Young Writers Society

Unlike the earthling fold monitor, the Sauron Ring was entirely smooth. Every visible detail was made in either dull steel or opaque, white acrylic, except for the vast windows that formed sections of the floor and walls. The whole place was a bit unnerving, though Ellipse had a hard time deciding if it was the vacuum of space beneath her feet or the sterile interior design that made her feel queasy. She missed the texture of concrete, even if she detested having to scrub it down.

As she trudged down the main hall, a few steps behind Focci and Tejal, she glanced around at the bustling people. A multicolored crowd of saur in matching polo-like shirts lined up to board a ship bound for the Un system, and a few hydrogen floaters drifted in their midst, lights pulsing in a soft, pastel blue. On the other side of the hall, a pair of harried-looking gato parents tried to order a few meals while keeping their four kittens in check. All six were a gorgeous shade of jewel blue.

She must have slowed down, because when Ellipse finally tore her gaze away from all the people, Focci and Tejal were several meters ahead. Groaning, she picked up the pace and ignored the ache in her calves. Whatever the boys were looking for, it could not be too far away.

It was as far away as possible. The hecking maker-whatever-it-was sat on the opposite side of the Ring, in the space between the first-class and average-class passenger sectors, and the Ring’s sideways elevators were for staff only, just like on the earthling fold monitor. By the time Tejal pointed out the white LED 'MakerSpace' sign, Ellipse felt like she had hiked up a mountain.

“What are we even doing?” she huffed.

Neither boy answered. Instead, they shot her twin grins and dashed through the automatic doors, up to a heavy, metal front desk. Still confused, Ellipse glanced through the glass storefront.

This only left her more confused. Sewing machines lined the wall opposite the front desk, and a giant fabric cutting table sat in the corner beyond the machines. Fitted up against the glass wall was a giant 3D printer, the kind that melted plastic into tiny strings and built from the bottom up, and bolted to the farthest wall was a shelf stuffed with pottery equipment. Ellipse wondered for a moment where the kiln was, but figured that giant ovens were probably not something that would be open to the public.

She took a moment to rub at her lower back and then caught the boys as they left the front desk. “What are we doing here?” she hissed. “Are you making us ceramic dishware or something?” In Siren, she asked the same thing, but instead of dishware, she asked about printing little plastic figurines. Ceramics were not really a thing on Sirena.

The boys told her the exact same things. No, they were not here for lame artsy things, but if Ellipse wanted to goof around while they used with the negative 3D printer in the back, she was welcome to do so. Remembering that she was supposed to be the adult, she resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at them. Artsy things were not lame.

As Ellipse moved to examine some pre-dried pottery, the large, crimson saur working the front desk bounded over to a door hidden in the back wall and pressed their badge against a scanner. They ushered the boys inside, not bothering to ask if Ellipse wanted to come watch, and then shut the door and scampered to Ellipse’s side.

They nudged her and pointed at the display printer.

Well, not like she had anything better to do. With an awkward chuckle, Ellipse allowed the saur to tug her towards a computer and sit her down. They pointed at one of the icons on the screen, which Ellipse proceeded to click, and gave a self-satisfied series of trills. Then the saur hopped back to their post and busied themselves tapping away at a keyboard set directly into the metal desk top.

In the time it took for Tejal and Focci to finish whatever nonsense they were up to, Ellipse managed to print a little eighth note-shaped plastic piece that she could slip on her empty key ring. It jingled a bit, but not enough to be entertaining, and as Ellipse queued up behind the boys to pay for her materials, she stared at her little project and wondered if she ought to make a few more pieces.

The red saur whistled a cheery goodbye as the trio stepped past the glass doors, and Ellipse automatically whistled back, relishing how the rhythm forced her to count the beats in her head. She held up the music note, letting it swing back and forth on the end of her lanyard, and admired the criss-cross grain of the plastic fibers.

“I see you hit up the 3D printer,” Tejal said, smiling. “Focci and I bet on what you would do while we were working.”

Ellipse scowled and pocketed her lanyard. “Oh really? And what did you think I would do?”

“Focci thought you’d leave or just sit around.” Tejal’s grin turned smug and lopsided. “I said you’d make something. He owes me waffle fries from that burger place we passed on our way here. I think. Focci’s been programming Mouthbot to connect to my tablet, but it’s still glitchy.”

Did they make an app for that monstrosity of a translator? Wrinkling her nose, Ellipse let out a soft hum and turned to Focci to get his side of things. “Tejal says you owe him food,” she sang.

“Yep.” The two notes came out in such quick succession that Ellipse almost thought Focci was starting an entirely different word.

“What did you two make in there, anyways?”

“Tejal had the pieces for miniature fold generator number two printed, and I did a bit of circuitry to go with it.” He sent Ellipse a devilish, toothy smirk, and picked up his flopping. “All the cool toys were in the back.”

Hecking DIY-techno-elitists. Rolling her eyes, Ellipse shoved her hands in her pockets and tromped ahead, eyes peeled for that burger joint and any other places of interest. Maybe she would drag the boys into a bookstore and spend an hour browsing English-to-saur language learning books, just to spite Focci and Tejal. She turned her gaze to the store signs, which were all just scrolling LED displays set behind white acrylic panelling, and tried to separate the constantly changing languages from each other.

By some miracle, Tejal’s burger joint came up right as Ellipse’s calves started aching again. While the boys waited in line to order, Ellipse snagged a table and sagged into the hard, white plastic booth. She flexed her feet to try and stretch out the muscles in her legs and let out a long, tired sigh.

The boys returned all too soon. As Tejal wheeled himself up to the edge of the table, and Focci heaved himself into the booth, Ellipse cracked her eyes open and shoved out another sigh. “Welcome back,” she muttered. “Are the fries any good?” She could smell the oil and salt, which was a positive sign, but it was still better to ask.

Tejal nodded.

Ellipse tilted her head toward Focci. “How much were they? I might get some.”

After a short set of clicks in his native language, Focci switched back to Trade Siren and slapped his tail against the ground. “Ten Bit,” he spat. “I cannot believe your weird starch nuggets cost me ten Bit.”

“How much did it cost to print the generator parts?” Ellipse’s keychain decoration had cost ten Bit too.

“Two hundred and fifty Bit,” Focci growled. “Tejal and I split the costs, but it was still expensive.”

Ellipse pushed herself up and straightened her back. “Ouch. That is what you get for being science nerds, I guess. Your hobbies are expensive.”

“Your metal tube could not have been cheap either,” Focci retorted. He leaned over the table to sniff Tejal’s fries and immediately recoiled.

Ellipse’s piccolo trumpet had been a gift, but it probably had cost a fair amount. Shrugging, she reached across the table and plucked one of Tejal’s waffle fries from the paper cup. Then she leveled a cool stare straight at Focci and plopped the entire fry into her mouth.

He scowled so hard his gills stuck out.

“Uhh, if you two are done, I have a quick question.”

With a wink, Ellipse turned to Tejal and swallowed. “Shoot,” she said.

“Where are we headed next?” Tejal shook his cup of fries and drew it closer to himself. “I couldn’t read the station name on the crates like I usually can.”

“Gant, home of the tyran,” Ellipse said, resting her elbows on the table. Tyran languages were almost useless to learn, from a utilitarian standpoint, so she could excuse Tejal for not recognizing the symbols for Tertiary Station. “The gravity is even stronger there, so no slacking off during loading and unloading. My legs will die.”

Focci wriggled in the booth, trying to keep his tail from bending uncomfortably, and Ellipse reached under his arms to lift him up and take some weight off his spine.

“After that, we will make a brief stop at the Triune fold monitor,” she continued, “and then we will be hitting Titan, back in our own system.”

Tejal’s eyebrows rose. “Will that be okay for you? I mean, you have the whole double citizenship thing going on, and colony passports have radioactive chips.”

“Why Tejal,” Ellipse drawled, lips curling into a sly smile, “I did not know you cared. You think that lead box in my bags is just for show?”

Tejal gaped, jaw hanging open, with a fry halfway past his teeth. Then he sputtered and jammed the fry back into his cup. “That’s illegal!” he hissed. “What if the Bellevue is on patrol?”

“The Bellevue is a UN ship,” Ellipse argued. She leaned back and crossed her arms, aware that her face had gone flat and cold. “And according to the UN, radioactive passport chips are also illegal.”