HMS Valediction

Chapter 16

I grew up in the Kitchen Sink. Like the rest of the URE, it was dark. Perpetually burnt fluorescent bulbs blinked and buzzed loud enough to overpower a conversation. The grime between the checkerboard tiles couldn't be scraped away with a jackhammer. Food was gulped down the gullet fast because getting the right consistency of lab-made meat was an ever-moving target. Most times, that consistency was way off.

My memory burst with nostalgic wistfulness as I surveyed the enormous room. I loved my Sink. Thinking about it now left a smoking crater in my heart.

Because the Sink is nothing like this place.

In here, the ceilings sweep high into the sky with towering windows, providing diners with a glowy halo from the luminescent sunset. The only flickering happening here is from the stars peppering the early blue night. The tables and chairs are shimmery silver to match the gleaming floor. Chatter is enhanced by the careful acoustics of the room, making our voices plink like drips of water off diamonds.

I look down at my grimy hands and despair. I am a mess that doesn't belong in such beauty.

Before my self-consciousness causes me to implode, my VIPERs wave us over. Flatts pats the empty seat at her side.

Dean hovers around as I carefully rest in the silver stool. His hand shoots out behind me as I lean back. Once I'm comfortable, he commandeers the space to my right.

A small Tadj places a beverage on the table by my hand. I take the hot cup and put it to my lips.

"Don't drink it, Lorn." Hayomo warns from the head of the table. "Just wait."

Feeling incredibly stupid, I put the cup down.

A few Tadj present us with a large green block on an enormous platter. Flatts and Grant shrug and dig in, attempting to stab at the brick before us. Nothing is less appetizing than watching your crew chip away at your food like it's chisels and stonework.

"We supposed to lick it, ReaperBoss? No wonder those Tadj are so damn skinny." Flatts scrapes at its surface with her thumb nail.

Giving up, they drop the trowel-shaped flatware and we all look to Hayomo for instruction. Taking the black spoon at her side, she holds it in the steaming liquid for a few seconds, then easily slices through the lime-tinted stone. When she brings it to her mouth, she easily bites down at the end.

We all try and revel in the tang of it. We moan with delight.

"It's not Simon's meatloaf," I say around the spongey substance as I attempt to savor it, "but it's so good."

Dean grins at me as he chews. I can't stop the heat from my face when I sense that old, familiar brush of his leg against mine under the table.

It doesn't matter that we're on another planet, in another galaxy, orbiting another sun. We're together, just as we hoped we'd be.

Our company falls into their silent meals, their whispered conversations contained in the small spaces between friends. The only other sound is a crystalline warbling from a creature in the corner of the room. It's a haunting sound — one more like that of wind through cracks in the walls of level 1. We all go silent and listen to it because it's a little like home. Dean lets me rest against his shoulder as I lean into him.

Contracts be damned. Who's got a rod for us right now?

We aren't being professional and we aren't being tactful, but it doesn't seem to get anyone riled. Besides Coodi, throwing looks of wimpy wistfulness in our direction, we're ignored while we slip into bliss.

"I don't want to let you go now that I have you again." He rests his chin on the top of my head as we watch the blue being in a long, white tunic sing.