Page 48

Seeker

“I don’t have an instrument with me,” Jaz says. “Or I’d play for you.”

Tad shuffles a bit before saying, “Um. Not to put you on the spot or anything, but I borrowed this camper from my brother. And he dabbles with the guitar, mostly campfire sing-alongs like this one.”

“Go get it,” Poppy urges.

He waits for Jaz’s affirmation, then retrieves his sibling’s instrument. From the moment she touches it, the rest of us are riveted. Her long, graceful fingers dance over the strings, and she attunes to it swiftly, making it sing beneath her touch.

“Given everything we shared tonight, I know what song I’ll start with,” she says.

“Which one?” Poppy asks.

I don’t recognize the opening notes, but Jen breathes, “‘Stand by Me.’”

Jaz plays with complete immersion, deepest focus.

This is why she left her homeworld: because she can create this sort of mesmeric beauty with a touch.

I’m swept along, riding the waves of mellow sound.

And as the last chord fades, hanging in the air like a promise, I realize 97-B has never felt more like home.

Silence hovers between us, a gentle pause before she starts playing again.

The campsite fills with a new melody, likely an original composition.

Her performance is not just music; it’s a revelation, a life-changing sequence of harmonies and dissonances that speak of her journey through the cosmos.

The notes are delicate yet powerful, melancholy chords blending with hopeful trills, painting a portrait of longing amidst the vastness of the starry sky.

Jaz’s song is the voice of every star I’ve sped past, every world I glimpsed from afar but never touched.

It’s the silent roar of the universe, contained within the gentle strum of her skilled fingers.

This is what Oona wants from me—what I’ve failed to manifest. If not music, then this feeling that Jaz creates so effortlessly.

I ran from the prospect of failure because it was worse when I stayed—when I showed them a creation that I’d poured my entire being into, only to be told everything isn’t enough.

The first time I left the creche, it was because I couldn’t bear to be told, ever so gently, that I ought to try again.

Just once, I want to be enough, precisely as I am.

“Holy shit,” Poppy says for the second time that night.

I feel unmoored, adrift in wonder, and Jen has tears in her eyes. But I know it doesn’t always mean sadness. For humans, tears can spring from any strong emotion.

“Eloquent as ever,” Ravik’s voice holds a different note as well.

“I seriously can’t even articulate how incredible that was,” Tad finally murmurs. “I’ve paid hundreds of dollars for concerts that didn’t give me goose bumps.”

Jaz sets aside the guitar. “I’m so glad you enjoyed it. It’s healing for me. Pure joy.”

A pensive silence falls between us, and then Jen stretches and stares up at the sky.

“Only two days left.”

The others nod while I bask in the rare wonder of being known by true friends and in the emotional glow of Jaz’s gift.

I’m not afraid right now, and I hope that I overreacted to the danger those two humans pose.

The night air is heavy with smoke, but I like the crackle and pop that comes from burning organic fuel.

While it is not safe or energy efficient, I still find a primitive charm in this moment.

I am still processing Ravik’s revelations.

Could they be the lost scion from Tyris Antari?

The one who vanished so long ago? The violence of the revolution came as a shock to most in the Galactic Union, and many houses were lost that day as a tyrant rose to seize disparate threads; the strings of power were not meant to be held by one party, and they had safeguards in place.

But the unthinkable still occurred, even on such a civilized world.

I knew Jaz’s story already, and it shouldn’t have shocked the humans either, as she always seems on the verge of dancing to some unheard music.

Her people are ethereal, visually suited to the artistic life she’s chosen.

If we could swap spirits, how different might our lives have been?

I wonder why beings are so rarely born where they belong.

“Should we call it a night?” Jen asks eventually.

“Sounds like a plan,” Tad agrees, stretching his arms above his head.

Poppy nods. “Can I get a ride back to town with you?”

“Absolutely. Ravik? There’s room for you too, Jaz.”

“Thank you,” Ravik says.

“I’m going to stay and talk to Tad a bit more,” Jaz answers.

He seems surprised but delighted. “Really? I still have a thousand questions if it’s okay to ask. I can take you back later.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Jaz says.

Ravik rises then, their demeanor perfectly neutral. “See you tomorrow then.”

“Take care, you two,” Poppy chimes in.

The drive back to town is quiet. For once, Poppy doesn’t tease Ravik at all. I feel like I understand their taciturn nature and their general reticence better now. They’ve witnessed their entire world aflame, after all. Poppy directs Jen to her lodgings, and Ravik does the same.

And we’re alone at last, as Jen said before.

“Ready to head home?” she asks.

At my assent, she drives us to the Rellows Inn and parks in her usual spot.

The room has become familiar to me, even comfortable in a way because we have our little rituals already.

While I pull the blackout blinds that the cleaning personnel always open, she deposits her bag on a desk already laden with notepads and pens along with brochures for tourist destinations nearby.

“Finally,” she groans, kicking off her shoes and toppling backward on the bed. “I think we walked a thousand miles today.”

I find her dramatics…endearing. That appears to be the correct word.

And all at once, I envision parting from her in two days’ time, no longer being able to see her face or hear her voice.

We would be, once more, simply words on a screen.

I find I cannot brook that reversal. She is the first and best happiness I’ve known since I arrived on 97-B.

Yet I have unfinished business elsewhere.

It seems irresponsible to become closer when I would leave if I could.

I ignore that nagging inner voice and follow my inclinations. “I’ve contemplated the matter in depth, and I’d like to accept your offer…to move in with you. If it’s still open.”

She bounces upright from her sprawl and her eyes—so very bright and human—sparkle with an emotion I’ve come to recognize as joy. Jen leaps to her feet, closing the distance between us with an eagerness that is both adorable and overwhelming.

“Really? That’s amazing!” Her words tumble out in a rush, and she clasps her hands together as if physically trying to hold on to the moment. “Not sure what I’ll tell my mother or sister, but that’s a problem for later. I wonder how Scotty and Spock will react to you.”

Scotty and Spock are her feline companions. We’ve chatted about them before, but I’ve never been near a domestic cat. I’m curious how it will go. For a fleeting second, I bask in the warmth of her happiness, an unfamiliar sun but one I’m helpless to resist.

She stops just short of embracing me. It’s not a shared gesture between our people, but I appreciate this human custom.

As I step closer, her scent washes over me, deeper after a day spent in the hot sun, but not unpleasant.

I wonder if hugs stemmed from the desire to prove they aren’t hiding weapons.

With humans, so many things revolve around that small detail.

I complete the hug as best I can, tucking her against my larger frame.

“I love this,” she whispers.

“One of my favorite pastimes these days.”

Jen beams up at me. “Mine too.”

“Do you think…” I stop speaking, unwilling to voice my doubts.

“What?”

“I am simply concerned. About meeting your relations and navigating the topography of being ‘normal.’ It’s daunting.”

“There’s no normal. And all our chats should’ve taught you that I’m the weirdest of them all. My mom and sister will definitely flip out over me moving in with you so fast, but they’ll never guess that you’re an alien.”

“I hope not. I doubt they’d take it as calmly as Poppy and Tad.”

“My mom would probably faint,” Jen admits.

Her arms tighten as if she can protect me.

At this moment, potential threats feel inconsequential, our proximity folding danger away until it feels like we’re alone in the universe.

She traces the patterns on my skin with a tenderness that reverberates through me, evoking a sudden spike of need.

I want her, but we have not been bonded for long.

Time will advise me whether I should entrust her with my entire being.

I believe that I can. But I also thought I could visit 97-B and be home in time for Oona’s vernal celebration. I was wrong.

This time, the stakes are much higher: my love and my life.