Chapter 07
I wake up shortly after Illiviamona’s injection and sit on the edge of the hospital bed in a too-short dressing gown, questioning every life decision I’ve ever made.
My ruined uniform is in a sack at my feet along with a bottle of pain pills and a few papers detailing my post-op procedures, which include such items as Do not look directly into any mirror and Sleep in stints of four hours on, three hours off, for the next twenty-eight hours.
I’ve been cleared to leave by one of the helper-medics (Lorians, I remember now), who announced that the surgery was a success and warned me to keep the injection site dry until tomorrow.
I give my shoulder a test, rolling the joint.
It feels surprisingly good. My head does, too.
For all her eccentricities, Illiviamona knows what she’s doing.
I let the handheld rest on my thigh, scrolling listlessly through the contacts as if expecting a better option.
The longer I stall, the worse my uncertainty grows, building and building until it finally crests in a wave of confused exhaustion.
I’m exhausted. I’ve been moving forward because I’ve had no choice but to move forward, but here—sitting alone in this sterile hospital room—it’s like the space once occupied by action has vanished, leaving an opening for overload to finally flood in.
I’ve been sleep- deprived, attacked by monsters, stranded on a no-man’s-planet, buried under a pile of sand.
I’ve just undergone the oddest surgery of my life, and I’m probably also suffering a bit of space lag, which is what happens when you travel too far across the galaxy too quickly.
My mouth tastes like ash and my clothes are in a bag and I’m not even wearing shoes, which is a detail that was previously insignificant but suddenly seems insurmountable.
I set my handheld face down without calling anyone.
I cradle my head in my hands and stare at my knees.
I’m not sure how long I sit there. Ten minutes?
Thirty? My exhaustion comes in waves, rising like the tide, reaching higher and higher with each pass.
I consider lying back on the bed and just closing my eyes, putting it all off for later.
I could sleep so easily right now. I want to.
That’s something everyone should experience at least once in their life, right? Easy sleep.
I’m just about to give in to this idea when Illiviamona pokes her head around the doorframe. “You are still here.” Her starlight freckles shimmer in agitated waves. “I discharged you. It is time for you to return to the detachment.”
I wince. Of course I can’t just stay here. They probably need this room for the next patient. I start to apologize before realizing I don’t know the way back to our unit. “Is there, um, a map or something?” I rub my neck. “I’m not exactly familiar with Skyhub’s layout yet.”
“You do not need a map.” Illiviamona tips her head knowingly. “Not when there are friends.”
I don’t even try to parse this bit of Lorian wisdom. Maybe the front desk can help me. “Good point.”
“Friends are the stars that guide us.”
I nod gravely. “Too true.”
“And we must always lean on them.”
“Couldn’t have said it better—”
“Keller.”
Vera appears around the corner in a blur of black hair and squeaking shoes. She throws her arms around my neck, nearly toppling us both, then pulls away abruptly. “Oh stars, your shoulder. Did I hurt your shoulder?”
I’m so stunned by her appearance it takes me a second to answer. “No. No, Illiviamona fixed me. It doesn’t hurt.”
Jester moves through the doorway, wearing a faint smile as he hoists a duffel bag. Need some clothes?
Relief hits my system at the same time I realize … they came. They didn’t forget about me, didn’t leave me to figure this out on my own. I have to fight the sudden prickling behind my eyes. “Jester,” I rasp. “You are the Father of Stars himself.”
“Oh, Keller.” There are tears clinging to Vera’s lashes.
“I am so, so sorry. I never should have flown off without you. I thought I was helping you and Lament bond, you know? Like in that movie where the man and woman get stuck on a runaway train and hate each other at first but end up coming together to save the day?”
“Are you talking about The Starless Night?”
“Yes!”
“Vera.” I give a small cough. “That’s a romance film.”
“Exactly. You two were supposed to discover you’re actually more alike than you thought, and Lament would surprise you with how competent he is, and you’d put aside your differences to fly home together, but instead your spacecraft spontaneously failed and your radio died and then you just…
” She motions helplessly at my bandaged shoulder.
“It’s not as bad as it looks.”
“You tore your labia.”
I let out a strangled laugh. Jester lifts his visor to roll his eyes, then drops it back down to say, You mean labrum, Vera.
“Whatever! You’ve been hurt. And we heard all about the sand cephalopod.”
Only now does it occur to me. “Wait, how—?”
“Lament told us everything. He’s been absolutely beside himself—”
“Now, Vera,” comes a voice from the doorway, “let’s not exaggerate.”
Lament is leaning against the doorframe, hands at his sides, a loose strand of hair falling into his face.
Several of his fingers are bandaged, and there’s a cut above his eyebrow that’s long but too shallow for stitches.
He hasn’t changed out of his uniform or showered since returning, so he’s covered faintly in dust. It’s in his hair, all over his clothes and skin.
Everywhere but his eyes, which are full of quiet intensity as they come to rest on mine.
I swallow past the sudden dryness in my throat. “You came back.”
He makes a noise that might either be agreement or annoyance.
I try again. “I thought…” You didn’t care enough to bother. But saying that feels like an admission of some kind, so I just shift on the hospital bed and offer a weak, “Thanks.”
He crosses his arms. “We have rules about leaving the helpless to fend for themselves.”
The tender moment—if that’s even what it was—dies a quick death. “I wouldn’t say helpless.”
“Would you prefer incapable?”
“Because that’s so much better.”
“You have to admit,” he continues with a twitch of his brow, “you’re a bit of a sorry sight.”
“And I’m not even stuffed in a trunk.”
His answering smile is just a tiny bit wicked. “This time.”
Vera makes a whimpering sound. “Oh stars, did my plan work?”
I hate to break up the reunion, Jester says, but Sergeant Forst just sent a message. He holds up his handheld. She’s calling us to her office for a meeting. And she doesn’t seem pleased.
My heart sinks. “I’m guessing that means our secret mission is no longer, um … secret.” Which—given the way it ended—should come as no surprise. I slide off the cot, doing my best not to flash anyone on my way down. This gown has got to go. “Give me a second to change?”
Vera and Jester nod before slipping out of the room. Lament, however, steps fully inside and closes the door.
My pulse is rising again. I hardly know why. “Lament?”
He looks somewhat reluctant. “I have a favor to ask.”
I wait.
“We broke a lot of rules today,” he continues. “The sergeant already knows most of what happened—there was no way to hide where we’d been after I requested the medicraft—and she isn’t happy. But … don’t tell her about the cave raptors.”
I’m surprised for about one point five seconds, until I remember this isn’t the first time Lament has seemingly distanced himself from the Legion. I search his face. “Why?”
He hesitates.
“You want me to lie,” I say, “but you can’t tell me the reason?”
“It’s complicated.”
“I doubt it’s that complicated.”
“You don’t have to lie outright,” Lament explains, neatly dodging the question.
“Actually, it’s probably better if you don’t speak at all.
It’s only your first day in the Legion. The sergeant won’t hold you accountable for taking a spacecraft without orders.
That’ll be on me. I’ll tell Sergeant Forst what she needs to know, and Vera and Jester will corroborate the story like they usually do, and then we’ll get out of there. ”
“Wait, wait.” I make a slow down motion. “You all have done this before?”
He just looks at me.
“Like, how many times?”
Still no answer.
“Okay, all right.” I try a different route. “What happens if the sergeant pushes for details?”
“She won’t.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I’m not,” he admits.
I frown. If Lament is working to uncover details about Bast’s death, why wouldn’t he want Sergeant Forst knowing? And why can’t he rely on the Legion’s help? Bast was a member of the Sixth. And the Legion already has investigated his death. I read the report myself. So what am I missing?
My impulse is to press Lament, push for a better explanation.
I could probably make him tell me the truth, seeing as I now possess a secret about the cave raptors that he wants kept.
But I don’t like the idea of blackmailing him.
I want him to trust me enough to give me a straight answer.
He doesn’t yet, obviously, and I get that, but …
maybe he will. One day. If I can earn his trust first.
“Okay,” I say.
He looks momentarily perplexed. “Okay?”
“I’ll keep quiet.”
“It’s technically still lying by omission.” He’s staring at me a little too hard. “You’ll be in even more trouble if the sergeant discovers the truth.”
“I can handle it.”
“You might get a red card.”
“I’m confused. Do you or do you not want me to lie for you?”
A flush crawls up his cheekbones, and for some unfathomable reason, my eyes fix on it. I watch in fascination as the blush spreads around his temples and down his throat, over his ears. It makes his eyes look greener.
Which is not something I’m supposed to be noticing.
Like, at all.
He says, “I just need to be sure you know what you’re agreeing to.”
“You didn’t want me tagging along to Purvuva in the first place. You tried to stop me. I practically forced myself on you.”
His blush deepens. “That’s … true.”
“I get it, Lament. If this is what you want, I’ll do it.”
Our gazes hold. Lament’s eyes are still guarded, locked away, but also … not. I see it. Around the edges. The hint of something new.
He gives me a single nod and moves to leave, but when he gets to the door he pauses, his fist tight on the knob. “I never thanked you for saving my life. With the sand cephalopod. I thought…” He clears his throat. “I thought it was over for me.”
“That’s what partners—” Are for, I don’t reply, because I’m too busy trying to swallow the words back down my throat. I give an awkward cough. “I mean, anytime.”
He still looks somewhat conflicted, except then his eyes seem blue, going soft and earnest as he says, “I think—”
A knock startles us both. We hear Vera hiss, “Jester, no!” before the door swings open to reveal Vera pulling at the back of Jester’s collar as he strides forcibly into the room. Vera squeals, “You’re ruining it!”
“Ruining what?” Lament asks.
Vera releases Jester and grimaces, then tries to hide her grimace.
“Just—oh. Well, the sergeant sent another message, and she seems a bit impatient…” Which doesn’t answer Lament’s question but reminds us we don’t have time to waste.
As if to highlight this point, Jester motions emphatically at his handheld, which displays a new memo from Sergeant Forst.
I expect you here by 0600. Don’t keep me waiting.