There was a book’s worth of history in that statement. Ekatya looked forward to learning it.
She noted the individual chairs set around the room and how none of them were arranged for company or conversation. Even the dining table seemed unused to guests, covered as it was by spillover from the workbench.
The sound of water drew her attention to the wall display, which showed small waves washing onto a steeply sloped, cobbled shore. As each wave retreated, the cobbles rolled with a rumbling clatter. In the distance, two immense mountain ranges intersected, their craggy peaks spiking into a sky of cloudless violet-blue. Alejandra had paired the Enkara program with soft, haunting piano music that emphasized the loneliness of the landscape.
“I see Lhyn gave you her new scenic program,” Ekatya said.
“I figured it was the closest I’d ever get. It’s beautiful, in an austere way. I like to think of the Resilere singing under there.” Alejandra set one hand on her hip. “And not trying to kill Rahel again.”
“They didn’t try to kill her.”
“Pretty damned effective for not trying.” With her free hand, she pointed at the bottle in Ekatya’s hand. “That’s not iceflame.”
“After last time? I’m going to need a few weeks before I’m ready to drink that again. Or a few months.” She carried the bottle to the dining table, where the clutter was stacked up to clear enough space for two small dishes and a plate of finger foods. “What do you do when we go through a base space transition? Doesn’t this end up everywhere?”
Alejandra was in the kitchen, pulling wine glasses from the rack. “I clean up just before. It all reappears within hours. I think it’s some sort of energy-based alien living in my quarters and office.” She carried the glasses over and added, “Maybe we should get Rahel to look for it.”
“Maybe we should. She’s the reason I have this.” Ekatya held up the bottle for examination. “Valkinon. The finest wine produced on Alsea. I can tell you from experience that it’s divine.” She pulled the tab and let the blue vapor trickle over her hand.
“Why is she the reason you have it?” Alejandra watched her pour.
“Because this was a gift from the Bondlancer of Alsea.” She lifted her glass, enjoying the play of light in its sapphire depths. “Who told me, at the oath ceremony, that she expected me to return Rahel whole and unharmed. Which I’ve mostly managed to do. Salomen said I couldn’t open the bottle until the end of the first patrol. So—to a successful patrol and a mostly intact First Guard.”
Alejandra chuckled. “She’s fully intact. I made sure of it. But it certainly wasn’t for lack of effort. Sainted Shippers, that girl gets in a lot of trouble.” She tapped her glass against Ekatya’s and drank, eyes sliding half-shut with pleasure. “You weren’t exaggerating. This is divine.” After another sip, she pulled out one of the chairs and sat, pointing at the other in an unspoken command.
“How are you doing with that?” Ekatya asked as she took her own seat.
“With what?”
“How much trouble she got herself into.”
“Eh. It all worked out.”
Ekatya raised her eyebrows.
“Oh, don’t start. I’m fine, Ekatya. I’m not going to suddenly revert back to a grief-stricken parent. Though I do have enormous sympathy for her mother. That poor woman must have gone through Tartarus raising her.”
“It can’t have been easy opening that part of your heart for the first time and then watching her on Enkara.”
“I’m fine.” She paused. “But I’m damned glad you got her attention.”
Ekatya was beginning to understand that Alejandra Wells never wanted anyone to see her vulnerable points. That she had revealed them the night of Rahel’s surgery was very much out of the ordinary—and if tonight was any indication, it probably wouldn’t be repeated any time soon.
“I spoke with Lancer Tal this afternoon,” she said, abandoning the effort. “Told her the whole story. She said you were right—the Resilere must be extremely powerful empaths, given how easily Rez overwhelmed Rahel while trying to communicate. That’s also why they could pick up on her projections, even though she’s a mid empath and never learned to do it.” She watched a wave pull itself back down the cobbles, a peaceful scene far removed from that singular moment of fear. “She thinks there are only four people in the universe who could have broken through the Resilere’s song at that point. Her mother, Sharro, Salomen . . . and me.”
“Because you’re her oath holder?” Alejandra looked entirely too satisfied. “And how are you doing with that?”
“Well, it’s—” Ekatya stopped. “You’re a shit.”
A gleeful chortle escaped as Alejandra picked up her glass and tipped it in Ekatya’s direction. “I give as good as I get.”
“You didn’t give me anything! All I got was a deflection.”
“You didn’t wait long enough to ask. If you want that from me, you’re better off waiting until this bottle is empty.”
“Are you telling me to get you drunk before I ask how you’re feeling?”
“Yes.”
“For the love of flight.” Ekatya seized the bottle and filled her friend’s glass to the brim. “There. Drink up.”
Alejandra really did have a nice laugh when she let it go.
“In the interests of modeling the behavior I’d like to see,” Ekatya said primly, “I’m a little spooked about having that kind of power over a member of my crew. They didn’t cover this in Fleet training. I knew I had Rahel’s loyalty, but this is something different.”
Alejandra leaned down and sipped from her glass where it sat on the table. With the liquid at a safer level, she picked it up and examined its color. “You’re only her second oath holder. Third, after Bondlancer Opah, but you’re kind of co-oath holders.” She looked over the top of the glass. “I read through Rahel’s records again, when I knew her better and could understand what they meant. She would have gone to prison to defend the honor of her first oath holder after he was dead. If she thinks you’re worthy of her loyalty, you have it for life.”
“Was that supposed to make me feel less spooked?”
“Nope. Just . . . informed.” She sipped her wine. “Stars above, this is good. Can I put in an order for more when you go down there on leave?”
“No, but you can get it yourself.”
“We’re allowing full shore leave now? What changed the tiny minds of those admirals?”
“Rahel. Though I don’t think they changed their minds so much as they couldn’t justify keeping a lid on shore leave when we have an Alsean warrior serving with us. Having her first patrol turn out so well took away their best argument.”
“Well, it’s about time. Alsea’s been open to us for six months already.” Alejandra set her drink aside, then pulled up a foot and wrapped her arms around the bent leg. “That’ll help with crew rotation. I’m tired of losing three-quarters of my staff every time we hit a space station.”
“It took a whole patrol for the crew to get used to a single mid empath. A planet full of them? And some of them high empaths? I don’t think we’ll see a stampede to the shuttles.”
“Then they’re fools. I’d rather see Alsea than the inside of another space can. I’m going down.”
“Good. You’ve been invited to the State House.”
The raised leg slid to the floor as she sat up straight. “I—why?”
“Lancer Tal has a mystery she’d like to solve.” Ekatya smiled in anticipation; she was about to hand Alejandra a scientist’s dream come true. “They have ten pairs of divine tyrees now, and no explanation as to why they’ve suddenly reappeared after so long. The High Council voted to keep it all under wraps, so they haven’t let the scholar caste in on it. The only ones studying it are templars.”
“They gave a medical mystery to religious scholars?”
“That’s the problem. It’s perceived as a religious mystery, not a medical one. Lancer Tal sees it differently. I mentioned that m
y chief surgeon is the best in Fleet and might be open to a personal project.”
“A personal project,” Alejandra repeated.
“Lancer Tal is willing to let you study her divine tyree bond with Salomen, including Sharings. You’ll be the first Gaian doctor given access.”
Alejandra’s eyes widened.
“You can imagine how hot that data will be,” Ekatya continued. “And how much Sholokhov would love to get his hands on it.”
“Ugh. I don’t want to think about what makes that man happy.”
“Unfortunately, I have to. If he somehow finds out what you’re doing, there can’t be any data for him to access. You can’t keep it on the ship’s computers. I’ll have Kenji set up an isolated medpad for you, with any programs you need. But that’s why this has to be a personal project. You’ll have to do it on your own time.”
Alejandra took a thoughtful drink and stared past her shoulder. After several seconds of silence, she met Ekatya’s eyes and said, “Just to see if I have this in order. First you march into my office and throw your rank around to pull me off duty because you say I work too much. Then you volunteer me to the Lancer of Alsea for a project I’m supposed to do in addition to my work.”
Ekatya tried not to show her dismay. “Er . . . yes? I thought it was something that would appeal to you.”
“And if I say no, you’ll have to go back and admit that you promised more than you could deliver.”
“I didn’t promise . . .”
“But you already got me an invitation from the Lancer herself.”
Ekatya winced.
“And access to Sharings between her and Bondlancer Opah,” Alejandra went on implacably. “The one thing Lhyn couldn’t study because she doesn’t have the tools for it.” At Ekatya’s nod, she set her jaw. “My shiny ass you didn’t promise. You’ve already made the arrangements and waited until now to ask me.”
“I only talked to her this afternoon! And nothing is set—” She stopped when she saw Alejandra’s delighted smile.
“You are the best of friends. Can we get to Alsea any faster?”
“You enjoyed that,” she accused.
“Hugely. You looked so worried!” Alejandra snickered. “I only wish I could have gotten a picture.”
Ekatya held up two fingers pressed together in a gesture she had learned from Andira. “If you’re going to spend any time on Alsea, you should know what this means.”
“Hm. Not the number two, I assume.”
She shifted the gesture to a more familiar version and smiled at the explosion of laughter. “I’m glad you understand.”
“I understand that when my captain tells me to fuck off, we’ve entered a new phase of friendship.”
“That’s the truth and a half.” She sobered. “You’re really all right with the fact that I volunteered you?”
“Yes, yes.” Alejandra waved her glass in a dismissive motion, coming alarmingly close to spilling. “It was high-handed, but I’m learning to expect that from you.”
“Now, wait a minute—”
“You thought I’d jump at this and you were right. I already have some ideas about where to go with it. I’ll need comparators. I can’t just study a divine tyree bond; I need access to a normal tyree bond and a pair of Alseans who are bonded but not tyrees. Preferably a few pairs of each.” She hummed thoughtfully. “I wonder if Rahel would be willing to introduce me to her mother and Sharro. That could be fun.”
“For you. Probably not for her.” Ekatya hid a smile behind her glass. “But I can give you access to another few Sharings that may or may not be useful to you. Lhyn said you gave her a clean bill of health.”
Alejandra instantly snapped back to her professional demeanor. “The last tests were clear, yes. Her neurotransmitter regulation has finally normalized. But that only means she’s physically recovered. Mentally—”
“You’ve held her back long enough. You’ve held us back.”
“She had a panic attack on this patrol, Ekatya.”
“The first one in three months! I think she had a good reason, don’t you? And she controlled it.”
“But it does show that she’s still vulnerable,” Alejandra argued. “Putting her in a Sharing—we have no idea what that does to the Gaian brain. It’s a risk.”
“It’s a risk she wants to take. That’s her right.”
“We couldn’t reproduce your telepathic connection even under perfect laboratory conditions. We know her brain has lasting—”
“Do not say that word.”
Her harsh tone startled them both. She took a gulp of her wine and studied its dark blue depths.
“I can’t stop you,” Alejandra said quietly. “But please consider that Lhyn’s experience means she’s not the same as she was during your first Sharings. You have no way of knowing how she’ll be affected now.”
“I do know. So does she.” She looked up. “I asked you once to take a leap of faith. We saved Lhyn because you did.”
Alejandra gave a resigned nod. “Is this another leap?”
“Sharing won’t hurt Lhyn. On the contrary, she needs it.” She saw the skepticism and added, “The way a person who’s been hurt needs to go home. It’s a comfort. A connection that helps heal the psyche.”
“You make it sound like a cup of hot chocolate.” Alejandra exhaled as she ran a hand through her loose hair. “All right. But you’re not doing it without me there.”
Ekatya refrained from pointing out that she had already offered. “Done. You can scan us all you want to.”
“Oh, I plan to. Exhaustively. Let’s hope this is the most uneventful Sharing ever experienced on Alsea.”
“That sounds like a toast.” She raised her glass. “May our leave be as boring as a box of rocks.”
Alejandra sat up straight with a look of mock horror. “Now you’ve cursed us! Remember the last box of rocks we came in contact with? Aliens, quarantine . . . ?”
“Oh. Right.” She cast around for an alternative. “May Fahla smile upon us?”
“You’re terrible at this.” Alejandra retrieved her glass, still a little too full. “A toast to the comforts of home. We brought the Resilere home, now we’re bringing Lhyn and Rahel.”
“To the comforts of home.” Ekatya held the wine on her tongue, savoring the changing flavors that burst on her taste buds in a subtle, ordered parade before she swallowed and asked, “Where is home for you?”
“Right here.” Alejandra glanced around her quarters with a smile. “Home is where my work is. Lately, though . . . I’m starting to think there might be more here.”
“Can I take credit for that?”
She had meant it as a tease, but Alejandra looked at her seriously. “You can take credit for quite a bit of it. A ship takes on the personality of its captain. Have you worn those bars so long that you’ve forgotten?”
Startled by the unexpected compliment, Ekatya stumbled over her answer. “I, er, never actually considered—”
“Your decisions,” Alejandra interrupted. “Your command style. Everyone takes their cues from you. How many captains do you think would have ordered their crews to help the Resilere? We could have solved our infestation problem by sitting and waiting for them to solidify. It would have been the safest option. Zero risk to the crew.”
“The safest option isn’t always the right one.”
“You just proved my point. And last night, Rahel told me the Phoenix is starting to feel like home to her. I think you can take a lot of credit for that, too.”
“No, that one’s on you. I still make her nervous.”
“Do you think she’d feel at home so soon if you hadn’t ordered the section chiefs to treat her like a VIP? She has no idea that new officers don’t normally get hours of one-on-one time with us. You could have turned her over to Cox from day one. Left her to settle in the section she wants. It would have been easier for everyone.” She leaned forward, her expression earnest and open as it rarely was. “We can do easy and
safe and convenient. Or we can do what’s right. You know why I feel there might be more here? Because I know which decision you’ll make, every time. You’ll do what’s right.”
Ekatya shook her head, thinking of her stupidity in the lift shaft. “Not always.”
“When it counts.”
“Not always,” she repeated. “I didn’t do the right thing on Alsea. Not until it was almost too late. If Andira hadn’t outmaneuvered both me and my exec with the self-destruct, we’d have lost the Caphenon and thousands would have died in Blacksun Basin.” Andira might not have lived through that battle, not with three hundred ground pounders landing intact. The thought still haunted her.
Alejandra picked a cracker off the plate, loaded with colorful slices of fruit and cheese. “Don’t make me eat all of these myself. That was more than two and a half years ago. Are you the same person now that you were then?”
“No.” Ekatya tried a cracker and found its salty-sweet combination of flavors a good complement to the wine. “Alsea changed me. A tour of duty under Sholokhov’s thumb changed me. Being a tyree has changed me. I’m not the same person at all.”
“I’m not the same person I was at the start of this patrol. And I didn’t know that other Ekatya. I know this one. She’s a friend.”
“I knew the other Alejandra,” Ekatya said. “The one before this patrol. She was a pain in my ass.”
Alejandra’s surprised sputter turned into a laugh. “And you think this one won’t be?”
“I have no doubt she will.” Ekatya grinned at her and crunched another cracker.
Alejandra held one between forefinger and thumb. “While I was making these, I was thinking about the Resilere. About how perfectly they’re named. Medically speaking, they’re one of the most resilient species I’ve ever heard of. They can almost literally come back from death. Solidifying means a complete cessation of normal body processes. I can’t begin to guess how they do it.” She popped the cracker in her mouth and lifted her wine.
Ekatya sipped her own and waited. She was beginning to learn the signs of when her friend was opening up.
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