Nasra laughed self-deprecatingly. “Not exactly. My stream has consistently been the least-watched.” Based on her tone, Torian surmised that was a Bad Thing in tou’siil culture—maybe even a little shameful. Nasra pushed past it. “That’s why I jumped to join you and Dutch once Zen called. I do believe in your goal here… but my motivations aren’t exactly selfless.”
Torian took another bite of her salad, chewing thoughtfully. “Nasra, it’s not a crime to prioritize yourself, especially when it happens to align with a better goal. You’d be wasting away at that absurd university.”
“Headmaster Nuundidhave a reputation,” Nasra mused. “He was always kind to me. But… I’m sure there’s a reason for that.”
“Can I admit something?” Torian waited for Nasra to gesture her to continue, then smirked. “I’m selfishly pleased that we stole you from Nuun. So. Maybe my motivations aren’t that pure either.”
Nasra laughed, and Torian laughed, and when Celise andDutch glanced their way, they laughed harder. Celise rolled her eyes, and Dutch smiled before returning to their conversation.
After her mirth faded, Nasra patted Torian’s hand. “If it helps, Torian, I’m honored to document this undertaking. The galaxy at large deserves to see a better side of humanity. You’re exactly the person to demonstrate it.”
Warmth filled Torian’s chest, and she swallowed past a sudden lump in her throat. “Wow. Thank you.”
Nasra beamed.
More time passed, and eventually Celise went to bed, choosing to sleep in theDestitutefor the cleaner air. Torian escorted her to the townhouse’s front door. As she vanished through the stone tunnel to the outer ring and docks, Moss said over the nearby speaker, “I will inform you when she arrives on theDestitute.”
That speaker was mounted by the front door of Celise’s new townhouse, and Torian glanced at it. “Well, well. You’ve been awfully quiet tonight.”
Moss sounded exasperated. “I was conversing with Auto-Nav. It isnota delightful conversationalist, but… it is learning.”
Torian couldn’t wait to talk to Dutch about that development. “I’m glad you two are getting along. Is the engine next?”
“No. As I said before, Engine is a simplistic system. It operates exactly as it was created.” A pause. “Although Auto-Nav is convinced it can persuade Engine to our level eventually.”
“Fingers crossed,” Torian said, wholly unsure if that was something to root for.
Moss’s tone was dry. “We do not have fingers.”
“Rhizoids crossed, then.”
“My rhizoids are always crossed. That is how I grip surfaces. Your sister is nearing the ship. I will ensure she sleeps safely.”
Torian waved a hand. “Much obliged.”
She went back inside, climbing the stairs. Four hours of sleep yesterday wasn’t enough, and with the nighttime cycle of Vaesa, Torian was exhausted all over again. But she still hesitated nearthe bedroom—then chose the rooftop once more. This night felt magical, and she wasn’t ready to relinquish it just yet.
On the rooftop patio, Dutch was already asleep, face buried in the couch cushions. His species didn’t snore, apparently, but every so often, a high-pitched whistle was muffled by the fabric.
Zen had returned and was lounging on the opposite side of the patio, his wings loosely unfolded, his tail resting on the stone floor. He glanced sideways at Torian as she approached and raised his cup—a large glass bottle with an odd-shaped lid.
(Well, draics didn’t have anything like human lips. Their fangs must be difficult to maneuver past typical lids and straws.)
“Care for some company?” Torian asked quietly.
Zen gestured at the empty space beside him. Torian retrieved a glass of water, leaning her back against the railing, elbows bracing herself. Her gaze tilted upward to admire the kerrac tree, Kerracia, its shimmering leaves swaying in the station’s wind. The rustling sounded almost like jewels clinking together.
After a few moments of comfortable silence, Torian ventured, “I wanted to apologize again. For, well… how we met.”
“Well, your reaction wasn’t unfounded.” Zen sounded amused. “I wasn’t being courteous. I really thought you’d stolen that ship.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t have to shoot you.”
“Twice.”
They glanced at each other. Zen laughed, and Torian smirked, and the tension between them eased.
Torian hesitated, then admitted, “My mom used to keep us in bed with stories about predatory draics. ‘They prowl the alleys at night and snatch up bad little girls.’ That kind of thing.” It was hard to reconcile those shadowy figures with Zen’s soft laugh, or the gentleness of his arm around Dutch’s waist. Humiliation slid over her, and she hung her head. “I didn’t realize it had ingrained so deeply.”
