Chapter 14 Orion #2
Her head jerks slightly at that, just enough that I know she’s listening. I want her to understand it wasn’t pity or obligation that kept me there. It was respect. Maybe something worse.
The truth is, she’s not reckless—she’s desperate. Every risk she takes is another step away from the man who owns her, the life she’s trying to outrun. And stars help me, I’ll follow her through every hell in the quadrant if it means she gets out.
Evie looks at her with disappointment, but all I see is someone who’s still fighting, still trying. And maybe that’s why I can’t stop wanting her.
Evie raises a brow. “No offense, Ranger Asterth, but bundling up lost hikers and smugglers on some glorified nature reserve is a far cry from the types that Lyra deals with. She’s made her choices—I just hate to see someone else get hurt because of them.”
“With all due respect, Ms. Redfern, you have no idea what Lyra and I have been through. She’s saved my life more than once and she’s been true to her word since we started this—”
“I don’t need you to speak for me, Orion,” Lyra snaps.
She slams her glass down on Evie’s desk, making both of us jump.
“And as for you—you don’t get to lecture me about anything.
I get that things between us haven’t been great over the last few years, but you have no right to pass judgment after hearing the five minute short version of the shit I’ve been dealing with.
You want an apology for Jorax? Fine! I’m sorry!
You want me to find a better line of work?
Well, get in line, sister! You want me to sever my ties with the piece of shit holding my contract ransom?
Me-fucking-too! You want me to serve time for being a no-good, busted-ass reprobate who fucks her way through every orbit because it’s a distraction from the hell that waits back on Ooneryx?
Congratulations! You’re hardly the first. In fact, why don’t you and Ranger Righteous call the Feds together?
Or go ahead and call Fobos—he’s not too far away.
Then maybe you can split whatever bounty’s on my head. ”
With that, she storms from the office. I immediately stand to go after her, but Evie puts her hand on my arm.
“I’d give her some space, if I were you,” she says, returning to the window behind her desk and gazing out into space.
Frustration and anger twist my insides and I glare at Evie. Not because she’s wrong, but because Lyra’s gone, and the silence she leaves behind feels unbearable. I can still feel the echo of her fury, her shame, the way her voice broke right before she walked out.
She thinks she’s poison, or damned. She believes that anyone who gets close to her ends up burned.
And maybe she’s right, but I can’t seem to stay away.
Every time she runs, I want to follow. Every time she lashes out, I just want to pull her closer and tell her she doesn’t have to fight the whole damn universe alone.
But that’s not what she needs right now.
What she needs is someone who believes she’s worth more than the wreckage she leaves behind.
I just wish she’d let me be that someone.
“What was that all about?” I ask, my tone accusatory. “I thought you were friends.”
Evie huffs a laugh.
“How much do you know about Lyra?” she asks.
“Not much,” I admit. “But…enough.” Enough to recognize the way she flinches from kindness. Enough to know she hides behind the next job, the next planet, the next half-truth—because standing still means feeling everything she’s buried. But maybe I don’t know her at all. Maybe I just want to.
Evie turns to look at me over her shoulder, understanding in her gaze.
“I love that idiot like a sister, but trust me when I tell you—Lyra is a beautiful star orbiting a black hole. She’s got the worst luck of anyone I’ve ever met, and every now and then, she needs someone to help her course correct.
It’s been too long since her parents died.
Too long connected with Brill. She’s got too many enemies and too few friends.
Underneath her reckless exterior, she’s tending a heart that’s been broken longer than it’s been whole.
I see how you dummies are looking at each other—all gooey-eyed.
You should know what you’re in for. Loving Lyra is…
well, it’s both the easiest and the hardest thing you’ll ever do,” she explains.
Evie’s words settle heavy in my chest, like grit caught in gears. A beautiful star orbiting a black hole. Yeah. That sounds right. I’ve been watching her spiral for days, pretending I’m not being pulled in too.
“You were pretty hard on her,” I press, though my voice comes out rougher than I intend. “Especially for someone who professes to love her.” But maybe Evie’s right, and maybe I’m the next fool to mistake her gravity for warmth, her proximity for affection.
“I know,” Evie nods, slumping down into her chair.
“I know. We’ve always been this way. And things have been…
strained…between us. These last few years, she’s been even more reckless.
More destructive. She’s making stupid decisions out of desperation and she’s stopped listening to me.
I don’t want to see her crossing that event horizon, you know?
And I certainly don’t want her dragging anyone else in with her.
But I’m sorry if I offended you, or misjudged y’all’s situation. ”
“She’s trapped,” I say. “And any cornered animal is dangerous. I understand why she took the idol. If I were in her shoes, I don’t know if I’d do things any differently. But as much as I dislike her motives and her actions, she’s played it pretty straight with me so far.”
Evie replaces the decanter of plumrot and collects the glasses from her desk. With a smug tint to her nonchalance, she tilts her head.
“If she’s been straight with you so far, why are you sticking around for this alleged proof? She could—and would—give you a list of names, I’m sure. If you trust her enough with your life, I wonder what’s keeping you on her ship, Ranger.”
Before I can open my mouth to argue, a flickering hologram of one of the Dreller mechanics appears in the middle of Evie’s desk. In an instant, her cheeky expression morphs into that of a hardened leader.
“The Aldrin-136 has major hull damage and minor damage to the light speed engines. In order to refine and machine a repair, it’ll take about six cycles.
The light speed engines can be fixed before then, but obviously it won’t matter if we don’t get the hull put back together in time.
There are other minor repairs that need doing, too—a lot of things are worn out or starting to wear out.
If I’m honest, the whole thing needs probably eighteen cycles in dry dock for a full work up,” the Dreller grunts out.
I’m not certain how long a cycle is on this station, but I know we don’t have the kind of time he’s suggesting. Evie seems to be of the same mind, because her brows narrow and the muscles in her jaw flex.
“Is that the best you can do, Ty?” she asks. “Our guest needs this faster than that.”
The mechanic crosses his thick, muscular arms across his chest and frowns.
“Technically, we could do a patch job on the hull and fix up the light speed, but I don’t know how well it’ll hold. The ship is space-worthy but…”
“I have every bit of faith in you,” Evie says. “You’ve got one cycle to get it in a good spot.”
The Dreller looks like he’s about to argue with his boss, but when Evie raises her eyebrow in challenge, he meekly nods and ends the communication.
“Tyrell is the best mechanic on Hephaestus,” Evie tells me. “Don’t worry about Lyra’s ship. He’ll get it fixed up and probably in better order than it’s been in a long time.”
“I’d ask how long a cycle is, but I suppose it doesn’t matter as long as Kraxis doesn’t know where we are,” I say, running my fingertips over the fluffy moss on the wall. “Though the sooner, the better, obviously.”
“I’ll keep my comms open and my scanners running. If he farts within range, we’ll know,” she says. “In the meantime, knowing my Pinky Pie, you’ve been eating like shit for the past few weeks. We’ve got a top-notch cook here—lemme take you below for some grub while she cools off.”
I follow our Strythian host through the winding corridors of the rickety salvage ship, barely keeping pace as she hurls information at me about the Hephaestus, from its inner workings to the job promotion coup that earned her her title.
When we finally reach the mess hall, it appears as equally underwhelming as the rest of the ship—the notable exception being the mouthwatering smell of spices and freshly baked bread.
Evie slides a tray over to me and piles several plates high with food—some things I recognize, others entirely new. She plops a glass of water and a mug of fragrant tea in front of me and grins at my bewildered, hungry expression.
“We don’t stand on ceremony here, Ranger Asterth. Dig in,” she says, shoveling a steaming yellow puree into her mouth.
The first bites are incredible and I close my eyes to savor the sautéed vegetables, piping hot breads, herby salads, and creamy cheeses. When I dip into a spicy, savory stew, I moan audibly and Evie chuckles.
“Told you so,” she says, shoving her empty plate to the side. “So, Xylothia, huh? Never met a Xylothian before. Seem to remember them keeping to themselves quite a bit, and that was before the Arkanium.”
I almost drop my spoon, and Evie winces at my expression.
“Ah, shit. Sorry. I’m sure you knew people on it. We don’t have to talk about it, if you’d rather not,” she offers.
I nod, unsure why I feel suddenly protective of my past when Evie’s been more kind and welcoming than Lyra, and yet I spilled more to her than I have to…anyone, really.
“I’d rather not talk about that,” I reply, as gently as I can.
Evie takes it in stride, but straightens up to pepper me with yet another line of questions. It’s a wonder she has time to draw breath between her stories, jokes, and incessant curiosity.
“What is it that made you want to become a ranger? Is that just a job for you, or is it more like a calling?”
I consider my answer for some time, but for all her energy, she’s patient while she waits.
“It’s a little of both,” I reply, reaching for one of the small, round flatbreads stacked up between us.
“Things on Xylothia aren’t as dire as other worlds, but we’re not really thriving, either.
Birth rates have dropped over the last few generations and it seems like the whole planet feels us faltering.
My ancestors were so closely connected to the natural world but we’ve lost a lot of their knowledge.
Everyone wants answers and no one knows where to start looking. ”
Evie’s eyes widen and she flags down a Dreller carrying a plate of what look like pastries without breaking my gaze.
“I’m sorry,” she says, plonking a sugar-dusted bun onto my recently emptied plate, then hands me a second with a pitying look. “I can’t imagine having to watch your world collapse in slow motion.”
I shrug, but her kindness nearly chokes me up.
“I suppose I thought I might find some of the answers everyone’s looking for if I returned to the places our ancestors flourished.
Spend time in the forests around the temples, keep the ancient settlements safe and protected.
Perhaps I was hoping if I spent my life serving my ancestors, they’d give me some guidance,” I explain, unable to keep the bitterness from my tone, despite the pastry’s cloying sweetness.
“And have they?” she asks.
“They’re as silent as the ruined temples,” I admit. “I don’t know. That’s probably why I felt a spark of hope when Lyra crashed in.”
“How so?”
Because she makes me feel things I thought I’d never feel for anyone.
Because there’s a chance she might be my perfect mate.
Because for all her faults, she makes me hope for myself, for my future, and for my world.
Because I didn’t fall in love with her—I plummeted into obsession with her, and when this cursed journey is over, I want to do everything in my power to stay with her.
All things I’m not about to say to a relative stranger, because it’s gutting to even admit them to myself.
The strength of my need staggers me—disturbs me—and I still don’t know that Lyra won’t try to eject me into the cold vacuum of space if it’s convenient for her to do so.
What’s worse—if she did, I’d still probably blow her a kiss and thank her for the privilege.
“Because maybe now I can make a difference. For the first time in years, I finally have enough leverage to make one of these thieves help me put a stop to the systematic plundering of my cultural heritage,” I say, which—while not the whole truth, is a distant cousin to it.
Evie smirks, obviously sensing the lie, but her smile falls when she catches sight of something over my shoulder.
Oh no. Oh, please no.
Lyra stands in the doorway to the mess hall, clutching an empty tray to her chest.