Chapter 6
Cody
The alarm crashes through my dreams like a tsunami, and I jolt awake with a curse already forming on my lips.
For a disoriented moment, I can't remember why I set the damn thing.
My body feels like it's been filled with sand, heavy and gritty and desperately in need of more sleep.
After the movie last night, I ran a scouting mission, mapping debris fields so the transport vessel could navigate safely.
By the time I was done, the night was already bleeding into morning.
But that doesn't explain my bone-deep exhaustion.
The kiss. I barely slept once I finally fell into my bed. Every time I closed my eyes, I was back in that corridor with A'Vanti, her lips soft on mine, her body arching into mine.
I look around my quarters sleepily, trying to get my brain back online.
Then it hits me.
We're arriving at Ceraste today.
I'm out of bed before the thought fully forms, adrenaline burning away the fog of exhaustion. My quarters are small, and I manage to stub my toe on my storage locker as I lunge for the closet. The string of profanity that follows would make my drill sergeant proud.
On my way to my shower, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and wince. I look like someone dropped roadkill on my head. I need a haircut.
Ten minutes later, I'm clean, teeth are brushed, hair is beaten into submission, and I'm dressed in a crisp, fresh uniform.
I grab the small carved gho'ba bird from my nightstand and tuck it into my breast pocket, right over my heart where it's lived since the moment she pressed it into my hands.
The corridors blur past as I half-jog toward the bridge, still tugging at my collar and trying to get my uniform to sit straight.
I probably should have taken more time. But there's a pull inside me, an instinct that's been growing stronger with every passing day, and it's tugging me toward A'Vanti.
Somehow, I am certain that she is already there.
She'll want to see her world the moment it comes into view. And I want to be there when she does.
Not because she needs me. A'Vanti doesn't need anyone.
But I've spent enough time watching her, learning her, cataloging every micro-expression that flickers across those golden features.
I know the difference between the mask she shows the world and the woman beneath it.
I know that today is going to cost her, and I want to be there to help shoulder whatever weight I can.
Even if all I can do is stand beside her.
The bridge doors slide open, and I realize that I might actually be the last to arrive.
The room is packed. Scientists and warriors, Cerasteans and humans, all crowded around the massive viewing screens that line the far wall.
There's a hum of anticipation in the air, a collective held breath.
I spot L'Tarne at the pilot's station, his long fingers moving over the controls with fluid precision.
L'Zaen stands near the sensor array, his tall frame bent as he studies readouts.
But my eyes find A'Vanti immediately, the way they always do. Like she's a beacon and I'm a ship that's been lost at sea.
She's standing apart from the others, positioned near one of the large viewing screens on the starboard side.
Her back is to me, with the cosmos stretching before her.
It's an endless tapestry of stars and darkness, and she stands silhouetted before it like a figure carved from starlight.
She's in tactical gear like the rest of us, the dark fabric fitted close to her body, but somehow, she makes it look like armor forged for a queen.
She looks like a painting. Like a mystical war goddess or a mythical creature designed to bring men to their knees.
I must make some kind of sound. Or possibly I just stand there with my mouth hanging open like the lovestruck idiot I am.
A'Vanti turns away from the view.
Our eyes meet across the crowded bridge, and I watch relief wash over her face. It's there and gone in an instant. She's usually too controlled, but I caught it. A brief, unguarded moment when her composure cracked, and vulnerability shined through.
She's terrified.
Of course she is. She's about to see her planet for the first time since everything was destroyed.
She's been putting on a brave face for everyone.
She's always stoic, the symbol of Cerastean resilience, but underneath all that armor, she's a woman who lost everything and is about to confront the ruins of her past.
I'm moving before I consciously decide to, weaving through the crowd with a single-minded focus. Someone says my name, but I don't stop. I can't. Not when she's looking at me like that. Not when I can see the hairline fractures in her carefully constructed walls.
"Hey," I say as I reach her, and the word feels entirely inadequate.
"Cody." My name in her mouth, wrapped in that precise Cerastean accent, never fails to knock me sideways. "You're here."
"Wouldn't miss it."
I reach for her hands without thinking, and she lets me take them.
Her fingers are cold, despite the regulated temperature of the bridge, and I can feel a faint tremor running through her.
I fold her hands between both of mine and start chafing gently, trying to work some warmth into her chilled skin.
"You're freezing," I murmur. "How long have you been standing here?"
"A while." She doesn't pull away. If anything, she leans slightly into my touch. "I couldn't sleep."
"Yeah." I keep rubbing her hands, watching her face. "Me neither. Well… I slept, but not enough." I pause, searching her eyes. "How are you doing?"
A'Vanti opens her mouth, and I can see the automatic response forming. 'I'm fine', the words she's probably said a hundred times to a hundred different people. But then she stops. Her jaw tightens, and her expression shifts.
"I don't know," she admits, and the honesty in her voice makes my heart clench. "I thought I was prepared. I've had weeks to prepare. But now that we're here…" She shakes her head slightly, her gaze drifting toward the viewing screen. "I don't know… I guess I'm feeling a little lost and nervous."
I want to pull her into my arms. I want to tell her that she doesn't have to be anything.
She doesn't have to be strong, or composed, or the example she expects herself to be.
I want to promise that whatever she's feeling is okay, that she's allowed to fall apart, that I'll be here to help put the pieces back together.
But before I can say any of that, L'Tarne's voice cuts through the murmur of the crowd.
"Ceraste approaching visual range. Adjusting heading for optimal view."
A ripple of movement goes through the bridge as everyone shifts toward the viewing screens. A'Vanti's fingers tighten around mine, her grip fierce.
The ship shifts. Stars wheel across the viewport, sliding past like scattered diamonds on black velvet.
Then Ceraste fills the screen. Even though I've seen the images, even though I studied every scan and photograph during mission prep, nothing could have prepared me for this.
It's beautiful.
The dominant color is a rich, baked gold.
Tans and ambers and deep ochres swirl across the surface in patterns that look almost like a watercolor painting.
The land stretches vast and unbroken, interrupted only by the dark shimmer of oceans that cluster at the poles.
The water there is a dark blue, almost black in the shadows, but catching glints of light where the suns touch it, like pools of liquid obsidian.
And the suns. Two of them. The larger one is cresting the horizon, spilling light across the planet's curve in a wash of copper and gold, while its smaller companion hangs higher in the sky, a pale-yellow disc that casts a second, softer glow across the planet's surface.
It catches the sandy plains on the daylight side, painting them in shades of tan and ochre while the rest of the surface waits in darkness.
A thin halo of atmosphere glows at the planet's edge.
The polar ice caps gleam like crowns at either end of the world, brilliant white against all that earthen color.
Beside me, A'Vanti makes a small sound. A noise caught somewhere between a gasp and a sob. Her hand pulls free from mine and presses flat to the viewing screen, palm wide on the glass as if she could reach through and touch her world.
I don't think. I just move.
I step up behind her and wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her back into my chest. It's not something I planned. I wouldn't have dared under normal circumstances. But after last night, the walls between us have thinned. And there is nothing normal about this moment.
A'Vanti stiffens for an instant. I feel the surprise ripple through her body, the automatic tension of someone unused to being touched. But then she softens, melting back into me, and her hand drops from the glass to grip my forearm. Her fingers clutch my sleeve like she's afraid I'll let go.
"I've got you," I murmur into her hair, low enough that only she can hear. "I've got you."
She doesn't respond. Just tightens her grip on my arm.
L'Tarne's voice breaks through. "Beginning atmospheric entry. D'Rett, are you prepared to launch the safety drones?"
"Launching now."
We stand like that as the ship draws closer, the planet growing larger in the viewport until it fills our entire field of vision.
Around us, I'm vaguely aware of others reacting, gasps and murmurs and voices thick with emotion.
But my focus stays on A'Vanti, on the trembling in her frame, on the way she's clutching my arm like I'm the only thing keeping her upright.