“You moved him to a larger cabin, correct?” Nalyra glanced over her shoulder, to where her Admiral was sitting.
“We did. I couldn’t tell if he was happy about it or not, but he cooperated.”
“And the furniture?”
Vessa took a slow sip of her wine.
“Already sent the request to the fabricators. One set of Ydani-sized furniture. It should be ready by the next ship-day.”
“Good. I’d rather not have him complaining about the lack of suitable furnishings, now that my subjects are able to understand him. Some of them might start to think I’m cruel.”
“Perish the thought, Nalyra.” Vessa chuckled.
It was nearing the middle of third watch for the day, and that meant most of the crew and civilians were likely settling in for the night. The Crown Daughter was no exception. She was sitting at the vanity in her cabin, body clad in a silken nightgown, brushing her long hair in front of its mirror. It was always a task that required a certain amount of focus, Nalyra having to take care not to catch any of her crownthreads with the brush. Even the thought was enough to make her wince.
The Crown Daughter had managed to lure her Admiral into her room as well, with the enticing promise of a vintage bottle of wine, which the woman was currently enjoying while lounging in Nalyra’s favorite armchair. Enjoying it quite a bit, it seemed. Vessa had relaxed enough to undo a whole three buttons of her uniform’s jacket.
“It still seems infeasible,” the Admiral mused. “If I hadn’t heard it with my own two ears, I would have never believed it. Perfectly fluent Zakkili.” She took another sip. “And you said Her Majesty just…did it?”
“I swear it, Vess. I was there. I felt the intensity of the Burn, even though I wasn’t touching his mind.” Nalyra swept the brush through another long tress of her hair. “An entire language, and it didn’t even take half a mark.”
Vessa let out a low whistle.
“Damn useful, sounds like.”
A sigh escaped from the Crown Daughter. She knew the Queen must have had her reasons. Of course she did. Communication with the Ydani had been difficult at best, and no negotiation could proceed through that incomplete little device strapped to his wrist. It was practical. Efficient. Necessary, perhaps.
And yet…
“I don’t know, Vess. The Queen destroyed his native tongue to do it. Imagine that. The language you grow up speaking, and it’s just…gone.”
For a brief moment, she considered what it would be like. Losing every song, every prayer, every command and curse and private little phrase that had shaped her since childhood. The brush trembled slightly in her hand.
“Feeling sorry for our new guest?” The Admiral’s tone was wry.
Nalyra shot the woman a caustic glare.
“It’s not that. It's just…to do a Burn like that, so flippantly, so casually…” Nalyra searched for the right word. “It felt almost like…blasphemy, against the Maker. Are Her teachings not that every mind is its own sanctuary? I would think one’s native language falls under that protection.”
“Quite the unexpected piety, Crown Daughter.”
“Oh, come on, Vess. You know I have no problems with my faith. I just don’t like the way politics always seeps into our churches and chapels.”
That got a chuckle from the Admiral.
“I never would have guessed, from the way you and Soreth are always at each other’s throats.”
“Ugh, please don’t befoul the air in my cabin with the name of that snake.” Nalyra rolled her eyes. “If she wasn’t both farblood and a High Priestess, I would have personally tossed her out an airlock for selling me out to Viora like she did.”
“She still claims it was an unintentional leak.”
“Then I’m surprised the Maker doesn’t set her lying tongue ablaze when she uses it to pray.”
Nalyra set down the brush and stood, her loose hair settling around her hips. Walking over to where her Admiral sat, she poured herself a glass of wine and settled into her second favorite armchair. First come, first serve, after all.
The Crown Daughter slowly took a sip of her drink, savoring the deep, fruity taste. An impeccable vintage. One of the few perks of having to come to the Core. She had discreetly sent several of her officers on errands to pick up some choice luxuries while she had gone to the High Fortress. They had exceeded her expectations with what they brought back.
The two women just sat, enjoying the wine and company for a few marks.
Finally, Nalyra broke the silence.
“So, what do you think? About the Ydani.”
Vessa was quiet for a long moment, tapping a finger against the side of her glass.
“What he said to the Queen…assuming it’s true, it would explain a lot about why the Ydani are what they are.”
“How so?” Nalyra cocked an eyebrow at her.
“We Zakkili…we haven’t had an actual, full-scale war since the ages when we still hadn’t reached the empyrean.” The Admiral said slowly. “We’ve read about them, of course, but those are just history docs. Things the Crown-kin and High Houses can chortle about and imagine themselves so much more civilized than our poor, misguided ancestors.”
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“But the Ydani have.”
“More than that. They fought an existential war, one that spanned generations. I cannot imagine how drastically that would shape a society. Or maybe I can, when I look at our Ydani guest and his people.”
“Enough to throw your race into the waiting arms of the Monarchy?” Nalyra asked, gesturing with her glass.
“If that’s what it took, yes.” Vessa paused, taking another pensive sip of wine. “The Monarchy’s navy is my life, Nalyra. I take pride in what I do. And every time I visit the Under Deck, I’m reminded of just what I’m fighting for, what’s worth protecting.” She shook her head. “Imagining our whole society, our entire civilization, as nothing but an extension of a Zakkili war machine fills me with a type of dread I didn’t even know existed before today.”
Nalyra looked over at her Admiral, mildly surprised. She hadn’t expected Vessa to be so sympathetic.
“But they won, Vess. They won that war.”
“They did, but just what did they give up for that victory?” Vessa sighed. “I look at it from that angle, and suddenly these incomprehensible aliens start making a lot more sense.” She drained the last bit of wine from her glass, and reached to refill it. “Either way, I don’t think it matters.”
“You don’t?”
“What’s done is done. The Monarchy knows about them now, and that leaves only one course ahead of us.” She raised her full glass, as if giving a toast. “One way or another, the Ydani will be joining the Monarchy. I can only pray that it happens as smoothly as possible.”
Nalyra echoed the motion, and echoed the sentiment inside her head. Smoothly would be best for everyone.
Silence settled over the cabin as the two women sipped their drinks. Unbidden, the Ydani’s words came to Nalyra’s mind.
Better to be consumed than suffer our culture’s death.
She remembered their ships, built without ornament or grace. She remembered his description of Ydani lives, each one bent around survival and readiness. Perhaps they were already halfway there. Frowning slightly, she shook her head.
“Now, the only question is how to handle our new guest…” Nalyra muttered, half to herself.
“Ah, your mission from the Queen. Right.” Vessa swirled the liquid in her glass. “What did you have in mind?”
“Well…” Nalyra tapped a delicate finger against her pursed lips. “I suppose I’ll assign him an escort, and let him explore the Under Deck and civilian accessible areas of the Mid Deck.”
“An escort?”
“Just at first. He’s certainly not in any danger from my subjects, I would think, but the Aegis is easily large enough to get lost in.” Nalyra clarified. “It should help earn his trust, and reports of how he reacts to the civilians may be enlightening.”
“Perhaps.” The Admiral ran a finger along the rim of her glass. “But you also need time to observe him personally, as well. I think you should place him on the command dais, at least when you are there.”
“The command dais? Really, Vess?”
“He’s a soldier, Nalyra. That’s how he’s going to understand you the quickest. And the reverse, as well. That’s where he’s probably going to feel most familiar too, I’d bet.” She glanced over at Nalyra. “And I’ll admit it: I wouldn’t be disinterested in hearing a Ydani opinion on our tactics.”
“I suppose…” Nalyra hesitated. “You don’t think it will cause a problem? Having him there?”
“The bridge crew will get over it, I’m sure.” The Admiral scoffed. “Yes, maybe getting a gun pointed at them made one or two of the junior officers pee their pants, but at the end of the day, not a single person in that room was harmed. He might get a few dirty looks, but he seems like a professional. He can take some angry grumbling.”
“Well, when you put it that way…” Nalyra took another large sip of wine.
“The biggest question would be if Mikka tries to fuck him.”
Nalyra couldn’t help but let out an undignified snort.
“Vess! She wouldn’t!”
The Admiral shot her a rare grin, her ears giving a playful wiggle.
“True, she usually goes for the small and dainty types, but who knows? He’s good-looking enough, in that kind of scarred, weathered way.”
“Stop! Stop. I don’t even want to think about the repercussions of Mikka sleeping with a politically messy alien envoy." Nalyra swiped a hand in front of her face, as if she could slap the idea away.
Vessa merely gave her another grin, pouring herself a little more wine.
“But yes, fine. Point taken. I’ll let him observe on the command dais during operations.” She grumbled. Privately, she didn’t want the Ydani anywhere near the command dais, or even the bridge as a whole, but she couldn’t ignore the wisdom in her Admiral’s advice.
However, the memory of the Ydani’s armored hands ripping apart the door to her bridge refused to fade.
“Mmmm.” Vessa stared into her drink. “But it sounds like we won’t be leaving for at least another ship-day?” She glanced at Nalyra.
“Yes. The Sororal Conclave.” The Crown Daughter sighed. “I had hoped to avoid attending one until the Reign-year ceremonies.”
“Any idea why they’re holding one now?”
“It has to be something urgent, I think. Something that can’t wait.”
Vessa cocked an eyebrow at her friend.
“How do you figure that?”
“Zikara and Avyra won’t be there,” she started, naming her two sisters who also served as Royal Hands. “Both the Martyr's Blade and the Crown’s Blessing are nowhere near the Core at the moment.” She sipped her drink. “If it wasn’t a pressing matter, Leora would wait until everyone was in the system.”
“Urgent news is rarely good news.” Vessa remarked. “I can only hope it’s not too dire.”
“Little chance of that, even my mother seemed perturbed. And that doesn’t happen lightly.” Nalyra said, then caught herself. “Damnit, I meant the Queen seemed perturbed. Perhaps the wine is hitting me a bit harder than I thought.”
Such a breach in decorum would be appalling in public, but here in Nalyra’s cabin…
“I heard nothing, Crown Daughter. I must be too tipsy.” Vessa said airily, holding her glass up and letting the liquid catch the light.
“Ah Vess, what would I do without you?” Nalyra gave a dramatic mock sigh.
“You’d have a lot more wine to yourself, that’s certain.” She held the container upside down, letting the last few drops fall into her glass. “We’ve emptied the bottle.”
“Maker’s ire, no wonder I’m feeling it.” Nalyra chuckled, sinking a little lower in her chair.
Vessa fiddled with a device on the table, and after a moment, graceful music filled the cabin, soft enough as to not disturb the pleasant haze settling over them. Nalyra closed her eyes, letting the rich, warm tones of the singing fill her head.
“This is new.” She remarked quietly, eyes still closed.
“It is. They were a relatively unknown opera troupe until they were invited to perform at the High Fortress a few measures ago.” Vessa explained, the enthusiasm obvious in her voice. “Their two female leads are incredible — very talented singers.”
Nalyra smirked to herself. Almost no one who saw the brusque and efficient Admiral on duty would ever guess what she was like behind closed doors. A lover of wine and opera, passionate and knowledgeable about both.
Tomorrow, she would have to return to the High Fortress, to navigate the treacherous tangle of politics that came alongside being a Crown Daughter. But for the moment, for this evening, she was simply relaxing in her cabin, enjoying her buzz and listening to the stirring music with one of the few women she could call a friend.