2. Two Truths #5
She sat down beside him with her shoulder close enough to his that he could lean if he needed to.
She didn't speak or offer comfort, solutions, or even the particular Kaelari brand of composed sympathy that she'd learned to perform when situations could require it.
She just sat there, in the corridor, at 0200, with her friend.
After a while, Jere did speak, saying, "They were so small, Rey. They could fit inside your hand."
"I know."
"I named them. Each one." Then he sighed heavily. "I shouldn't have named them." Reyna saw the complete resignation seep out of her friend as he battled his emotions over his loss.
"But you name everything. It's one of your better qualities," Reyna said softly. "How else would we have a meal generator named 'Mobius?'"
He almost smiled. Reyna recognized it wasn't the full and practically trademarked Jere grin, but it did incorporate the edge of it. That was enough.
They sat there until the ship's lights shifted to day cycle. Then Reyna stood, offered him her hand, pulled him up, and said, "The chef made those grain cakes you like. If you don't eat them, I will, and I don't even like them."
"You like them a little," Jere said.
"I tolerate them. There's a difference."
He laughed. Small and rough, but real. But then Reyna linked her arm through his, starting them off toward the galley together.
Reyna didn't know when she'd learned to do that, to sit with someone and stay in their silence without needing to fill it or fix it or escape from it.
She'd had fifty-one years to make sure she never needed anyone, yet somehow, without her permission, these two people had taught her that some people were worth it.
Her own discovery of this came out in small ways she couldn't always control. Like the first time Jere made her laugh, a genuine, hearty laugh, the full sound escaped before she could catch it.
Both Elena and Jere went completely still when it happened. Reyna, completely and one-hundred percent mortified, pressed her lips together and made an attempt to look dignified. Though, it almost felt as though her methods to convince them nothing happened made it more obvious.
As Reyna made every attempt to direct their conversation elsewhere, Jere leaned in to Elena, whispering to her loudly enough for Reyna to hear, "Did you HEAR that?" Elena nodded, and Reyna's face began to morph into a grimace. "We need to make that happen again. Immediately, if possible."
"I agree," Elena said.
"New mission priority."
"What say you? How do we crack this newfound experience with our dear friend?" Elena asked Jere, eyeing Reyna as Jere turned to look over at her as well.
"Oh, I can think of some pretty good ideas—"
"I hate you both," Reyna interrupted. But the truth was that she was fighting a smile, and both her friends knew she was losing spectacularly.
These kinds of discoveries among the three of them continued throughout their time at the academy together.
Occasionally, discoveries about each of them happened in times where subjects weren't always easy to discuss.
There was one night in the kitchen, late enough that the mess hall had gone dark, where Jere was engaging Elena and her in a story about his parents.
Jere often talked about his family with love. His mother was a healer on Velanthos, the Qorrathi homeworld. His father was a builder who crafted structures from living materials, making walls that could grow and roofs that breathed. Jere's own family home, he explained, was technically alive.
"What does that mean, 'technically alive'?" Reyna asked, confused about what made it technical instead of just alive.
"It means... well... that the house has opinions, Rey. So, maybe 'technically alive' isn't the right way to say it. Maybe 'alive and opinionated' is a better descriptor."
Reyna stared at Jere with a blank expression. Her eyes moved to Elena, who just looked excited to hear the next words that came out of Jere's mouth. Frankly, so was Reyna.
"Opinions? What exactly could a home have opinions about?" Reyna asked.
"Oh about many things! Most especially about house things, like temperature and airflow.
But it can also express opinions about such things as whether someone has been away too long.
" Jere placed his forearms on the table and leaned closer to them.
"When I went home for a visit after being here for first term at Novahall, I'd learned that the front wall of the home had grown a whole new branch in front of my bedroom window.
" Reyna and Elena looked at one another as Jere sat up straight again.
"My mother said the house missed me, but my father said it was just a growth pattern.
" He grinned. "My mother gave him a look, which made him immediately stop arguing. "
"Your mother sounds wonderful," Elena commented. "Anyone who can silence people with just a look earns my complete respect," Elena said.
Jere laughed. "She's five foot two and she once talked a Korveth border patrol into letting her cross a restricted zone by explaining, in detail, the medicinal properties of a plant on the other side.
She talked for forty minutes. As much as she believes she was let through because the patrol recognized the necessity of the plant, I firmly believe they let her through just to make her stop talking. "
Reyna actually smiled. She could picture how Jere's care-free spirit had to come from somewhere, and a five-foot-two Qorrathi healer who could out-talk a border patrol was exactly the right origin story.
"They supported the animal thing?" Elena asked, leaning forward slightly, chin on her hand and genuinely interested rather than strategically. Reyna could tell the difference by now. And she knew Jere could, too.
"They didn't just support it. They understood it.
" Jere's voice softened. "My mother felt it first. Being a healer that works with people, she knew before I did.
She used to take me to the tide pools when I was small and just...
let me listen. She'd sit behind me and just gave me the space to hear them.
The gift runs in the family, it just hadn't landed with anyone in a few generations.
So what she did was the best thing anyone could have ever done for me.
Letting the gift take root and just let me hear them. "
The kitchen was quiet. The chef behind the counter moved something around while the kettle clicked on the stove.
"But what about you?" Jere said, turning to Elena. "As soon as you said the name 'Voss,' I knew I was talking to Coalition royalty. What was that like?"
Elena's mouth twitched. "We're not royalty."
"Four generations of highly decorated Coalition officers, Elena. That's not just royalty, its royalty with perfect posture."
"Three generations," she corrected. "My great-grandmother was a cartographer.
She mapped trade routes, not battlefields.
My grandmother was the first officer, then my mother, and now me.
" She picked up her drink, her violet markings pulsing their usual rhythm.
"It was expected. But it wasn't as though it was the only option.
Nobody forced me because, well, nobody needed to.
I grew up in briefing rooms and on command decks, and could read a tactical display before I could read a book.
When I told my mother I wanted captaincy, she said 'I know.
' Just 'I know.' As if it had already been decided and I was the last person to hear about it. "
"Was that... good?" Jere asked.
Elena considered this. "It was complicated. I've never doubted what I wanted. But sometimes, I have wondered if I wanted it because I wanted it, or because wanting it was all I was exposed to as I grew up." She set her drink down. "I think the answer is both, because I think both can be true."
Reyna listened and said nothing. She watched Elena talk about a family that had given her everything she needed, from direction and training to legacy and certainty, and heard the cost buried underneath.
The cost of never having to wonder who you were, because someone had decided for you before you were born.
It was the opposite of Reyna's problem. Yet somehow, they both had found themselves in the same spot at the same age.
Following the path before them, but wondering if it was what was right for them.
Reyna realized it was funny how two very different people with two very different experiences still ended up uncannily alike.
"Rey?" Jere said gently. He was using the voice he used when he had a hunch the topic was sensitive. "What about you?"
Reyna looked at them both for a beat. They'd gone this long without fully speaking about their families.
Upbringing, training, merits, those are the things they'd covered since they used them everyday in exercises and theoreticals.
But Reyna had been pushing this day off as long as she could.
But they'd paid their dues to her. They had convinced her that people that took care of your heart deserved all your truths.
"I don't have one," she said, simply. "I grew up in a children's home on Aurevia.
I don't remember my parents at all. I was never told if they died or if they left or if they just simply decided they didn't want me.
The home didn't have any of records aside from just a certification of my birth from the home office, stating my name, birthdate, and species.
All the areas with family information, and even my family name, were either blank or fabricated, not able to trace back anywhere or to anyone. "
The kitchen was empty aside from the chef and Reyna was grateful for that. This was only the third time she'd told this story, and two of those times, the listener had immediately said something well-meaning yet useless, convincing Reyna that it was a mistake and regretted telling them.