She had been on Vaesa for one hour, thirty minutes now. The space station used to operate with a safety parameter of 99 percent,but that was over a millennia ago. Now, anything could have found its way into this space station.
I ran multiple scenarios with the new information and concluded that there was a 41 percent chance Torian might die on this station.
[I refused to let that happen.]
CHAPTER 8
Vaesa was a damnedmarvel.
Torian shouldn’t have been surprised, based on how advanced Moss was—and how well theDestituteaged over a nearly immortal alien’s lifespan.
And yet, the moment she stepped off theDestitute, the nylarian engineering had her captivated. Windows honeycombed high above her, braced with thin iron frames. The space station was moving into an evening position, and the sun’s light cast a sideways shadow over the huge dome—and in high-glare spaces, the glass—or their alien version of it—automatically dimmed to temper harsh light.
If that wasn’t impressive enough, nylarian architecture was stunning. They seemed to favor wood surfaces accented by natural plant growth. Where possible, impressive stone columns had been built as supports. The stone was like nothing she’d ever seen—it was rough and black, similar to the pictures she’d seen of volcanic rock. There were carvings in the wood and stone, geometric shapes that slid into more organic florals with artful ease.
“Wow…” Torian pressed a hand to a rock column. It was rough under her hand, not as porous as actual volcanic rock, but close.
On theDestitute, the air was slightly humid and warm, easily cutting the chill of space. It was scented with soil and plant growth. Here, it smelled similar… but with a sweeter undertone like wildflowers.
Well, what Torian alwaysimaginedwildflowers smelled like,anyway. The closest she’d experienced was the flowering plant outside Celise’s clinic, but the aroma was similar.
The nylarians must have either worshiped nature, or been very attuned to it, because everything here felt very intentional—an artificial homage to a natural environment. She wondered what kind of culture they had. Holidays? Food? Dating customs? Right now, they felt vastly different than species she’d seen, like the tou’siil or draics. A monument, rather than a physical people.
The dock doubled as a welcome area, albeit with an open ceiling that allowed full view of both the massive blue tree, and the glass overhead. She left the vicinity cautiously, one hand on her gun.
Vaesa appeared to be circular, with buildings arranged like the rings of a tree trunk. As she perused, it became clear that the outer circle was for starship docking, resupply stores, and welcome centers. Another row of buildings hinted at a second ring, and maybe a third, and Torian meandered, hoping for an entrance to those interior rings.
Overhead, that glimmering blue tree—the “inconsiderate asshole” tree, according to Moss—stood proud, visible from every angle of this dome. Its leaves shimmered in artificial wind, sparkling like diamonds. Its trunk had a vaguely cerulean tinge, but Torian hadn’t seen that type of wood utilized anywhere.
So,worshipedwas accurate, then. No reason not to use that wood for building unless the tree had cultural significance.
It was awe-inspiring, so she understood. Her voice was quiet, but pointed. “You are absolutely incredible.” Then, as a panicked afterthought, she added, “If you can communicate with Moss, please don’t tell it I said that.”
The tree didn’t respond, but then again, most trees wouldn’t.
Torian continued walking along the curved outer ring. This place was definitely abandoned, but remnants of the nylarians were everywhere. A few crumbling starships similar in appearance to theDestitute, minus Moss, had been left in several of the docks. None appeared functional after so long without care. There were acouple public meeting spots where old books and belongings had been left. Torian picked up a tome—it had a cover made of some type of thick cardboard, and the pages were thick and printed with nylarian script.
Curiously enough, like on theDestitute, everything was roughly human-sized. From the books to the chairs, this place wasn’t unlike somewhere on the colonies. Close, but ever so slightlyoff.
A chill swept up Torian’s spine. This place was wonderful, but she couldn’t shake her uneasy feeling. It took several moments of holding that book, staring at this seating area, to realize why.
Possessions hadn’t been taken. Bags and foodstuff and books were left abandoned, a snapshot of daily life on Vaesa before the nylarians left.
Torian set down the book and picked up a child’s toy. It was a stuffed… lion? Except the lion had a longer tail with a barbed tip, elongated legs, and tall, rabbit-like ears. It was crafted expertly with linen and wool, and a few stitches had come loose.
Was that an effect of time and controlled elements? Or had this toy simply been loved until it started to fall apart?
Where was this child?
“Moss said theyleft, not that they died.” She was trying to reassure herself, but Torian still didn’t put the stuffed toy down. Instead, she hugged it to her chest, praying she wouldn’t find proof of a massacre or something equally awful.
She didn’t—no matter how far along this outer ring she walked, there was no evidence of a struggle. Blood didn’t smear the walls. There weren’t bodies anywhere. It was like they all just boarded ships and vacated.
That was still creepy.
Torian finally found a stone tunnel to the inner rings. This middle one was clearly intended for living: apartments and townhomes with rooftop decks were stacked three stories high. The community spaces here seemed less formal, more intentional: they had wooden playsets and ancient tabletop games and ponds with stone waterfalls.
Nature had reclaimed this space, too, but with more fervor. Almost like the center of this dome, the blue tree, was a driving force in how wild things had been allowed to grow. Alien ivy climbed up the apartments, growing through windows and open doors. Potted plants had roots so thick a few of the pots had cracked, and several more were overturned. The wood itself seemed to have come alive in some places, growing into new trees over open patios.
