Building

We haven't built at Paiho since before there were podders. Hard times, risky investments. What money there was going into gear for the fish-farm and fancy offices in the city. We were land-rich, kin-rich and cash-poor.

It's been a year since the scheme to raise money against the land failed. A year since I was sold into service... since I went into service voluntarily to clear that debt. 

They're not used to having money. Not sure what to do with it, or how to make decisions about it. They don't know how to plan something new: bewildered by the openness of possibilities. Give them something to scavenge and repurpose, though, and watch their eyes light up.

When I funded the project to build a medical centre I'd thought we might build something new. I was wrong. It's too early for that. But we can craft something that works.

You can build a ship in hours, so why should it take a year to build a surgical unit, research lab and clinic? And it needn't, if you're willing to use standard-issue ship components. So I've said I have some unused hab and lab and medical modules in the back of a hangar, and they're organising to get them down the gravity well to Paiho. That should be a fun challenge.

I ran into Jack Madison in the Gate. I don't think we'd spoken before. I'd seen him at that party at Sakura's place: the festival of alcohol where I wasn't drinking because Jonny and I had begun trying for this child. It was oddly reassuring to talk to a pilot who's been through it all before. He had a suggestion, too – something his fourth wife had done – about playing the same piece of relaxing music you like each time you go to sleep, so you're conditioning the child to settle when it's played. It sounds like what Kerem did with the bell she wore on a long chain, but more so. I've been playing music to pick something: Mirrors in the Mirror would be my choice, but would it break the clan's heart to play it? Is Seven Clans more something to get a child's attention while its crying, and then tone things down afterwards? 

My pod swimmer, my aquanaut, my alpha strike: let me introduce you to music as one of the joys in life.

Jack also asked if I had things set up for the baby. I have and I haven't. There's stuff at home: there are always babies. But I realised then that once again we're always making do, and that once again I could make the clan dependent on my money if I change things the wrong way. I'll talk to the aunts. There should be plenty of money in the clan's accounts now for good-quality baby gear if it wants to replace things.

I felt a little silly admitting that I'd commissioned a cradle. So trivial a thing, of use for so short a time, but so symbolic. When the practicalities are taken care of by others, maybe the symbolic is all I can do. But let's not think of that now.

Oh, and the gap in the words has been because I've been dancing! It's different, but even with Jonny's long absences it means I'm sane again.

Entropy

A hard few days. When the Saucy Harlot died she took 46 of her crew with her. It took me until this week to get the list. I've been explaining to families why their kin were killed by our side.

I do understand how it happened. It's just that if things are that broken I don't know that I want to find crew for a ship like that again.

I told Jonny he reminded me of freedom and choice and also of forces I need to protect myself and our child from. He was incredulous and wanted to know if I saw him as dangerous. (A pod pilot with his record? Shocked?) I told him I knew he could be dangerous if he wanted to be, but I didn't feel unsafe with him. (True. So why does it remind me of mother's words to a patron?) Those he flew with, though - did he think they'd hesitate to shoot me if they had the chance? I am not Electus Matari: he is not Rote Kapelle. But still, we fly with them.

Then CJ lost a ship and crew to Rote Kapelle. Not for a reason, but because they could. I stammered my... what? Sympathy? Apologies? Then I went to the workshop to research drives and miners: anything that's not weapons. I felt Eva's absence in the disarray on the hangar floors, and again felt helpless to help. Would I trust me if I were them?

I'm sleeping with the enemy. Gladly. Gloriously. And with a sense that whatever choices I make, part of me dies.

Negotiation

Jonny is back.

The long stint in the bath before I got his message only meant I was well primed and most likely a little too keen. But yes. Very definitely yes. We're still a good fit.

There was also, though, a lot of talk about our relationship. I think we're both sick of the talking. I am, but I keep hoping that one last foray will mean we understand. And I did learn some things.

It's complicated because it is complicated. He wants to be trapped, but he wants some real choice in the matter. And he wants to be free to leave at any time without repercussions.

I think this means he wants to feel needed without actually being needed.

And when he talks about need -- about whether he needs me -- that can be symbolic need. To represent something. Not 'need' like I use it, for air and water.

So we are making headway, I think.

I'm trying to puzzle out what he is, rather than assuming he's what I expect a freecaptain would be. I think he still doesn't understand what it means to be a clanchild, and how the concept of family is different.

Afterwards there was Gyng, and, well, family. Maybe I'll find words for that later. For now I'll think about Jonny, and smile.