Salvotor grimaces, his hands on his hips. "Are you sure I'll fit?"
"I'm sure I won't," Tarekh says. "That's all that matters."
The ex-gladiator runs a hand through his tufted hair, and it stands up on end all over again. "And when I get up there, I switch out the filters and the chips with the new ones you hand me?"
"You got it," Tarekh says, clapping him on the back hard enough to make him stagger. "We'll make a mechanic out of you yet."
I lean against the doorframe. "Or he'll get stuck up there and we'll be breathing in his scent all the way to Jerrok's station."
Salvotor gives me a sheepish look. "I remembered to bathe again. Alice didn't even have to tell me."
I nod. "Good job." Poor guy. Like most freshly-from-the-lab clones, Salvotor doesn't know how to act around regular people. He treats mealtime like a fight, he sleeps on the floor, touches everything (or puts it into his mouth) and asks a ton of questions. He also doesn't know much about hygiene, as was evident when about two days after we were rescued, he still stank of jungle funk and Alice had to take him aside and explained that people bathe a lot, most once a day. He'd been waiting until he was instructed to bathe, because his old owner hadn't given his slaves free use of the facilities. It's just another thing he's learning.
Alice has been very gentle with him, though. She coaches him through a lot of interactions, and I'm reminded that one of the people she loves most is Helen, who has the same clueless innocence about a lot of things. She's patient with him, even when others have lost their temper. It reminds me to keep my cool, even when I sometimes want to choke the guy.
Tarekh lifts his chin at me. "While you're here, been meaning to ask. If you don't have room for more crew on the Sister, I'd be happy to take Salvotor here on as an apprentice. Show him how to maintain a ship like this one so he can make his way out in the universe without having to rely on others."
It's a generous offer, and for Tarekh to bring it up, it means he already ran it past the others on the Jabberwock. It'd take time and patience—lots of patience—to teach Salvotor, and I have a new appreciation for Tarekh. Under that big, ugly mug and hulking shoulders there's a kind, generous heart. Alice would cry. Then again, it doesn't take much to make Alice cry. "The space on the Little Sister is tight," I agree, crossing my arms over my chest. "But we've never turned away anyone that wanted to stay. But this is also a fantastic ship. Has to be or my sister wouldn't serve on it." I wink at Tarekh and then turn back to the splice. "What do you want, Salvotor?"
He looks shy, fidgeting and glancing between us uncomfortably. "I know you and Alice. You're my new family. I'd like to stay with you, if that's all right."
"Perfectly all right. I can teach you a little, too," I say, feeling generous.
Tarekh snorts, amused. "Like what?"
"Like how to navigate," I reply. "Poorly. And how to jump into dangerous situations headfirst."
They laugh, but I'm only half joking. I might not navigate as well as my sister, but there's something to be said for the art of leaping into conflict and coming out with your hide intact. It's about knowing how to read the situation. And reading the situation is something Salvotor really, really needs help with. But that's for another day. Right now, he's helping Tarekh. I just give him a quick nod. "Regardless, you're welcome on the Sister. You belong there as much as anyone else, and I'm sure Sophie won't mind another friend." I'm such a liar. Sophie hates strangers. But that's another problem for another time. "I'm looking for my mate. Have you seen her?"
Tarekh mock-rubs tears out of his eyes. "It's so hard to stay away from your mate, isn't it? So tragically hard." He rubs at his eyes dramatically.
"Shut up, you." I turn to Salvotor. "Alice?"
"Uh." He pauses, watching Tarekh a moment longer, and then remembers he's supposed to be loyal to me. "She's with the captain's mate. Fran's giving her baby clothes."
"Kef me," I mutter, imagining the glittery, loud monstrosities that Kivian's child has been dressed in. "I'd better go put my foot down before I find I'm up to my horns in baby clothes covered with gaudy tarkesian feathers."
"Don't give Kivian any ideas," Tarekh warns, and then nods at Salvotor. "You climbing up there or not?"
I can hear the females squealing before I even go into the rec room. The Jabberwock has a nice lounge, bigger than the one on the Sister, and it's full of luxuries—a massive vid-screen and tons of stolen vid records from various planets, a library of human books, a massive lounge sofa for multiple people to relax on, and tables for playing sticks and other games of chance. Right now, though, there's only two occupants—my mate and Fran.