Chapter 27
When Opula and Bartlet stepped off the Charlatan with Amelia limp between them, Torian couldn’t stifle her gasp. “Fuck, is she okay? Amelia! Ames, can you hear me?”
She wasn’t expecting Amelia in good condition, but this was terrifying.
Amelia was normally a force, capturing attention with attitude alone.
Now, she was barely able to stand, slung between her crewmembers.
Her face was pale, her lips tinged blue, and it seemed like a struggle for her to keep her eyes open.
Torian wanted to wrap her in a blanket and rub her arms until her smile came back.
(… The way totally normal, not-romantic partners did.)
“She’ll recover,” Bartlet grunted.
Opula narrowed her eyes at Torian, waving a hand to dismiss Bartlet.
They didn’t argue, stepping back to give space.
Opula all but shoved Amelia into Torian’s waiting arms, and her words were quiet and threatening: “Next time, leave her to her work.” With a dark look, she stomped back up to the starship, utterly unimpressed with Vaesa, the aliens, or Amelia’s condition.
Torian had always known Opula was cold, but she’d never seen that side of her before. Her skin prickled, and she bit her lip, hooking Amelia’s arm over her shoulders instead. One hand held Amelia’s wrist, and another snaked around Amelia’s waist, propping her up.
Her touch finally got Amelia to open her eyes. They were glazed, distant, and it took her a moment to assess where she was.
She almost certainly hadn’t heard Opula, but maybe that was for the best.
Torian forgot Opula’s fury the moment Amelia chuckled. Her words were dry, albeit weak. “I told you not to do anything stupid.”
Torian hugged her side. “Sadly, I don’t count rescuing friends as stupid.”
“I’ve realized,” Amelia muttered.
Torian’s eyes flicked back to Opula, who was conversing quietly with Amelia’s security team. They eyed the draics in the corner, but seemed to realize any funny business would be a losing battle. Under Opula’s obvious order, the security members holstered their guns.
The worst part wasn’t how Opula had said it. It was that she was right. Torian cleared her throat. “Ames, I’m so sorry. I should never have invited you here—”
“Hey, Scrap. Thanks for finding us,” Amelia breathed, and her eyelids fluttered again.
Torian pressed her lips together, heart aching.
Celise approached, wearing her old lab coat, lifting her chin. She’d clearly enlisted Zen’s help, because the draic lurked behind her.
“Let me get her to the clinic,” Celise said, pressing one hand to Amelia’s forehead. “Zen?”
“Apparently, I’m replacing a gurney.” Zen’s tone was deadpan.
Torian nudged Amelia, hoping to get her awake again. “Ames. We have a clinic—or half of one—nearby. Are you okay if a draic carries you there?”
“Draic?” Amelia opened bleary eyes, squinting at Zen. “Fuck, Tor. Thought you were joking.”
The word “joking” came out slurred.
“Not joking.” Torian gripped Amelia’s arm, feeling her weight increase as she started to go truly slack. “Okay, I’m making an executive decision, since you probably won’t remember this. Zen, go ahead.”
The draic shrugged and gently scooped Amelia into his arms. He moved carefully, holding her like precious cargo. Celise wasted no time stepping in, lifting Amelia’s eyelids, shining a light into her eyes, feeling her pulse and skin temperature.
“Okay. We’ll need warm compresses. Dutch, you don’t have anything resembling an IV here, do you? Fluids we can use to warm her?”
“You have an entire squadron of draics,” Nasra called, watching the drama with sparkling eyes as she watched beside a few others from Zen’s team.
(Voranthir was nowhere to be seen, which was probably a blessing, at least right now.
Torian didn’t want Celise distracted today.) Nasra patted one of the draics’ arms. “Their body temperature runs higher than a human’s.
That will likely be a safer avenue than ancient medical equipment. ”
“Wonderful. Which of you would like to snuggle with a human?” Zen called in amusement.
All of the draics on his crew stayed silent, shifting awkwardly.
Celise rolled her eyes. “We’ll find another way. Come on. No time to waste.” She beckoned, and Zen strolled after her, carrying Amelia with ease. Torian watched them go, wishing she could help somehow, but … well, at this point, she’d just get in the way.
Bartlet approached her when she was finally alone. Opula had disappeared back inside the starship, but the chef seemed to be one of the few crewmembers curious about this new station. “Captain said you found someplace special.” They glanced around, looking almost impressed. “Nice place.”
“I never expected the flight path would be so dangerous,” Torian muttered. “Is everyone else okay?”
“Fine. Captain was the only one who stayed on the flight deck. Once temperatures dropped, she ordered us to the engine room.” Bartlet spoke matter-of-factly, but respect lingered in their tone. “Sure glad you found us, though.”
“I’m sorry it took so long.” Torian grimaced.
Bartlet clapped her shoulder. “Don’t be. You did good, kid.” After Opula’s words, it felt like a warm, gooey compliment. Torian basked in it. Bartlet turned toward the kerrac tree overhead, shielding their eyes. “We get a tour, or what?”
“Oh, that’s my specialty!” Nasra bounded over.
If Bartlet was impressed by seeing a tou’siil, they didn’t show it. They just grunted, offering a wave to a few crewmembers lurking by Amelia’s starship. “Oi. Tour!”
Soon, Nasra had a crowd, and she enthusiastically offered introductions, leading any interested smugglers deeper into Vaesa’s main dome.
Peat leapt out of the Destitute’s cargo bay and trailed behind them, a silent observer.
Either it wanted more company—or Moss had taken advantage of its mobile unit after all.
A few draics peeled off to follow the tour group. They made it seem like they were also interested, but to Torian, it looked like they were offering protection for Nasra.
She might have found a neutral ground with the draics and tou’siil, but there was more work to do, clearly.
It’d probably be best if she helped temper that. But as she started after the tour group, Dutch approached, cutting off her exit. “Ah, Torian, wait.”
She quirked an eyebrow, pausing.
The nylarian cast a hesitant glance at the Destitute anchored nearby, then lowered his voice. “Thank you. For … erm, talking to Moss.”
Torian shrugged noncommittally. She had loyalty to both of them now, but that just meant she couldn’t side with either. It put her in an awkward position. “Moss needed some help, that’s all.”
“No, I mean it. Not just this most recent conversation; thank you for befriending it.” Dutch clenched his eyes shut. “I messed up. I just—I couldn’t remember where that blasted ship was. Without you, I’d still be wondering. You helped both of us more than you realize.”
“Moss loves you,” Torian said. “But I’m glad it isn’t relying on you alone anymore.”
“That’s a good thing,” Dutch replied.
They shared a smile. His eyes cast upward, to the dome high overhead.
The keels were still patrolling space, and one saw him looking and waved.
It appeared more like a fishlike wiggle than anything.
Dutch waved back, then rubbed the back of his neck.
“I guess I’ll have to deal with them, too.
My friends and family were clearly making long-term plans, if they asked the keels to watch Vaesa. ”
Torian hesitated. “I’m still confused. Where did they go, Dutch?”
The last nylarian smiled sadly. “I haven’t the faintest idea.”
There was a weight to that statement that Torian didn’t quite comprehend. She lowered her gaze, her words soft. “That must be hard. I’m sorry.”
“Me, too.” Dutch chuckled humorlessly. “Perhaps as we repair Vaesa’s biomes, we’ll find more clues. But … I may need to make my peace with how they left, and accept that I’ll never be able to follow them.”
That sounded awful. Torian stuck her hands in her pockets, rocking back on her toes as she searched for something comforting. “Well, we’re happy you’re here, at least. Really, I’m so grateful for you and Moss. Without either of you, I don’t know what I’d be doing.”
“We had a saying on Verdaan: Sometimes, the kerrac leaves rest in the right spot.” Dutch chuckled, stretching his long arms above his head. “I spent so long traveling, avoiding my culture and people, that this feels serendipitous.”
Torian could only imagine what Vaesa felt like for Dutch. Knowing answers might be hidden here—but also knowing that to find them, he’d have to brave a silence so profound, so disquieting, that it would take more courage than Torian could fathom.
But at least she was around to help break the silence. Maybe they could help each other more than Torian initially realized.
“What are you going to do about the keels?” Torian asked, changing the subject.
Dutch sighed. “Nothing. This is their home. Maybe we can build some housing for them, if they want it. I plan to ask the keels to patrol and inform me of foreign ships, but … it may be best to upload Auto-Navigation into your friend’s starship, too, just in case.”
“I’m not sure she’ll want that, but we can ask,” Torian said.
Dutch shrugged in understanding, then gestured toward the dock’s exit—and her sister’s clinic. “Well, either way, nothing has to happen today. Take a break, Captain Razner. You deserve it.” With a wink, he strolled onto the Destitute.
Moss opened the door for him, and Auto-Nav said, “Welcome back!! Can I have a mobile unit, too?”
“Better,” Dutch said. “How would you like to have access to a draic starship?”
“Ooooh!” Auto-Nav squealed.
He vanished inside the ancient, unwanted, moss-covered starship, and Torian swallowed a laugh.
Her eyes turned upward, watching the flicker of blue light as the keels swam past the dome.
The kerrac tree’s leaves shimmered, and muted conversation could be heard in the distance as Nasra gave Amelia’s crew a tour.
For one, quiet moment, everything felt right.