Bright Red Line (Backyard Starship #22)

by J.N. Chaney

“Kinda. We’re discussing the niceties of attending to the needs, bodily and otherwise, of Van and Torina’s kids,” Perry said. “Mostly bodily, though.” “Ah. I see. You are about to attempt to convince me that human infants—most species’ infants, for that matter—are not just cacophonous, de facto petri dishes of doom-laden pathogens and—oh, of smells? Especially of smells?” Torina opened her mouth, then shrugged. “Well, when you put it that way⁠—” I stood. “You know what? We’re coming out to the crew lounge to talk to everyone. It’s time for the whole family to be involved.” As we headed for the crew lounge, Funboy looked at Torina. “If it helps, I do wish you well with the excruciating pain of allowing an alien body to grow inside you, exit in the most awkward and inefficient manner possible, and then, years later, damage your car and refuse to pick up dirty socks.” “I’ll say it again, Funboy—you’ve got one hell of a bedside manner,” Torina said. “I’m a doctor, not a motivational speaker.” “Oh, you got that right.”