Chapter 24
The tunnel to the residential ring had lights now. Lamps embedded in the thick stone archway shone through ancient, overgrown vines, offering dappled lighting as they walked. Dutch must have been busy, if power was already rerouting to places like this.
Celise drew a shallow breath. She hadn’t coughed much inside the Destitute, but having a lung condition for years meant physical activity didn’t pair well with breathing. “This place looks like Old Earth imagery. All those ancient ruins.”
Torian was a bit disappointed to see the signs of stress, but Celise had warned her clean air wouldn’t be a magic fix. Maybe Celise would always have some form of asthma.
As long as it didn’t come with a time limit on her sister’s life, they could work with asthma.
“It is ancient,” Torian said. Maybe not Old Earth ancient, but there probably wasn’t anything left of that planet anymore. Torian patted the stone wall. “I was surprised to see the nylarians built a space station with planetary materials—but it feels homey, doesn’t it?”
“Shockingly, yes.” Celise ran her fingers along the worn rock. Wonder tinged her voice. “I always expected I’d feel uncomfortable on Rhymarra, with their big open sky and … well, no metal. But maybe this is a nice middle ground.”
“I think it’ll be nicer than a middle ground, once we’re done with it.”
Celise smiled noncommittally.
They emerged into the residential ring, with its big center gardens and open balconies and squat townhouses. There was a raucous conversation happening around the gentle curve, just beyond their line of sight.
“Let me guess. More draics?” Celise drawled.
“Yep.” Torian clapped her shoulder. “Don’t worry. They aren’t all assholes. But maybe get your pen out, just in case.”
“Don’t patronize me. As if you did any better when you first met one.”
Torian averted her gaze. “I did fine, thank you.”
Celise raised an eyebrow.
Torian pressed her lips together. “Fine, I shot him twice and fled into the forest. But at least I didn’t threaten him with a pen.”
“I’m a pacifist. I hardly have a gun.” Celise sniffed.
“Pacifist, my ass,” Torian grumbled. “You never had a problem fighting me.”
“You never had a problem annoying me.”
Torian waved a hand and moved with purpose toward the noise. It sounded like a dinner party. She’d wondered where Zen’s crew had been this entire time, and … well, now she knew. It appeared they stayed on the ship for quick excursions, but now were settling into Vaesa.
It shocked her that she felt comforted knowing the draics were here to stay and help. An empty, alien space station felt much less intimidating with a bunch of draics watching their backs.
As Torian and Celise rounded the gardens, passing overgrown trees and wild bushes and tables with abandoned games, Celise asked, “This is a bit eerie. Where did the nylarians go? Are they extinct, other than Dutch?”
“Moss just said they left. I think they went to another galaxy?” Torian hesitated. “I haven’t asked why Dutch was left behind. I doubt he wants to talk about it.”
“I can’t imagine many would want to talk about their entire species abandoning them.” Celise coughed a bit, shoving her hands in her pockets. Normally, she wore a white lab coat, so it was refreshing to see her in plain clothes—black slacks and a simple sweatshirt.
Their eyes roamed the apartments they passed.
Some were multilevel, and several others had sturdy staircases leading to doors on the second or third floor.
All of them were constructed with that same dark stone, and many had their shutters or doors open.
Curiously, they had windows of that same thick material as the Destitute’s—plenaria, Moss had called it.
Considering that stuff was clearly space-rated, it didn’t make a lot of sense to Torian in a controlled ecosystem.
Although, if it was a common enough material for the nylarians, she supposed it was useful for noise dampening and privacy.
As they walked, Celise cast Torian a sideways glance. “Are you moving here regardless? If I stay on Colony 13, I mean?”
Torian didn’t know. She couldn’t imagine living so far from Celise, her best friend, her last surviving family member.
But … “If this place can help people with Halyon’s disease, or even just families trapped in a dangerous colony station, I want to give those folks a safe place to go.
So … yeah. At least for a while, I need to be here. ”
It was the first time Torian had prioritized something over Celise—and it was almost bittersweet. Objectively, Torian had given her sister a solution … and objectively, if Celise refused to take it, there was nothing else Torian could offer.
It made sense to move on to something new.
But after seeing the way Celise’s expression fell, Torian still felt bad.
They walked in silence until they reached the party.
Roughly twenty draics were clustered around a big eating space that must have been used for communal meals, once upon a time.
Old wooden tables had been cleared of plants and filled with food, and cut logs were used as seating.
The draics grumble-laughed in their rough language.
Torian’s translator only caught bits and pieces of their conversations.
Wherever Voranthir had flown off to, it wasn’t here. That felt like a small blessing—at least while Celise was around.
“Should we—ah, say hello?” Celise asked, lurking on the edges of the clearing.
Torian scanned for Zen and Dutch—but almost instantly, someone careened into them.
Well, not just someone. Nasra, the tou’siil from Rhymarra. She pulled Torian into a massive hug, nearly spinning her around. “Captain Torian Razner! The human responsible for uniting species and honoring a nylarian heritage site. I’m so excited you’re finally here!”
Torian wheezed as Nasra nearly choked her. “Me too. Hi, Nasra.”
“I knew you wouldn’t be long, but it felt like ages.
” Nasra’s eyes were sparkling with hive connection as she turned toward Celise, bouncing on her webbed feet.
The tou’siil was wearing lighter clothing here, thin billowy layers that eased around her curves and showed off her long, eel-like tail.
“You must be the sister. The doctor. Celise, right?”
It was a rhetorical question. A tou’siil never forgot … well, anything.
Celise cleared her throat, coughed a bit, and gasped, “You’re a tou’siil.” She turned to Torian now, her tone accusatory. “All this fucking time, and you didn’t tell me there was a tou’siil on Vaesa?”
Torian exhaled indignantly. “I’m sorry, is that the tipping point?”
“Of course it’s the tipping point,” Celise hissed. “Do you know how expensive it is to even talk to a tou’siil? The last one available for hire in the colonies visited fifteen years ago—there’s a fucking registry to meet the next one that shows up.”
“Well, clearly they didn’t know that Nasra’s been on Rhymarra, at the university.” Torian kept her voice low, although this conversation was anything but private. Nasra—and the hive through her—watched their back-and-forth with an amused smile.
Celise spun around in a panicked circle, like she was going to walk away to clear her head—then changed her mind. “She must know—Heavens, you must know everything. Human biology, the impact of space travel on our physiological state, the best methods to ensure clean living—”
“Actually,” Nasra interjected, “we haven’t had much time to study humans. Very few emissaries have toured this solar system, mostly in the last few hundred years. Before that, you all were very skeptical of us.”
Torian rubbed the back of her neck. “That’s apparently a theme with humanity.”
Celise had already moved on, dipping her head reverently. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Miss … Nasra, she said?”
“Nasra Sal’zirettex. Call me Nasra.” A pause, a laugh. “No, humans use ‘Miss’ as an honorific. Their version of ‘Slira.’ Their honorifics are gender-specific, so mostly they just assume.” Another pause. “Yes, they often assume wrong, from what I’ve seen. I’ve suggested—”
Torian listened to her ramble and suddenly realized she’d followed Headmaster Nuun and Zenthielutos’s cues with pronouns for Nasra. With a nervous laugh, Torian interjected: “If ‘Miss’ isn’t right, what pronouns do you use?”
“Oh, I identify as female. ‘Miss’ isn’t incorrect—it’s just unnecessary.
We use ‘Slira’ as a gender-neutral honorific, but only in the most formal of situations,” Nasra replied, clearly pleased Torian had asked.
“Tou’siil have four recognized genders, and several offshoots depending on their stage of life.
” Now Nasra paused, tilting her head as if listening to voices in her ear.
“That’s more of a joke. If I dive into nuance, we’ll be here all—”
“Is she talking to the hive right now?” Celise whispered to Torian, clearly in awe.
Torian nodded.
Nasra realized their side conversation and cut off instantly, offering a wry smile.
“Apologies! More people are watching my connection, especially since I arrived here. A lost civilization—and the nylarians, at that? It’s like your history channels and renovation shows rolled into one.
” She giggled, and with a blink, her eyes were that flat blue again.
Celise couldn’t tear her eyes away. “How does the hive communication work? We would go insane with that much sensory input … but you must go insane without it?”
“Bless the Book Itself, yes, it’s a slow descent into madness.” Nasra shuddered. “We’ve allowed it exactly twice, both to volunteers. Once examined the effects, and once verified the results. For a breath, our leaders thought it would be a fitting exile for criminals—but it’s far too cruel.”
“How is it able to span such a distance? Your planet isn’t anywhere near this solar system, is it?”