by StarAndrea
“Good,” Kris said, even as Saryn looked up. “Would you make sure he’s okay? His AI says the enhancers read fine, but we try to document some kind of non-mechanical check when someone crashes.”
“Does that happen often?” Jenna asked, not as though she expected an answer.
“More often than we’d like,” Kris replied. “Timmin, can you talk to Marsda?”
“On it,” Timmin said without looking up.
Kris pointed at Saryn before she stepped into the holographic matrix. “Don’t say anything,” she reminded him.
He glanced at Timmin, who didn’t appear to be speaking to anyone yet, and took the chance. “You’re trained in fighter first aid?” he whispered to Jenna.
She smiled at him even as Kris called, “What did I just say?”
Yes, Jenna mouthed, which in no way answered the question he wanted to ask.
She held out her hand, palm up, and he recognized the gesture from the evening before. He put his hand over hers and for a moment he felt nothing. She was just standing there, reassuring him, centering them both in the middle of an operation they didn’t understand. Timmin was talking now, and Kris was following the raiders’ recorded retreat.
The whisper of ventilation was soft through the flickers of holographic light and her hand was hot under his. He closed his eyes instinctively, remembering the flood of sensory information that had come with enhancer injection, but it didn’t overwhelm him. It was just… there.
He could feel Lyris doggedly dragging his attention away.
Jenna tapped her finger against the inside of his wrist, and he nodded without thinking about it. He was fine. She wanted him to take off his flight suit. Not so she could see him, but so that he could go through the mechanical process of using every part of his body. It would briefly test balance and coordination at the same time, both basic indicators of head trauma.
Saryn opened his eyes in surprise. Jenna’s expression mirrored his, but she smiled when he thought, That’s exceptionally useful.
He didn’t hear her voice in his head the way he imagined he could hear Lyris’, but she was clearly reacting to the sentiment. As carefully as he could, he thought, Do you know what I’m thinking?
She nodded, but it was Lyris he heard reply, Of course she doesn’t know what you’re thinking. You’re broadcasting everything you feel and she’s picking up your curiosity. She’d have to be blind not to.
Saryn turned his head, staring at someone who wasn’t there.
What. If it was possible for a voice in his head to snap, Lyris sounded very cross at that moment. I can’t not pay attention to you.
Jenna tapped his wrist again, and when he looked back at her she was frowning. Studying his expression, she pointed at her temple with her free hand. When she held up three fingers with a questioning look, he raised his eyebrows. Was it really that obvious?
If it’s any comfort, Lyris said, you’re probably distracting me more than I’m distracting you.
It was no comfort at all. He nodded at Jenna, and she made an “endless talking” gesture with her hand. He started to smile. That, unlike Lyris’ constant commentary, was oddly reassuring.
Oh, please, Lyris thought. Just because she feels sorry for you, that makes her more fun to be around than me?
You’re not here, Saryn thought, as deliberately as he could. Kindly stop participating in the conversation.
I’m not going to stop thinking, Lyris retorted. Why don’t you stop listening?
Jenna’s free hand covered his, and just like that, she had his full attention again. She caught his eye and silently asked permission. He must have given it, because she lifted her hand to press her palm against his cheek. It was remarkably distracting.
She didn’t move any closer, but she hesitated with the sense that she was about to do something he wouldn’t like. He couldn’t think what it would be. At that moment, any physical distraction was welcome.
Jenna moved her hand from his cheek to his forehead, and the world narrowed to her concern and warmth and safety. The safety she provided him by overwhelming every other thought. He didn’t realize he’d closed his eyes again until he felt her apology but couldn’t see her expression.
He didn’t know what she had to be sorry for. It was the best thing he’d felt since Kris’ call had woken them up. She must have some sort of… focusing ability? Empathic tendency to reassure? Elisia was a planet of anomalies; he had no way of guessing what she might be able to do after only knowing her a single day.
“Really?” he heard Kris say, but it sounded far away. Unimportant. “This is the person who says he’s not empathic?”
“Everyone’s empathic,” Timmin replied. “It’s comforting.”
“If it’s just comforting, then why do I feel calmer?” Kris wanted to know.
“Because you like to make everyone else’s problems your own,” Timmin said. “Did you hear what Marsda said about the Council—“
“The Council wants to lead with the Ranger response, yes,” Kris said. “We’re part of the EPD; it’s literally Marsda’s job to assign someone to hold their hand. Why do I have to talk to them?”
“Because Marsda assigned you,” Timmin told her.
“I wish that didn’t make so much sense,” Kris muttered.
“With whom on the Council will you meet,” Saryn said without opening his eyes. He would have preferred to stand there with Jenna all night—or ideally to leave with Jenna, immediately, but failing that he would take her steady and grounding proximity.
“With whoever’s awake,” Kris told him. “Just out of curiosity, how did you ever dodge the empath label when you literally stress me out just by worrying? Silently? To yourself, as you should?”
When Saryn let his eyes open, he was staring into Jenna’s. She still had her hand on his forehead, though she let It fall the moment he wondered about Kris. “It seems unlikely that you are easily stressed,” Saryn said instead. “If you tell me whom you expect to meet with, I can provide suggestions for advancing your agenda.”
“Of course you can,” Kris said. “Because that’s what you do.”
Saryn didn’t bother to argue. “Among other things,” he said. “Let me help you.”
“Stop fighting with Lyris,” Kris countered. “He’s trying to help you, too.”
“He is angry with me for reasons I don’t understand,” Saryn said. “They have no bearing on this conversation, whereas my information about Council motivation does.”
“Can we argue about Lyris later?” Jenna added. “He’s not even here.”
“I’m not arguing about Lyris,” Kris said. “I’m arguing about Saryn.”
“I’m fine with doing that later, too,” Jenna said.
“I can vouch for that,” Saryn added. “She’s ready to argue with or about me without any provocation.”
“My provocation is that you interrupted the supply lines,” Jenna said. “In case you’d forgotten. That’s grounds for ongoing harassment. It’s really the least I can do in the name of New Hope.”
She hadn’t dropped her other hand, so they were still palm to palm when he asked, “Are you going to hold that over me forever?”
“Yes,” she said. She wasn’t joking.
“All right,” he said. “Tell me what I did to the supply lines, and I’ll fix it. Perhaps not at this exact moment, because Kris is probably about to infuriate at least three Council members by pretending the latest raid was less serious than it seemed. Breakfast?”
“Breakfast?” Jenna repeated, and she felt as confused as she looked. “Is that an invitation?”
“Yes,” he said. “It’s a suggestion of the time at which you can explain what I’ve done wrong, that I might then correct it.”
“You can’t fix the supply lines,” Jenna said. “If it were that easy, we’d have done it ourselves.”
“You hold me responsible for breaking them,” Saryn said. “Do you not credit me with the influence to reverse a mistake?”
“You broke your RAV,” Jenna retorted. “That doesn’t mean you can fix it.”
She sounded confrontational, but he sensed only curiosity from her. She’d told Kris it was just the way she talked. That had never been easier to believe than when he was holding her hand with enhancers magnifying every aspect of her reaction.
“I concede the point,” he agreed. “I would counter, however, that it’s more likely I knew what I was doing when I broke your supply lines than when I broke my RAV.”
“That I believe,” Jenna said. The pressure against his palm lightened, as though she were about to withdraw, but he slid his fingers between hers and she let their hands fall between them instead.
“Good,” Saryn said. “Breakfast, then, or another time more convenient for you. Kris, if you must try to reassure the Council rather than alarm them, and I still suggest alarming them, consider providing them with a practical course of action.”
“Our course of action is the same as it’s always been,” Kris told him. “Fight the bad guys; protect the planet.”
“Admirable,” Saryn said, “but not what I meant. I suggest providing the Council with an action they themselves can take. Preferably something achievable, with some actual value if they manage to accomplish it.”
Kris stared at him. “You want me to tell the Council what to do.”
Saryn raised his eyebrows at her. “In matters of planetary defense, you are the subject matter expert. Is that not your role?”
“The EPD answers to the Council,” Kris told him. “There’s no way you don’t know that.”
“When I visit a new planet in an official capacity,” Saryn said, “I frequently take someone with me who is experienced with the environment and politics of the place. That person answers to me, but I rely on them for guidance and instruction.”
“Does he do that all the time?” Kris asked Jenna. “That’s really annoying.”
“What, tell stories to make a point?” Jenna said. “Yes. And I know. I’ve only known him for a day and I’ve already complained about it twice.”
Saryn had no reason to defend a strategy that was working, so he stayed silent. Kris seemed more inclined to listen to arguments she didn’t immediately understand, and Jenna’s unspoken “but he’s right” attitude didn’t hurt. He was surprised when Timmin jumped in on his behalf.
“It’s a good point,” Timmin said. “What do we really want the Council to do, though? Other than stay out of our way?”
“You want them to support you,” Saryn said. “You want them to stay out of your way because they believe you can do your job, not because they don’t know what else to do. Ideally, you want them to convince others to do the same.”
“That doesn’t sound like a practical action plan to me,” Kris said. “Which part of that is something I can actually tell them to do?”
“Give them a message they can broadcast,” Saryn said. “That’s what they asked for, is it not? You said they want to lead with the Ranger response. Give them information they can share, preferably confirming what they already know, and a task that’s useful but not vital.”
“Like?” Kris demanded.
“What would be useful to you?” Saryn countered. “Additional in-system monitoring? Having civilians log flight plans further in advance? More informative alert levels?”
“None of those things are necessary,” Kris said.
“If they were necessary,” Saryn said, “presumably the EPD would require them. The intent is not to enforce new rules; it’s to give people something to do so they don’t feel helpless in the face of an unknown threat.”
Kris and Timmin exchanged glances, and Timmin shrugged. “EGR needs volunteers,” he said. “Civilian coordinators in the event of local evacuation.”
“That sounds like an ideal suggestion,” Saryn said. “Do they need prior training?”
Timmin shook his head no. “Just group training and employer dispensation during emergencies.”
“Then that makes it an excellent answer to the question, what can we do,” Saryn said. “Which is what everyone in the world is currently asking each other. Tell the Council that Elisia faces a growing threat, that the EPD is responding accordingly, and that in the meantime, civilian volunteer assistance is welcome.”
“I don’t like the growing threat part,” Kris said. “That makes it sound like the situation is out of control. Marsda isn’t going to appreciate that.”
“The situation is undeniably escalating,” Saryn said. “All you do by denying it is to sacrifice credibility when you need it most. If Marsda supports a different message,” he added, “perhaps she should be providing the response herself.”
Kris didn’t smile, but he knew she wanted to. “You know just what to say, don’t you,” she said.
“To the Council?” he replied. “Yes. To you? That remains to be seen.”
“I would have said exactly the opposite,” Kris told him. “Which I hope means you’re right about both of us.”
She looked at Jenna then. “I don’t suppose you want to offer any medical insight before I take this man’s advice over that of the EPD World Director and Wing Commander.”
“Sure, of course,” Jenna agreed. “I’m happy to go on record that, cognitively, he seems as manipulative as ever. Physically, he’s still unable to follow basic instructions. So no change that I can see.”
Kris valued plain statements over deference, so Saryn didn’t expect the analysis to affect her decision. He did tell Jenna, “If I may take my hand back, I could comply with at least one of your directives.”
“Really?” she said. She didn’t pull away, and the smile she gave him was knowing. “You’ll take responsibility for disrupting the supply lines, but not for avoiding medical attention?”
He was careful not to squeeze her fingers or loosen his own. “I sense there is no right answer to that question, so I prefer to abstain.”
“Conference request,” Timmin said, tossing something into the holographic display that showed the Council seal and three faces. Only one of them was in motion.
“They’re calling us?” Kris asked. “Can they do that? Marsda told me to meet with them, not take their live call.”
“I don’t think it’s actually the Councilors sending the request,” Timmin said.
“It’s Rissin,” Saryn said, watching the faces. “Calling on behalf of Councilors Jayden and Oreyla. It’s the middle of their day now and they likely followed the incursion from first alert to the current patrol. If you wish to keep your interaction brief, I suggest accepting Rissin’s link, delivering your message, and disconnecting before anyone else can join.”
“I don’t want to interact with them at all,” Kris said. “Especially not when they’re interrupting me with a live link here on the base. How did they even get clearance for that?”
“The system alert is still in effect,” Timmin said. “They have emergency clearance until it’s lifted.”
“They don’t expect you to answer,” Saryn said. “By responding to Rissin, you can follow Marsda’s instructions in an unexpectedly expedient manner. You may be able to avoid dealing directly with Councilors at all.”
Kris pointed at him. “This is the kind of advice I like,” she said. “Who’s Rissin again? Can I pretend I think they're a councilor because I'm in a hurry?”
“Yes,” Saryn said. “Though it might be more convincing to simply ask her to pass a message. Presumably you do know some of the Council members by sight.”
“Maybe,” Kris said, “but I don’t care. Stay off the camera, please.”
Saryn raised his eyebrows, looking at Jenna when Kris ignored him to accept the conference request with a live link. He mouthed, please? Jenna shrugged. It was the first sign of anything approaching courtesy from Kris.
She did manage to be civil to Rissin, who looked as surprised to receive a live response as Saryn would have been. Kris failed to make it look like anything other than a conversation she wante
d over as soon as possible, but she did cover the key points. She also ended the link before anyone else could join.
“You will be hearing from Oreyla,” Saryn said, as soon as she disconnected.
“Well, I won’t be here,” Kris said. “Too bad for her.”
“Why?” Timmin asked. “Kris couldn’t have been more clear. She got in raid escalation, Ranger recruitment, and civilian volunteer opportunities.”
“It was nothing Kris said,” Saryn replied. “Rissin forgot to ask whether or not you’d be available for further comment later.”
“I won’t be,” Kris said.
“It’s standard practice when taking a message for someone else, and Oreyla will ask. She will use the oversight as a reason to reach out again, even if the system alert is rescinded.”
“And they’re back,” Timmin said, putting a second conference request in the holographic display. This time two of the faces were moving.
“I don’t have time for this,” Kris grumbled.
“I do,” Saryn offered.
“Well, they don’t want to talk to you,” Kris snapped.
Apparently her irritation made Timmin smile, because he said, “No offense, Kris, but he’s exactly who they want to talk to. They know him.”
“They know me,” she countered.
“He knows them,” Timmin said, and Kris shrugged. She didn’t argue that, and Saryn wondered if she would recognize the Councilors on sight after all.
“He doesn’t have authority to speak for the Rangers,” she said instead.
“You could give it to him,” Timmin replied.
“And have him quit tomorrow?” Kris retorted. “No thank you.”
“He’s not going to quit,” Timmin said. “You’re going to fire him.”
“So?” Kris said. “Same result.”
“So,” Timmin said. “Don’t fire him. You hate talking to the Council; he does it every day. Probably,” Timmin added, looking over at him. “I don’t actually know what you do, but you obviously know them.”
“I do,” Saryn agreed.
“He makes Lyris crazy,” Kris said. “It doesn’t matter that he makes my life easier if Lyris walks away.”