Conics Unfortunately: 61

Dinner the next evening was a subdued affair, or rather, it was as subdued as dinners get when there are eight people in one party.

The fines had been paid, the lawyers sent home, and all the sofas in Min’s and Captain Maj’s suite were arranged Ancient-Greek-Andron-style around a coffee table heaped with takeout. This, apparently, was some kind of compromise, because Crane and Shell wanted to eat out, but no restaurant could accommodate their group’s mix of palates and body types.

Ellipse sat on the floor with her legs folded criss-cross-applesauce, head placed so she could rest it against Focci’s tail if she so pleased. She poked through a carryout box of pad thai, watching as Tejal spoke with his parents.

The gato were cuddly; Crane and Shell sprawled over each other like a big twist donut, sharing the chaise bit of the sofa while Tejal lounged on the floor near them. They communicated in soft growls and meows and little tail flicks; the gato language was the only one earthlings could not replicate in smooth conversation. Lights and clicks and notes could all be done, but never tail flicks.

“It’s fine,” Tejal said to them. He stabbed something in his takeout box with his fork. “We’re pretty sure we can work apart for a while.”

The white one—Ellipse was fairly certain that one was Shell—cooed gently, and his ears twitched.

Tejal grimaced and smiled at the same time. “He’s working to send money home. I couldn’t ask him to do that.”

Crane let out a series of snorts, and his twin tails batted against the chaise back.

“Err, true. But I thought you two were trying to save for retirement.”

The gato delved into bickering, and Tejal shoved a giant piece of broccoli in his mouth, so Ellipse switched over to observing the Conics crew. Min and Captain Maj were perched on the main couch body, vines wrapped around mugs of their weird liquid fertilizer-food. The captain’s lights were dimmed, but Min had a healthy yellow pulse strobing in his trunk.

Wrecktrix sat with one arm elbow-deep into a giant bag of jerky, or what Ellipse assumed was the tyran equivalent. It was some kind of vaguely disgusting dried protein that he had to chew for long periods of time before swallowing, and Ellipse immediately thought of cows and cud.

Focci reached past her from the couch with a pair of chopsticks, aiming for the platter of sushi and sashimi they were sharing. How he managed to wield chopsticks with his webbed fingers, Ellipse could not figure out. He tossed a slice of raw fish into his jaws and gobbled down the food like a zoo seal. It was fascinating no matter how many times Ellipse had seen it.

“So Ellipse,” he sang. Immediately, Tejal’s tablet flickered to life, and Mouthbot came online. “What are you doing after this?”

Everyone turned to her, even the specifus. Granted, Captain Maj only looked because Min had prodded them to pay attention. Mouthbot echoed the question in English first, and then flashed a set of lights. That was a new function. Then came a butchered version in a tyran language, probably some kind of Google Translate file that had not received the reprogramming and learning treatment.

Ellipse flushed and lowered her takeout box. “Uhh.” She looked between the boys, and then at Captain Maj, and then studied the gato bounty hunters.

“You are welcome to stay with us,” the captain flashed, vines curling in. Tejal scrambled to pick up the tablet and aim the camera at the specifus. “Interpreters are useful.”

There was that, she supposed. Ellipse could live out the next year in space, trying to outrun the earthling and tubai and any other bounty hunters who came after her. Crane and Shell she figured would drop Elliott Bei’s case, so at least they were one less group to worry about.

“I am actually looking at a different job,” she said slowly. “I still need to speak with some people first, but I think it will go well.” It had better go well. Ellipse had spent the past two days wandering through various New York City parks in heavy perfume piecing together the details and fretting over everything that could go wrong. Her ability to persuade would be crucial.

“You’re not going to loan your translating prowess to Google, are you?” Tejal asked.

“Of course not,” Ellipse retorted. She snapped up a piece of sushi that had little crunchy fried bits inside. “Google does not want no-name, unofficially trained amateurs anyways.”

Snatching up another piece of raw fish, Focci tapped Ellipse on the shoulder with his tail and wrinkled his snout. “I doubt many officially trained translators really exist, and certainly not many with your range.” He punctuated this by dropping the fish into his mouth. “Tejal and I are justifiably concerned.”

Well, as long as the boys did not put it all together before she posed the question, then Ellipse supposed everything was fine. “Thanks, I guess?”

“So,” Captain Maj flashed, interrupting with a particularly bright strobe beam of light, “where are you applying?”

Heck. Ellipse had not come up with a good lie yet. She had mostly worked on arguments on why she should pursue her next “job” at all. “I was thinking of tutoring, actually,” she said. It was not a complete lie; tutoring was her plan for after everything ended. “People will pay good money to teach their children alien languages, and I want to attend school on Earth.”

Tejal jabbed a finger at her. “You are peddling your language skills,” he hissed.

It was not like Ellipse had a whole lot else going for her. The real job she was about to try for involved peddling her language skills too, as well as a few other things. “What else would I do to make money? I have to survive somehow.”

“Stay on the Conics,” chirped Wrecktrix.

“Look,” Ellipse grumbled, “I am figuring it out. No teenager has their life together all the way anyhow.” Then she stared Wrecktrix down, stuffed a giant wad of noodles into her mouth, and slurped as slowly as possible.

Tejal sniffed. “Your ID says you’re an adult.”

Eighteen had the word “teen” in it. Still slurping, Ellipse glared at Tejal until he reddened and went back to poking through his food.

The conversation moved on after that. Captain Maj brought up a new set of trade regulations, and Min blinked excitedly about Hollywood. Crane and Shell occasionally purred into each other’s ears, exchanging quiet commentary about everyone else in their dinner party. Ellipse wished she could understand the complex combination of body language and sound that went into Gato language.

By the time everyone finished eating, the only light in the hotel suite came from a set of dim yellow lamps in the corners of the room. The sun had set, though a faint haze of purple light still filtered in through the window.

Tejal let out a great, cat-like yawn, and Ellipse took that as a cue to start cleaning up. She stood, careful of the couch behind her, and began collecting paper platters from the coffee table in a short, unstable stack.

“Tejal,” Focci sang, “do you want to fit in a little bit more work on the generator before we turn in?”

“Oh, yeah.” Tejal handed Ellipse his takeout box and scooted so he no longer faced the table. “We can use our room, right Crane?”

Crane let out a deep, dark rumble, which must have been a yes, because Tejal shot Focci a wide grin. “We can finish up the prototype for use in the Ink’s mainframe tonight and begin setting up a system for syncing test data?”

The specifus lowered themselves from their couch, and Captain Maj took a few of the platters from Ellipse’s hands with a smooth extension of their vines. “Go with them,” they flashed, lights soft. “You must want to be together before you all say goodbye.”

The captain was not wrong. Squishing between two sofas, Ellipse watched as the boys and the gato headed for the door, and then followed after them into the hallway. She paused to make sure the door closed quietly, and in that short moment, her heartbeat crescendoed. It roared in her ears, covering up the excited notes and words between Tejal and Focci.

They flopped down the narrow, white-walled hallway, hands and webbing patting the hard, red carpet. Crane and Shell padded after the boys, tails entwined, their steps small. The gato had taken the suite next door, and before long, the four had disappeared through the threshold, though Ellipse noted that Shell had sent her a particularly elaborate tail-flick as the couple allowed their door to close.

It was like he knew. Ellipse’s readings of Universal Biology could explain that; gato had impressive talent for processing patterns—earthlings were good, but gato were better. Still though, the fact that Shell knew anything at all made Ellipse frown. Hopefully he would not turn her down.

She gulped, all alone in the hallway. Her shadow cast out behind her in three dim prongs, and her feet picked themselves up of their own accord. Ellipse hardly realized she had moved until she stood in front of the door to Crane and Shell’s suite. It felt more like she had floated along, set in motion by a force that happened so long ago that she could not remember it ever acting. Newton’s second law, or something. The boys had taught her a bit of physics in their time together.

Ellipse raised a fist and knocked.