The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet (Wayfarers, #1)

by Becky Chambers

Acting all sanctimonious while spouting bad info was a terrible way to win a debate, but a great way to piss people off.

“How’s your ginger?” Sissix said. “Fat and happy,” he said, tying back the tall stalks. Dr. Chef puffed his cheeks with pride. The ginger had been Jenks’s idea, and few things made Dr. Chef happier than meeting the crew’s culinary requests. “Although, I have to admit, I like eating the flowers much more than the root. Far too potent for my taste. Nice and crunchy, though.” Ashby turned his head. “You know ginger’s an accent, right? Like a spice?” “What? No. Really?” “Did you try to eat it whole?” “Oh, dear. Yes.” Dr. Chef rumbled a laugh. “I thought it was some sort of spicy potato.”

Kizzy had managed to drop a sandwich into an air duct last tenday, so they hardly needed to worry about her launching a coup.

“What do Aandrisk games tell you about us?” “That you’re clever, fond of sharing and just as dysfunctional as everybody else.” Sissix laughed. “I can’t argue that.”

All standing together, amicably discussing the sale of soap. Time was a curious equalizer.

“That much I recall,” said Ashby. “I suppose my real question is, why did I agree to this?” “You were concussed and mildly sedated.” “Ah. That explains it.”

The memories reached out to Dr. Chef, trying to pull him away from his safe observation point. They tugged, begging for him to give in. But he would not. He was not a prisoner of those memories. He was their warden.

I cannot pretend that the war never happened, but I stopped fighting it long ago. I did not start that war. It should never have been mine to fight.” He sank down so that he could look Rosemary square in the eye. “We cannot blame ourselves for the wars our parents start. Sometimes the very best thing we can do is walk away.”

Feelings are relative.

Caffeine, adrenaline and the need for sleep all battled for supremacy, chasing each other around like a pack of dogs. He felt like hell.

Perhaps stars were supposed to be viewed from the ground.

“No, listen.” She took Rosemary’s face in her hands and looked her in the eye. “Stop trying to not be scared. I’m scared, Sissix is scared, Ashby is scared. And that’s good. Scared means we want to live. Okay? So be scared. But I need you to keep working, too. Can you do that?”

Ashby smiled. He drank his tea and watched his crew. It was enough.