Torian was a bit disappointed to see the signs of stress, but Celisehadwarned her clean air wouldn’t be a magic fix. Maybe Celise would always have some form of asthma.
As long as it didn’t come with a time limit on her sister’s life, they could work with asthma.
“Itisancient,” Torian said. Maybe not Old Earth ancient, but there probably wasn’t anything left of that planet anymore. Torian patted the stone wall. “I was surprised to see the nylarians built a space station with planetary materials—but it feels homey, doesn’t it?”
“Shockingly, yes.” Celise ran her fingers along the worn rock. Wonder tinged her voice. “I always expected I’d feel uncomfortable on Rhymarra, with their big open sky and… well, no metal. But maybe this is a nice middle ground.”
“I think it’ll be nicer than a middle ground, once we’re done with it.”
Celise smiled noncommittally.
They emerged into the residential ring, with its big centergardens and open balconies and squat townhouses. There was a raucous conversation happening around the gentle curve, just beyond their line of sight.
“Let me guess. More draics?” Celise drawled.
“Yep.” Torian clapped her shoulder. “Don’t worry. They aren’t all assholes. But maybe get your pen out, just in case.”
“Don’t patronize me. As ifyoudid any better when you first met one.”
Torian averted her gaze. “I did fine, thank you.”
Celise raised an eyebrow.
Torian pressed her lips together. “Fine, I shot him twice and fled into the forest. But at least I didn’t threaten him with a pen.”
“I’m a pacifist. I hardly have a gun.” Celise sniffed.
“Pacifist, my ass,” Torian grumbled. “You never had a problem fighting me.”
“You never had a problemannoyingme.”
Torian waved a hand and moved with purpose toward the noise. It sounded like a dinner party. She’d wondered where Zen’s crew had been this entire time, and… well, now she knew. It appeared they stayed on the ship for quick excursions, but now were settling into Vaesa.
It shocked her that she felt comforted knowing the draics were here to stay and help. An empty, alien space station felt much less intimidating with a bunch of draics watching their backs.
As Torian and Celise rounded the gardens, passing overgrown trees and wild bushes and tables with abandoned games, Celise asked, “This is a bit eerie. Where did the nylariansgo? Are they extinct, other than Dutch?”
“Moss just said they left. I think they went to another galaxy?” Torian hesitated. “I haven’t asked why Dutch was left behind. I doubt he wants to talk about it.”
“I can’t imagine many would want to talk about their entire species abandoning them.” Celise coughed a bit, shoving her hands in her pockets. Normally, she wore a white lab coat, soit was refreshing to see her in plain clothes—black slacks and a simple sweatshirt.
Their eyes roamed the apartments they passed. Some were multilevel, and several others had sturdy staircases leading to doors on the second or third floor. All of them were constructed with that same dark stone, and many had their shutters or doors open. Curiously, they had windows of that same thick material as theDestitute’s—plenaria, Moss had called it. Considering that stuff was clearly space-rated, it didn’t make a lot of sense to Torian in a controlled ecosystem.
Although, if it was a common enough material for the nylarians, she supposed it was useful for noise dampening and privacy.
As they walked, Celise cast Torian a sideways glance. “Are you moving here regardless? If I stay on Colony 13, I mean?”
Torian didn’t know. She couldn’t imagine living so far from Celise, her best friend, her last surviving family member. But… “If this place can help people with Halyon’s disease, or even just families trapped in a dangerous colony station, I want to give those folks a safe place to go. So… yeah. At least for a while, I need to be here.”
It was the first time Torian had prioritized something over Celise—and it was almost bittersweet. Objectively, Torian had given her sister a solution… andobjectively, if Celise refused to take it, there was nothing else Torian could offer.
It made sense to move on to something new.
But after seeing the way Celise’s expression fell, Torian still felt bad.
They walked in silence until they reached the party. Roughly twenty draics were clustered around a big eating space that must have been used for communal meals, once upon a time. Old wooden tables had been cleared of plants and filled with food, and cut logs were used as seating. The draics grumble-laughed in their rough language. Torian’s translator only caught bits and pieces of their conversations.
Wherever Voranthir had flown off to, it wasn’t here. That felt like a small blessing—at least while Celise was around.
