Saryn of Elisia

by StarAndrea

  “Lyris isn’t going to walk,” Timmin said. “You know that.”

  “Him being miserable isn’t any better,” Kris said. “At worst he makes the rest of us miserable and we all quit together.”

  “Okay,” Timmin said. “So don’t spend your final hours arguing with the Council, how’s that? Saryn, you think you can speak for us?”

  “Yes,” Saryn said. “Will the EPD director accept my word as representative?”

  “She told us to talk to the Council,” Kris said. She seemed more pleased with the idea after Timmin took the decision away from her. “We’re talking to the Council.”

  “Let me meet with them,” Saryn suggested. “If you tell Rissin and Oreyla that yes, someone will be available for questions, in person and at a specific time, you can send me without further inconvenience to yourself.”

  “The system alert’s been lifted,” Timmin reported.

  “Oh, good,” Kris said. “So this is their last call. Today is looking better already.”

  “I get that you’re important,” Jenna said, “and you think you know what you’re doing, but I got a fair amount of skepticism yesterday even with the entire team at my back. You’re just going to walk into the Council building, announce that you’re a Ranger, and make the rest up as you go?”

  “My credibility could certainly be improved by the presence of a witness,” Saryn said. “Are you volunteering?”

  “She knows the fighters,” Kris said. “She’s coming with me. Timmin, can you babysit Saryn? I mean, back him up if something goes wrong, which he’s sure it won’t?”

  “Sure,” Timmin said. “You know I like making trouble for the Council.”

  “This is the perfect opportunity,” Kris said. “If we hadn’t just been attacked, I’d go myself.”

  “If you were going yourself, you wouldn’t have to send us,” Timmin reminded her.

  “Oh, I’d go just to see how they react to Saryn,” Kris said. “I can’t decide whether it’s going to be hilarious or infuriating.”

  “I’ll report back,” Timmin said cheerfully. “Any hilarity will be recorded. Or at least recounted in great detail.”

  It made Kris smile, even when she glanced at Saryn and said, “You have a uniform as of yesterday evening. I suggest you wear it.”

  He raised his eyebrows, but he didn’t question their efficiency. Jenna had been wearing a uniform when she was introduced. If they’d turned hers around so quickly, his might have been included as a matter of course.

  Jenna raised her hand. “Do I have time to go with him while he changes? I still haven’t seen more than the most basic motor functions, and I’d feel better if I watched him go through a full range of motion without wincing.”

  Kris looked at Timmin, who shrugged. “If you’re headed for the fighter debrief, they’re still doing their own med checks,” he told her. He glanced at Jenna and added, “And it wasn’t the worst excuse I’ve ever heard for watching someone take their clothes off.”

  Saryn smiled when Jenna shrugged back at him.

  “No, it was,” Kris said, before she could reply. “But it’s a classic, and you did it with a straight face, so yes. Put on your own uniform while you’re at it,” she added.

  She meant it, and Saryn assumed Jenna could tell. He didn’t get a chance to ask, because as soon as they were alone Jenna said, “Sorry about the grounding thing. It’s part of medic training; it doesn’t mean anything.”

  It was so unexpected that he didn’t immediately know what she meant. “It’s part of medic training?” he repeated.

  “Pulling empaths out of a spinout?” she said. “Yeah. Timmin’s right, though; it makes everyone feel better. No surprise it worked for you.”

  Her hand on his forehead. To make him focus on his own senses when Lyris was all he could hear. He didn’t know what to say to that, since accepting it would raise questions and denying it at this point would be disingenuous.

  “Relatedly,” she said. “Are you hurt? That should have been the first question.”

  “Not that I’m aware of,” he said. This was ostensibly a safer line of questioning, but anything he said that turned out to be incorrect would only make the rest more difficult. “I apologize for not following your instructions earlier, but I was and continue to be alert for physical abnormalities. None have presented themselves.”

  “Good,” Jenna said. She knew he was uncomfortable. She still wasn’t going to leave him alone until he either asked her to or followed her directions. “Glad to hear it. The enhancers speed up healing, so anything minor enough that you didn’t notice it is probably gone by now anyway.”

  He nodded without thinking about it. That explained why he wasn't sore from falling down the side of the RAV, or bruised from sharp contact with the hull. He gave his flight suit a cursory inspection as he removed it, but it was probably more durable than the person underneath. No tears or damage were immediately evident.

  “That was relatively convincing,” Jenna said, and he looked up in surprise. She was very obviously watching him move. “Any balance or sensory issues? Other than whatever the enhancers are doing, and I’m still not clear on their limits, so I realize that’s not an easy question.”

  The flight suit felt strange in his hands, but only when he thought about it. The oddness was easily displaced by the sound of it made, the way it glinted when he folded it, even the smell of sand and daylight that clung to the creases. It was a cycle of sensory information that largely stood out when he focused on it and faded when he thought about something else.

  Sensations still flared unexpectedly, but so far none were as overwhelming as the intrusion of Lyris’ awareness on his own.

  “I’m not sure what it’s supposed to feel like,” he said abruptly. “But nothing feels different since the crash, so I expect that’s reassuring.”

  “Yeah,” Jenna agreed. “Probably the best we can do until someone gives us a manual.”

  If a manual existed, Saryn would have preferred to see it immediately. The uniform was familiar, but the role he found himself in was frustratingly undefined. He was grateful to the current crisis for making any action seem preferable to inaction, each unexpected decision arising from the one before it, but he knew they might all look back on this night with a very different perspective.

  Being alone with Jenna was suddenly awkward, and he hoped it would pass. Her attempts not to reference empathy were as blatant as Lyris trying to walk softly around someone he couldn’t trust and wouldn’t believe. Saryn preferred the way Kris made assumptions without requiring a response at all.

  “Hey,” Jenna said, just before they left. “Don’t crash anything.”

  The chances of that were low, but he appreciated the fondness with which she said it. “Don’t give any more speeches,” he told her. “I prefer your improvisation.”

  That made her laugh, and his mood lifted perceptibly. “You’re sweet to say so,” she told him. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Kris and Timmin must have heard, but for once Kris didn’t interject a warning or other disparaging remark. She did offer to let Jenna fly, which made Saryn wonder how much of a hurry they could be in. He didn’t ask.

  Timmin didn’t question that they would travel by teleportal, though he did ask Saryn to confirm the closest one to their destination. Saryn supposed the Rangers didn’t visit Council buildings all that often. If Kris’ reaction was any indication, they might try to avoid government interaction whenever they could.

  As far as Saryn was concerned, the Eastern Council Headquarters was a predictable relief in the midst of escalating uncertainty. He would rather not focus on the growing number of things he didn’t know and couldn’t anticipate. Council HQ was a welcoming constant that settled around him like subterranean shade.

  “It’s funny,” Timmin remarked as they walked into the middle of administrative morning. “Usually being here makes me nervous.”

  Saryn didn’t pause. “May I assume you’re usu
ally here with Kris? I expect her reaction would make anyone nervous.”

  “She’s no tougher than you are,” Timmin said mildly. “She just feels at home in different places.”

  Saryn couldn’t tell if Rangers were atypically sensitive, presumably due to enhancers that worked on cognitive empathy as well as physical function, or if there was something about Saryn himself that was being “enhanced” beyond a previous tendency to pass unnoticed. Even Timmin seemed to be responding to his thoughts, and of all the Rangers, their acquaintance was arguably the most superficial.

  “Lyris too,” Timmin added. “They’re not used to working inside a system.”

  “They manage to work within the EPD,” Saryn said, pressing his hand to a biometric access point. He had a moment to wonder if the enhancers would alter his readings such that his print was unrecognizable, but the doors slid open and he was able to wave Timmin through.

  “We didn’t join the EPD,” Timmin said. “When the enhancer trials made us a threat to military cohesion, the government got nervous and Eltare offered to recall the project. No one facing border raids thought that was a good idea, so Marsda took responsibility for us, and suddenly we were official.”

  “You seem to exercise a high degree of autonomy in the field,” Saryn said.

  “Well, it turns out that letting Kris and Lyris do whatever they want saves us all a lot of trouble,” Timmin said. “Marsda didn’t have time to train us, so she taught us to stay out of her way and hoped for the best. It’s been surprisingly effective.”

  Saryn raised his eyebrows at that. “Yet you lead fighter wings.” They were crossing a hall with excellent acoustics, and someone was bound to overhear this conversation. He thought it was interesting that Timmin didn’t seem to care.

  “Fighter wings follow us,” Timmin said. “There's a difference.”

  Having observed the difference himself when Jenna offered him the choice to lead or follow, he couldn’t argue with that. Saryn nodded to the plainclothes security as they passed, and ignored the uniformed security at the next door entirely. The woman didn’t ask for Timmin’s ID, so Saryn put his hand on the palm scanner and waved him through again.

  “Interesting,” Saryn remarked quietly on the other side. After the door had closed they were in secure offices, and recording of any type wasn’t allowed. “Are Rangers not required to present identification at government checkpoints?”

  Timmin huffed a laugh, but he kept his voice just as quiet. “I was going to ask the same thing about you,” he said under his breath. “I wouldn’t normally just walk into a Council building.”

  “My biometrics are considered identification enough,” Saryn said. “But I would typically be asked to confirm the identity of anyone I brought with me. By security, if no one else.”

  “Our IDs are unrestricted,” Timmin said. “But I don’t usually have to show mine when I’m in uniform.”

  “Jenna’s teleportal access came up as unrestricted,” Saryn said. “Mine still shows diplomatic priority.”

  “Yeah,” Timmin said, responding to his implied question. “Lyris ordered the uniforms; Kris did credentials. He figured you’d stay. She didn’t.”

  The offices were quiet, but Saryn wasn’t aware of any undue attention. He would ask outright if he had to. “Lyris seems very confident when it comes to predicting my actions.” And reactions, he didn’t say, since that was to be expected of empaths. “Is he accustomed to being correct?”

  That made Timmin smile, which was certainly the more benign of reactions Saryn had anticipated. “Yeah,” he repeated. “He’s usually right.”

  That wasn’t exactly what he wanted to know, but he supposed he was asking the wrong person if he wanted a more specific answer. Lyris had complained about him getting personal information from Kel, after all. Perhaps he should make more of an effort.

  “He does it to all of us,” Timmin offered, looking around the offices with a casual eye that belied his sharp attention. “If that makes you feel better.”

  “No,” Saryn said, watching him. Timmin’s attention returned to him as soon as he spoke, although his gaze didn’t follow immediately. “I don’t think it does.”

  Timmin looked at him for a long moment. It was oddly clear that he didn’t know whether to provide reassurance or warning. Saryn though he was torn between helping Lyris and protecting him, and it seemed strange that those two goals should be in conflict.

  Saryn’s comm vibrated, and he glanced at it without much curiosity until he saw Jenna’s name. Lyris wants your comm code, was the message she’d sent. Here’s his instead. He says it’s life-changingly important.

  Saryn raised his eyebrows, and then, because it was polite and there was no reason Timmin shouldn’t know, he tipped the device toward him. Timmin had folded his arms while Saryn read the message, but he leaned in without question when Saryn shared it. Timmin scanned the screen and then murmured, “You really didn’t give him your code? I thought you had dinner together.”

  Saryn looked at him in surprise.

  “What?” Timmin asked, returning the same look. “What if he was late? What if you were? You don’t even have a temporary code you can use for privacy?”

  Saryn saw no reason to follow that line of questioning. “Does he often provide life-changingly important messages?” he asked instead.

  “Yeah,” Timmin said without hesitation. “If he says it’s important, it probably is.”

  Saryn sent a connection request to the code Jenna had provided, with his name and nothing else. Lyris hadn’t had any trouble getting in touch with him so far. Why he suddenly needed a communication device to do it was a mystery.

  A messages from Lyris came back immediately. You need to focus, it said. Kris said you’re visiting Councilors; they have empathic security and your secret’s at risk. Being as calm as you look could get you a long way.

  Saryn shook his head, more amused than insulted, and he tipped the screen toward Timmin again. He watched Timmin read it, and he knew why Timmin frowned. But the first rule of keeping secrets was to behave as though they didn’t exist.

  Thank you for your concern, Saryn replied to Lyris. If you find it reassuring, I’m always as calm as I look.

  He didn’t tip it toward Timmin, nor did he wait for Lyris’ reply. He did send a brief “thank you” to Jenna while he remarked, “We’re early for our meeting with Councilor Oreyla. Will you accompany me on a brief errand in the interim?”

  “Sure,” Timmin said easily. He was apparently willing to let it go if Saryn did, which made him easier to work with than anyone else on the team so far. “This is already more entertaining than my last Council visit, and we haven’t even talked to anyone yet.”

  Saryn smiled. “If entertainment is your goal,” he said, “I will endeavor to accommodate it.”

  He led the way to the offplanet offices, pausing outside Cairo’s open door and rapping his knuckles against the frame. “Greetings,” he said, when Cairo looked up.

  “Saryn!” Cairo exclaimed. “Come in! How are you?”

  “I’m well,” Saryn said, stepping through the door to make room for Timmin. “I have a visitor.”

  “You do,” Cairo agreed, looking from him to Timmin and back again. “And a uniform. I noticed the unidentified fifth Ranger launched again during the last incursion… any relation?”

  “Yes,” Saryn said. “I’m no longer unidentified.”

  “Well,” Cairo said, standing up. “That’s a dramatic career change, but I guess it always is. Congratulations!”

  “Thank you,” Saryn said with a smile. “You know Timmin, of course.”

  “By reputation only,” Cairo said, holding out a hand and clasping Timmin’s wrist when the gesture was returned. “I’m Cairo, Border ambassador and trade specialist. Saryn and I spend a lot of time negotiating with Eltare.”

  “Glad to meet you,” Timmin said with a smile.

  “Likewise,” Cairo agreed. “And I’d be remiss if I didn’t
say thank you for your service.”

  “I’m honored to serve,” Timmin replied. He made it sound like a natural part of the conversation, but Saryn recognized the response as soon as he heard it: the one Lyris had foregone when introducing himself, and the one Saryn hadn’t been able to call to mind later.

  “So what’s the story?” Cairo wanted to know. “Are you retiring? Transferring? Taking a leave of absence?”

  “Details of the transition are still being worked out,” Saryn said. “It’s possible I will continue to serve in both capacities, workload and other resources permitting.”

  “Oh, I hope so,” Cairo said. “I definitely want open negotiations with a Border Ranger on our side.”

  “You’re not the first to suggest that possibility to me,” Saryn said. “I expect it would only lead to an escalation of powers.”

  “Meaning they’d have to send a Ranger to represent them too,” Cairo said. “Yeah, exactly. That’s why it would be a good show.”

  “I’ll let Kris know you support it,” Saryn said. “I’m sure she will care deeply about our opinions, as always.”

  Cairo glanced at Timmin, but when Saryn followed the look Timmin just said, “She probably cares as much about your opinion as you care about hers,” and Cairo grinned in relief.

  “I do have a favor to ask,” Saryn said, before he could make either of them more uncomfortable. A little feigned carelessness made everyone less suspicious.

  “Of course,” Cairo said. Helpful because they worked together, certainly, but no less eager to look useful in front of the Rangers.

  “During the last secession talks,” Saryn said. “When agricultural concerns kept the topic from coming to a vote, there was an organized resistance involving New Hope.”

  “The oasis resistance,” Cairo agreed. “Not your favorite, as I recall.”

  “There were aspects of their argument I didn’t appreciate,” Saryn said. “Nonetheless, they gained popular support and the discussion was tabled. To your knowledge, did they lose anything in the process?”

  Cairo frowned. “Like what? They gained environmental awareness and political recognition. They won the day.”