by StarAndrea
“That is my understanding, yes,” Saryn agreed. Security hadn’t identified him, so clearly there was nothing to report.
“Are you recently bonded?” Rissin asked.
Saryn stared at her, and he felt Lyris as though he were standing at Saryn’s shoulder. It was not the question he had expected. He wasn’t empathic, and he certainly wasn’t--
Say yes, Lyris’ voice told him.
“Yes,” Saryn said. “I apologize if it’s so obvious as to cause you distress; I am--the enhancers respond somewhat unpredictably to empathic variation.”
“Enhancers,” Rissin repeated. “Ranger enhancers?”
“Yes,” Saryn repeated. “They have caused some difficulty for me in terms of sensory integration.”
To his own surprise, Rissin was nodding. “Of course,” she said. “I’m sorry; I didn’t realize. It must be the Ranger enhancement on top of resonance that makes you read as an empath all of a sudden.”
“Do I?” Saryn said. He wondered how much of Lyris’ smile was his imagination. “That could be… inconvenient.”
She smiled too, and it was an oddly sympathetic look. “It guess it’s in and out,” she said. “If security hasn’t mentioned it yet. I don’t know anything about enhancers, but the resonance should settle pretty quickly. If you’re out of the office for a few days, it might not even register by the time you come back.”
“I’ll be certain to stay away from all professional negotiations,” Saryn agreed ruefully. “There’s been little enough time to address the consequences of recent events. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that there are more than I expected.”
“Well,” Rissin said. “Congratulations, anyway.”
“Thank you,” Saryn said. It was habitual, since he saw nothing deserving of congratulations, but after he replied he thought that either the enhancers or the resonance might be considered grounds for good wishes.
So far neither had improved his life, but perhaps he was unique in that.
He did complete a holographic recording in front of the emblem of the diplomatic corps. He did not have the opportunity to return to the councilors’ conference, since Timmin opened their door himself and leaned in before either of them could leave. “Saryn,” he said. “Message from Kris; we have to go. You done here?”
“We have completed our task,” Saryn said, glancing at Rissin again. “Thank you,” he added. “For your assistance.”
She inclined her head. “Thank you, Ambassador. Ranger Saryn,” she added.
He nodded because he had no other answer to give, and Timmin seemed more alert now than he had at any time since they’d entered the building. Saryn would have to give someone other than Jenna his comm code, since emergency summons or not, she didn’t seem disposed to distribute it.
It wasn’t until they were outside that Saryn realized Lyris felt physically closer than he should. He didn’t know how literally to interpret the sensation until he saw the other Ranger, out of uniform and leaning casually against a ramp column, much as he had been the first time they met. Saryn didn’t pause, but only because he understood the value of a united front.
“When you said Kris sent a message,” Saryn said under his breath, pacing Timmin without catching Lyris’ eye.
“We use Kris’ name to get out of places we don’t want to be,” Timmin admitted, probably not quietly enough considering where they were. “To be fair, though, Lyris is worried about you.”
“I can’t imagine why,” Saryn said.
“You’re very receptive,” Lyris said, turning as they approached to fall into step beside them. Timmin must have expected him to join them rather than stop them, since he didn’t pause.
“Apparently I’m bonded,” Saryn countered. “Aren’t you supposed to be in space?”
“It’s a patrol,” Lyris said with a shrug. “They’re fine. Are you all right?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Saryn wanted to know. “I work here. I’m capable of answering a few questions on behalf of anyone, not excluding a group that recruited and supported me in the face of both physical and professional danger.”
“Yeah,” Lyris said, as calm as he’d been the day before. “That’s why I asked.”
“Bonded?” Timmin added, when Saryn didn’t reply. “Should we have a ceremony or something?”
“I don’t think you should tell anyone who it is,” Lyris said. “The less people know about it, the more useful it is as a psychic cover.”
“Is there a reason you feel comfortable having these conversations in the middle of the street?” Saryn wanted to know.
“Lyris keeps people from noticing us,” Timmin said.
Saryn looked at him in surprise, then at Lyris when he didn’t say anything else.
Lyris shrugged again. “It’s useful,” he said. “Works in reverse, too. I can show you how to do it if you’re interested.”
Saryn wasn't as confident in Lyris’ supposed ability, but he still asked, “Is this something anyone can learn?”
Lyris gave him an even look. “Is that a trick question designed to make me say something that will make us both angry?” he replied.
Saryn considered that as objectively as he could. “That was not my intent,” he said at last. “But yes. I can see how that might be the inevitable outcome.”
“I haven't been able to teach it to Timmin,” Lyris said. “But I don't think you'll have any trouble with it. How's that?”
“That is…” Saryn didn't have an appropriate adjective. “Understood,” he said at last.
“Good.” Lyris sounded like he meant it. “I guess we can call that progress.”
“Does this mean you're not going to quit?” Timmin asked. He didn't direct the question to either of them in particular, and there was a moment of awkward quiet as they continued down the street.
“Yes,” Saryn said, in case he had been the intended recipient.
At the same time, Lyris mumbled, “No promises,” but Saryn didn’t think he meant it.
Part 5: Partner
Jenna and Kris returned to the base of Ranger Operations so late that the sky was lightening and the stars were mostly gone by the time they got back. There was a noticeable difference in the mirrored light below ground where the other Rangers and the RAVs were licking their wounds. Even the filtered air felt a little warmer.
“That’s Kris,” Lyris said, looking up at nothing at all.
“She’ll be angry,” Timmin added from underneath RAV 2. “Don’t take it personally.”
Saryn had long since given up on understanding what RAV 4 was telling him about vehicle self-repair and mechanical assistance. He was watching external scans as the systems knit themselves back together. Timmin had promised to help with the port engine, but he had understandably prioritized work on his own thrusters.
In the meantime, the launch bay was a relatively peaceful alternative to anything political or otherwise newsworthy. He had received a variety of comm contacts, none urgent, and he was just as happy to wait until his family woke up to start answering questions. He expected to receive some instruction from the Rangers on that front.
“I was under the impression,” Saryn said, “that Kris consistently uses a confrontational style of communication akin to anger as her primary mode of expression.”
“Not really,” Timmin said. “She just doesn’t like you.”
“To be fair,” Lyris added, “she doesn’t like a lot of people.”
“Oh, now you’re trying to make him feel better?” Timmin sounded amused, and when he ducked out from under the front of the vehicle he was smiling. “I don’t know if you noticed, but you’re kind of hard to predict lately.”
Saryn wasn’t sure why Timmin looked so awake. He’d already been on-duty when Saryn had woken up, and he and Lyris had traded off since but none of them had been to bed yet. Saryn didn’t feel sleepy, but tiredness was beginning to creep up on him.
“I'm always hard to predict,” Lyris replied. “It’s part of
my enigmatic charm.”
“I agree that you have charm,” Timmin said, “and that you’re enigmatic. I just wouldn’t necessarily have put them together.”
“Saryn would have,” Lyris said, before Saryn even realized what he was thinking. Definitely before he remembered Lyris could hear him thinking it. “He likes a good mystery.”
“And yet I’m not allowed to have any of my own,” Saryn said. He tried not to smile, but maybe it was the long day and longer night. “How disappointing.”
“Do you deliberately try to keep people from knowing things about you?” Timmin asked curiously. “Because you’re a public figure? I mean, I tell everyone everything, but that’s mostly because I can’t keep my stories straight otherwise. It drives Kris crazy, being asked questions all the time, and Lyris makes a game of not answering.”
“That’s true,” Lyris said.
“I rarely find myself in situations where people want to know something about me simply for the sake of knowing it,” Saryn said. “Our positions are different in that respect, I think. When I am questioned, it’s so the answers can be used to sway my opinions or my arguments in the future. Immediate or otherwise.”
“Okay,” Timmin said. “Now I just feel sorry for you.”
The large doors opened smoothly but he could still feel the ringing in the deck, vibrating through the air all around them. The atmosphere shifted as pre-dawn light poured through the opening, far from them though it was at the other end of the launch bay. The change hung there, poised and waiting for more, like a held breath.
This time Saryn recognized the poetic sense of appreciation for what it was and he looked at Lyris without thinking about it.
Lyris was looking back at him. He shrugged when their eyes met, but he didn't offer any explanation. Saryn was starting to wonder if anything could explain Lyris.
Then RAV 1 was there, large and silent and graceful in the confined space. Gliding in on currents too gentle to stir the dust, Kris’ vehicle took its place at the head of the line. Or the tail, Saryn supposed. Depending on which way the formation was oriented.
He felt Lyris smile. It was late and he was tired and Saryn smiled too. No less so when he saw Jenna’s ship coasting into position at the other end.
There was no sense of irritation, and he didn’t realize he was waiting for it until it wasn’t there. “I don’t hate Jenna,” he heard Lyris say. He assumed it was in his head until Timmin replied.
“Good to know,” Timmin said aloud. He sounded amused but not surprise. “Was that not directed at me?”
Lyris sighed. “Sorry, no,” he said. “That was meant for Saryn.”
“Tired?” Timmin suggested, ignoring the statement itself for the fact it had been made at all. “You don’t usually forget like that.”
“I live in fear of making that mistake,” Lyris said. “That’s why I make a game of not answering people’s questions.”
Kris said Lyris didn’t talk to them enough. Jenna indicated he was known for being close-mouthed. Both were in direct contrast to Saryn’s experience with him, and he wondered if this was the answer: Lyris spoke plenty, he just didn’t do it out loud.
“No,” Lyris said. He sounded resigned, and this time Saryn was sure he knew they could both hear him. “Saryn,” he added. “I don’t have constant telepathic conversations with other people; it’s really just you.”
Saryn raised his eyebrows. “Then why are you afraid of saying something aloud that you meant to keep private?”
“It’s not mixing up conversations that’s the problem,” Lyris said. “It’s responding to things people don’t say. You must have noticed most people don’t really appreciate that.
“Or maybe you haven’t,” he added. “Since you say you don’t do it.”
“Everyone responds to things that go unsaid,” Saryn pointed out. “A significant amount of communication is carried out through body language alone.”
Lyris just looked at him, silent and oddly neutral. Saryn couldn’t read his expression at all. He was struck by the strangeness of it, as though he’d known Lyris much longer than he had and had never seen this inscrutability before.
The sound of an airlock cycling sounded appallingly loud, maybe indicative of how much the silence had stretched, and Saryn tried very hard not to react. He must have flinched despite his best efforts because Timmin shifted uncomfortably. Kris was leaving her RAV now, and Jenna’s was starting to cycle too.
“Is that it?” Lyris asked at last, ignoring all of them. “Is that why you say you’re not empathic? You really think everyone can do that?”
“I prefer to declare my similarities,” Saryn said quietly, “rather than dwell on our differences. It’s a choice I make in the context of a contested world.”
The reaction he experienced in the wake of those words was indescribably negative. He couldn’t even say where it came from: him or Lyris or Timmin or maybe all three of them. Something he saw… or something he felt?
“Okay, that’s disconcerting,” Kris said, closer now than he expected and he wondered when she’d crossed the intervening space. “Is everyone all right? Have they been doing this the entire time?”
“Just now,” Timmin told her. “We were fine until the doors opened.”
When Lyris responded aloud to Saryn’s passing thought of Jenna.
“It has nothing to do with Jenna,” Lyris snapped. He was cold and tired and angry, but it was an old fury that felt more futile than passionate. His retort was raw and reactive, clawing back at something that hurt with no expectation it would change.
“What the hell,” Kris demanded, glaring at Saryn, and now he was sure she was reacting to Lyris’ pain. “What did you do?”
To say he had done nothing was untrue, but to say he didn’t know was unhelpful.
“I explained that I identify as mentally anomalous on a planet colonized by the mentally anomalous,” Saryn offered. “I see no reason to draw more lines than have already been imposed on us by others.”
“Great,” Kris said. “You’re non-labeling; that’s nice. Lyris hates that. Stop arguing with him over it, please, no one likes it when Lyris is upset. Especially me.”
“Especially you?” Timmin repeated. “How about especially Lyris?”
“I’m not non-labeling,” Saryn said.
“What did I just say?” Kris asked. “Stop arguing; it’s too late at night for all of us to be upset. One person at a time.”
“Hey,” Jenna said, her helmet swinging from her fingers as she joined their little circle. She hadn’t started to peel off her flight suit yet, so she was either getting used to it or she was too tired to care. “Who’s upset now? Would food help? Because I’m hungry.”
“Food always helps,” Kris said. “Thanks for doing that RAV flyover, by the way. In case I didn’t say it before.”
“Wow,” Jenna said. “Please and thank you in one day. So inspiring.”
“It’s like I left her alone with you,” Kris told Timmin. “Except I know I didn’t.”
“A sarcastic mind is a creative mind,” Timmin said. “We only mock because we care.”
“I’m actually just really bad at responding appropriately when people thank me for things,” Jenna said. “So, you’re welcome. That’s what I meant to say.”
“Sarcasm is fine too,” Kris told her. “Timmin and I appreciate it. Lyris doesn’t.”
“That’s true,” Lyris said, lifting his head and squaring his shoulders. It was very clear that he took a deep breath, and Saryn was left with the desire to comfort him somehow.
“Seriously,” Kris said, studying him. “Are you all right? Your deadline for working this out is almost up, but it’s been a busy night. I’m willing to extend it.”
“Or you could just let me transfer,” Lyris said. “We tried to work it out, we failed. Now we know.”
“I told you,” Kris said, glancing at Saryn but clearly still talking to Lyris. “You’re not the one who’s going to leave. He
is.”
“I don’t want him to leave,” Lyris said. “Why did I go to all this trouble just to have you fire him?”
Kris rolled her eyes. “I don’t know! I’ve been asking myself the same question!”
Jenna raised her hand, but before she could say anything Kris exclaimed, “What? Why do you raise your hand?”
“Because it makes you look at me,” Jenna said. “Also, if there’s really some secret reason Saryn has to be a Ranger, and I’m the one making Lyris uncomfortable, then why am I not the one leaving?”
“Because you’re not the problem,” Lyris told her.
“Really?” Kris countered. “I like her, don’t get me wrong. As far as I’m concerned Jenna stays. But you literally followed him around town, took him out to dinner, snuck him onto the base and deliberately left him alone with Ranger enhancers. You didn’t even pick her at random off the street; she showed up all on her own. And he’s the one you have a problem with?”
Lyris just stared back at her. This was what Lyris had expected, Saryn thought. For his team to complain, to criticize. To be upset that he’d forced this decision on them.
“Yes,” Lyris said.
If he was surprised that it had taken until now to come up, he seemed willing to attribute it to the repeated raids rather than his own reversal of opinion. It was clear to Saryn that Lyris’ team was willing to accept whatever he told them as long as he didn’t leave them. It was strange that Lyris, who seemed so perceptive about everything else, couldn’t see how much they wanted him.
“Please stop,” Lyris said. His tone was very even, but the look he gave Saryn was lost and oddly afraid.
“You’re bonded,” Timmin said suddenly.
Saryn looked at him, because looking at Lyris was increasingly difficult.
“What?” Jenna said.
“That’s what you said, outside the Council building,” Timmin said. “Is that true?”
Saryn had no idea why Lyris didn’t want to answer that question, but looking at him wasn’t helping anything so he didn’t. “Lyris says it is,” he said into the silence. “I’m not familiar enough with the phenomenon to confirm or deny.”