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I can’t say I’m sure.
In fact…I’m more inclined to find that terrifying.
I want to trust these people, to feel that we are not alone in the universe. Yet, when one’s home is destroyed, it is a particularly isolating sensation. While I know that humanity and the Skoropi want to help us, their planets remain intact…and I fear they will never understand what it is like for one’s people to face utter annihilation.
It is easier to be thrilled by the prospect of distant worlds when you are not convinced those distant worlds are populated by those who wish to kill you.
CHAPTER FIVE
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FRANKIE
In the military, everything is assigned to you. You arrive at boot camp with a kit and a bunk, you come in with the same group that you go through training with, and you lean all about the life or death situations you’ll be faced with as you learn. I joined up during the Lyran Civil War, called to protect the people I loved, and there was a certain laissez faire approach to death that we all shared. We would joke about how we would like to go—Rambo style, with guns blazing.
This is a clash of military cultures unlike anything I’ve ever seen.
We board the ship together, Malix carrying a simple pack with him. He wears his uniform and never seems to smile, not even unbuttoning the top of his collar when he gets to his quarters.
He’s straight-laced, tough, serious.
Which is very muchnotTaraven’s vibe.
Taraven is lifelong military—or, whatever passes for the military with the Skoropi. I’m still working out the differences between the Five Houses of the Divine—five garden worlds within close flight range in their star system—but I get the impression that the Fifth House was never much for ceremony.
At least, Taraven certainly isn’t.
He can’t stop talking as we take Malix to his room, pointing out different flowers as we walk down Jaya’s spine. As Jaya’s ‘engineer’—which, seeing that Jaya is an animal and not a ship, makes him more of a biologist—Taraven’s job is to culture various flora to make Jaya’s interior optimally hospitable to passengers. He takes a lot of pride in that job, and I remember him doing the exact same thing when I joined the crew.
Malix doesn’t seem nearly as enthused, though I think I can guess why—and it’s not anything Taraven can control.
Because the Lyra don’t see themselves as needing to know about other parts of people’s work. They have a strictly divided society organized by castes, with each individual born into a specific job. From birth to death, they’re taught that only that specific purpose is in their purview; everything else belongs to someone else. Malix is Warrior Caste, which means that he’ll have been finely trained in the art of war…
…but he doesn’t give a shit about biology.
Not only that, but he doesn’t speak the language, my translation isn’t great, and we’re still searching for a spare Skoropi translator onboard.
I hate not being able to read people, and I can’t read him well even if I’ve already performed a full psychological assessment. All I know is that he’s strict, serious, pretty damn aloof, and…well, gorgeous.
I don’t have to be able to read him to know that.
Seven feet of non-stop muscle, gleaming silver scales, inky black eyes with gemstone irises, and that touch of color on his fringe. His hair is short and messy. I know that has to be unusual, since all the warrior caste Lyrans I’ve met, other than Reza, had long hair. Mai once told me that Lyra often cut off their opponent’s hair after a battle as a mark of shame, or that they will shave their heads in protest of the caste system. Malix’s white hair is streaked with turquoise, and thick and ropy.
I feel like it must have been really pretty. I wonder when and why he cut it.
I wonder if I’ll ever get to ask him or if that would be inappropriate.
He definitely doesn’t look as thrilled as I think Taraven hoped when we show him his room. Taraven went out of his way to make him comfortable, even planting specimens harvested from the Lyran moons. I search Malix’s face for any reaction at all, but his black eyes make him look almost bored with the goings on—like he would rather be doing anything else than having these silly aliens take him on a tour of their ship. I had a totally opposite reaction when I boarded Jaya, since it’s basically a space whale that can tear through dimensions, but I guess Malix must have seen cooler shit in the past.
Or he’s just grieving. It could definitely be that. I shouldn’t discount that.
Malix puts his bag down when we finally arrive in his quarters, looking around at what we’ve prepared for him. This chamber is near Jaya’s hull—where Bekah stayed once upon a time, before she and Zandro shacked up. The walls are still covered withellenakflowers, bright yellow blossoms with blue centers splashing color around the room. Taraven has added a few new features as well: whiteibisflowers from Logos to make Malix feel at home.
He doesn’t address them, or even seem to notice them. I glance over at Taraven to find that his face has fallen, which Malixalsodoesn’t seem to notice.
“I guess we’ll leave you to it,” I say, awkwardly chewing on my lip. Taraven opens his mouth but only closes it again, saying nothing.
“Yes,” Malix says. “Please come and get me when there are crew meetings or meals—I will stay here.”
