Page 66 of Every Almost

"I want you to carry this," Elena said, holding the pen between them. "Not because it comes with your promotion." Elena put the pen into Reyna's hand, closing her fingers around it. "Because it's mine, because I used it to draw every rescue route this ship has ever flown since our refit, and because every one of those routes exists becauseyoumade them possible, Rey. Without everything you did, from the logistics to the timing to the crew rotations, you kept us operational long enough to reach every single one of the coordinates I charted. I drew the maps, Reyna. But you built the roads."

Reyna looked down at the pen and stared at it, twisting it between her fingers to see the prisms bounce off her sage-green skin. She returned her gaze up to Elena.

"I can't take this, Elena."

"You're not taking it. I'm giving it to you, as a gift. There's a mighty big difference between the two and, frankly, I'm surprised I have to explain the distinction to someone smart enough I just promoted to First Mate."

But Reyna would not be deterred. "But Elena, what about all the star charts you have yet to draw? What will you use now?"

"The Emberkind has other pens, Reyna, don't worry. I'm a starship captain. I can get another one. But it won't be this one, that's what makes it special." Elena considered her, her expression contorting. "What is it you use now anyway?"

Reyna reached into the hidden pocket inside her uniform coat and pulled out a... fork.

Elena stared at it. "I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume there is a story here."

"There is, but it's nothing substantial. It's simply the fork that was on the table we sat at on the first night at Novahall, during the icebreakers."

Elena didn't move, but Reyna watched as understanding blended into her features upon Reyna's story. She looked down at the utensil in Reyna's hand.

"Can I have it?" Elena asked.

"You want my fork?" Reyna asked quizzically. Elena actually snorted, but found her composure again quickly.

"Yes, I do. May I... may I have it? To use for my own PERS trinket, now that you have the pen?" Elena smiled broadly, almost trying to win over Reyna and convince her to hand over the beaten up, rusted piece of silver.

Reyna laughed. "Sure, Captain. Please, take the fork. It's yours." Reyna held it out to Elena, who took it and studied it closely before looking back at Reyna.

"Thank you, truly."

Reyna nodded before putting the pen into the same pocket. It was lighter than the fork had been and the case was warm from Elena's hand.

"Got your trinket?" Elena asked, repeating the standard pre-mission check with the question every crew member asked and answered before every deployment.

"Got my trinket," Reyna said. "Gotyourtrinket?"

Elena smiled. The real one, not the command version. "Got my trinket," she replied softly. "Now, get out of my office. I have supply requisitions to review, and I'd like to do it without being argued with about the temperature of the alert lighting again."

"It was gold," Reyna taunted.

"It was amber," Elena stated, shutting down the conversation. "Out."

Reyna laughed softly but turned around and left the office, the realization of the promotion she hadn't asked for but she knew she could do well, even if she didn't think she was entirely ready. Elena did, and, right now, that would be enough.

She thought about the pen in her pocket and how Elena's hands had drawn routes across star charts, and how those routes had become rescue missions that had become the purpose of this ship. And the whole thing had come full circle now, with the pen that drew them in her pocket.

She would carry it every day for the rest of her life. She would make sure to touch it before every shift, every mission, and every morning on the bridge. But for now, she just knew that the pen fit in her pocket, that Elena had filed paperwork before giving Reyna the chance to argue, and that what would always bringher home was a star map pen given to her by a woman who believed in her emphatically.

Jere foundReyna in Borran's kitchen one evening. It was late enough that the overhead lights were dimmed to half power and Borran's six-fingered hands were working dough for tomorrow's breakfast menu. If the smells were any indication, Reyna knew it would draw crowds, as Borran's food tended to do. She sat at the counter with a drink in her hand and thinking about nothing in particular, which was its own kind of luxury.

"Rey," Jere greeted, sliding onto the stool beside her. "I wanted to talk to you about something. Something important."

"If this is about the naming conventions for the cold wing habitats again, I'm not having this discussion," Reyna quipped, turning to face him.

"It's not about the habitats."

"If it's about how you want to bring the Mosskin Nibblets out of their habitat and onto the bridge, as much as I'm for it, Elena vetoed it, saying the bridge would go into disarray with all the calmness from the furry creatures."

"It's not about the Nibblets."