by Essa Hansen
Caiden fluffed up his bravery— the morphcoat obliged, changing to leather and spines. The whipkin clung to the whole side of his head, flattening his hair. Her slender prehensile tail thumped his cheek.
When they neared Ksiñe, the whipkin made a mighty leap to him. She squealed and climbed circles around his body.
“Thanks for the painkiller,” Caiden said. “Worked wonders.”
The Andalvian nodded, speckles pink.
Pent carted materials to a pile by the Wind’s side, and stopped to squint as Caiden approached. “Who is?!” he screeched. “Laythan Paraïa, letting a strange man come to ship—”
“This is the boy,” Laythan said. Caiden would probably always be a boy to him. Laythan drew himself up, all tense muscles and rigid spine. He said nothing but folded his arms, waiting for an explanation.
Caiden paused to tighten the reins on his temper. Was temper a soldier trait too? The darkness and violence you were bred for, Threi said.
“Threi, that Casthen bastard … he came to steal the ship. The only thing I could do was fly.”
“Stupid objectives like vengeance will get you killed, boy.”
“You’re not listening. I didn’t fly seeking vengeance, I was trying to keep the Azura safe. I remembered all the dangers you’d drilled into me. As for vengeance …”
The captain narrowed his steely gaze, scars dimpling white.
Caiden braved the pause. “That need is carved into me each night. The memory jog perseverates nightmares. Every time I sleep, I’m back there, in some permutation of that day. Panca told me it won’t ever stop, like hers.”
“Panca?” Laythan’s forehead wrinkled, shaping a crown of guilt. “She never—”
“Didn’t you ever notice her medicating, or stop to ask her what she felt? She suffers as much as I do, just keeps it quiet.”
Laythan rubbed his forehead and grimaced, drawing his hand through a storm of hair. “All right. We’re leaving tomorrow. Make sure you and your ship are ready.”
“About that … is Taitn here?” Nerves prickled Caiden’s stomach.
“He’s up in the sim room.” Laythan squinted. “Why, what happened?”
“He locked the flight controls.”
Laythan hissed a curse. “Well, go sort it out! If he’ll talk. Take this.” He handed over the blue lacquered flask.
“Th-thanks.” Caiden headed to the second-floor lift, then paced inside as it ascended.
The lift doors opened. Taitn sat by the window wall, arms resting on his knees, watching vibrant signs, glazed reflections, and starship traffic.
Caiden sat next to him and took a small sip of the blue flask, relished the bittersweet, then handed it over.
Taitn accepted it but hesitated, eyelashes shivering.
Someone called the lift back down below. Caiden swore— out of time, and he’d only just arrived. “Are you …” There was no delicate way to ask. “How many years? How did you get through it?”
Taitn took a drink then looked at his hands between his knees. “Fifteen.”
Accelerated fifteen years. Caiden winced. “All at once?”
Taitn said quietly, “There was only one skill they wanted from me. So, there’s only one skill I’m good at. The best at.” He spread his fingers in front of the window, backlit by countless hues. “I let ships become my real body, my expression … since this one isn’t worth much else anymore.”
The ascended lift opened. “Some people disagree,” En said.
She walked over, sat, and clapped Taitn lightly on the back.
Taitn squeezed the flask until cracks burst through its lacquer. “What do you know about feeling comfortable in your own skin? You really don’t have a heart anymore, do you?” He shot to his feet and caught the lift, leaving Caiden and En in silence.
Blue and gold spotlights streamed in front of them. Violet light bounced across the film in a blocky script that Caiden couldn’t read backward, advertising something he wasn’t interested in. En had her usual uplifting scent— citrus blossoms and spicy resin, mystery and cheer together.
“Well. I guess my question about the egress route will have to wait.” She fished another, smaller flask from her coat and offered it. Purple flowers decorated white enamel. “Here. I keep this for injuries. I know you have a few.”
Caiden took a sip. Floral with sweet overtones, a spicy heart, and hot both in temperature and flavor, it was perfect for her.
When he looked over, a tear ran down En’s cheek, pulling the smoky stain from around her eyes.
“You too.” He handed the flask back.
They watched the lights.
En asked, “How do you feel, with the aug?”
“Different. But right.”
“Good. Augmentation— of all kinds— allows fluidity. Gender binary or neither, fluid, both, a different body or a noncorporeum. Before joining this family, I changed my shape, personality, and preferences constantly. I wouldn’t recommend trying to fit to others’ expectations. Create who you feel good being. And it’s all right if that changes too.”
I don’t have a choice, En. I can’t possibly rewrite every thread Çydanza weaved me from.
She smiled crookedly and handed him the flask. “The aug looks great on you. Cheers.”
They sat in silence while Caiden warmed up his words, then asked, “Is Taitn a … Is he a commander of something?”
“Where’d you hear that?”
“He locked the Azura’s flight controls. It had his full name and title.”
“Ah.” She snatched the flask and sipped. “The Dynast’s Bielskan faction uses children in its soldier programs. On the losing side of a galactic conflict, they needed a hero. Taitn was their top pilot at twelve years old. The military accelerated his physical and mental abilities so he could pilot them to victory.”
“He had no choice?”
“They were his family. The wrong Bielska did was to throw him out when they were done with him. Heroes aren’t useful in peacetime. They ignored and forgot about him, leaving him to cope with the aftermath of his rapid over-acceleration alone. He sees himself in you, I’m sure. So … you need to show him you’re not going anywhere, and that you’ll listen.”
Caiden inhaled the liquor’s fragrance, took a final sip, and offered the flask to En.
She shook her head. “Keep it and give it to Taitn. He’s got injuries too.” En nodded to the lift. “You can guess where he’s retreated to. Much like Panca, there’s only one place he feels at home.”
Caiden smiled. “A ship.”
He headed back down the lift and boarded the Second Wind. The interior was tri-level and spacious. Caiden walked through a big cargo hold into a branching hallway, onward to the bridge. There was no illumination except the console and holosplays. Taitn sat in the central pilot’s chair. Delicate music flowed.
“The Wind is amazing.” Caiden’s voice rang conspicuously in the emptiness.
“She’s no warship. But she’ll handle whatever we throw at her.” When Caiden drew closer, Taitn peered over and appraised him for a long moment.
Caiden scratched a hand through his hair and over the nape of his neck— brandless now.
“En’s training paid off. You look good.”
“And your training. You were right, the simulations were what I needed. I did hundreds while you were gone. I should have listened to you. And apologized faster.”
Taitn folded his arms on the console and stared, eyes growing distant.
Caiden wrung his knuckles and looked around. All damned, what do I say if apology doesn’t work?
Doleful string music floated from the console.
Caiden asked, “Do you regret it?”
Taitn looked over, frowning. “If things hadn’t happened as they did, I wouldn’t have met Laythan or the rest of these fools. I would have ended up back in another war, somewhere, probably.”
“I never would have met any of you either, if …” If he had died. If Threi had found him
on RM28. If his shipment had never been mixed up with the slaves’ to begin with.
Caiden dug out En’s flask and set it on the edge of the console. “En means to apologize too. She just doesn’t know how to say it.”
Taitn took the flask and scratched a thoughtful fingernail over its floral print.
Caiden leaned over the navigation unit, observing its parameters and components, a flight system entirely different from the Azura.
Taitn unfolded a holosplay of flight specs in the air. Caiden scrolled with a finger, assessing the ship’s strengths and weaknesses in comparison.
Taitn hesitated. “You tried to tell me about seeing Threi, about the danger, and I didn’t listen.”
“That’s not your fault.”
“It is, though.”
He drank from the flask. Caiden scrolled through engine specs.
The music sparkled and crooned.
“Let’s both do better,” Taitn said. “You’re safer when you’re allowed to stretch. I see that now … No more simulations. The code is 1238, Winn.”
Heat crawled into Caiden’s cheeks. The writing on the Azura’s floor, WI90NN-1238. Did Taitn know his name was a lie?
Taitn handed over the flask, and Caiden took a sip of fire-sweet. His smile grew and the flush crept up his neck.
Then his lifted spirits swiftly died and a sinking feeling crushed his ribs.
The codes had been fairly easy to obtain. He’d wedged his Graven will into a gap, and pressured the whole matter his way— was that how it worked?
Threi’s words seeped in again, poisoning every interaction: It’s harrowing, to suddenly know your very reality is false, compelled.
Caiden grew quiet while some of the crew filed in to prepare a final meal before they all departed in the morning.
Ksiñe set up a floor table and filled it with a spread of food. A large case folded out into a sort of miniature kitchen lab, and the gastronomer went about what could only rightly be described as art. Ksiñe elegantly sliced colorful food and lit things on fire. His whipkin dashed between him and the ingredients and tools, fetching and returning items. The aromas recovered Caiden’s shriveled appetite and dark mood.
A meal, then a rest, then he would pilot the Azura, with Laythan watching over him, and they would all get safely out of Unity. Then Caiden would seek out a way to the Harvest.
He breathed more delicious scents. The path ahead was simple. He would worry about Graven things later.
Panca entered the bridge. Laythan stood and swept over, not slowing his stride or missing a beat until he crashed her into a huge embrace. Everyone stopped to look. Panca’s eyes widened, the bright limbal rings flicking in confusion.
“Apologies, Panca,” Laythan rumbled, still grasping her tight. “All these years. You’d think my eyes were healed, by the look of them, but I’m still a blind fool.”
She softened and slipped her arms around him. “You’ve still cared. You don’t need to show it.”
“You deserve to be shown. That’s where I failed.” He led her over to the group under a fatherly wing.
Near the door, Taitn and En locked words. Caiden spied out the corner of his eye while chewing a small brick of fatty treak. Taitn handed En her flask back with a few short shy or grudging words. A spill of black hair covered En’s expression as she extended a hand, which Taitn clasped. They spoke— not much— and Taitn yanked her by the arm into an embrace— not long— a clap on the back before he turned and strode for the table. En stayed, hand hovering and eyes wide, then shook her head. A smile itched the corner of her mouth.
She jogged over and pulled up a pillow to sit on, then poured herself and Caiden two mugs of a hot drink. She clinked hers against his.
He sipped. It had a dark, bloody citrus underscored by the old fragrance of oak. Hisk, dash of mulled redmar.
Ksiñe set down a sizzling platter. Curling black pods on top inflated an inner boll of fuzz. He popped one in his mouth and instructed, “Eat it whole.”
Caiden tried one. The fuzz crisped on his tongue, crackling down to a melty nectar. Ksiñe tapped the side of the mug. Caiden drank. The sweetness transformed into a rush of bitter, brawny spice. He grinned.
As the crew got settled around the table, the whipkin chose Caiden’s lap to snuggle in, of everyone’s, and he puffed with pride.
Ksiñe lit flames and stirred mixtures, as if tending to a living thing. Grayish spots bubbled happily between his eyes. His scarlet pupils were less wild animal and more moonlike, tamed by joy in his art. “You are still too lean,” he muttered, handing Caiden a tiny cloud of vapor surrounding a gleaming green kernel. “Also need zinc.”
Caiden watched Panca slurp one gracefully, then copied her. He coughed, a fiery burst cooling into a creamy, eggy flavor. He couldn’t help his moan.
En giggled. “Cute.” She crunched a strip of crispy meat.
The crew’s mood equalized into a content silence. Caiden took up a somber tone. “Hey … when Threi came for the ship, he told me he’s a Dynast … something. As well as a Casthen Enforcer. Conspiring with Cartographers. He wants to destroy Çydanza.”
Laythan snorted. “Don’t get mixed up with someone who’s playing three sides. He’s playing his own. The Cartographers will keep the Dynast away from the Azura until we leave tomorrow, but it might—”
“They were forced,” Caiden interrupted. He had to share everything if he was going to untangle any of it. “Threi is Graven— I don’t know how or how much … less than Abriss. He coerced the Cartographers to keep the ship secure. He hasn’t taken it outright because he needs me to join him first.”
Laythan hissed through his teeth. “All the more reason to leave. What makes you believe he wouldn’t take the ship to bait you to him?”
Caiden swore. “Hadn’t thought of that. He seemed like … he really needs me to agree.” The nightmares. How could they possibly be useful to him?
“Even better reason to leave,” En said, “if he prefers mind games over force.”
Taitn frowned. “Once we’re out of Unity, where’s a safe planet to stash the ship on while things cool down? Somewhere Winn can also get a handle on flying, and growing more?”
Everyone fell silent, considering this. Caiden scritched the whipkin’s belly while she clasped his hand in long-fingered paws.
Ksiñe shrugged, face darkening. En folded her arms. “Laythan—”
“No.”
She scoffed. “We all know about your private, uncharted planet. And we all know you’ll never retire. It’s the only charting you’ve never turned over to the Cartographers, yeah? The ship will be secure there if literally no one but you knows it exists.”
“No.”
“You have a better place in mind?”
Laythan grumbled and pulled up a database holosplay to comb over a map. “I’ll find something else.”
The subject dropped and the crew returned to light conversation and a sweet course Ksiñe prepared. Caiden lifted out of his brooding, and like a little ember nestling into tinder, he relaxed into the warm glow of the moment. With family.
Forced family.
The crew wasn’t unhappy with him. That counted for something. He wasn’t Threi, bullying his way through life with the whip of his Graven will.
In a pocket, he twirled the glass chicory flower between his fingers.
“Hey.” En fixed him with a side-eye. “What’s on your mind?”
“Hm? Nothing.”
“Something. I swindle and flirt for a living, you think I can’t read a face?”
“Create who you feel good being, you said. I want to be the difference I never had, someone who can champion for those unable to fight for themselves.”
En threw her arms around him, crumpling him against her chest. “Aww, kid, your heart is huge. We aren’t telling you to squash that, we’re trying to make you see that you already did your part for justice. You paid back with your memory jog. And there are plenty of small good deeds to do in the mu
ltiverse, you don’t need to topple an empire to make a difference.”
Caiden clawed his fingers through his hair to slick back the waves En had mussed. “Without that empire toppled, the multiverse’s perspective won’t shift. The normalization that keeps generating exploitation and damage won’t change. I need to take action before the multiverse’s corruption becomes normalized in my heart too.”
“All right, we hear you,” En said. “But we still need to get out of Unity first. Take this one break to not worry.” She fished in her pockets and pulled out a stack of glass rectangles. “Game?”
“I don’t know how to play.”
“Watch a round first. Taitn!” She wagged the pieces.
The pilot looked up from his flask, flushed and scowling. “Play Layth or Pan.”
“Come on.”
Taitn’s eye contact faltered. His fingers screwed together as he feigned interest in the flask’s broken lacquer. “Then change … Please.”
En’s pretty smile widened.
“I won’t play you like that.”
En waited, but Taitn didn’t look up. She sighed. “All right, gallant.” En ran a hand over her face and up through her hair, arcing into straighter posture as his body expanded and sculpted. Shorter hair, lighter skin, and a shadow along his chin. En’s smile stayed the same, and while Taitn’s scowl didn’t cool, the tension visibly eased from his shoulders.
“Why does it matter?” Caiden muttered.
“You’d understand,” Taitn said quietly, reaching for his share of the disks. “Seeing a memory over and over scrapes the injury so raw it can never heal.”
CHAPTER 27
RED AS HATE
Caiden crept from the Second Wind once everyone fell asleep, and backtracked through Emporia. Sated and smiling, having won six games through “beginner’s luck,” En claimed, he walked with easy steps, happier than he’d been since before the day the sky opened.
At twenty, having mended the knots and frayed ends his mistakes made, he fit into the crew like a missing piece that snapped them all into place with one another. He had the flight codes for the Azura, he would whisk her out of the Casthen’s reach, and his memory jog would continue to make waves. Packs of Dynast sentinels already prowled Emporia, preparing to enforce the order that the Casthen vacate Unity.