Chapter 19
NINETEEN
CYAN
He sat on the bed in his cabin, the sword splayed across his knees. He traced its glow, which had grown more persistent. The vein cleaving down the blade now emitted a faint crimson light continuously through the day. The blade was growing restless.
Cyan glanced at Priad, curled up protectively at the cabin door. They were close. Coming up to orbit had been the right decision.
He slid the blade into its sheath. He’d spent the day interviewing people on the station, and they had grown suspicious of his purpose here. He was no officer. No official. He was just a tagalong who came with their astrotechnician. But he did extract some useful information, like the dockman’s logs with names of all incoming and outgoing transports, as well as more details about the station’s purpose.
Earendel’s orbital station served as a gateway for incoming traders and other visitors, many of whom could sell their wares without even bothering to set foot planetside. It was a sentinel command hub watching over the planet below, as well as controlling the solar farm that would then siphon energy to Chevron City. A sort of industrial and trading outpost.
The gravity on the station was not synchronized to the planet, and he could tell it affected Priad. Cyan himself adjusted quickly, getting used to a subtly modified gait in the lighter weight.
Elaina’s ping the night before both moved and concerned him. The compliment itself was trivial, but he could tell it meant something to her. Cyan stared at the sword in its sheath.
She didn’t even speak Gaian. She was so different from everything he had envisioned for himself.
But there was a fire in her that touched him, and a tentative naivety he almost wished he could share. She was a storm of subtle contradictions. Controlled—a little too much, but with bursts of excitement where that slipped. He could see it in the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about her work or looked at Priad. It was in the way she moved, as though constantly pulling herself back to more appropriately constrained composure. There was a lust for existence beneath her quiet aloofness, one he couldn’t quite put a finger on but wanted to understand.
It was late, but he was ready.
I’m free now. Come?
He sent the ping and lay back on the bed, tucking his hands behind his head as he stilled his mind.
Sorry, I hadn’t heard from you and made other plans.
He frowned, then another ping came in:
Meet me at the observation deck?