Saryn of Elisia

by StarAndrea

  He would leave the RAV, and he would meet the team, and soon he would know just how much of his life had changed forever.

  Lyris was leaning against the hull of his RAV on the other side of the airlock.

  “You’re very thoughtful,” he said, when Saryn stepped through and swept the launch bay with his eyes. “I didn’t expect that.”

  Jenna, predictably, was halfway across the bay with her flight suit already off, talking animatedly with a woman who had to be Kris: the voice of RAV 1. Saryn studied her over the distance between them, but he said to Lyris, “You seem to expect a great deal from me. How much time did you devote to your recruiting effort before I became aware of it?”

  He could hear the grin in Lyris’ voice when he replied, “Oh, much more than you want to know. I’m still surprised that you’re not nicer in person.”

  That made Saryn turn to him, and he thought it made Lyris laugh. It didn’t, clearly, the man was silent and he hadn’t straightened from his lean against the RAV. But the feeling was there nonetheless.

  “Not that you aren’t nice,” Lyris added. “It’s just, people say that about you, right? That you’re so nice. You’re not; you’re more aloof than I am and you’re almost as sarcastic as Kris. But somehow you’ve learned to give off this impression of caring that people respond to and remember.”

  “I do actually care about things,” Saryn pointed out. “Not as much as I should, I’m told, but that’s a common reaction to diplomatic envoys.”

  “Are we interrupting?” Kris wanted to know as she joined them, trailing Jenna like the new recruit she was. “I hope so, because for the record?” She was only looking at Lyris when she said, “This was not what I had in mind when I said, if you can convince a government representative to live our lives then I’ll consider letting them make the rules.”

  “That’s too bad,” Lyris said without moving. “Because if it was, I wouldn’t have to get you anything for your birthday, am I right?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said, frowning at Saryn now. “Because it wasn’t. Also, in retrospect, I’m not sure a foreign diplomat counts as a government representative.”

  “I’m not a foreigner,” Saryn said. “I’m native to this place.”

  “Are you?” Kris said. “Were you born here? Do have Elisian family? I’m not sure what definition of native you’re using.”

  “He’s more Elisian than he sounds,” Lyris said, standing straight now and facing Kris, as Saryn was. Saryn could easily take support like that for granted and he didn’t know why: he didn’t rely on anything in his career, and he still didn’t know Lyris from a name on the newsnet.

  Yet he listened without surprise as Kris countered, “Oh, is that a professional accent? Do I care?”

  And Lyris didn’t answer, because Saryn said he wasn’t an empath and Lyris wasn’t going to out him. There wasn’t anything to give away, but it was kind of Lyris to stand on principle. Saryn supposed he should ask Lyris about his causes after all.

  Instead it was Jenna who did it, looking back and forth between them like she didn’t know why they weren’t talking. “Lyris says he’s an empath,” she said. “That makes him one of us, right? And believe me, I don’t say that lightly, because we were on opposite sides in the last colony realignment.”

  “For independence, or against?” Kris asked, looking at her with the most interest she’d shown in anything since Saryn had begun observing.

  “I’m against,” Jenna said. “He’s for.”

  “Good to know,” Kris said.

  She was against it, Saryn thought with some surprise. It was right there in her expression. Yet the Rangers publicly advocated for a sovereign government.

  “This is just what we need,” Kris was saying, and he didn’t at first realize she was staring back at him. “Another empath in the flight room and on the ship.”

  “Hey,” Lyris protested. “I’m invaluable!”

  “You’re insufferable,” Kris said, though her tone was oddly fond and Lyris didn’t take offense. She held Saryn’s gaze as she added, “Did you pick him because you got tired of not being able to whisper about us behind our backs?”

  “Of course not,” Lyris said. “I whisper behind your backs plenty; I don’t need another empath for that.”

  When Saryn opened his mouth, Lyris added quickly, “And he doesn’t identify as an empath, so it doesn’t matter anyway.”

  “He doesn’t identify?” Kris repeated. “What does that mean?” She was glaring at him now, and Saryn raised his eyebrows back at her. “Are you an empath, or aren’t you?”

  “I’m not,” Saryn replied. He didn’t look at Lyris.

  “Apparently Lyris says you are,” Kris said. “Which I wish I wasn’t hearing about for the first time right now. Can we please talk about your plans for psychic world domination before you drag all of us into them?”

  “My plans are brilliant,” Lyris said, which was how Saryn knew she wasn’t speaking to him anymore. “And at least partially executed on my own time. I interviewed him on my lunch break.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” Kris wanted to know. “It’s not like you go off duty. Also, I don’t care, because we’re all responsible for the world so obviously we’re all part of your plans.”

  Saryn made the mistake of catching Jenna’s eye, which she took as an invitation to a second conversation. “I don’t get the empathy thing,” she told him. “Is he wrong?”

  “Yes,” Saryn replied. He still didn’t look at Lyris, who had let Kris have the last word in order to hear his answer. “But I appreciate his concern for my privacy.”

  “You mean your reputation,” Kris said. “Empaths aren’t allowed in politics.”

  “You’re not even the first person to say that to me today,” Saryn said. He was mildly exasperated that they kept telling him something he couldn’t help but know. What relevance it had to his situation was a mystery.

  “Oh, are you representing?” Kris looked grudgingly impressed by this, which was unfortunate because he knew what she meant and no, he was not. “I guess that’s a thing the Rangers can get behind. Is that why you agreed to join us?”

  She looked at Lyris before he could answer and added, “Is that what you bribed him with? Military support in exchange for political assistance?”

  He was aware of Lyris’ amusement even as the man said, “No. Although it might have sounded something like that.”

  “I remember it sounding exactly like that,” Saryn said.

  “That’s because you were pretending to hear what I said instead of knowing what I meant,” Lyris replied. It made little sense, and Saryn didn’t try to understand.

  “I’m not an empath,” he said. “Thank you for your concern, where it’s been demonstrated, and thank you for the implied offer of support. I assure you it’s unnecessary. Is there more we need to do here?”

  “Yes,” Kris said. “There always is. Did you miss anything important on your tour?” she asked, and the way she waited for Lyris’ attention made it clear to Saryn that he was not welcome to answer.

  “Yeah, everything,” Lyris said. “They arrived the same time the raiders did. We said hello and I left, so. Any kind of introduction would be more helpful than what they got.”

  “An introduction to everything,” Kris repeated. Jenna seemed undeterred by her expression and didn't wait for Kris to decide what everything might look like when summarized.

  “Oh,” she said pointedly. “Were we supposed to get more than, if you can fly them without crashing them they're yours, good luck?”

  “They're not yours,” Kris said sharply. “All of this equipment belongs to the EPD, to be used in defense of our people or not at all.”

  Saryn continued to not look at Lyris, but this time it was because he felt certain Lyris disagreed. Kris was strong and quick and opinionated, and Saryn suspected that the opinion she expressed might vary depending on her audience. That wasn’t unusual, of course, but if s
he was putting on a show for him and Jenna then it was to everyone’s disadvantage.

  “Let her be,” Lyris said, very quietly.

  Saryn didn’t move.

  You didn’t speak, he thought.

  He could tell Lyris was smiling without having to see him. The color in his peripheral vision was a figure whose face he wasn’t looking at, with a voice he wasn’t hearing, but he knew it was smiling. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling.

  Lyris was enjoying his presence, he realized suddenly. Kris was right. The empath liked having someone around who was aware of what he sensed and how.

  I’m not an empath, Saryn thought.

  Too bad, Lyris said, and it had never been so clear that his voice didn’t make a sound in the cavernous launch bay. There were other voices, noise that Saryn paid no attention to, but Lyris’ words were directionless and echoed only inside his head. If you were, you might be able to hear me when I think at you like this.

  “I feel like you think I’m challenging you,” Jenna was saying. It was easy to focus on her when he tried, her voice drowning out any other thought, and his study of Kris’ reaction was a reassuring distraction. “I’m not. This is just how I sound when I talk.”

  “That’s how Kris talks too,” Lyris offered, his voice normal and real and coming from the direction of Saryn’s RAV. “All the time. Except she’s definitely challenging everyone, also all the time, so there’s the difference.”

  “I don’t challenge everyone,” Kris countered, and although she was apparently confirming his statement with her disagreement, she didn’t sound as angry about it as Saryn had expected. “Only people I disagree with.”

  “Which is everyone,” Lyris said.

  “Which is everyone who’s wrong,” Kris said. “It’s a slightly smaller subset of the population than you’ve suggested, but not by much.”

  “That’s a common approach to diplomacy as well,” Saryn offered, since she seemed more open to participation than her argument with Jenna might have indicated. “There’s an established precedent for effective leadership based on the assumption that everyone is wrong.”

  “I thought in diplomacy everyone is right,” Lyris said.

  “That is equally true,” Saryn agreed. “A person can only be right or wrong by contrast, so if everyone is falls into a single category, there’s no way to determine which it is.”

  “So you’re saying the only way I know you’re wrong is because I’m right,” Jenna said.

  That made him smile, and her triumphant expression looked more pleased than smug. “That is a valid application of the principle,” Saryn said. “Yes. I disagree with the polarity you’ve chosen, but the concept is sound.”

  “I actually sort of like you,” Kris said, “which is why I have to ask this now. Lyris?”

  Lyris sighed, but he said, “Yeah.”

  “Is Saryn an empath,” Kris said. It was impossible to know which of them she was talking to when she added, “I’m sorry to put you on the spot.” Saryn assumed, then, that she didn’t know either and had intentionally made her address vague.

  “By my definition of the word,” Lyris said. “Yes.”

  His judgment could hurt Saryn’s credibility, but it was unlikely to stand under scrutiny. Saryn had no demonstrated empathic ability, and despite his Elisian citizenship his heritage was Eltaran. Empaths were rare on Eltare.

  “Is he lying to us when he says he isn’t,” Kris said, and her voice was flat. More than deliberately neutral, the words were guarded, and Saryn understood that this was her real concern. Not his identity, but his deception.

  Lyris didn’t hesitate. “No.”

  If Saryn were less practiced in concealing his reactions, he would have turned to stare at Lyris then. If he had told them something that wasn’t true, they should believe it to be a lie. He himself was well-acquainted with multiple versions of the truth, the bias of experience and the perceptive skewing of facts. Objectivity was an ideal to be aspired to, not a practical reality.

  He didn’t find that this belief was widely held outside of the circles where he worked.

  “Good enough for me,” Kris was saying. “Just to be clear, you’re fine with her too? She’s not going to turn on us for something I haven’t thought of yet?”

  “Sorry,” Lyris said, but he sounded amused. “Still don’t see the future. But she seems very sincere to me, and I’d like to point out that she has a useful habit of volunteering information.”

  “Useful is in the eye of the beholder,” Kris said, but she smiled and when Saryn looked at Jenna he thought she wasn’t offended.

  “If we’re leveling with each other,” Jenna said, “I’d just like everyone to know that Lyris didn’t choose me. He’s politely not mentioning that, but I wasn’t invited on his tour. I just showed up.”

  “You were invited,” Lyris said firmly. “When you showed up, I let you stay. That counts as an invitation around here.”

  “Believe me,” Kris added, apparently unconcerned, “we have a lot of ways of removing people we don’t like.”

  “I’m not going to argue,” Jenna said, holding up her hands. “I just didn’t want anyone to be surprised later.”

  “Surprises are inevitable,” Kris said. “How we deal with them is not.”

  “Profound,” Lyris said.

  “You’re adorable,” Kris told him. “While we’re talking about it, your method of picking people needs work and your communication with me and Timmin is suffering again.”

  “Funny,” Lyris said. “I think your communication with me is suffering. I knew all along who I was going to pick; you just didn’t ask.”

  “We’ve talked about this,” Kris said. “Waiting for someone to ask for it is not an effective method of sharing information. You literally just pointed out Jenna’s ability to volunteer things; why are we even having this conversation?”

  “Because you asked?” Lyris suggested.

  “I did not ask,” Kris told him. “Did you already order them uniforms?”

  “I’m not that creepy,” Lyris said. “I don’t take anyone’s willingness to serve for granted. Also, I still think there are privacy issues with stealing someone’s physical specs.”

  Jenna held up her hand again. “We get uniforms?” she asked.

  Kris stared at her. “Have you seen us?”

  Jenna gave her the look right back. “Nice flight suit?” she replied.

  “Yeah, why do theirs fit?” Kris said, looking at Lyris again. “Those aren’t our spares.”

  “People other than Rangers wear flight suits,” Lyris said. “I asked Kel to make sure our guest options were representative.”

  “Oh, I bet Kel loved that,” Kris said. “‘I’m a battle droid, not a housekeeper!’”

  “Kel is a bot,” Lyris corrected. “And, if I may say, an excellent housekeeper.”

  This time, Saryn took advantage of Jenna’s willingness to look in his direction. “You know everything about the Rangers,” he said. “I find it implausible that you didn’t expect to receive a uniform.”

  “Yeah, those things aren’t connected,” she told him. “There’s a leap there you missed: I know Rangers wear uniforms. What I’m still having trouble with is the idea that I’m a Ranger.”

  “Saryn isn’t having trouble,” Kris said, turning a thoughtful look on him. “Already made up your mind when you showed up for the tour?”

  He knew what she meant immediately. “I’m accustomed to swift changes in status,” he said. “And no. I didn’t come here with any intention of accepting Lyris’ offer.”

  “Really,” Kris said. “What about now?”

  “Now I’ve accepted it,” Saryn replied.

  “Do you believe it?” Kris wanted to know.

  Saryn found that an unnecessarily personal question, and he returned her look with the same challenge Jenna had denied. “Why don’t you just ask Lyris?”

  “I’m sorry I asked my empath to invade your privacy by revealing somethin
g you didn’t mean to share,” Kris said, but it sounded like a rote response. It was clearly something she’d said before, and often enough that it came out without thought. “This is an exceptional circumstance, not standard procedure.”

  “From what I know of your day-to-day endeavors,” Saryn said, “exceptional circumstances are standard procedure for your team. And I’ve seen no evidence that Lyris respects the mental or emotional boundaries of those around him at any time.”

  “I get that this is a lot to deal with,” Kris said, and her words were short and clear all of a sudden and she was ready to back them up with consequences if necessary. “But we’re a team here, and we’re in this together. Lyris hasn’t done anything I didn’t ask him to do.”

  “Then my problem is as much with you as it is with him,” Saryn told her.

  “Hey,” Lyris said, and the word was soothing and kind even as he tried to stop them from talking. “Saryn’s right. I’m not just doing what you told me to, Kris. I’ve been in his head a lot today, and I understand why he’s angry.”

  “I’m not angry,” Saryn said. When he glanced at Lyris, though, that was exactly how he felt. “Do not change my emotions.”

  “Yeah, I can’t do that,” Lyris said, and he was lying. Saryn knew it just by looking at him. “I’m not changing anything. But maybe you feel differently around me; that makes sense. Especially if you’re…”

  His hesitation was unmistakable. Lyris didn’t know how to finish that sentence without referring to Saryn’s supposed empathy again, and Saryn was getting tired of hearing about it. “I’m not,” he said.

  “All right, look,” Lyris said, and he was clearly exasperated too but his voice was naturally calm. “Try this. You and I, we resonate, okay? You can obviously feel it, and you think it’s because I’m an empath. It isn’t. It’s a separate thing.”

  “What?” Kris said. “You’re kidding.”

  “I’m not,” Lyris said. “Although I probably wouldn’t have mentioned it right away if he wasn’t having some kind of identity crisis. Might as well get it all over with at once, right?”

  Saryn was relatively certain his day had gone wrong somewhere. He just wasn’t sure whether it was before or after he’d come to see Lyris at the Rangers’ base of operations. “My identity is not in question,” he said.