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ONE

Dulsey arrived mid-shift, bearing several red, white, and comet boxes, which she put on the table in the galley before turning to look fully at Squithy.

“I’m riding some bad news and some good news for the ship, the crew, and you. Since we’re together, might I begin with you?”

Squithy considered her.

“Tranh’s here,” she said slowly. “I mean, I can call him. He’s the captain, and speaks for the ship and crew.”

“So he is,” Dulsey said, “but you and I made a private arrangement. I’d like to talk to you about that, if you’re free.”

“Oh,” Squithy said, with a sinking feeling. “I can talk now. Would you like a cup of ’toot? Or ’mite?”

“I’d welcome a mug of ’toot,” Dulsey said, opening up one of the boxes. “Will you share a snack with me?”

“Yes!” Squithy said, catching the scent of warm bread and sugar.

She returned to the table with two mugs of ’toot, and two snack plates.

“Here,” she said, putting a mug and a plate by Dulsey, and sitting down across from her.

“I have some bad news of my own,” she said, after they had each chosen a treat from the box. “That inspector who came by yesterday to—well. She wanted Dulcimer on tight lock-down, but Tranh talked her out of that, on account of there’s ship’s business to do. So what it is now, is senior crew can go out on port to tend ship’s business. The rest of us, though, we’re ship-bound. Tranh says the port’s not as safe as we thought it was, on account of what happened to—”

She bit her lip, not wanting to violate Susrim’s privacy, though she was pretty sure Dulsey knew more about what had happened to him than Tranh, or maybe even Susrim himself.

She took a breath, and met Dulsey’s gaze.

“So, that means we can’t tour A Level, like we planned. I’m sorry.”

Dulsey nodded.

“I’m sorry, too,” she said, putting her mug down. “I was looking forward to spending more time with you, and—” her lips quirked, “deepening our association.”

Squithy laughed.

“Like we’re norbears!”

“Yes, exactly like that.” Dulsey broke off a corner of her dough. “They’re not wrong, you know. Everyone needs associations, allies.” She nodded at Squithy. “Friends.”

Squithy picked up her dough and looked at Dulsey.

“I hope,” she said seriously, “that we’ll be able to deepen our association at another port when we’re together.”

“We share a hope,” Dulsey said, and popped the dough-bit into her mouth.

Squithy took a bite, and let the flavors spread over her tongue. Sighing, she sipped some ’toot, and looked over to Dulsey.

“So, that’s my bad news. What’s yours?”

“Firstly, that we would have to postpone our next outing until we meet again at another port,” Dulsey said, picking up her mug. “There’s an expanded version, which I’ll be giving to the captain, but I’ll share it here and now, with you, if you don’t mind. There’s no reason to rush through our snack, unless your duty presses.”

Squithy looked at the chronometer.

“Clean-up’s finished. The norbears are next on my schedule, but Bebyear says they’re in no rush.”

“Well, then, we have some time to ourselves. I agree with the captain’s decision to keep general crew and youngers aboard. Not because the port has suddenly become more dangerous, but because Dulcimer has become interesting.”

Squithy stared at her.

“Interesting? But that inspector, she said—she wanted us in tight lock-down because she didn’t want any word of what—of Susrim—to get out on the dock!”

“That’s because Susrim’s adventure, let’s call it, involved a person in the near family of one of the station’s administrators. It’s the inspector’s job to make sure there are no scandals attached to the administrators or their kin. She can’t stop rumor, and she knows that. A port this size is full of people who know people, and secrets shout themselves off the walls as soon as they’re sealed to silence. Dulcimer’s logo is by this time well-known on port, and anyone wearing a crew jacket will certainly be approached.”

“But—” Squithy began, but Dulsey held up a hand, asking for more time.

Squithy picked up her mug and drank some ’toot. Dulsey smiled.

“There are unscrupulous people everywhere, and I’ve never heard of a station administrator who lacked enemies. The inspector can’t stop rumor, but she can stop corroboration. That’s why she wanted a tight lock-down.”

She picked up her mug, and gave Squithy a smile over the rim.

“The captain let her have a lock-down for all but senior crew because he knows that Dulcimer crew will be approached, badgered, and possibly even threatened on-port by people who want information which may damage the administrator. It’s safer for crew to stay with the ship.”

Squithy frowned.

“That’s bad,” she said. “It would violate Susrim’s privacy and the privacy of, of that other person.”

“That would be bad, yes; but it’s best to keep in mind that Susrim has been very lucky in his adventure. There are some ports where he would have been disappeared for his involvement with a high-ranking person. Dulcimer would never have known what had happened to him. His mates and family would think that he’d jumped ship.”

Squithy put her mug on the table, feeling a little uncertain in her stomach. In her head, she felt the norbears as a single presence, listening hard. She caught a whisper of the tobor shape from—one of the youngers, she thought. Oki sent a sharp thought and the shadow was gone.

“Given all of this interest, I think it will be better not to transfer the norbears into my care here,” Dulsey continued. Squithy braced herself for norbear protest, but none came, only the continued impression of hard listening. She listened hard, too, as Dulsey continued.

“I’ll be making arrangements with Tranh so that the transfer can be made at another port, or perhaps we will do a rendezvous transfer. We will consider together what will be best and safest for all.”

She smiled again.

“I do intend to honor our arrangement. They have chosen brave scouts to stay and brave scouts to go—all of them are now brave scouts, you see, having studied the incidents from your dockside videos and decided that Jethri’s Scout is the most remarkable human they have met since they met Klay, who ranks with you as the humans who help keep order in the universe.”

Squithy spluttered. “They can’t think that! They know what I was like when we found them! They must have seen people who are…”

She stopped, uncertain, but Dulsey finished the sentence for her.

“People who are well-intentioned and honorable?” she asked, and shook her head lightly. “They had little direct personal experience with humans before you and Klay discovered their tragedy, and since then they have had second, third, and more hand experience through you and your contacts. It is quite amazing to witness in action and to watch the patterns grow. You, Squithy, are an anchor point to those who plan to stay with Dulcimer and to those who will be taking their side tour, as they see it. Those who stay will be farshlogging on their memtrek, that they can all share later. They have a very clear idea about the passage of time, so later is something they understand.”

“But I’m not a good example of anything,” Squithy protested. Jethri’s Scout, she thought, was a worthy model for norbears, but Squithen Patel?

Dulsey was still speaking.

“You are a good example of yourself, and that is exactly what the norbears need. How you deal with your next Standard or two as you grow and mature, and the way in which you have already dealt with the universe, the choices you have made—all of these things interest the norbears, greatly. To them, you are both interesting and a center point.”

She raised her mug. “More ’toot?”

Squithy took both mugs, refilled, and brought them back to the table. Dulsey had another piece of sweet bread on her snack plate. After a moment, Squithy took a second piece, too.

“Thank you,” Dulsey said. “There is one more thing I would like to talk to you about. We may come close to the edges of Susrim’s privacy, but I think we may avoid a violation, and this is information that you should have. May I continue?”

Squithy swallowed her bite of bread, and took a sip of ’toot.

“Yes, please,” she said to Dulsey.

“First, then a question—do you know what happened with Susrim?”

“Tranh talked to me, and—Susrim used the social boards to make an appointment with somebody. The boards are run by port admin, so everybody thinks they’re safe, only Tranh said they’re not safe so much as less risky than making a hook-up at a portside bar where you don’t know anybody, and everybody else is friends. The problem being that the—the person Susrim hooked up with was using the system for themselves, which they could do because of who their cousin is. Tranh said that’s why really we should only make hook-ups with ships we know, or at shivary, though I haven’t ever been to a shivary. Tranh says now that we’re reg’lar—” She stopped herself, feeling her cheeks heat.

“I’m explaining too much.”

“Sometimes people explain too much when they’re worried or upset,” Dulsey said, pulling a smaller piece off of her bread. “We all do it. What else did Tranh say?”

“Well, he said that we should all be careful, and he gave me database cites for the drugs, so I could read about the short- and long-term effects, and delivery methods.”

“Did you read them?” Dulsey asked. “Do you have any questions?”

“Yes,” Squithy said, surprising herself. “How can you know if somebody intends to take advantage of you, and put you in the way of harm? I did read the long-term effects. If the inspector hadn’t given Susrim that shot, he could’ve died. Not right away, but within the Standard, maybe, if his immune system hadn’t been able to clear itself.”

“It was very bad, what was done to Susrim. As I said, he has been extremely lucky in this encounter. As to how you can tell if someone intends to hurt you…”

Dulsey shook her head with a smile that seemed sad.

“I watch what people do, and I listen to what they say. If there is a discrepancy—bearing in mind that there is always a discrepancy—then I watch harder. As a broad general rule, believe what you see, not what you hear.”

She sipped her ’toot, and sighed as she put the mug down and met Squithy’s eyes.

“There’s no way I’ve ever found to know in advance, if someone intends you harm. The best you can do to protect yourself is to be advertent. Tranh’s suggestion regarding known companions is not without merit, though of course you, like norbears, will want to widen your circle of acquaintance, which means meeting new people. Be careful of food and beverage offered by strangers. Make certain that your drink and theirs is from the same bottle; that they have a slice from the same piece of cake. If you’re uncertain, don’t drink, though that can be difficult, since our social rules tell us to drink what’s offered—do you know why we have that particular social rule?”

Squithy frowned, and paused in the act of shaking her head.

“To show trust,” she said, and it wasn’t a guess, though she didn’t know where the answer had exactly come from.

“That’s right.” Dulsey nodded. “One thing I have learned is that, if someone gets angry with you for refusing refreshment, and presses you hard to drink or eat—that’s often a sign that there’s something out of true, and it would be best to disengage.”

“Susrim went to his meeting carrying vya,” Squithy said, which was maybe a privacy violation, or—

Dulsey nodded. “Expectations can get people into trouble. It’s human to have expectations, but if you can train yourself to step back and take a good, hard look at what’s factually in front of you, that’ll give you an edge over trouble, too.”

Squithy frowned. Inside her head, she could feel Oki listening, and saw a shadow-picture of a dim path, and a norbear at the side, scenting, and listening, and waiting before stepping forward.

“What was that, do you think?” Dulsey asked.

“Caution,” Squithy said. “Oki’s old, so she must have learned to be careful.”

“That’s my guess, too.”

The door opened and Tranh came in, mug in hand, headed for the hot pot. He stopped when he saw Dulsey.

“Pilot. Looking for me?”

Dulsey smiled at him. “Now that Squithy and I have settled our business, yes, Captain, I am looking for you. Do you have time?”

“Let me grab a refill, and—is that sweet dough?”

“Dulsey brought it,” Squithy said, getting up and crossing to the cabinet. “I’ll get you a snack plate, Tranh.”


Tablet in hand, Squithy sat on a bale of greens, norbears lounging more or less at her feet.

Inside her head, they were busy having questions, and being excited. She got the impression that, since they had finally made their decisions, they were impatient with any more delays. Silver in particular was ready to go with Dulsey when she was done her business with Tranh, and was pushing a little at how much danger could there be? They weren’t silly cubs, they were brave scouts, and—

Oki, who was sitting next to Silver, shifted, bumped the other norbear forcefully with her rump, and Ebling produced a sharp picture of Silver tangled in a thorn bush. That got a sharp denial, as Silver got up on hind legs, apparently willing to have an argument right here, right now.

“Everybody stand down!” Squithy said, which Ma used to say when there was an argument. Inside her head she made a picture of calm norbears tucked up among the leaves and grasses, listening quietly.

Bebyear—she thought it was Bebyear—made an amused thought-noise, that sounded like Uncle Rusko when he didn’t quite want to laugh out loud. Squithy grinned, but the norbears did settle again, and there eventually came that feeling of intense listening.

“All right,” she said, glancing down at her tablet. She’d made a list, a short list, so she wouldn’t forget anything.

“You all heard that this port’s gotten dangerous,” she began, saying the words out loud while she thought about crowds of shadows on the port, looming and threatening.

Her image was overridden by a image of Susrim when he’d come back to the ship after his appointment. There was the whisper of tobor there, and she wasn’t clear if that was meant to be Susrim or what had happened to him.

Before she could agree, another picture formed—of Dulsey standing tall in her leather jacket, and the shadow-tobor slinking away.

“Yes, Dulsey is very brave, and she would scare the tobor away. But there are a lot of tobors and only one Dulsey.” She concentrated and managed to produce several tobors and Dulsey standing between them and the norbears.

This brought silence. Thoughtful silence. No one disputed the image; many tobors was clearly too much for anyone to handle by themselves, no matter how well-connected and brave.

The image had everyone’s attention, then, slowly, it began to change. There was Klay with his gun standing next to Dulsey. The sense of many tobors eased a little, and there was a general feeling of acceptance of this solution. Surely even many tobors could not stand against two such brave scouts.

Squithy took a breath, wondering how she was going to explain—but there! The image had changed again! Now there were three protectors and the sense of many tobors faded away, leaving the norbears safe with Dulsey, Klay—and her.

One of the norbears hummed in satisfaction of a fine solution to their problem.

“But wouldn’t it be better if there were no tobors at all?” Squithy asked, picturing Dulsey and the norbears walking together down an empty ramp to a quiet dock.

More thought, followed by agreement.

“Well, that’s what Dulsey and Tranh are talking about now,” Squithy said. “Prolly, we’ll meet Dulsey in a place where there aren’t any tobors, and you can cross over to her ship, quiet and calm.”

She changed the image of Dulsey and the norbears, showing the group entering another ship.

Yes, came the feeling. Yes, this idea was better.

“That means you’re going to all be alt-crew for a while longer,” Squithy said. “Since we’re going to be moving, Tranh wants crew—that’s all crew—to review emergency protocols.”

That got some argument. She and Klay had already told them that. They didn’t need to be told again. The images flowed to her in precise order.

In emergency, norbears were to go to the pile of back-up grass bales in the storage closet and curl themselves into the corners until they were called out safe.

The last image hung inside her head until she admitted that, yes, that was exactly right.

The image faded though something like a smug, so you didn’t need to remind us, did you? lingered.

Squithy sighed, stood up, looked at her tablet, turned it off and shoved it into the thigh pocket of her pants. Then she settled back onto the bale and started again, this time going over the rest of the crew and pointing out that each had things to do and things to back up, and talking to herself as she thought of them, partly telling them how things used to be and how they were now and what she thought they’d be with the changes coming.

“But until the new plan’s made, you’re crew, and crew has duties. When you’re with Dulsey, you’ll have to work out with her what you are, if you’re crew and have duties, or you’re passengers, or—”

Her head rang with their approval, and a lot of echoes, as if the norbears had one and all studied Dulsey’s sharing of faces. Oki and Ebling, and surprisingly Bebyear, who was often the least sharing of the full adults, had between them ranked the faces: there, always, the serious human face that showed over and over again, older and younger, greyed and not, a serious face no matter what age, full of what Squithy thought of as thought wrinkles around the mouth and eye-corners, aging the space between the nose and eye brows… They were at once the same person and someone else, one seemed to be exactly that Jethri from Port Chavvy, but so very close to several others who looked almost exactly the same but who had different shading—mental shading!—that meant they were not the same person.

Dismayed, Squithy struggled to separate herself from the torrent of faces that were almost the same face. She’d explained it wrong, she thought, and now they were back to believing they were leaving with Dulsey right now.

“The new plan—” she began again—and paused. The pictures in her head slowed, and she understood that the norbears were sharing important information now, while there was time.

The pictures sped up again—Dulsey, her faces, and the echoes of strange places—restaurants, a vast and almost empty plain with three spaceships settled nearby, images of ports and people.

Squithy gasped for breath, remembering what Klay had said, that Dulsey’d been visiting every port there was over the last hunnert years, and it seemed likely, given what the norbears were showing her.

There was a touch against her leg. She looked down to see that Oki had settled against her left ankle, and Ebling and Bebyear were settling against her right, all leaning into her the way she’d seen the youngers leaning in to them in what Klay called cuddle-piles, saying they reminded him of not quite adult Loopers starting a bundling session. In the midst of her thinking it felt like there was some kind of a meeting going on, and soon Mitsy and Ditsy joined in by settling on the other side of Oki.

Squithy had studied enough to know about circuits and that’s what it felt like—like she was part of a circuit of images and ideas, and that what she was feeling was something they’d gathered, bits of things getting clearer the longer they sat together.

Yes, it was clear that Mitsy and Ditsy were volunteers—the feeling came that while they both admired Dulsey as a well-formed person with lots of attachments, they also admired Klay and Squithy, who they were sure had saved all of their lives back on Thakaran: upstanding, brave, true, strong, and such a beautiful pair-to-be who’d soon snuggle and…

Squithy knew what blushing felt like; this felt like a blush times three as the norbears apparently were looking forward to Klay and her acting with wild abandon really soon now, even if they hadn’t yet chosen their time, hadn’t got the right time and the right weather and the best sun spot all at once, but soon, soon. There was, somewhere, maybe from Silver who was still not part of the pile, a snarky feeling that maybe his—and here came an image of a scowling Susrim walking into the norbear den throwing grass like he was mad at it—or them—bad times were going to make Squithy run off and never touch anyone.

Unbidden came Squithy’s thought about holding Klay, kissing him, and she blushed even deeper, while Oki, Ebling, and Bebyear all sent approvals and Mitsy and Ditsy leaned harder on each other.

The circuit, if it was a circuit, certainly felt warmer than it had, and Squithy felt the familiar request to share, and realized that, with all the important decision-making going on, she hadn’t given them her port-walk.

Slowly, she began to visualize, starting with the norbears in the hallway, eager to come with, which got a round of unashamed norbear-chuckles that faded as she remembered the walk down the tube, and identifying their access number.

She showed the map, and how it had looked to her, and noticed a soft overlay, in which she saw herself studying, as if she was—as if she was watching herself from the outside.

It was Dulsey, she realized then. Dulsey had shared the port-walk from her perspective, and the norbears were matching up their viewpoints.

By the time she had shown them the first outfitters shop, she had stopped being distracted by the double vision.

Until she got to the dough-throwing. There was a ripple of amusement through the circuit, and there was Dulsey’s viewpoint again, seeing things Squithy hadn’t noticed at all. There was someone inside watching the dough-throwers, looking like a supervisor, frowning as the spinning got faster, and the tosses higher, and—

Squithy felt herself blush again, as Dulsey’s viewpoint showed her that the dough-throwers, and some others inside the shop had been watching her, jostling each other to peer around a work table she’d hardly noticed—and there, there was a strange view, as some motion of the front ’prentice had caught Squithy’s eyes and Dulsey’s, so the scene was somehow all around her, in three dimensions.

There was, Squithy realized suddenly, a lot going on in the circuit. She got several more glimpses of that strange world in 3D, with her standing against the other Dulcimer crew demanding that they put their guns away. Klay’s voice again, and hers, and a feeling of proud tenderness, and she was trying to not blush when somebody fed in another scene that might, she understood now, actually be true. She was between the norbears and the guns, and there—it was Klay’s viewpoint, Klay’s admiration of her in the midst of the confusion, seeing her so clearly as exactly who he needed to be there, full of pride and wonder.

Amusement spread through the circuit, then, accompanying another vision of Klay, but this time in this room and—Silver murbled, the sight echoed and reinforced by Synbe and Rutaren, who were still munching grass against the wall.

Squithy shook herself out of the circuit, and looked up, blinking.

There in the doorway were Tranh and Klay, quiet, respectful of the meeting and her concentration.

Her eyes met Klay’s, and he turned to Tranh, saying something very quiet before he met Squithy’s gaze, his cheeks flushed and his eyes widening as Silver fed his viewpoint into the circuit while he was standing right there, showing him looking intently at her face, and her lips, as if she were something delicious…

“Sorry to interrupt,” Tranh said then, his voice breaking the circuit. Squithy bit her lip as the images went flat, lost depth, and dissipated.

“There’s a crew meeting in one hour. Alt-crew can listen in, which I gather they’ll do anyway; everybody else in the galley. One hour, right, Squith? We’ll need snacks and fresh ’toot.”

She nodded and stood up, feeling the norbears moving away from her ankles, and sad to lose their touch.

“One hour in the galley,” she said. “I’ll do the set-up, Tranh.”

“Good.” He turned—“Take a minute to make sure things are clear here, would you, Klay?”—and was gone.

Klay came further into the room, the norbears making room for him to get next to Squithy.

“That was…amazing,” he said.

“You heard it?” Squithy asked, which—of course Klay had heard it; Klay had heard the norbears from the first.

“I did.” He was close now, and he was smiling, kind of, with one side of his mouth, his eyes wide, and his cheeks still flushed.

“So, the right weather, and the right sun spot, and the right things to eat, did I hear that right?”

“It sounds like what I heard,” Squithy admitted.

“Well, I’m glad they agree. I’ve been looking for the right conditions, but with everything so busy…”

He extended a hand and touched his fingertips to her cheek.

“Warm,” he said, which made it seem right for her to put her fingers against his cheek.

“You, too,” she said, and leaned forward, and Klay did, too, bending some because he was just that much taller than her. Their lips met, and that was fine, Squithy feeling Klay’s hand slip down to her shoulder, and it was more than fine—and then Klay gently pulled away.

“I could do a lot more of that,” he said, breathing hard. “How about you?”

“Yes,” she said. “A lot more. Please.”

He grinned.

“I’ll make that a priority.” His grin twisted a bit, which was him having humor. “Right after the crew meeting.” He leaned down again, and kissed her forehead.

“See you soon,” he said.

With that he was gone, and murbles and small chitters grew around Squithy, the norbears delightedly having taken to mimicking Klay, kissing each other on the forehead while trading replays. Squithy stood as if rooted, her mind accepting the various long-angle visions of their kiss, decided that, yes, she wanted a lot more of that.


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Framed