Chapter 14 Orion
orion
Mess Hall Confessional
I stand to the side to let Lyra pass—her frosty smile leaving phantom chips of ice on my shoulders.
She doesn’t look at me, not really. Her gaze skims over my chest, over my mouth, before darting away too fast, like she’s afraid I’ll see what’s still burning there.
It may be petty, but her petulant jealousy is a balm to the ragged shards of my heart.
The incensed ire and simmering fury she’s trying to paste a smile over comfort me almost as much as if she’d taken back her words from earlier.
There’s something perversely reassuring about her anger—it means it mattered, at least a little, and she’s pretending indifference because the alternative would undo her.
It doesn’t mean anything.
I should have known—should have guessed she would be quick to push me away.
That’s her instinct: retreat before she can be abandoned.
The moment I reached for her, really reached, I should’ve known she’d armor up again.
The time I’ve spent with her has taught me that beneath her passionate bravado and devil-may-care lifestyle, she’s actually quite predictable.
Quietly fragile. Not that she’ll ever admit as much to me—or anyone.
We’re already on borrowed time. I have to come clean with her about the Dark Star and talk to her about the Solar Mother idol.
It’s what she came for, what she thinks she wants—but stars help me, I want her to want something more.
To want me, maybe. I know how important it is to her—that her freedom is on the line—but there has to be another way. We can find another way out…together.
If I have to follow her to Ooneryx and deal with Brill myself, I can. I will.
“Evie, this is incredible,” Lyra breathes, turning in a slow circle. “This isn’t an office—this is a paradise! How did you manage it?”
Dragging my gaze away from her, I finally take in our surroundings. I expected a small berth of rusted metal matching the corridor, perhaps with a desk and other tech needed to organize a massive salvage operation, but if I didn’t know better, I’d think we left the station entirely.
The entire far wall of the room is a window facing out into space.
Stars glitter in the distance, trailing by with our slow orbit.
The walls of the cabin appear green at first, but upon closer inspection I see every available surface is covered with plants.
Soft mosses, speckled leaves, tiny delicate flowers, and wispy thin trailing vines cling to the metal, giving the room the appearance of a living forest glen.
Soft golden light spills down from the ceiling and if I close my eyes, I can almost believe we’re down on Xylothia.
The tepid humidity, faint verdant scent of growth, and muted quiet arrow straight into my heart, nearly buckling my knees with acute homesickness.
“How does it grow?” I wonder. “No soil, poor light…yet you’ve been able to recreate a small ecosystem in such a desolate metal capsule.”
“It wasn’t easy, I can tell you that much.
It took a lot of time, patience, and catastrophic plant failures before I got my systems dialed in.
I managed to get some seeds from Terrin-4 so I could make this feel a little bit more like home.
I’d be happy to show you later, if you’re interested,” Evie replies amiably, clearly pleased that we’re admiring her handiwork.
“I got the biosphere up and running on Lyra’s ship,” I offer. “But the growth is slower than I’d like. If I were back on Xylothia, I could tap into the soil and help encourage growth patterns, but it doesn’t work on plant life outside my home world.”
“Wait, what?” Lyra turns to me, shock etched on her face. “You can talk to fucking plants?”
I feel my synesfores flicker in annoyance.
“I can’t talk to plants, no,” I reply. “But some Xylothians are innately in tune with the natural world on Xylothia. It’s a give and take relationship.
We can offer our energy—our blood—our life-force to our world and encourage things to grow and thrive.
Much like your vellia not being a universally appealing pheromone—”
“It’s a curse, is what it is,” Lyra grumbles.
“—not all Xylothians possess the ability. It varies. And the effects have been lessening over the last few generations. I don’t possess a tenth of the power my ancestors did,” I finish, ignoring her interruption.
“That’s wild. How come you didn’t tell me?” Lyra prods.
“You should have known what you were walking into when you landed on my planet and started taking things you didn’t understand or respect,” I shoot back. “And besides, you didn’t ask.”
Lyra sends me another dark look, so I turn my attention back to Evie, who’s watching us with rapt attention.
“Thank you, by the way, for offering us sanctuary,” I say.
“Well, you can thank me by sitting down and telling me what the hell you’ve gotten yourselves into,” Evie says.
She gestures to a couple of worn—but comfortable—seats in front of her desk and pulls a decanter of dark purple liquid from a shelf.
Pouring three glasses of the viscous beverage, she hands them to us and collapses into her chair.
Lyra holds her cup up in a gesture of respect and tips it back without a word. I stare at mine, unsure of what, exactly, I’m about to imbibe.
“Does he not drink?” Evie asks Lyra. Then, to me: “Do you not drink?”
“What am I drinking, Ms. Redfern?” I ask, trying to keep my tone polite.
“I promise you it’s not that disgusting moonshine Lyra keeps stored next to her fuel cells. You have the privilege of sampling a little of my own brew,” Evie replies, already pouring a second glass for herself and for Lyra.
“Don’t worry about it, Orion,” Lyra says dismissively. “If you drank half a bottle of Zorium moonshine and escaped without a hangover, a little of Evie’s plumrot isn’t going bother you.”
I toast to her and take a tentative sip—though the texture is disturbingly thick, the flavor is mildly tart and almost too sweet. Upon seeing me smile approvingly, Evie grins and waves impatiently at Lyra.
“Anytime you’re ready, Pinky Pie,” she says. “I do have other things to attend to, you know.”
“Kraxis and his merry band of Void Stalkers caught up with us, Orion blew a hole in their ship, and now we’re hiding out here,” Lyra says, reaching for the decanter again.
“Okay, maybe a little less abbreviated,” Evie says, her brow furrowing.
“I went to Xylothia to find the Solar Mother idol,” Lyra begins, shifting uncomfortably. “Brill sent me after it. I also may have found another interested party on Epsilon-6.”
“Stars, Lyra…” Evie groans.
My grip on my glass tightens with a surge of frustration and anger, but I keep silent—curious to see what Lyra tells her so-called friend.
Her voice is steady, but I can see the pulse fluttering at her throat, the faint tremor in her hand when she reaches for the decanter.
She hates being seen as vulnerable—hates needing to defend herself at all.
Part of me wants to step in, to make it easier for her—to tell Evie she’s braver anyone I’ve ever met, that she’s got more scars than she lets anyone see. But I stay quiet. She doesn’t need me to speak for her.
Darting another nervous glance at me, she continues.
“Orion found me in the temple and knocked me out. He was ready to turn me over to the Feds, but Kraxis caught up with us on Xylothia. We struck a deal and managed to escape with the idol intact,” she says, surprising me with the truth.
“What kind of a deal?” Evie says, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. To my delight, Lyra blushes and clears her throat.
Maybe it didn’t mean nothing after all. Maybe I just wish I could tell her that what happened between us doesn’t have to mean regret.
“He promises not to turn me over to the Feds for looting, and I promise to give him the names—and proof—of two big mucky-muck buyers who’ve been running the black market on Xylothian artifacts.
Anyway, we were on our way back from Mallorus when Kraxis caught up with us, my ship was damaged, and we were in a desperate situation.
But then I found out my good old friend Evie was nearby, kicking ass and taking names as the site manager on this here salvage rig,” Lyra says.
It’s a pathetic attempt to gloss over the stickier parts of her story, and from the look in Evie’s eyes, she’s not falling for it.
“What a kind, generous, forgiving person that site manager is,” Evie drawls. Lyra chuckles and reaches for the decanter once more, but Evie pulls it away. “Are you out of your stars-damned mind?!” she yells.
“Not yet, but if I keep drinking that plumrot, I will be soon,” Lyra returns. “What’s got your jumpsuit in knots?”
“I don’t even know where to begin with you,” Evie says, throwing her hands up in the air.
“I know you’re trying to find your way out of that shitbag Brill’s clutches, but this is not the way, Pinky Pie.
It’s one thing to steal from bad guys and dig up treasure from long lost civilizations, but looting temples on desperate planets is…
low. And you dragged an innocent bystander into the mix!
Did you even consider that this could go badly and your hot forest daddy might not make it out alive? ”
“Hot forest daddy?” I question.
Both women ignore me.
“Or that you’d be putting him on a lot of bad lists of some very bad dudes? You might not be bothered looking over your shoulder forever, but did you ask him? Did you tell him what was at stake?” Evie continues.
Lyra looks like she’s been slapped. She gapes at Evie, blinking, but doesn’t seem to have a retort. As frustrated as I am with her—with how things stand between us, my heart twists.
“She hardly dragged me into this,” I say, coming to Lyra’s defense. “In fact, the deal was my idea. Lyra wanted to leave after we gave Kraxis the slip on Xylothia—without the idol—but I wouldn’t let her go.”