Page 29 of When the Universe Sings

Slowly, I blinked, the dryness a grit that made me groan. The light was faint, like the beginnings of dawn through the leaves, and I blinked again. It wasn’t the wail of a child, but the beeping of a machine to mark my heartbeats. The synthetic medical gown crinkled as I turned, the scent of thehyaxiatub clung to my hair. I’d never been submerged in the healing vessel before, but I was familiar with its scent from theDaskquah. I squinted. The halo orbs had been turned down but I could make out the med bay and the equipment.

Crux sat beside me.

I gasped as I tried to jerk away from him and, after a moment, he let go of my hand. Though it was dark in the room, something crumpled in his expression before smoothing out again in a mask of disinterest. But after a moment I searched his face, following the line of the scars up his neck and over his cheeks, spiderwebbing out like branches of a tree.

“You don’t recognize me,” he murmured. It wasn’t a question.

Of course I recognized him, we’d been on this ship together for the last month or so. He’d been on the cruiser with Captain Ruciyah and me just a few days ago, grumbling about the mission. And with a start, I remembered he’d come crashing into the control room, throwing Maxtalen against a wall.

You piece ofsalpah, you’re dead.

It was a word the younger generation in our village had created, derived from the word for trash—sanglapha. I hadn’t heard anyone use it in over twelve cycles, except for the times I thought it about some person or another.

My muscles locked into place, vision hazing as I stared. I tried to take a breath but an ache spread across my chest andpain skittered across my ribs. Air wheezed through my teeth, faster and faster until Crux’s eyes widened and he reached forward to take my hands in his. “Shh, June. Breathe.”

I shook my head. No one called me that. “No, no, no, no.”

He shushed me again, leaning over the bed to pull me into his chest. But he didn’t smell the way I remembered—like sap and the spices his mother used for dinners. Now he smelled like the tang of fear and something metallic, like blood. I pushed against him but he didn’t budge and it didn’t scare me, even as I gasped for air and fire raged through my chest.

“You’re dead.” I groaned over and over. “You’re dead. You’re dead.”

Another bitter chuckle, one I’d heard earlier in my dreams. “No. Not yet at least.”

Crux pulled away slowly, though he didn’t release me completely. His hands fell to my shoulders and he perched on the edge of the thin mattress. One of the halo orbs floated closer, illuminating his face, and for the first time I saw the dark green of his irises. They weren’t black like I’d thought. And there was something about the slope of his nose, the curve of his chin.

“Kal…” My hand trembled as I reached out to touch his face and trace the line of those black scars. Gently, he grabbed my wrist, pressing his cheek into my palm while his eyes closed. He took a deep breath and his exhale came out shattered before he blinked.

“Miss me?”

It wasn’t joy slicing through my heart as I looked at my friend who was mangled almost beyond recognition. Heat pricked the corners of my eyes and the lump in my throat returned so large I could barely swallow past it. He leaned forward, pressing his brow to mine, clutching the back of my head.

“I didn’t want to leave you on the ground.”

And, for the first time in twelve cycles a sob burst from my chest. My hand rose with old muscle memory to touch the back of his head, to complete the sign of affection for our people. Scalding tears burned my cheeks and I hiccupped for air, each jolt another slice through my lungs.

He pulled away, though his hands cradled my head, brushing back the hair from my face. I curled in on myself protectively, trying to stop the tears and bury the caustic torment flowing through my veins. Crux—Kalsyun—didn’t offer me words of comfort, he only sat with me in our shared grief, his ragged breaths mingling with my own.

We are the only ones left, I wanted to say.

“No, we’re not,” he answered.

I’d said the words aloud, and his response had my chin jutting up. His face was blotchy, tear stains mingling with the scars on his face, scars I couldn’t make sense of.

“I saw them—Iheardthem.”

He winced, blowing out a ragged breath. “A lot of them died…but not all.”

Though I desperately wanted to ask who had survived, the words got stuck somewhere along the way. Instead, I wiped at my cheeks, trying to find a steadying breath past the pain in my chest. Kalsyun did the same, staring up at the ceiling for a moment before he looked down at me again.

“How?” I finally pushed out, my hand flying to a space below my sternum where I pressed hard.

He encouraged me to lie back on the bed, but I shrugged him off so I could stay upright. After a moment he relented. His chuckle was softer than before, matching the one in my hazy memory. “You always have been stubborn. That seems to have gotten worse with age.”

“Kal…tell me what happened,” I rasped, clearing my throat. “How are you alive?”

He ran a hand over his hair—now brighter and lighter than I’d seen it before—while he slowly lowered himself back into the chair beside the bed. But his hands cupped one of mine and he traced the progress of one green vein up into the crook of my elbow before his attention finally fixed again on my face.

And then he spoke the words that sent my brain careening off into space and wondering if this was really all a dream.