Chapter 5
A'Vanti
Tomorrow, we arrive at Ceraste.
The knowledge sits heavy in my mind as I walk the observation deck for the third time tonight, unable to settle.
Through the viewing windows, the stars zoom past, bright streaks against a black backdrop.
I don't know if the churning in my stomach is nerves or vertigo.
Somewhere beyond that blackness, my homeworld waits. The ruins of everything I once knew.
I should be resting. But every time I try to sit, my body rebels. My muscles are taut, my mind won't stop racing, and my heart is doing strange stuttering things.
I'm not the only one feeling it. The whole ship feels it. There's a tension threading through everything tonight, an electric undercurrent that makes my scales want to prickle.
I passed Officer L'Stourn in the corridor earlier, his usually serene expression tight around the edges.
Even the humans seem affected, moving through the ship with a certain restlessness, conversations trailing off into weighted silences.
We're all carrying it, this tangle of hope and grief, of anticipation shadowed by memory.
The sound of laughter draws me from my thoughts.
It's coming from the common room at the end of the corridor, loud and startling in the subdued atmosphere of the ship. I pause, tilting my head to listen. More laughter, followed by what sounds like good-natured arguing.
I should return to my quarters. I should try to meditate, or read, or do any of the calming activities Dr. Singh has suggested.
Instead, my feet carry me toward the noise.
The common room is one of the larger shared spaces on the ship, designed for recreation and socialization.
It features comfortable seating arranged in clusters, a small galley for preparing food and drinks, and an impressive entertainment system with a viewing screen that takes up nearly an entire wall.
When I step through the doorway, I find a small group already gathered.
Chelsea is perched on one of the long sofas, her legs tucked beneath her in that boneless way humans seem to favor.
She's flanked by her mates; D'Rett on one side, L'Tarne on the other, both of them curved toward her like plants seeking sunlight.
The easy intimacy of their positioning sends a small pang through my chest.
A few other crew members are scattered about the room.
L'Zaen and his human mate, Ally, are sharing a chair that was clearly designed for one.
Lounging across a chair, feet dangling over the armrest, is Dr. Zoya Petrova, our hydrological engineer and one of the few non-military humans aboard, frowning at what looks like a systems schematic on her data pad.
And there, emerging from the small galley with a bowl in each hand—
Cody.
His eyes find mine the moment I enter, and that ridiculous grin spreads across his face like it's been waiting there all along, just beneath the surface, ready to bloom the instant he saw me.
"A'Vanti!" Chelsea waves me over, her whole face brightening. "Perfect timing. We were about to start."
"Start what?"
"Movie night." She gestures expansively at the viewing screen. "I decided everyone needed a distraction, something to take their minds off tomorrow. We've all been wandering around like ghosts and it's driving me crazy."
"I wasn't wandering, sprite," D'Rett says mildly. The way he's pressed to Chelsea's side suggests he hasn't strayed far from her all evening.
"You were brooding. Which is worse." Chelsea pats his knee. "But it's okay, because I have the cure for brooding, and it's called cinema."
L'Tarne makes a sound that might be amusement or might be resignation. "And what film have you selected for this evening's cure?"
The smile that spreads across Chelsea's face is pure mischief. "I was thinking a romantic comedy. Something classic." She turns that smile on her mates, eyes dancing. "You two love rom-coms."
D'Rett's answer is to pull her into his arms, tucking her close. "You know we do. Which one do you want to watch?"
I hover near the entrance, uncertain whether to retreat or advance. But Chelsea notices and waves me toward an empty lounge chair near the viewing screen.
"Come on, A'Vanti. You can't stand there like a statue all night. Come sit. Have you ever seen Crazy, Stupid, Love?"
I sink into the sofa she's indicated, feeling more awkward than the situation warrants.
"I have not."
"You'll love it. There's this scene… he does the lift from Dirty Dancing, and it's awesome."
She must see my confusion because she stops mid-sentence.
"Have you never seen Dirty Dancing?"
I shake my head.
"That's it. Adding it to the list." She turns to D'Rett. "Let's show her the lift."
"Now?"
"Yes, now." D'Rett rises without further protest, sweeps Chelsea up and lifts her overhead like she weighs nothing. Her delighted laugh fills the room.
"Nobody puts Chelsea in a corner," L'Tarne says solemnly, and Chelsea laughs even harder.
I have no idea what any of this means. But watching the three of them, I find it doesn't matter. There's an ease to the way they move around each other, a freedom in how they touch and tease without hesitation. No careful, measured responses. Just joy, unguarded and unreserved.
I feel more than see Cody crossing the room toward me. His footsteps are light for a male, but I'm always aware of him. He pauses at the edge of the sofa.
"Mind if I join you?"
"You may sit wherever you wish," I say with a sniff. "I have no authority over seating arrangements."
His grin only widens, entirely undeterred. If anything, he looks pleased. He sinks onto the sofa beside me. He's close, closer than strictly necessary. Our shoulders are nearly touching.
"Peace offering," he says, holding up two bowls.
I examine the bowls. One contains gherro. The small green leaves are slightly different from what I remember. They're slightly too uniform because they were generated by a food replicator. They lack the subtle variations that come from traditional preparation, but I'm excited all the same.
I don't recognize what's in the other bowl. It is filled with small white puffs, irregular in shape, and coated in something that smells faintly of salt and rendered t'karra, the rich oil we used for frying.
"What is that?"
"Popcorn." Cody beams like he's presenting me with a precious gift. "It's made from dried corn kernels that are heated until they explode. Standard movie snack. Mandatory, actually. There are laws."
"There are not laws."
"Movie laws. Sacred and ancient. Passed down through generations of couch potatoes." He settles the bowls between us, positioning them so we can both reach easily. "You have to try some. It's a crucial part of the human movie-watching experience."
I pick up one of the white puffs and examine it skeptically. It's lighter than I expected, almost weightless. When I bite into it, the texture is strange. At first, it's crisp but quickly softens, with an oily, salty flavor that's quite pleasant.
"Acceptable," I pronounce.
Cody's grin widens. "I think that might be high praise coming from you."
I elect to ignore his teasing and reach for a handful of gherro instead. The familiar flavor settles my rising nerves. It's a tiny piece of home.
"Got it!" Chelsea announces triumphantly. "Everybody got their snacks?"
Once everyone gives their assent, the lights dim and the screen flickers to life.
I settle deeper into my chair, hyperaware of Cody's presence beside me. I try to ignore the warmth radiating from his body, the faint scent of his cleanser, and the way his arm brushes mine when he reaches for the popcorn.
This is fine, I tell myself. This is just friends watching a film together. Nothing more.
The movie opens quietly. It begins with a couple at a restaurant, debating dessert options.
Then the woman announces she wants a divorce.
In the vehicle on the way home, she admits she had sex with another male, and her mate, Cal, throws himself out the door.
Thankfully, the vehicle doesn't seem to be moving very fast.
I glance at Cody. "Is this typical human behavior?"
"Just watch," he murmurs.
So I do.
The story surprises me. It's layered and sharp, the emotions raw in a way that feels almost too exposed. I am drawn in despite my initial skepticism.
"In Cerastean narrative traditions," I murmur during a lull, "characters who begin as unpleasant generally remain so. Their nature is revealed, not changed."
"Humans like to believe in redemption," Cody says. "That people can grow and change." He glances at me. "Probably because we have to believe it. Otherwise, we'd all give up on each other."
I file his observation away for later consideration and return my attention to the film.
The woman, Hannah, has gone to the charming male's apartment.
They're talking, and there's something shifting between them.
A current of honesty beneath all his practiced smoothness.
She asks him to show her "the move" – the lift from the other film Chelsea mentioned – and he raises her above his head like she weighs nothing at all.
When he lowers her down, they kiss.
I hold my breath.
I'd read about kissing, of course. The reports on human mating rituals had discussed kissing extensively, but neither the descriptions nor the accompanying images made it seem like anything remarkable.
This is nothing like those reports. It's soft at first, tentative, almost surprised.
Then it deepens, and my stomach pulls tight.
Perhaps this is why humans are obsessed with it.
On the other sofa, Chelsea makes a cooing sound. "Gets me every time," she sighs.
But I barely hear her.