Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
CYAN
When Elaina showed up at his cabinstep after the shift that night, he’d already had dinner prepared and Priad fed with a portion of kobalin steak. They’d tried to give him hound food, but Priad needed real meat, not reconstituted synthetic protein.
The cabin was small, and the only seating aside from the bed was an uncomfortable-looking rolling chair. Elaina made for the chair.
“Vegetables this time,” Cyan handed her her portion.
Her eyes lit up with an unguarded smile. “Thank you!”
The Earendel-native root vegetables looked odd to Cyan’s eye. Misshapen fingerlike things that were tough in texture but gave off a satisfying savory tang. The stuff on the side he recognized from planetside: sandseeds. A favorite snack of the locals. The misleadingly tough outer shells, while edible, were only a facade for the nectar within.
“Thanks for the assist today,” Elaina said.
“How’s your arm?” Cyan glanced at the synthetic paste spread smoothly over her cuts.
“Oh. it’s all patched. I’ve had worse.” She grinned.
They talked over dinner, Cyan sitting on the edge of his bed and Elaina in the chair across from him. When Priad strolled over to sit between them Elaina reached down to scratch his neck absently. Priad liked her. Cyan liked her too.
He needed to get her closer.
“When did you leave Gaia?” Elaina had been asking him about his home.
“When I was eighteen, I went to study at the Martian colony. Moved around a few stations since then, but didn’t leave the galaxy until I started… this work.”
Elaina’s eyes fell on the sword in its holster next to him. “With that?”
“Yes.”
She continued brushing Priad’s fur, but there was a careful tension in her posture. Her eyes flicked to the weapon once more. Her next question came cautiously. “Can you tell me more?”
The full extent of the sword’s story was not something Cyan generally revealed to people, especially as most would probably find it esoteric and weird. And Elaina’s work, seemingly her entire life on Earendel, seemed centered around hard sciences. But he had an idea.
“This might be a long story,” he said. “Come sit here, that chair doesn’t deserve you.”
“It really isn’t very comfortable,” Elaina conceded with a small smile. Cyan moved over, making more room on the bed. She sat with a few inches of space between them. Still distant—cautious, or uninterested?
“Okay.” She leaned against the wall and stretched out her legs, clasping her hands together between her thighs. “Ready for the long story.”