Free Entangled by Amy Rose Capetta Page B

using this intricate form of sonar. They think music is a form of chaos and use it as an actual weapon. On Wex 9, it’s a snugging
crime
to create music. Sound waves are a class of being, and each death is mourned. Back before music was outlawed, the Wexians didn’t get much done, they were too busy sobbing over dead melodies.”
    Cade thought all of that was interesting. “But . . .”
    â€œYour guitar,” Lee said. “Right. Your mind just runs on one track and explodes when it meets something coming from another direction, doesn’t it?” Cade didn’t answer. She was too busy thinking about guitars.
    â€œYou might find something on Highlea. Not an exact replica of that model you had, but the Highleans do make music. Then again, if it runs electric, you won’t be able to stash it onboard. And you did give me most of your money. And exchange rates are terrible right now.”
    â€œPerfect,” Cade muttered.
    The smile snuck back onto Lee’s face. “You’ll figure something out. Humans get first-class creative when they have to.”
    Cade nodded. The film of the Saea costume shifted against the back of her neck. She tested to make sure that she could stand and then detached from the takeoff strap, shook off the costume, and grabbed her old clothes from the pack. She was just pulling down her shirt when Rennik swung into the cargo hold. He swept the room once with his gray-brown eyes, taking in the crates, the packages, Lee and Cade.
    â€œI didn’t think you’d make it,” he said.
    His voice was flatter than a day-old sandcake. He didn’t seem the least bit surprised to find out she was human.
    â€œSince you’re new, how about a tour?” Rennik asked. It sounded like some kind of welcome, until he added, “Renna doesn’t like passengers who aren’t . . . familiar.”
    Cade nodded. The last thing she needed was a hostile, furry ship that didn’t want her onboard.
    As she unwound her hand from the cloth strap, she saw that she’d mangled a hatch of raw lines into her skin. It would make a nice set with the bruises that had sprouted in all the places Mr. Smithjoneswhite had grabbed her. Cade rubbed her arms and tried to look tough. When that failed, she tried to look entangled.
    Strong. Stable. At home in her enhanced skin.
    â€œCade, if your stomach needs to do the gravity ballet, there’s a bucket I can show you,” Lee said.
    Rennik held out his hand, not that it could have reached Cade where she was. Not that she would have taken it if she could. His offer of a tour seemed halfhearted—and Cade was being generous with her fractions.
    She picked her way around the crates, Lee close behind.
    â€œNot you,” Rennik said to Lee with a smile curved so deep and cool, it made Cade think of water. Maybe he was never going to smile at her, but it was nice to know he could manage it.
    He waved Lee back. “You’re not new.”
    â€œHey, I’m as new as she is! I just got here! I’m as mint as a new coin!”
    Rennik led Cade into the main cabin. Lee was still shouting at them from the cargo hold.
    â€œThere’s the mess,” he said, pointing at one of the rooms that spoked out from the round space, “and a common area. I have a small cabin down here, too.”
    Cade was well past curious about the Hatchum’s cabin—all she could imagine for him were neat-cornered sheets and bare walls. She lingered outside the door, but he kept moving.
    At the center of the main cabin a chute twisted up to another floor. It slanted at just the right angle so that Rennik and Cade could walk without slipping. But every step reminded Cade that she was planting her feet on someone else’s innards. It was a slippery sort of feeling.
    â€œRenna has a knack for false gravity,” Rennik said. He lowered his voice and leaned in. “Some people tell me it’s like