by StarAndrea
Saryn smiled. “Where do you get your water?”
“Your kitchen?” she replied.
“Do you have a kitchen?” he asked, the light following them as he led the way. Emmi politely lit the space they were approaching, and Saryn tipped sling supports out from the wall as they entered.
“Not my own,” Jenna said, testing the first sling she passed. She was already sitting, swinging her feet when he looked back. “I mean, I heat water and cool food, but we spend a lot of time in the field. No need for a lot of fancy stuff at home.”
More topics to avoid, he thought: her work, and their respective definitions of “fancy.” “Mirine would tell you that’s all I do no matter what facilities I have access to,” Saryn said instead.
“Mirine sounds like fun,” Jenna said.
“She has a similarly positive feeling about you,” Saryn told her. “Apparently she remembers me mentioning you when we first met, so she was excited to recognize your name on the news today.”
“I wasn’t,” Jenna said. “I think you had the right idea, sneaking out before they could put you in front of the entire planet.”
“You looked very polished,” he said without turning around. He had no desire to characterize his actions as “sneaking out,” yet she was correct: they could be perceived that way with little effort.
“They gave me a speech to read,” Jenna said. “Could you tell?”
“Not from your presentation,” Saryn said, pouring the second glass. “I only guessed based on what I learned of your background today.”
“What does that mean?” she wanted to know.
“You knew exactly what to say to sound like one of them,” Saryn said. “Although I have no trouble believing you could feign such an alliance, I am less inclined to believe you would, given your attitude toward the Rangers as a group when we first met.”
“All right,” Jenna said, accepting the drink he handed her. “I’ll take that as a compliment and move on. Thank you.”
“As it was intended,” he agreed, twisting the other sling around to sit facing her. “You must spend a significant amount of time on the surface.”
She looked up from her drink and frowned at him. “Why do you say that?”
He was careful not to smile. “It’s a soft introduction to my next question, which will be something about where you feel more comfortable, if you even have a preference, or what you notice most about being below ground. The subject seems a neutral one, considering how much we’ve agreed not to discuss, but I led with the statement in case I’m wrong and you wished to dismiss the topic or suggest another.”
Jenna studied him, and he waited. She was clearly defensive, but so was he, and they had nothing to gain from attacking each other. He enjoyed her company. She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t enjoy his. If they were to work closely with each other, they would need to know how they communicated.
“That’s very clear,” she said at last. “Do you always talk like this?”
This time he let himself smile. “Clearly?” he asked. “Or with an analysis of every word?”
“Either,” she said. “Or both. Do you talk the same way to your friends as you do to your…” She waved her hand before settling on, “Working audience?”
“Clarity is an understanding between both parties,” Saryn said. “Given that, any attempt I make to gauge my own is necessarily incomplete. The analysis is universal, though. I speak as carefully as I can, with the knowledge it will never be enough to prevent misunderstandings.”
“You speak this way to everyone,” Jenna said.
“Yes,” he agreed. “It’s a habit, and one that must be practiced to be maintained.”
“You can’t tell me you’re as careful talking to your sister as you are to the people you work with,” Jenna said.
He raised his eyebrows at her. “Who is more deserving of my care?” he asked. “My sister, or my coworkers?”
“Okay,” she said slowly. “That makes it sound like the way you talk is based on how you feel about other people instead of how you want them to feel about you.”
“I’m sure it’s a combination of the two,” he said. “I care more about the feelings of those closest to me, of course. But the way we speak is often the way we represent our own feelings to the world. I don’t ignore that.”
She didn’t answer for a long moment, and in light of Lyris’ accusation, he found himself reconsidering his words. Did he sound like an empath when he spoke? He’d never wondered before, and he’d rather not think about it now. Since he wasn’t an empath, it was hardly relevant.
Unless the Rangers decided to out him as one. Regardless of reality, he might find himself repeatedly explaining that he was not empathic in the coming days. Were that the case, he would need to review his own way of speaking from a new perspective.
“I prefer above ground,” Jenna said abruptly. “I told you I like excitement. The surface is dangerous and wild and I enjoy that. But I couldn’t do it without the colony below ground. I appreciate having somewhere safe to come back to at the end of the day.”
He nodded. “It must benefit you to function well in both environments,” he said.
“Sure,” she said. “We’re all adaptable. We wouldn’t be colonists otherwise.”
“Thank you,” he said, though he wasn’t sure it was appropriate. She had trusted him not turn her away. He thought he could trust her as far. “For including me as one of you.”
She gave him an odd look, and it made him smile because she clearly hadn’t thought about it. He was her political rival. That didn’t make him “other” in her mind. “You include you,” she said, and she sounded surprised. “That makes you one of us as far as I’m concerned.”
He inclined his head in lieu of thanking her again, but she didn’t let it go.
“You literally identify yourself as of Elisia,” she said. “Not the Border, not a province, not a family. Just this colony, as a whole. Do other people question that?”
“I know you saw me introduced to the Rangers,” he said. “Inexplicable insistence on empathy aside, their reaction was representative.”
She was frowning, and he thought he wasn’t being as careful as he claimed. He shouldn’t have mentioned empathy, and he certainly hadn’t meant to sound bitter. The Border was full of outsiders. It was the one thing they all had in common.
“Yes,” he added more simply. “Everyone questions my identity.”
“Well, I don’t,” Jenna said. “You’re whoever you say you are.”
He lifted his glass in her direction. “I will endeavor to return the favor.”
She smiled, raising her glass to tap the rim against his. “At least we’ll fight fair,” she said.
“I have no intention of fighting with you,” Saryn told her. It was the truth, as far as it went, and he expected her to call him on it as soon as the words were out.
Instead she said, “I’m not saying I agree with you--on anything--but it looks like we have bigger enemies than each other. I’m more than happy to fight with you, against them, if you decide to keep the enhancers.”
He wasn’t planning to return the enhancers. He didn’t know when he’d decided, but maybe it had never really been a choice. Maybe the choice had been made for him the moment he lifted off, or the moment he pressed that injector against his skin, or the moment he’d met Jenna outside Ranger Operations.
Maybe he’d made his choice the moment Lyris invited him to dinner.
“Yours is a persuasive argument,” he told her, and she smiled again.
“I’m willing to believe that,” she said. “Besides, I just had a really interesting thought. These enhancers turn everything up, right?”
He knew what she meant as soon as she said it. “Did they warn you about that?” he asked.
“Did they warn me that touching people is suddenly a lot more distracting?” she countered. “No, I figured that out on my own. Just shaking someone’s hand makes me feel like I know w
hat they’re thinking.”
Kel would probably be able to list the physical indicators they could assess with contact: body temperature, muscle tone, tension. All things everyone was aware of on some level, but the enhancers would likely increase the level of detail available. Perhaps even as far as detecting pulse, blood pressure, or respiration.
“I admit,” he said. “I haven’t had the opportunity to notice.”
“Because you were ducking publicity,” she said, holding out her hand to him. She didn’t take his, just offered her own, palm up. “Probably smart.”
He was curious, and the invitation was not unwelcome regardless. Saryn reached out and took her hand.
It was nothing like the first moments after enhancer injection, and yet that was exactly what it made him think of. She was calm, relaxed, literally cool and metaphorically warm. She trusted him more than he trusted her. She thought of him as the same as her: on the wrong side, but strong enough to see through it, which he found insulting and that amused her.
Saryn pulled his hand back in surprise. She blinked, curling her fingers as she lifted her hand to study it. “That’s strange,” she said. “Did you just think that I’m condescending?”
“I don’t appreciate your perception of my views as lesser,” he said, which was true, but he was aware that it wasn’t the question. “Did you find that humorous?”
“Yes,” she said, catching his eye as she let her hand fall. “You really haven’t touched anyone but me since you got those?”
“I don’t encourage tactile interaction,” he said. “You seem surprised by the result. Was this different from your contact with others?”
“I said I felt like I knew what they were thinking,” Jenna said. “I didn’t actually know. Not like this.”
He didn’t want to hear the word “empath” again, let alone say it, but he couldn’t help remembering Lyris’ voice in his head. He’d tried imagining it since, but nothing he imagined Lyris saying--or thinking--sounded the way it had then. Kris had said fighting turned the enhancers up. That must be all it was.
“Maybe it’s because we both have them,” Jenna said, offering her hand again. She didn’t hold it any closer than she had before, but he held very still to keep from pulling away. “The enhancers, I mean. I should have made Kris shake hands with me, just for comparison.”
If she was willing to blame the enhancers… but what else could it be?
He took her hand again, but he braced himself and she felt it. She was surprised, unconcerned, and he wondered why she would admit to discomfort around Lyris but not around him. Because they weren’t the same in her mind: Lyris revealed people’s secrets and Saryn did not. That was the only distinction she cared about.
“I think about you,” Saryn said aloud, “and I know the answer to whatever I might have asked.”
“We’re walking biosensors,” she said, but he knew she found it disconcerting too. She liked risk, excitement, things she hadn’t experienced yet and things that were unknown. She wouldn’t back away from this new danger unless he did.
“Do you suppose,” he said, “that it’s possible to overwhelm them?”
The smile she gave him was wide and knowing, and she moved to set her glass aside at the same time he did. “I’m guessing no,” she said. “We flew unfamiliar ships in a space battle today. There’s no way we’ll put more physical stress on the enhancers than that.”
He wasn’t sure he wanted anyone to know everything about him. But touching her made him feel like she already did, and it was all right, and he didn’t know a single person who could walk away from a feeling like that.
“I’m willing to test them if you are,” Saryn told her.
She was, and that didn’t surprise him in the slightest. It was possible that it surprised Mirine: he knew when she came home and so did Jenna, even in the dark behind a locked door at the opposite end of their residence. But Mirine didn’t knock, and when she went to bed Saryn closed his eyes again, Jenna’s breath and warmth and heartbeat lulling him back to sleep.
Part 3: Incursion
When her comm went off, chiming unmistakably in the quiet dark, she treated it more like an alarm to be ignored than a call she had to take. She did pick it up. Saryn didn’t pull it out of her hand but he thought about it, and he felt her huff in amusement.
It wasn’t morning. It wasn’t even the middle of the night yet, and he didn’t know how he could tell but he felt much less exhausted than he should.
“This is Jenna,” she was saying. Her voice was low but understandable, and he knew she’d identified herself to test it out. She was impressed she sounded so awake herself.
“That’s nice,” an all-too-familiar voice said. “This is Kris. Give your comm to Saryn, please.”
His eyes were open again, breathing steady, careful not to make any noise in case she decided to feign ignorance. It wasn’t the instinct to hide so much as it was the wish not to interfere. Or so he told himself.
“Uh-huh,” Jenna said, and this time she sounded intentionally less alert. She knew perfectly well he didn’t want to talk to Kris, even if neither of them knew why. “What makes you think I’m with Saryn?”
“Sorry,” Kris said, in a tone that didn’t sound sorry at all. “I’d pretend you have some privacy except Lyris just asked to be reassigned, and if you mess up my empath I will personally escort you both off this planet. Let me talk to Saryn.”
The mention of Lyris hurt somehow, like a betrayal or an odd blind spot, and suddenly Saryn wanted to talk to him more than anyone else in the world. He pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus on Mirine, but he couldn’t get past Jenna. She was fine, she was so calm, she wasn’t worried or angry or even surprised.
“He’s asleep,” she told her comm. “Hang on.”
She must have muted it, but she pushed it under the pillow anyway and got her elbow underneath her, staring down at him in the darkness. He didn’t have to see her to know, but he opened his eyes anyway. “I don’t know how Lyris knows anything,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.”
“I know,” she said. “I’m not sorry unless you are. You don’t have to talk to her, you know.”
“I already walked out on her once today,” he said with a sigh.
“I would ask if you want me to leave,” she said, “but that seems rude since you obviously don’t.”
“I don’t,” he agreed, reaching up to brush her hair back over her shoulder. He could feel her desire to stay and her willingness to listen, but there were things that had to be said. “Still, you came for comfort, and perhaps to experiment. You were very clear, and you owe me nothing.”
“I got what I came for,” she said, and he could hear her smiling. “But you said I could stay the night. I will unless you’ve changed your mind.”
He smiled back, and she was strangely soothing in the face of everything he didn’t know. “I have not. Stay or go, as you will. Know that you are welcome, either way.”
She still thought he was too practiced to be honest, but she felt fondly relaxed about it now instead of wary and annoyed. Like she believed it really was a habit… or was at least willing to accept his word. She was confident in their ability to sense truth through each other’s skin, and that seemed to make the difference.
Jenna traced her finger along his jaw before she handed over her comm, and he had to squint against the light of it. She stretched out on her back while he picked up Kris’ call, not watching, but not turning away either. He wondered what exactly Kris expected him to say.
“Saryn,” he told the comm, when he was sure the link was receptive.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Kris’ voice replied.
“Sleeping,” he said. “Until very recently. What are you doing?”
“Trying to build a team,” she said. “Lyris thinks you’re avoiding him.”
Saryn raised his eyebrows, tipping the device sideways so he didn’t have to stare a
t the light. “I thought I made it clear I was avoiding all of you.”
“Not all of us,” Kris retorted.
“Jenna sought me out,” Saryn said. “Her actions do not disprove my stated intent.”
“Fine,” Kris said. “What do we have to do to make you stop avoiding us?”
“Tell me when you require my presence,” Saryn said, “and I will attend.”
“I require your presence now,” Kris said.
Saryn considered that. He felt Jenna shift beside him, turning her head now to watch in the glow of the comm. “I doubt your sincerity,” he said at last. “I apologize that I misspoke. I should have said: convince me that you require my presence, and I will attend.”
“I have someone here who wants to talk to you,” Kris said. “Even though he keeps telling me he doesn’t, and he’s physically refusing my attempts to pass you off to him. If he weren’t obviously upset, this whole situation would be absurd.”
Saryn drew in a sharp breath and tried to deepen it, making it a symptom of calm rather than alarm. “I would speak with Lyris,” he said, as evenly as he could.
“Of course you would,” Kris said. “See?” she added. “Of course he would. Resonance isn’t one-sided. It’s right there in the definition of the word.”
“Alone,” Saryn said. He didn't expect to insist until he did, but Jenna hadn't moved and he was glad. “Lyris, do you wish to speak with me? I don’t assume Kris speaks for you, but I would meet you at a time and place of your choosing if it suits you.”
There was a brief pause, and then Kris said, “Yes you do. Look, I don’t like him either, but he flew with us. Barring psychic catastrophe, which I haven’t ruled out, he’s going to fly with us again. Unless he hurts you, in which case we’re done here.”
Lyris’ voice was very clear when he said, “I didn’t say I don’t like him. You did that to make me talk, didn’t you.”
“Someone had to,” Kris replied. “We can’t all read your mind. You should make him meet you tonight. Maximum inconvenience would make me happy.”