Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
CYAN
The holdover he’d been staying at was a relic, an aged testament to the fringes of civilization. The kind of place where chrome had rusted, and the neon signs outside buzzed faintly, struggling against the decay of time. The paneling barely held together under layers of synthetic varnish. The windows, shielded by faded metal grates, were clouded from years of exposure to the sandstone grains and fumes of the city. Old ale, machine oil, and recycled air seemed embedded in the walls.
Cyan liked it that way. It was a reminder that even in this corner of the universe, some things refused to change.
The keeper hadn't given him shit about Priad anymore, once it became clear Cyan wasn’t going anywhere much and could pay. He moved toward the bar, intending to find a quiet corner, when a familiar figure hunched over a large battered freeze box lying on its side caught his eye.
“Tuskin,” Cyan called, and the mechanic straightened to face him.
The old man wiped his sweaty brow with the back of his hand, then patted the freeze box with a solid thump. “ Give me a hand, will ya? Gazz wanted this antique thing patched, and now it’s my job to get the damn thing upright.”
Cyan grabbed the other side of the bulky appliance. Together, they hefted it across the floor and pushed it upright.
“I’m surprised you could even fix it,” Cyan muttered, his muscles tensing with the effort. Tuskin let out a gruff laugh.
“Surprised myself. Thing’s older than the sandstone, and with everything else on its last leg around here… But—” He gestured to the back with a thumb. “Gazz’s got a soft spot for antiques. Can’t say no to nostalgia.”
Once they’d set the box down, Cyan turned toward Tuskin. “I hear you’ve got a lot on your plate around here.”
The old man grunted. “Could say that. Maybe my Elaina was right. You know El, the?—”
“I know her,” Cyan said, an uncomfortable doubt creeping in. Tuskin’s need to clarify who Elaina was meant he hadn’t come up in their conversations. Had he been on her mind at all?
“Well, she’s figured somethin’ was wrong for a while. I ain’t convinced. Then again, they are pulling her up to orbit for an emergency shift…”
Cyan blinked. “What?”
Tuskin shrugged, his gaze shrewd. “They got it real bad up there. Ox leaks and all. It ain't good for anyone to be up there so frequently, but can't be helped.”
“When is she leaving?” Cyan asked, trying to keep the excitement from his voice.
Tuskin raised an eyebrow. “Why don’t you go ask her? She’s up on the rooftop.”
“Here?”
“Yup.” Tuskin watched him shrewdly and Cyan didn’t like that look .
But he nodded, already stepping back toward the stairway up. “Thank you.”
The rooftop bar was deserted. Figured, since the “bar” part looked like it hadn’t been opened in decades. Rusted and plastered over with solar wrap, there wasn’t much up here other than old steel benches.
Cyan spotted her immediately, bent over something at the corner table, dark hair falling forward as she worked.
She didn’t look up at his approach, though he knew she must’ve heard him. A small device lay in pieces before her, tools arranged with precise purpose across the table’s surface.
“Can I join you?”
Her hands stilled for just a moment before resuming their work. “Sure.”
Cyan sat, watching her fingers move with practiced efficiency over the scattered components. “What are you working on?”
“Atmospheric density scanner.” Her tone was clipped, professional. “The bar owner’s using it to predict sandstorms.”
“And it's broken?”
“Nope. Just making it better.” A slight smile tugged at her mouth. “The base model only gives basic pressure readings, but with a few tweaks…” She held up what looked like a miniature processor board. “Now it’ll track particle density too. More advance warning.”
“Tell me more.”
Elaina’s eyes lit up as she explained the modification, most of it going over his head but worth hearing her excitement. Cyan found himself leaning closer as she grew more animated, gesturing with a tiny screwdriver.
“Sorry,” she caught herself, finally meeting his eyes. “I get carried away sometimes.”
“I love that.” He meant it.
She studied him for a moment, then pushed the device toward him slightly. “Want to see how it works?”
“Show me.”
Elaina's smile widened as she walked him through the scanner’s inner workings. Her initial aloofness melted away as she lost herself in the explanation. Cyan watched her hands move over the machinery, sure and confident. He’d felt those same hands on his skin just a few sols ago, feeding him. The memory sent heat crawling up his neck.
“You’re not listening anymore, are you?” she asked quietly.
“I got… distracted.” He cleared his throat, forcing his gaze back to the device.
She sat back, crossing her arms. The playful moment faded. “You know, I know we barely know each other, but when someone tells me they’ll chime me and then doesn’t, it gets confusing.”
“I’m sorry. I got caught up with my work.”
“I get it. You’ve got your mysterious mission, your sword, your… whatever this is. But I waited.”
Her directness caught him off-guard. He hesitated as she started plucking tools into the toolbelt at her side.
“You’re right,” he said. “I’m not… good at this.”
“At what? Keeping promises nobody asked you to make?”
“At wanting to make them.”
Her expression softened. “You don’t owe me anything, you know, I just?— ”
“I know.” He watched as she finished gathering her things.
Elaina stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “I’m heading up to the orbital station soon. Lots of things breaking up there lately.” She gave him a measured look. “In case you were wondering where I’d be.”
She was giving him another chance, he realized.
“Be careful up there,” he said quietly.
Her smile was small but genuine. “Always am.”
Cyan sat long after she’d gone, watching the nebula come alive over Chevron. The sword at his back felt heavier than usual, its presence a reminder of everything he couldn't have.
It was only then that the obvious idea hit him—one he should’ve thought of already. He’d gotten no leads down here, yet he knew the sword didn’t take him to this place for nothing.Whatever he was meant to find, whatever purpose had brought him to Earendel, it wasn't on the surface. It had to be up there, waiting for him in orbit.
It was time to move. He’d worn out his options down here, and every instinct he had told him that his next step lay up there, on that orbital station. Elaina might be part of it, or maybe she wasn’t, but he was going to be there regardless.
As he returned to his room, Cyan’s thoughts zeroed in on what had to be done. Whatever was waiting for him up there, he was ready to face it.