzsébet faced the hatch on the left side of the liftpod, close to the wall, with Bartholomew perched on her right shoulder. Bill stood nearby on her right, hands folded neatly in front of him. Near the center of the liftpod, rudely closer than they needed to be, were three male anthrobeasts, a wolf and two tigers. They were dressed in the orange jumpsuits of Oppums 3 dockworkers. Around them hung the charged aura of young and excited males, evident even in their altered state, and they whispered and leered at Erzsébet. Bill managed to glare at the anthros without moving his head from face-front. Erzsébet remained silent, and refused to look at the anthros.

Bill broke the energized silence, more than anything to relax the slightly scared look on Erzsébet’s face. You did well on your sim test, he said to her. Ms. Rizzi was quite impressed.

I had no choice but to go for broke and hope I didn’t crash, Erzsébet said. Little miss Dr. Dipwad had me halfway into a terrashuttle before I even started.

Bartholomew kept his intent eyes on the anthros. His brushed steel body was about a foot long, and when spread his black and silver steel wings stretched nearly twenty inches tip to tip. His ears were large pointed cups that curved elegantly from his small head. He picked one of his limited facial expressions to fling at the rude anthrobeasts: an impudent, stuck-out steel tongue.

The anthros were all slightly taller than the over-six-foot Bill Ketter. They crept closer to Bill and Erzsébet, and hissed at her, and licked their lips. Hey baby, the wolf said; and Sweet thing, said one of the tigers.

Bartholomew flapped his wings and preened. Thank you, gentlemen, but, er… I’m spoken for.

Bill bit back a laugh.

Erzsébet clutched her canvas duffel bag with both hands. The bag held all the worldly goods she had cared to take with her when she was rescued from the platform. She hoped none of the anthros noticed that her hands trembled like daisies battered by a storm.

So, Erzsébet asked Bill, what’s this family like?

Good people, Bill said. "Connell Gordon and his family. He commands a ship for Chronos, the Pwcca’s Ferry."

The Fooka’s what?

"Pwcca’s Ferry. Bill spelled the name for her. Pwcca is the original Welsh name for Puck."

One of the anthrotigers giggled. "Welsh for what?"

Erzsébet threw the cocky tiger an annoyed look, and asked Bill, Who?

Bartholomew grinned at Bill. Shakespeare. I haven’t yet made Erzsi a fan.

She’d better become one, Bill said. Your blogschooling has fallen behind, Erzsébet.

Oooooo, the anthrowolf crooned, "the little darling still goes to school."

Bill turned his back to the beasts. You’ll have to do some pretty intense studying between now and your fourteenth birthday to get your apprentice’s ticket.

Erzsébet shrugged; she had a lot of schoolwork to catch up on, fast. What if I don’t?

It’s your apprentice pilot’s license. Without it, well…

Erzsébet’s language had coarsened during her three months alone with Bartholomew, and she just barely stopped herself from releasing a cuss word for which Mr. Ketter would chide her. Instead she merely remarked on her license-less fate. Terraside.

Bill Ketter nodded. Right.

The anthrowolf began to act up again. Isn’t the little miss lucky to have a big, strong company man for her protection? The dockworkers, especially the anthros, were notoriously contemptuous of Chronos management.

Bill turned his head slowly and set patient but forbidding eyes on the anthrowolf’s I.D. badge. Quite a few other similarly unemployable furballs would love to have your job, he said, and turned back to Erzsébet again.

Hey, little girl, one of the tigers said to Erzsébet, you busy tonight?

Leave her be, Bill said.

Bartholomew kicked off Erzsébet’s shoulder and flew up, down, and around the anthros while maintaining a safe distance from their clawed hands. Buncha sissy chimera-boys, he said to them, hiding behind all that genchanged fur.

You come closer, bat, the wolf said, and I’ll show you a sissy.

Sticks and stones, little pooch. Bartholomew clicked with laughter and circled up toward the ceiling. Do you know — he dipped a wingtip toward Erzsébet — who we are?

Fishbait and fondue forks, said the other tiger.

Bartholomew zipped down to a point-perfect landing on Erzsébet’s right shoulder; the move kicked some of her hair over to her back. The bat spoke three hard and clear words. "Dandelion…Platform…Seven."

If it were possible for anthros to turn a nervous green under their fur, the trio in the liftpod did. They chattered in wavering whispers: It’s her. It can’t be. Here? "Did