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“How will you introduce yourself to him?” I ask, sitting down on the edge of the bed. I’m still getting used to the beds here—how they’re set into the floor like nests, customized for each of our personal needs. “I would normally say a hug for someone who just went through something like that, but I don’t think the Lyra are big huggers.”
“Well, I suppose I will merely behave as I would with anyone else,” Taraven says, frowning. His eyes flicker yellow and blue, his tail twitching the same color. “In the days following the destruction of Zanpi, I always just wanted to be treated as if I was…well, as if I was normal. As if nothing had happened to me.”
“You didn’t want a hug?” I ask, biting my lip.
He shakes his head. “Sympathy always made it worse. But I would take a hug now if you’re offering.”
I snort. “Maybe later.”
“I’ll hold you to that promise.”
He laughs under his breath as he places a plant gently on Jaya’s walls, vines reaching out to integrate it into her biome. The way he grapples with the ship is always gentle; in fact, he’s far too gentle for war at all.
I worry about what will happen to him if we end up in a fight. It’s why I always insist on sparring.
I don’t know what I would do if I lost him.
In the six months I’ve been on Jaya, Taraven has become my best friend. He’s the first person I track down when I wake up in the morning, the person I share breakfast with every day, and the crew member I tend to shadow as he meanders around the ship. There isn’t always a lot to do on Jaya—as azephtan, she’s usually just fine taking care of herself—but Taraven is always doing something interesting.
Plus, he’s a great drinking buddy on late nights.
“I should have thought to ask you,” I say. “I guess I forgot that you’ve been through this.”
He shrugs. “Notexactlythis. Zanpi is still there, after all—uninhabitable.”
“You say it so casually,” I scoff.
“You grow accustomed to it,” he says. “For a while, it hurts, yes—but then you realize the world you once knew is gone, and you live in a new world instead.”
“And our new Lyran friend?” I ask. “I assume he’s not there yet.”
“No, I doubt he is,” Taraven says. “The wound is fresh. We should be delicate.”
Jaya shudders slightly and Taraven looks up in the direction of the cortex. I don’t know how he can tell exactly what’s going on; I guess living on azephtanthis long clues you in to all their little quirks.
“That was our jump to Logos,” he says. “We should be there soon.”
“It still weirds me out that we can cross transdimensional space without even feeling it,” I say.
Taraven grins. “It’s because Jaya is polite; she wants to give her crew the most comfortable ride possible.”
I feel unusually apprehensive as we climb the spine up toward the hatch, where we’ll exit to Councilor Va’lora’s private dock. Our new crew member will be waiting for us there, and now all I can think about is what Taraven said about him being a ‘raw wound.’ I’m afraid I’ll put my foot in my mouth—that I’ll say something wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“What if I ruin this from the outset?” I ask, glancing over at Taraven as we walk. He’s shirtless, as the Skoropi always are, with a pair of tie-off black pants draped around his legs. I guess that at least I’m dressed, unlike my friend here. “I’m so afraid I’ll say the wrong thing.”
“Hm…” Taraven says. “I think the key is to ensure that you do not make light of his people’s suffering.”
“I would never!”
Taraven narrows his eyes as he looks over at me. Shit; even after six months, he knows me better than that. “You often use humor to diffuse discomfort,” he says.
“When did you get so smart?” I grumble.
He grins. “I have always been smart.”
The rest of our group is already waiting at the hatch, Zandro and Bekah dressed in more formal attire while Reza and Mai are in their dress blacks. I wear the same uniform, while Taraven just…looks like Taraven. As our engineer, he’s only coming to inspect the shard with Bekah—to make sure that it won’t harm Jaya if it’s brought onboard.
“No guns, right?” Mai says, scrutinizing me and Taraven. “Logos has had tough laws on weapons since the Civil War.”
