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Reyna came to the library most evenings now. Orion would bring her tea without asking, placing it quietly at the edge of her console, within reach but not in her way, and then return to his own work. And he never left until she did.

One night, Reyna was in the library very late, and at one point, she looked up from a report she'd read three times without absorbing any of the information, and found Orion watching her. When she saw him, he smiled at her.

"Can I get you anything, Captain? More tea?" Orion asked gently.

"No," she responded. "No thank you, Orion."

He smiled at her again, then turned his head down, back to his own work. She watched him.

"You don't have to stay," she said.

Orion looked back at her, his smile still present. "I know," he replied. "I want to."

"You do?" Reyna asked.

"Of course."

"Why?" Reyna asked softly.

Orion's eyes warmed on her. "Because everyone deserves compassion, Captain." And then he returned to his cataloguing.

She watched him for a few moments, appreciation for him blossoming within her chest. Her emotions stayed stable, but her heart was affected by the generosity of this man. And so, she stayed, and he stayed, and the library was a quiet haven for both of them.

Borran also took to looking after Reyna, much in the same way he always had, but with pointed determination now. He had been aboard the Emberkind longer than anyone, longer than any captain or crew member, his career spanning decades. Borran had fed every version of this ship's company, and he knew how to spot someone that needed extra care.

He began making food Reyna could eat without sitting down, left plates at her door when she didn't come to the galley. He adjusted the seasoning to things that required no thought to consume, because he understood that grief took appetite and attention simultaneously, and a person who couldn't think about eating could still eat if the food was simple enough to bypass the machinery of decision.

The first time Borran called her "The Wee Captain," Reyna had been standing at his counter reviewing a crew manifest when she'd looked up so sharply that her datapad nearly slid off the surface.

"I'm notwee," she said.

Borran looked down at her from his full seven feet keeping his mouth shut and not saying anything.

"Fine," Reyna said, the word dragging as it left her mouth. "But for the record, I'm average height for a Kaelari."

Borran handed her a plate and Reyna ate her food without arguing further since arguing with Borran was like arguing with gravity about the direction of down.

He never used his words to ask how she was, and never uttered Elena's name, or Jere's. But he put food in front of herand stood at his counter until she ate it, and that was everything she needed.

Reyna ate because she didn't have the energy to refuse, and because somewhere in the back of her mind, underneath the reports and the staffing assessments and the daily effort of commanding a ship that had lost its way, she remembered that this was how you cared for people. You made sure they ate, that they continued on, and that you gave them what they needed, even if they didn't know how to ask for it themselves. She had learned these lessons with Elena and Jere, and even with Borran as well. The lessons had survived the people who taught it, which she realized was entirely the point.

? 1979 / CYCLE 489 | EMBERKIND CV-0417, SECTOR CASSIA ?

Later that year, after a rescue mission brought them close, the Coalition invited Reyna and the Emberkind to Concordia to choose the replacements for the open positions aboard.

Reyna interviewed them, sometimes bringing in members of the staff she trusted. She interviewed diligently, but part of her was breaking every time she met a new candidate for the position of Chief Animal Specialist, or First Mate. These people would be filling gaps left by Elena and Jere, in their presence, not just their career. And Reyna was not interested in believing things that weren't true. These new crew members would, undoubtedly, stand in different spots and conduct different work, and they would, of course, bring different skills. But they could not bring back the sound of Jere singing off-key in the corridors, or the way Elena leaned back in the captain'schair with one leg crossed over the other. And they especially could not bring back the feeling of walking onto the bridge and knowing, without even looking, that the two people who understood her best in the entire universe were there.

So she went through the interviews, working through candidates and asking about their history, skills, and experiences. And she found the best individuals to fill the open positions.

Kess Pheras was the first to be interviewed, being invited to their docking bay on Concordia to interview. But Reyna knew within ten seconds that she'd found her new Chief Medical Specialist.

Her credentials were immaculate, sure, and her clinical manner, though it was precise to a degree that bordered on architectural, was beyond impressive. Any qualified doctor would have earned the posting. But what told Reyna she'd found the right one had nothing to do with qualifications.

Kess was Kaelari from Aurevia, just like Reyna. But her markings held at a cool, deliberate silver-blue that Reyna recognized immediately. These were not the warm gold of contentment that most Kaelari carried at baseline, just like Reyna did. And they certainly didn't show the dim of suppression fatigue, either, much how Reyna looked right now as well. But Kess seemed to have mastered a deliberate, practiced middle ground that clearly voiced that her patients' sense of safety mattered more than her own comfort.

The silver-blue reminded Reyna of Elena's purple, another Kaelari who had mastered a difference in their baseline, showcasing their specialties about their cultural norm. Elena's, Reyna had come to understand, held Elena always ready and able to lead, serve, and direct those who depended on her to safety. Hadn't that been what she'd done in the moments before she disappeared?

Any species could have shown that kind of professional discipline, and many probably did. But only another Kaelari could have shown it in a way that meant it was engrained in the very makeup of their existence and was communicated in a language Reyna read fluently. The silver-blue wasn't why Reyna hired her. The silver-blue was why Reyna trusted her before the first physical was even over.