She didn’t think Jin would take the Sye’s absence in stride. Especially if Odin left without a word.
“He’ll get over it. It’s better this way.”
Kira’s smile held a note of self-deprecation. How many times had Kira or Jin said something similar?
Somehow, it felt fitting to have those words turned back around on them in this situation.
Kira didn’t stop Odin as the Sye departed, leaving behind an echoing silence that felt an awful lot like the feeling before battle. A quiet stillness you knew couldn’t last before the terror of war.
Soon. One way or another, things were coming to a head.
“I wish you luck, my friend,” Kira whispered softly.
four
Three weeks later
On a waystation at the edge of Ta Sa’Riel’s solar system
Sparks flew from the welding rod as Kira repaired one of the cracks on the underside of her ship. The face shield darkened as she struck the arc, protecting her eyes from the intense light that would have blinded her otherwise.
A voice intruded.
“Se—“
Kira kept working. The sizzle of the welding rod holding her entire attention. It sounded like cooking bacon, a low hissing drone as she dragged the rod across the metal.
Kira stepped back, examining her handiwork. The ship’s underbelly now had another scar to add to the dozens already present. The repair wasn’t pretty, but it would do until she could find a skilled welder familiar with human vessels to replace those panels that had been damaged.
She could have asked her hosts for help, but she didn’t trust them not to add a few of their hard to detect pieces of technology to monitor her ship. At least with a human, she knew what to look out for.
“Seon’yer, I know you can hear me,“ the person said again.
Kira raised the face shield of her welding helmet as she looked in the direction of the speaker.
A young girl who looked to be around the age of seven or eight waved madly at Kira from her crouch near the aft of the ship.
The girl looked like one of those pretty dolls Kira never got to play with as a child. Her hair a white blond and her eyes a deep blue. She was dressed in a green jacket with gold buttons marching down the front. Her pants were a dark brown and tucked into cute calf-high boots.
A teenage-looking boy stood next to her with a shy smile.
“Ziva, what did I tell you about the ‘S’ word?” Kira asked the girl.
Strictly translated, the term seon’yer meant mentor or teacher, but the concept was much more complex than that.
In ages past, humans had similar ways of calling their mentors depending on the region. Sensei in Japan. Shifu in China, and master in other parts of the world.
The relationship between seon’yer and yer’se, or disciple, was a deep one, approaching that of a parental figure with their child. As far as Kira could tell, it was a relationship that stuck with both parties for the entirety of their lives. Dissolving it wasn’t something done on a whim and usually involved the dishonor of one or both of those involved.
It was why she was so resistant to Ziva taking her as her seon’yer.
Kira didn’t know what her future involved. There was also the fact she had not yet passed her adva ka, a rite of passage Tuann must undertake before they were considered an adult.
Until she did, she could not formally take on any disciples. Even if she wanted to. Which she didn’t.
Ziva’s nose scrunched with stubbornness as she set her hands on her hips. “The eldest yer’se advised me that sometimes your words don’t match your actions.”
Kira shook her head as she flicked off the welding rod. That child was going to give her a coronary one day. Kira just knew it.
