Page 23 of Star Champion

“Starving,” Jemm mumbled, her mouth full of bread.

“There’s jam, too.” Ma removed a small crock filled with a deep purple mash from the cold box.

Jemm slathered it on the bread. “This near-jam smells like the real thing.”

“It is real.”

“From fruit? No, Ma. Save it for our Button.” Jemm started to scrape the jam off the bread. “She’s growing, and needs the vitamins. I can make do.”

Ma stilled her hand. “There’s enough.” She bent over, coughing, a deep and phlegmy hack, her hands convulsing on the countertop. Jemm started toward her but her mother waved her off. “Sit. Eat your bread.”

Jemm sat at the battered wooden table that never failed to conjure memories of better days: her parents, Jemm, Nico as a small boy with his best friend Kish at his side, sitting around the table, laughing and sharing the meager meals that Ma could somehow fool them into thinking were feasts. “I’m sorry I missed dinner with you and Button. I had a late run.”

Ma’s doubting glance at the gear bag laying by Jemm’s stocking feet and a disapproving twist of her lips made Jemm feel guiltier for the sin of omission. She was dying to tell Ma all about the wild events of the evening: talking to off-worlders, one of them a realVash, and how it was the first real chance they had at new lives. But she had the feeling her mother would take to the idea that Jemm was selling sexual favors better than hearing the news she was playing street bajha, and for reasons her mother stubbornly refused to share.

“How’s our Button?”

“As well as a young’un can be with no one but an old woman to care for her all day. No Ma around. No Da.” Her mother stifled a cough as she lit the stove and heated some oil in a pan until it rippled with heat.

“You’re not old, Ma. Things are gonna get better. I’m gonna get us out of here. I swear it.”

Her mother’s lips thinned as she sprinkled diced vegetables and spices into the oil. The bits sizzled and popped, releasing a delicious aroma. “You’re sounding like your Da now. ‘Get us out of here,’” she muttered. “He used to tell me that, weaving his fanciful stories. Look where it got him.” She waved the spatula at Jemm. “It put him in the grave, it did.”

Jemm knew better than to argue. Ma was sure to come around once the prospect of leaving was a real event and not the unrealized dream of a husband she had never forgiven for dying and leaving her.

When the vegetables had browned, Ma tossed in several slices of fresh pen-fowl, once a rare luxury for the family, now a few-times-a-week dish, stirring the thick, pink slices with a spatula until they turned white, the skin crispy with browned edges. Jemm’s mouth watered. “Smell’s like heaven, Ma.”

Nico stomped into the kitchen. “By the dome, Nico,” Jemm said in a stage whisper. “The whole city will hear ya. Not to mention Button.”

The shine in his eyes told her he had grabbed himself a swig or two of cheap whiskey from the bottle he kept under his nightstand. A whiff of his breath confirmed it.

A yowl preceded a brown spotted ketta-cat leaping through a cat door. Ditsi scampered to Nico, purring and rubbing against his legs, knowing he would pass her scraps under the table.

Nico almost tripped over the creature as he trudged over to a chair and sat in it. Ma fussed over him, fixing his plate, handing him a fork and napkin. Then she served Jemm and settled down at the table to work on mending while they ate.

“Mum-mum!” A wisp of a little girl in pajamas came shooting out from behind a bedroom curtain. Her blonde hair was messy from her pillow, one hand gripping the arm of a stuffed doll Ma had made for her. She scrambled up into Jemm’s leather-clad lap, a squirming armful of warm, gangly limbs. Snuggling close, her cheek pillowed by Jemm’s breasts, she stuck her thumb in her mouth and let out a contented sigh. Jemm kept one arm around her as she ate with the other.

“She misses ya when you work so late,” Ma said, unhappy about it.

“Mum-mum’s sorry when that happens, right, Button?” She kissed the child’s silky hair, pressing her lips to her warm little head. It brought back thoughts of the scurries, which caused her to hold Button extra tight. “I always miss ya. You know that, right?” She felt the little girl’s head bob.

Now that Jemm would be training with the off-worlders her schedule would only get worse. “I’ll be late again the next few nights, Ma. I have…some things to do after work.”

Secrets new and old sat between them like unwelcome guests.

“I’ll save ya dinner.”

“That’s all right, Ma. I’ll be eating in the city.” On a starship. If only she could tell her.

Ma’s needle jabbed at her mending. She coughed, her frail shoulders rocking.

“Ma, go to bed,” Nico said. “It’s late. We’ll clean up.”

“And put Button to bed,” Jemm added.

With the back of her hand pressed to her mouth, the woman nodded, and left for her bedroom, her muffled coughing coming from behind the curtains.

“She’s getting worse,” Jemm said. “That potion she gets at the market doesn’t help anymore. We can afford better treatment now.”

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