Chapter 6
SIX
CYAN
The way she got down to pet Priad without hesitation sparked an impulse in him.
“Lunch tomorrow?” he asked suddenly, the words out before he could think them through.
The girl looked up, surprised. The corner of her mouth quirked in a smile he sensed she was trying to keep to herself.
“Sure,” she said. “I’d like that.”
As Cyan lay in bed that night, tapping through Earendel’s terrain analyses on his dataslate, he thought back to what Elaina had said, about the patterns of damage in devices on Earendel and in its orbit. There was more there to learn. It might just be the first clue he needed to figure out why exactly the sword led him to this edge of the universe.
But perhaps he was just looking for reasons. He’d been growing lonely even before he left his home galaxy. Not often alone, but lonely nonetheless .
Cyan had managed to avoid thinking about the family he’d left behind what to him felt like a blink ago. He was in a brand new quadrant, a brand new world. There was too much to think about, making it easy to not focus on the fact that a Gaian century had passed while he was in that wormhole, following the sword’s calling. Everyone was dead.
Cyan wrenched his mind off the topic.
Elaina Fairan was undeniably beautiful, though somewhat odd… a little in her head. A little jumpy maybe.
He could work with that. And he had work to do. This might just be the lead he needed. Or maybe he just wanted to see the girl with that smile and those eyes again.
Every lead so far had been a dead end. Other than grumbling about unreliable, decrepit tech or frayed chip readers, nobody had much of anything to say. The sword wouldn’t have led him all the way here unless it was big . So where was it? Where was the source of corruption on Earendel?
The planet was oddly hospitable, more than he’d expect considering its lack of proximity to literally anything and the reputation of its residents, earned seemingly purely for being hermits or pirates. He should have known the stories would be greatly exaggerated. They always were.
“Who runs this place?” Cyan asked the old woman behind the counter. She had been Gaian as well apparently—gone through the wormhole nearly seventy years ago with her entire family.
“The city?”
“The city, the planet.”
“The city is the planet. There’re some tribal outposts beyond the arids, but nobody pays them much mind and they keep to themselves.”
Those must be the real hermits.
“Chevron is run by a council,” the woman exclaimed. “Supposedly elected, but more like whoever steps up gets the spot.”
“Sounds like a great recipe for a power struggle,” Cyan mused.
The beads in the woman’s hair clacked together as she shrugged. “Not really. Most of us don’t care much for politics, long as the hinges keep oiled. Like this stupid token reader,” she grumbled, slamming the heel of one bony hand into the device on the counter in front of her.
“Right.” Cyan glanced at the embedded local time display in his holovision.
Damn. He was late again.
“Who are the council members right now?”
“Only one I know is Tuskin.” The woman shrugged again. “There are five or six more, or something like that. Tuskin’s?—”
“I know of him.” Cyan wrapped up the conversation with a warm smile. “Thank you.”
Cyan spotted Elaina from the end of the street, sitting on a bench outside of the diner. He slowed his step, allowing himself more time to take her in.
A far cry from the cargo pants she had on in the garage the night before, this time she wore a knee-length layered ivory wrap skirt made from a fabric that shimmered with iridescent threads, catching the light as she shifted in her seat. The material draped asymmetrically, with intricate folds that gathered on one side. A close- fitting white tunic plunged deep from her collar to her sternum, exposing a slim line of skin between small breasts.
She had one leg crossed over the other, a sandaled foot making small circles in the air as she scrolled through her dataslate. Vine-like straps wound up the curve of her calf from her heel, ending just below her knee.
He enjoyed the style on Earendel, he’d decided. And she looked good in white.
Cyan had to strain not to stumble forward as Priad jerked on his leash, impatient with his master’s suddenly slowed pace.
“Elaina.”
She looked up when he was standing before her.
She smells good.
“Sorry I’m late,” Cyan said, tying Priad to the end of the metal bench. “I got caught up.”
“Thank you,” she said diplomatically.
Oh yeah. She’s annoyed. None of that helix sand stuff this time.
Punctuality had always been a problem for him, but it was made worse with the arrival of the sword. Minutes, months, years passed in a blur he couldn’t quite grasp. Cyan had found certain strategies, when needed. But keeping up with the world—or maybe the world keeping up with him—had always been a challenge.
They sat side by side in the cookhouse, some sort of local bird eggs and noodles sizzling on their wireless hotplates.
Elaina’s hotplate promptly fizzled out.
“Of course,” she said wryly. She grinned at him sideways, making a sweeping motion with her hand toward the dead gadget. “Exhibit A.”
“Of things breaking around you? ”
“Well, not around me , just this planet. Wait…” She sat up straight and stared at him, deadpan. “Maybe it is me!”
He laughed. “Elaina Fairan, the destroyer of hotplates.”
They ate slowly, drawing out each bite as the conversation veered from Elaina’s work, to where she came from, to what brought her to Earendel of all places.
“I wanted somewhere new, but stable. And where I could do interesting work, with good nature and good air.”
“Will you stay?”
She shrugged. “I don’t really get attached to places.”
“What about to people?”
She paused there, staring at a spot on the counter between them. When she answered, she picked her words slowly, deliberately. “I think I want to get attached to people. To someone. I want to let that happen.”
“But you don’t?”
She glanced at him briefly, then tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear. The dangling white earring in her lobe flashed in the overhead light. “That’s a little scary, don’t you think?”
“It can be,” Cyan agreed. “But I think it’s worth it. I want that too.”
He sensed the hesitation there as she gnawed her lip.
“I’ve had a couple of long relationships,” Elaina finally said. “But there’s just so much of the universe to discover, and… how do you know when you’ve found the right person to do all that with?”
“I think you’re meant to feel it.”
“I’ve always just felt like I’ve had a foot out the shuttle. But I don’t think I want to do that anymore.” There was a determination in her voice that made Cyan wonder if she wasn’t still trying to convince herself of that. “Not with the right person.”
“When did you decide this? ”
“A couple of cycles ago. I’ve been trying. I think I’m getting better.” She looked at him with a sincerity that took him aback. “I think it’s possible for that to exist.”
“What?”
“…Love, I guess?”
“Me too,” Cyan said quietly.
As they finished lunch, Cyan found himself wanting more time. It felt easy, sitting there, talking about things with someone who felt oddly familiar even though they came from opposite sides of the universe. But the more familiar weight settled heavier on his back. His hand flexed instinctively toward the sword’s hilt, its presence reminding him who he was. What he was supposed to do.
“I’ll ping you tomorrow,” Cyan said once they were outside in the midday sun. Days were long on Earendel. Double Gaia’s twenty-four-hour cycle.
“I’d like that,” Elaina said, loitering on the curb.
But as Cyan walked away, trepidation gnawed at him. How much time could he really afford this? The sword’s fated duty was more than just a burden. After all these years, it may as well have been a limb. Without it, who would he be? Just another man, searching for meaning in the stars.