Chapter 25
The night stretched on, and firmly remained one of the best nights of Torian’s life.
Until tonight.
The tour of the townhouse was brief and enlightening.
Nylarian interior design was fairly intuitive—spaces for eating, entertaining, sleeping—but there were also some surprises—like a sauna, a dedicated library, and a meditation corner.
Since the nylarians had peacefully left the station, all furnishings and décor were still intact. Dusty, but usable.
Dutch couldn’t wait to show it off.
“We figured we’d renovate this space as the clinic.
” He enthusiastically gestured at the lower level.
The lumber was being used in a poor attempt to construct a counter and desk, presumably for medical equipment.
Zen deposited his piece beside the others, and Torian truly couldn’t tell why Dutch had carried it outside in the first place.
It looked like Dutch had demolished a few stone walls, too (or was attempting it, based on the rubble). The result was a bigger first floor, and someone had hauled a couple beds inside the large room.
Celise scrutinized the space, the layout. There were a few faded pillows decorating one of the beds, a clear attempt to make it look presentable for her. A peculiar shine overtook Celise’s eyes, and she blinked it away.
Torian smirked knowingly.
Celise shot her a silencing look before saying, “I hate to break it to you, but until more humans arrive, this might be premature. I won’t be much help with draic anatomy.”
Zen chuckled. “I have a medic on staff. He’ll be happy to collaborate.”
“Happy?” Dutch interjected.
“Well.” Zen rubbed the back of his neck, behind his horns. “I’ll make sure he’s polite, at least.”
Celise raised an eyebrow. “Voranthir? We met him.”
“Ah.” Zen assessed her. “I’ll make sure he’s more polite next time.”
Celise waved a hand. “The point stands. This is lovely, but if our focus is research, a clinic seems excessive. At least until other humans arrive.”
“More humans are on their way right now,” Torian replied. “Amelia is coming, remember?”
“Is her crew staying here?” Celise asked.
That was an excellent question, and one Torian couldn’t answer. In her heart, she hoped so—but at the very least, Amelia would likely do some supply runs once they assessed the station and identified a construction list. “I guess we’ll see.”
Celise didn’t argue further. Maybe there was something comforting about having a clinic here. Something familiar.
It was far too late to stop Dutch’s haphazard renovations now, anyway.
Nasra watched this exchange with sparkling eyes, murmuring absently to the hive. In the break, she raised her hand. It was a very human gesture, strange from a tou’siil—until Torian remembered they’d collected Nasra from Rhymarra’s university.
“Something to say?” Torian asked, amused.
“Always.” Nasra grinned. “We’re under the impression that Vaesa will be boisterous and lively and wonderful once the revitalization is complete. I highly doubt we’ll have trouble filling this space station, given the overcrowding on some of humanity’s colonies.”
Torian hesitated. “Probably not. I’m sure Celise has a list of folks she’d like to bring—our old neighbors and the like—but it’ll probably depend on what trades we need to fix up these townhomes, farm the towers in the middle ring, and generally make sure this place is functioning.”
Nasra nodded agreement. “Exactly. And if we reach that point, I’m already hearing word that other alien species might be interested in visiting.”
Visiting alien dignitaries. Humans moving into safer homes. Finally, a truly galactic endeavor. She’d spent decades fearing draics, standing in awe of tou’siil. If she’d met them earlier, she probably would be a better individual.
This vision of Vaesa felt both huge and suddenly possible, and excitement flared in her chest. “Yes! That’s exactly what I was hoping for.” Then she hesitated, glancing dubiously at Dutch. “Is … is that okay, do you think?”
Dutch sat on one of the beds, testing the mattress’s bounciness. Nylarian mattresses were higher off the floor than most human beds, but he fit comfortably.
“My dear, I hardly have a claim on this station anymore.” Dutch’s gaze grew distant as he inspected the colorful art on the walls, the pottery along a few shelves, the hanging tassels that separated the eating area from the living space.
“Vaesa was never meant to sit empty. My people would have wanted it filled with life—especially by folks who actually need it.”
“That won’t be difficult,” Celise said. “I do have a list; six or seven families who’d benefit from this kind of place, and have skills to help restore it.”
Dutch gestured, as if to prove his point.
They went upstairs next, where a simple set of bedrooms and a water closet made way for the staircase to the rooftop patio. The patio had a magnificent view of Kerracia, the kerrac tree, as well as a set of couches, some chairs, and a small table.
This looked as good a place as any to relax.
Torian dropped to the table, pleased when Celise and Nasra followed suit.
After a brief discussion with Dutch, Zen flew down to the pantry to retrieve some food: an unknown fish from a pond near the kerrac tree that Dutch promised was digestible by humans, and a salad made from the farming towers by the forest.
While they ate, Torian told Nasra, “Heyyy. We finally got to have dinner together.”
“One of many, I hope!” The tou’siil’s eyes were flat now, perhaps out of courtesy as they ate.
She’d seemed thrilled about the option of fish, but now she picked at her food.
Dutch and Celise had descended into conversation on one of the couches.
Zen had left again, temporarily, to brief his crew. Nasra watched it all impassively.
“Is everything okay?” Torian asked, her brows furrowing.
Nasra blurted, “Maybe. Kind of. I have a confession.”
“Uh-oh,” Torian said good-naturedly, although she put down her tong-like fork and faced the tou’siil properly.
Nasra’s webbed ears pulled closer to her skull.
Torian hadn’t even realized that Nasra could move her ears that way, but it closed Nasra’s body language, like she was embarrassed.
Her words were quiet, meant for Torian only.
“Just because I’m a tou’siil, humans think I’m an authority, but …
I’m actually a brand-new emissary. This solar system is my first assignment, and it’s only because no one else wanted it. ”
Torian blinked, sorting through that. The way Nasra was talking, she’d have thought the tou’siil was confessing to a murder. I’m new at my job felt laughable in comparison, but it was clearly bothering Nasra, so Torian kept her tone empathetic.
“That’s okay. We all start somewhere.” Torian hesitated, then asked, “Tou’siil have visited our solar system before. Why didn’t they want this assignment now?”
“It’s because we’ve explored this area before.
The galaxy is an interconnected place—and humanity’s lack of collaboration makes them distinctly less interesting to my people now that we’ve seen what’s here.
” Nasra took a bite, seemingly didn’t chew, but swallowed her fish without issue.
“There was a discussion about whether we should waste future emissaries here at all, but somehow, I convinced them that the nylarian influence was worth exploring.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?” Torian was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Nasra hesitated. “Yes. Except to get this job, I promised them a massive influx of new knowledge about humanity and this system. We only have a limited number of emissaries, remember. If my hive stream drops in popularity, they can recall me and send someone else to a better location.”
“Let me guess. Your stream is wildly popular.” Sarcasm dripped from Torian’s words.
Nasra laughed self-deprecatingly. “Not exactly. My stream has consistently been the least-watched.” Based on her tone, Torian surmised that was a Bad Thing in tou’siil culture—maybe even a little shameful.
Nasra pushed past it. “That’s why I jumped to join you and Dutch once Zen called.
I do believe in your goal here … but my motivations aren’t exactly selfless. ”
Torian took another bite of her salad, chewing thoughtfully. “Nasra, it’s not a crime to prioritize yourself, especially when it happens to align with a better goal. You’d be wasting away at that absurd university.”
“Headmaster Nuun did have a reputation,” Nasra mused. “He was always kind to me. But … I’m sure there’s a reason for that.”
“Can I admit something?” Torian waited for Nasra to gesture her to continue, then smirked. “I’m selfishly pleased that we stole you from Nuun. So. Maybe my motivations aren’t that pure either.”
Nasra laughed, and Torian laughed, and when Celise and Dutch glanced their way, they laughed harder. Celise rolled her eyes, and Dutch smiled before returning to their conversation.
After her mirth faded, Nasra patted Torian’s hand. “If it helps, Torian, I’m honored to document this undertaking. The galaxy at large deserves to see a better side of humanity. You’re exactly the person to demonstrate it.”
Warmth filled Torian’s chest, and she swallowed past a sudden lump in her throat. “Wow. Thank you.”
Nasra beamed.
More time passed, and eventually Celise went to bed, choosing to sleep in the Destitute for the cleaner air.
Torian escorted her to the townhouse’s front door.
As she vanished through the stone tunnel to the outer ring and docks, Moss said over the nearby speaker, “I will inform you when she arrives on the Destitute.”
That speaker was mounted by the front door of Celise’s new townhouse, and Torian glanced at it. “Well, well. You’ve been awfully quiet tonight.”
Moss sounded exasperated. “I was conversing with Auto-Nav. It is not a delightful conversationalist, but … it is learning.”
Torian couldn’t wait to talk to Dutch about that development. “I’m glad you two are getting along. Is the engine next?”