by StarAndrea
“Then we can both practice together,” Saryn said. He held out his hand, palm up, and waited for Lyris to decide.
Lyris looked at his hand, then back up to catch his eye. “That's what you did with Jenna,” he said.
He didn't have to add, I just said I don't want to be your lover. Saryn understood the sentiment anyway.
“And she touched my forehead the same way you did,” he pointed out. “If you require only distinct forms of physical contact, the logistics alone may become all-consuming. Can we not sincerely ascribe different intent to the same gestures?”
Lyris actually frowned at him, though the expression seemed more one of exasperation than anything else. “Why don't you just say, it doesn't mean the same thing?” he asked. “And I mean that honestly, or literally, or whatever. Not as a criticism. I can't tell if you talk this way on purpose, or if it's just a habit, or something else.”
“I think you and Jenna will get along very well,” Saryn told him.
That clearly alarmed Lyris, so Saryn added, “Only because she asked the same thing. Not because I expect the two of you to…” He'd started that sentence with no clear idea of how it would end, and the words didn't come. “Do anything in particular,” he finished at last.
“Okay,” Lyris said, and the frown was rapidly being replaced by a smile. “So that's really just how the words come out when you open your mouth.”
“I try to be both practical and deliberate in my communication,” Saryn said. “Sometimes I'm more successful than others.”
“Well,” Lyris said, holding out his hand, “I guess we can both work on that.”
Kris herself had observed that he wasn’t good at talking to Lyris, so Saryn didn’t try to clarify. He accepted the gesture when Lyris reciprocated, pressing their palms together but not immediately aware of the difference. For a moment, everything seemed as it had.
“Okay,” Lyris said. “So that’s a good sign.”
Except he didn’t speak, and Saryn knew that because he was looking right at him. Lyris didn’t move. He returned Saryn’s stare, and his vision didn’t splinter this time but suddenly Saryn became aware that he could see himself as clearly as he could see Lyris. As though he were looking at himself in a mirror, but backwards, and seeing Lyris at the same time.
That’s exceptionally disconcerting, he thought, very carefully and very deliberately, because putting words to it was alarming in and of itself.
“It helps if you don’t think about how weird it is,” Lyris said. “At least, for me.”
Saryn understood this to be a suggestion, not a request. He was also very sure that Lyris still wasn’t speaking aloud. “Why does it--”
When Saryn spoke aloud, he could hear the difference. He stopped as soon as he started, because it was oddly slow, strangely loud, and it made their shared perception exponentially more alarming. He heard his own voice twice, and he knew what he was going to say and wondered how it would sound at the same time.
His vision focused abruptly, and he realized that Lyris had closed his eyes.
Saryn did the same, and the almost-overwhelming sensory input eased further.
For a moment they both held as still as possible. The launch bay was only quiet in relation to their thoughts, and when both of them were trying not to think it was easy to detect the susurration of air and the incremental warming of the doors from the outside. The RAVs were all in different stages of charging, maintenance, and self-repair. He could hear Timmin moving under and around RAV 2.
“It makes me dizzy too,” Lyris said. Not aloud, and very quietly. That was all he thought, and Saryn knew he was waiting to see if it was too much.
Why does it sound like you’re speaking, Saryn thought.
“To you?” Lyris said. “I don’t know. It doesn’t to me. That’s probably just how your brain interprets the communication.”
It’s better with my eyes closed, Saryn thought.
“Yeah,” Lyris said. “It’s less to process, I think. You’re all right like this?”
He didn’t really need to ask, but Saryn nodded anyway and he knew Lyris could tell. You get dizzy? he thought. It was barely a complete sentence.
“Yeah,” Lyris said anyway. “More from emotions than from--” He waved his free hand, and Saryn didn’t have to see to know he’d done it. “Physical senses,” Lyris finished. “But maybe I’ve just gotten used to those.”
Timmin’s attention was bright and startling. Saryn didn't look, and Lyris must not have either, because when he took another breath the ground was still steady underneath him. Timmin was watching them.
“I'm going to let go,” Lyris said. Or thought. He must have thought it. The words came with a curious sense of, Are you ready and is that okay?
Yes, Saryn thought.
Just like that, the physical sense of Lyris was gone. Or perhaps only muted by the separation, but Saryn opened his eyes and didn't see himself. “That wasn't so bad,” he said, and the words sounded almost normal in his ears.
It made Lyris smile. “Yeah, that's what we aim for,” he agreed, but it was gentle and relieved and not at all mocking. “Could have been worse.”
Timmin moved, which seemed a natural moment to look over at him, and Lyris did the same. “Hey,” Timmin said, apparently unsurprised. “You can feel me looking at you, right? Sorry about that; I wasn’t trying to interrupt.”
“Of course you were,” Lyris said. He still sounded fond and unperturbed, and it made Timmin smile.
“Yeah, I was,” he agreed. “But only to see if you’re okay.”
“I'm fine,” Lyris said. He didn't sound exasperated with the question. He seemed genuinely pleased, though it was difficult to ascertain the source.
When Saryn looked from him to Timmin, he found both of them looking back at him. Perhaps he was expected to answer as well this time. “I'm also well,” Saryn said.
“Oh, good,” Timmin said, sounding very much like Kris in that moment. “So now we have two people who don't volunteer information. That should make interviews go a lot faster.”
“A better interview strategy would be to share the information you want people to have,” Saryn said, “regardless of what they ask you.”
“I think that's the exact opposite of what Marsda told us,” Timmin said, apparently willing to be diverted. Perhaps he felt that easing the intensity of their interaction was enough, whether he was able to assess its content or not. Saryn thought that was probably true.
“Answer the question they ask,” Timmin was saying. “Right?”
This was likely directed at Lyris, but he shrugged, so Saryn offered, “That’s a common rule of public speaking specifically meant to keep you from saying too much. If replying at all is disadvantageous, you may better ignore the question and answer a different one entirely.”
Timmin gave him an amused look. “Sort of like you’re doing right now.”
Saryn inclined his head. Timmin clearly wanted to know if he and Lyris were more or less volatile after being left alone, but he was letting them keep their opinions to themselves without explicitly refusing to answer. “Yes,” he agreed.
“Well,” Timmin said, “I definitely liked hearing you tell Councilor Oreyla that if she didn’t like the update she got she wouldn’t get one at all. So I’m listening.”
“Really?” Lyris looked interested at that. “You told a councilor we weren’t going to talk to them anymore? Kris will like that.”
“Oreyla informed me that she was not satisfied with my explanation of the situation,” Saryn said. “I only pointed out that the Rangers had done her a favor by sending someone in person, and if she didn’t appreciate it, then we would have no reason to go to such trouble in the future.”
“I assume you don’t like her,” Timmin added. “You got along much better with the other one. Jayden?”
“Oreyla’s foreign policy experience is limited,” Saryn said. “I find Jayden’s views more realistic, and as such, we are less often at
odds.”
“Good to know,” Timmin said. “You want to make us a list sometime? So we know who to be nice to?”
Saryn glanced at Lyris, who shrugged again. “Kris isn’t much of a politician,” he said. “She’d be the first to say she doesn’t care what the Council thinks. But if some of them are willing to work with you, the least we can do is let them.”
“Right,” Timmin said. “That sounds much better; thank you.”
Saryn smiled a little. “I’m certainly willing to share what notes I have on the interests and abilities of our planetary representatives.”
“Over breakfast,” Lyris added. “I’m sure Jenna wants to know who you talked to about New Hope; maybe this way you’ll only have to do it once.”
“At any time,” Saryn agreed.
“We appreciate it,” Timmin said. “Well, Kris won’t, but anything you’re willing to do on our behalf is talking she doesn’t have to do. She’ll definitely appreciate that.”
“Kris seems very practical to me,” Saryn said. “I appreciate her ability to prioritize.”
“Useful, right?” Timmin said with a grin. “She knows how to focus.”
“Very useful,” Saryn said. “Did you know her before she was a Ranger?”
“Yes, barely, it’s a funny story,” Lyris interrupted. “Really, breakfast. How can you not need food?”
“Let’s go,” Timmin said cheerfully. “Lack of food makes Lyris impatient; we should have fed him before now.”
“Do you eat here?” Saryn asked, turning to follow as they headed back toward the base lift.
“Sort of,” Timmin said.
“Yes,” Lyris said at the same time.
They looked at each other, and Timmin added, “The outreach center next door has a cafeteria. They feed us.”
“You refer to the neighboring building that's open to the public,” Saryn said. “Containing educational exhibits on Ranger history and capability?”
“That's the one,” Timmin said. “Great food.”
He seemed very confident of this, but Saryn was equally sure that viewing times were typically much later in the day. “Is the building open so early?” Saryn asked.
“Well, it's always open to us,” Timmin said. “And food prep starts first thing, so they'll be there.”
“Especially after a night like this one,” Lyris agreed. “They’re pretty good at knowing when to expect us. Not that they have to,” he added. “It’s just… everyone watches the news.”
“I have no objection to accessible food,” Saryn told him. “I will follow your example.”
The outreach building grew out of the same underground street where Saryn had first met Jenna. They took the lift high enough to exit both the bay and Ranger Operations, but they didn't see the surface until they entered the education atrium and looked up at a ceiling full of dawn. Light painted the sky on the other side of a vast transparency while scattered rays preceded true sunrise.
“Beautiful,” Lyris said, and Saryn looked over to see Lyris watching his reaction. “But not breakfast.”
Saryn had to smile at that. “Of all things,” he said. “This is what you're single-minded about?”
“Really?” Lyris countered. “It's like you don't know me at all. I'm single-minded about everything.”
“That's true,” Timmin agreed, but he was waving instead of looking at them, and when Saryn followed the gesture he saw Jenna and Kris at a balcony table several levels up from where the rest of them stood.
They had successfully changed out of their flight suits, he noted. They also appeared to be the only other people in the echoing atrium. He wondered if they only used the building when it was closed, or if part of the appeal of a Ranger outreach program was in-person access to the Rangers themselves.
There were level risers and open-air lifts marked for each of the visible balconies. Timmin went for the level risers, treating them like stairs even when they were in motion, and Saryn smiled when Lyris hung back, waiting to see how he preferred to ascend. “You’re very attentive,” he said, stepping onto a riser and waiting for it to flow into the next.
Lyris followed with a shrug. “You’re mostly my responsibility,” he said. “It was my idea to enhance you, and it’s my refusal that’s keeping Kris from letting you go.”
“It’s your discomfort that makes her want to,” Saryn pointed out.
“Yeah,” Lyris said. “I don’t know how that’s going to work out. But you’re right that I’m aware of you anywhere I go, so at this point I think we’re stuck with each other.
“I do like you,” he added as the balcony descended around them. “Even if your politics make me crazy.”
“Jenna says the same thing,” Saryn remarked, stepping off onto what was apparently a mezzanine level. “Though more on a global scale than a personal one, I suspect. Fortunately I’m used to disagreement.”
“You don’t overreact,” Lyris said. “That’ll be a nice change around here.”
“I heard that,” Kris called from the table she shared with Jenna. Timmin was nowhere to be seen, but Saryn had the vague sense he had gone left and still lingered nearby.
“You’re just proving my point,” Lyris called back. “It’s not like it’s just you, either. We could all use a voice of reason.”
“I hope you don’t expect it to be Saryn,” Jenna said. The look she gave him when he took a seat beside her was amused and challenging at the same time. If he hadn’t already been familiar with her buried fondness, he might have missed it altogether.
“I don’t expect it to be any of us,” Kris said. “That’s what we have Marsda for.”
“Saryn says he can coach us to interview better,” Lyris said, sitting down across from her. “Better than just, say as little as possible, I mean. That’s Marsda’s advice,” he added to Saryn. “As you probably guessed.”
“Yes,” Saryn said. “It’s good advice. You could do better.”
“At what cost?” Kris wanted to know. “We don’t have a lot of free time.”
“I’m learning to pilot a RAV with no instruction, through experience only,” Saryn said. “I do not doubt that you can learn to speak similarly and with minimal guidance.”
“You crashed,” Jenna reminded him.
“You read a prepared statement,” he replied. “I’m confident there’s a middle ground between zero improvisation and zero instruction.”
“For what it’s worth,” Kris said, looking up as Timmin joined them again, “Marsda got a thank you from Councilor Oreyla. For sending someone to follow up. I think that’s the first positive feedback we’ve ever received from the Council.”
“Because Saryn threatened her,” Timmin said, sliding two trays onto the table. He removed a plate from one and set it next to Kris before pushing the trays to Saryn and Lyris. “Help yourself.”
“Oh, are threats an option?” Kris asked. “I’m listening.”
“I didn’t threaten her,” Saryn said, “so much as I reframed the situation with a clearer explanation of possible consequences.”
“He was very diplomatic,” Timmin added.
Kris lifted a glass in his direction and declared, “In that case, here’s to diplomacy.”
Saryn nodded to her, then looked over as Jenna picked up one of the glasses from the tray in front of him and held it out. “Still waiting for my trade solution,” she told him.
Since she had a glass in her other hand, he took the one she offered. “Still waiting to hear what the problem is,” he countered.
To his surprise, she grinned at him and tapped her glass against his without further complaint. “That’s why I like you,” she said. “Despite your politics.”
“Politics later,” Timmin said, lifting a glass and holding it out to both of them. “Right now, congratulations. That was a long night, and we’re all still alive to complain about it.”
“That’s what we call success,” Lyris added, picking up a glass and clinking it against theirs. Jenna pu
shed forward and they met Timmin halfway.
Kris followed suit, and the first true light of dawn lit up the five rings of their glasses as they pushed them together. “Welcome to the team,” she said.
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Respect,
StarAndrea