For the Love of Gelo! Read Online Free PDF

say, Becky? You haven’t been humiliated in a while.”
    â€œI feel humiliated every time I’m seen with you in public,” said Becky, heading for the storage locker where we kept the snacks.
    â€œNo ping-pong for me. I’ve got ships to fix,” said Nicki.
    Two of the starfighters had been badly damaged in the great battle, shredded by Vorem laser fire. Nicki, Hollins, myself, and Becky (when she was in the mood) gathered here to patch the holes in their hulls and repair their malfunctioning systems, using replacement components from the crashed human pod or the mining equipment the humans had left behind.
    Eventually the three Xotonian starfighters had been given names to tell them apart. Little Gus’s suggestions—
Guswing Zero
, the U.S.S.
Gus-terprise
, and
Little Gus: The Spaceship—
had all been vetoed. Hollins suggested we call one the
Roosevelt
after an ancient human leader (or maybe two ancient human leaders? I was never sure). Becky christened another
Phryxus II
after the human mining vessel. I felt that at least one of the starfighters should have a Xotonian name, so I called the third
T’utzuxe
after the red planet we had left behind.
    There was a fourth starship in the hangar that had no name. Not content with trying to master just one type of advanced alien technology, Nicki also spent time working on her “special project”: repairing a disabled Vorem trireme. This ship had been shot down on the surface of Gelo but remained largely intact. She hoped that it could be salvaged. So far, progress on this ship had been minimal. Its sleek black contours were still twisted and charred from the battle.
    On some days, the hangar was abuzz with activity—Hollins and Becky had been actively training Xotonians to pilot their own ancient ships. Today, though, we had the hangar all to ourselves. Every sound we made echoed endlessly through the cavernous space.
    â€œA negatively charged induction coil,” said Hollins as he started to work on the
Roosevelt
. “I never would’ve thought of that. Good thing one of us is smart.”
    â€œI’m not just the smart one,” said Nicki. “I can do other stuff.”
    â€œSure, but being smart is, like, your main thing,” said Hollins.
    â€œI guess,” said Nicki quietly, and she went back to fiddling with the
Phryxus II
.
    â€œOkay, so who ate my phui-chips?” asked Becky. She was referring to a popular Xotonian snack food/salt-delivery mechanism. “My phui-chips are missing.”
    No one said anything.
    â€œIt’s okay. Whoever did it can tell me. I won’t be mad,” said Becky. “I promise I’ll be totally calm and emotionless when I end your life.”
    â€œIt wasn’t me,” said Hollins. “Those things are full of carbs, possibly.”
    â€œNicole Ximena García?” said Becky.
    â€œDo what now?” asked Nicki. “Microchips? Don’t have any. Wish I did.” She was already completely engrossed in a thick tangle of colored wires.
    â€œYou’re being awfully quiet, Chorkle,” said Becky. “If you confess, this will go easier on you.”
    I gulped. A few days ago, I
had
stolen two of Becky’s sweetened yth-cakes—a poor substitute for the Feeney’s Original I craved—but I hadn’t taken her phui-chips. “I didn’t eat them,” I said. “Why don’t you try some of that mushroom jerky instead?” I pointed to a pouch of gummy gray flakes that had been sitting open on the ping-pong table for weeks.
    â€œThat fungus has got mold on it,” said Becky, and she plopped down on the couch in front of the TV.
    â€œHey, Chorkle, a little help over here?” Hollins called out.
    â€œâ€™Sup, cool dude playa?” I said, trying for maximum human slang as I joined him on the far side of one of the ships. I was expecting to assist him in patching a blaster hole or holding