Page 92 of Stars in Nova

‘Follow me.’

Burdened with Scars

They strode through the gunship, descending one flight of stairs, as the Cephei cruised through the rushing void of hyperspace.

Kisan led the way into the small galley.

‘Sit,’ Kisan growled.

Samira did as commanded, eyes on him as he fixed her a plate of spiced noodles, rehydrated seafood, and a quick salad.

He also brewed her akahawa.

He placed the tray before her, plus cutlery, jerking his chin at her as he sat astride a screwed-in bench at the table. ‘Eat.’

They did so in companionable silence, the hunger easing.

‘Delicious,’ Samira announced, licking her fork.

Kisan’s eyes fell on her mouth as he poured each a glass of dark amber spirits from a bottle tucked away in a generous wine fridge. ‘My friend, Sax, brews this bourbon himself. The Sybarite label appears to mock its decadence, a nod to Sax’s droll humor. He also crafts another brand, Ascetic, a severe yet elegant whiskey that is its counterpart.’

The rich spirits’ woodsy, smoky aroma filled the air.

Samira raised an eyebrow as she took a sip, the liquor burning on her tongue. ‘You always drink on missions?’

‘Only when the company’s good,’ Kisan replied, his tone dry but laced with warmth.

A smile tugged at her lips. ‘Careful, Rider. That just about sounded like a compliment.’

‘Almost?’ he teased, leaning back in his chair. ‘I must be losing my touch.’

Their laughter came easily, their barriers softening with every passing moment.

The ship felt cozy, the space between them shrinking as they shared stories—hers of life in Thalassa, his of battles fought and wounds earned.

Kisan leaned back in his seat, the reverb of The Cephei’s engines a soothing backdrop as they cruised through hyperspace.

His viridescent eyes flicked to Samira, who was seated across from him. Her dark hair caught the soft glow of the console lights.

‘What’s the story of Orilia XIV?’ he rasped, cutting through the silence. ‘How did the Vaelorii become two distinct races?’

Samira glanced at him, her expression thoughtful. ‘We weren’t always binary. We started as one—people living by the water, in harmony with Orilia’s oceans, lakes, and rivers. Our world shaped us.’

Kisan leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. ‘How?’

Samira folded her hands in her lap, her gaze distant as she began. ‘Over time, as more land sank under the sea level, some of our human ancestors chose to live beneath the waves. They became the Quarians, adapting to life in the abyss. Their bodies evolved—sleek, streamlined, designed for speed and grace in most sub-aqueous saltwater environments. Fins and webbinghelped them move without effort like the ocean was an extension of their bodies.’

‘They have gills, don’t they?’ Kisan interjected, his tone curious.

She nodded. ‘Naam, adapted lungs. They can breathe underwater, though they still surface on occasion. Their skin is marked with luminescent patterns—lines that glow in the dark, almost like living tattoos. It helps them communicate and navigate the depths.’

‘Bioluminescent communication?’ Kisan said, tilting his head. ‘Fascinating.’

‘It’s more than beautiful,’ Samira said. ‘It’s functional. It’s how they speak—through glowing motifs and the manipulation of water currents. We use some of their luminescent arrays to send messages, too. Their cities are like underwater constellations, built from coral-like structures that pulse with light.’

‘Sounds peaceful,’ Kisan murmured.

Samira’s expression softened. ‘It is, in its way. The Quarians see themselves as the guardians of the oceans. Their lives are slower, more harmonious, in tune with the rhythm of the sea.’

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