#mihre

(vaguely inspired by that headcanon I shared a few weeks back; prompt from @oc-growth-and-development 2021 OCtober list. I know I’m skipping around but I’ll take the inspiration when it strikes and fill in the rest when I get time ^.^;;)

It started small, so very small. Mihre had their hands full keeping over-eager buds in line, and one slipped outside their control for just a few minutes. They found the missing floran with a screech and a crash, and the guilty party scrambled back to Mihre’s side, pursued by two angry crasberries. After pacifying the crustaceans, Mihre dragged a confession out: Nat had dared Belli to sneak into the hylotl boss’s room and take a treasure as proof. Which would have been fine (they were here on reconnaissance, after all, this happened all the time) if Belli hadn’t knocked the boss’s prize bonsai off her desk. Frustrated, and muttering about dang sprouts and their whims, Mihre sent the rookies home to report on the actual successful parts of the mission, while they went to survey the damage. 

It was hopeless, they realized from the start. The pottery could be repaired quickly, and Mihre did just that, but the fall had dislodged the wires from one side and cracked two branches. The poor plant… Not much they could do to hide that. Cursing reckless youths with even more enthusiasm, Mihre twisted the wires back into place as best they could, supporting the broken branches, and scrambled for the exit before the boss could catch them. Rookies causing havoc was one thing. Getting caught fixing the havoc would be just embarrassing. 

Then they went straight to Marcy’s library and borrowed three books on hylotl gardening techniques. 

Tensions mounted for the next few days. One of the rookies had to be fished out of the bay. They were alright after a good bath, but their joints creaked with salt for weeks. A group of sprouts got spooked by a flash mob at their school; the bubbstep was loud enough to rattle the mayor’s windows two streets over. That got it shut down fast; the floran and hylotl gangs could brawl all they wanted, but stars forbid they bothered the politicians. The whole bramble was raring for revenge, kept in check only by Greenfinger Akhi’s insistence that they needed to plan this proper before someone else got dunked. 

Now, the Greenfinger needed a plan, before their more reckless underlings realized this excuse was just buying time. They knew where to go: this had started after that blasted scouting mission. “Mihre!” they called, pounding at their lieutenant’s door. “Mihre, thorns take it, this is a fine stew your party caused.” 

“Hush.” Something soft hit the door. Probably a pillow.

Akhi fumed. “Don’t hush me. Get your carapace out here. I cannot fix this alone.”

Something rustled. “Resssearching. Go away.”

“Researching what?” They could feel their petals bristle. What kind of answer was that? “We do not have time for research. It’s a mess out here!” 

“I know. Fixing it.” 

Frustrated, but resigned, Akhi retreated to their office. At least they had gotten an acknowledgement. No one else would have gotten this much patience out of the stressed Greenfinger, but Mihre was their best sniper. And they did have a knack for fixing problems. Even if the solutions were weird sometimes. 

Mihre left the warren after dark and snuck along to the grey-market. No one was quite sure where the name came from, but it was a good place to get goods that were technically legal, and Mihre liked that. Great place for guilty pleasures and midnight snacks. They weren’t here for that this time, though, even if it hurt their soul to pass the pozest stand by. No, they wanted something specific this time. The hylotl manning the register gave them a weird look, but no one ever asked questions in the grey market. 

What Mihre hadn’t expected was that the boss had the same idea. Their hands closed on the pot at the exact same time. 

“Well. This iss awkward.”

“Yes, quite.” 

“Could talk. I know a place.” 

“What a coincidence. So do I.”

The cashier wilted under their combined stares, and stammered out the address of a third option nearby. 

It was one thing to meet the tiny but terrifying hylotl Matriarch in her hideout, flanked by a dozen bodyguards she did not need, staring down even the fiercest of intruders without a blink. It was another entirely to share a plate of waffles with her at 3 a.m. in a seedy little food shack on the other side of town. She had good taste, in Mihre’s professional opinion; they requested a second bottle of syrup, and watched her demolish the improv breakfast with unconcealed fascination. She was also a shrewd negotiator, but Mihre had come prepared. They countered with an offer she just couldn’t refuse. 

“First things first,” Marcy said as Gizzie let go, “we have got to get you new clothes. We’ll both get mobbed if you’re caught wandering around in Occasus gear.”

“O-oh. Right.” Gizzie shivered a little. “But I don’t have anything else.”

“I can help with that,” Oldarva offered. She lent Gizzie a hand to get up. “I worked as a seamstress before this. Though I don’t know much about human fashion…”

Marcy stood up to join them. “Leave that to me. Things have changed a bit on Patchwork, anyway.”

Nyota stayed seated as the three of them left, musing. Marcy’s floran friend—Mihre—had also stayed. They were watching her now, studying her. It was almost refreshing, how they didn’t try to hide it.

“You want something,” she said.

Mihre shrugged. “No, not really. Just amused. This was a test too, right?”

Nyota drained the last of her tea and kept her fingers laced around the mug, looking at them over the rim with a wry smile. “Will you give me the luxury of playing dumb?”

Their grin widened into a genuinely sly smile. “You don’t use it.”

Nyota turned to set her mug down, deliberately taking her eyes off them as she did so. To some, it would have been an insult. She could tell Mihre knew it was a compliment. “I am injured, and tired. I have little energy to spare on my own petty amusements right now. And I am very tired of hiding.”

The slyness faded. Was that respect she heard? “So Marcy was right without knowing. So. What were you testing?”

Nyota made eye contact again. “If Gizzie was ready to be rehabilitated.”

“And?”

Nyota’s lips quirked up in amusement at their pushy question. “They exceeded my expectations. If they had defended the Occasus, if they had insisted they somehow deserved a second chance, that would be proof they were not ready. I would handle that myself. Marcy has enough to deal with. She does not need an entitled villain in her house.”

Mihre was quiet and thoughtful. “You tested both of them.”

“Sharp Floran.” Nyota sighed softly. “I wanted to know if Marcy could move past something like this.” She sat back again, eyes drifting toward the ceiling. “Before I answer more questions about my own past. You told her, didn’t you? What the Miniknog has done. What I might have done.”

“You can tell she knows,” Mihre said. It wasn’t quite a question, and it was not an answer, not yet.

“I did not tell her myself,” Nyota replied, “but it’s in her nature to find the answers anyway. An unfair test on my part, maybe, or one last attempt to run from my truth. Mr. Jonty would not know. I doubt any of the library regulars could be persuaded to share.” She made eye contact; aggressive, to a floran, perhaps unwise. But she had learned well from working with Namina. “Your little brother speaks highly of your wisdom.”

That earned her a hard stare and a small smile. “Old trick, a threat and a compliment. But a reliable one, yes? I did tell. No speculation, only truths I know for myself.”

Nyota let her stare relax and watched the floran relax slightly as well. She folded her hands in her lap. “Tell me, Mihre. What do you see in me?”

Mihre gave her a quirky grin. “Not looking for flattery, I hope? Only honest truth?” They mirrored her pose. “Ask another floran for pretty lies.”

“I would not ask if I wanted lies,” Nyota said.

“Good, good.” They studied her openly, dark eyes taking in everything about her. No doubt they could read with more than just sight, as well. Nyota had seen as much from Namina, from time to time, and Mihre was older and more experienced. Their face betrayed nothing of what they saw.

They nodded twice after several minutes. “Floran would shoot on sight, probably, in a less-safe nest. Dangerous, very dangerous. But I would regret shooting fast, yes. More to you than the danger. Marcy trusts you. She does not trust as easy as you think.”

Nyota took their assessment in stride, at first. It was as she expected. But the second part… “Even after all I have told her? All I hid from her? She does trust easily.”

Mihre snorted. “You have good Floran-like eyes, but they do not see as well as proper Floran eyes should. She sees you as you say, but also as you do. Less wallowing in the past. More walking on.”

“Mind your head,” Eldie told her guests as they stepped through the hatch. She offered a hand to steady them, just in case. Marcy could hear something snoring nearby as she accepted the assistance.

Arjun snorted and set his coffee down on the work table. More accurately, on one of the dozen books covering the table. “You’re the only one who needs to duck.”

“Oh.” Eldie looked back and down as if only just realizing the height difference. Even Mihre only came up to her shoulder. “I suppose you are right on that. Did you raid the library, Arjun? This is quite the collection. I hope you didn’t try moving them all by yourself.”

“Looking out for my old bones, huh?” It sounded like a familiar topic. “Grabbed some muscle this time. Don’t worry about it.”

Anticipating the question, he reached behind the largest book stack and thumped something. The little raspy snores broke off with a sharp snort and Namina sat up, glowering blearily.

“Why ssmack?”

“Look sharp, our guests are here.”

“Floran is alwayss sharp,” Namina grumbled, but he smiled at the sight of Eldie, and got immediately headlocked by Mihre.

The older floran chuckled wickedly as Namina squirmed. “Ssso, used to hugging floran? Sprout owes me some stories, yes? Whoa!”

Marcy laughed as Namina stood up, Mihre dangling from his neck like a very surprised scarf. “Nyota pulled that trick with me once. Rule one of headlocking: don’t try it if they are bigger than you.”

“Shall we let them catch up, then?” Eldie asked. The offer was perfectly polite, but her green eyes glittered with surprising mischief. “Do try not to damage the furniture.”

Mihre scrambled up onto Namina’s shoulders in an impressive display of agility as he tried to shake them off. “Ah, so you have knowledge of floran greetings.”

“Much knowledge.” Arjun dove forward to rescue his coffee. “Hey, mind the books!”

“I did see you shoot him with a paint ball,” Eldie remarked. She gently shepherded Marcy toward the ladder and away from the wrestling florans, adding helpfully, “The sparring room is upstairs. You are welcome to join us later.”

Mihre managed a thumbs-up before having to reassert their grip as Namina accepted that offer for them.

Marcy laughed at the little incident as Eldie guided her down the ladder. “Does that happen often around here?”

“Well, usually it is Namina and Hadley, or sometimes Nyota,” Eldie admitted. “We don’t often have guests, you see. We do not usually stay in one place long enough for that.”

Marcy went quiet, thinking. “Is it because of the Miniknog?”

Eldie paused, considering that. “Yes and no. Not directly,” she said at last, though Marcy could tell that the question sat heavily on her. “We have managed to stay off their radar and out of space that they control. But Nyota does not want to stay still, in case we attract their attention too well and bring danger to the people we visit.”

“Fairly correct,” Nyota said. She was sitting up in bed, a comfortable shawl wrapped around her shoulders, and smiled in welcome as Marcy entered the medbay. “We have also found ourselves quite busy lately. Hello, Marcy. Oh—” Her smile warmed and softened as Marcy abandoned ceremony to wrap her arms around her friend. “I suppose I should open with ‘it’s not as bad as it looks’.”

“I know. You’re tough.” Marcy’s voice was muffled again, and the so-familiar, so-missed feeling of Nyota’s strong arms around her brought hot tears to her eyes. “Just humor me. I needed this.”

Nyota pulled her close. “I did too.” She rubbed Marcy’s back a little, then reached up to bounce a curl that had escaped Marcy’s hair-tie despite Mihre’s best efforts. “You dressed up for me. That’s new.”

“A girl’s got to have fun sometimes, right?” Marcy quipped to cover her vague embarrassment. Mihre was probably right after all, she shouldn’t have bothered looking fancy for this. She felt silly now.

Nyota let go and sat back to get a better look at her. “You look nice.”

Marcy felt a lot less silly now. Or a lot more, it was hard to tell. She swatted Nyota’s arm lightly. “Why are you like this? You’re teasing me.”

Nyota laughed. “Perhaps. But I do mean it. Have fun, and don’t forget to stretch your legs every now and then.”

“If only that would make me taller,” Marcy said, earning another laugh. One of their oldest shared jokes, and it felt so perfect now, just sitting and trading words with her old friend. But it wasn’t quite perfect; Nyota’s hands were cold. Marcy pulled a chair over and sat beside her, pressing the apex’s huge hand between her small hands in an effort to warm it.

Nyota hummed softly and curled her fingers.

Marcy paused. “Am I being rough?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt you let go like this,” Marcy said quietly. Her efforts were working, slowly. Nyota’s fingers seemed reluctant to hold the warmth.

Nyota hummed again and leaned back, though she was careful not to pull her hand out of Marcy’s grasp. “It was very hard to, before.” She was quiet for a long moment, watching Marcy’s hands. “I think I owe you a story, don’t I? Though Lumen will not like me straining my throat.”

“I’ll make you some tea,” Eldie offered. Marcy jumped; she’d forgotten Eldie was there. Eldie gave her an apologetic little smile before looking back at Nyota. “He can’t complain too much if you have a hot drink to soothe it, right?”

“Fair enough.” Nyota caught her eye with a small but wicked smile. “Though I think it’s more that you can melt him, hm? Oh, alright. I’ll leave off teasing for now. Ginger and mint, if you can find it.”

Eldie ducked out of the room, blushing as red as her hair.

Marcy swatted Nyota again.

“You’re merciless, you know that? At least it’s not just me this time.”

Nyota caught her eye with a telling wink.

*

Marcy spent the next hour listening, spellbound, as Nyota recounted all she remembered of their trip through the Vault. She had forgotten her friend was such a good storyteller. Mihre joined them around halfway through; Marcy was too focused to notice exactly when, though she did notice that they looked quite ruffled and also pleased with themself. Eldie brought Nyota’s tea a little bit before Mihre arrived, then made another trip to get drinks for the guests. Marcy accepted the sweet-smelling tea with a murmur of thanks, then a hum of shock as she tasted it.

“Earl Grey and lavender with a little milk. Exactly how I like it,” she said, awed. “How did you guess?”

Eldie smiled and blushed a little. “Nyota told me before you arrived. And Namina said that Mihre likes boneboo smoothies, correct?”

“Correct,” Mihre said happily, accepting the glass. They were polite enough not to loudly slurp it while Nyota was talking, despite clearly wanting to. Marcy didn’t usually see them so happy about food, unless her dad had made honey-glazed ribs. When Nyota got to the Vault Warden, though, they stopped drinking entirely and set the glass down to listen.

“An ancient AI, still functioning after all this time,” Marcy said softly as Nyota paused for breath and a drink. “Esther’s notes describe just how enduring the Builders’ work is, but this is beyond anything I can imagine.”

“Functioning is up for debate,” Nyota told her. She folded her hands around the mug and stared at the remaining drink, deep in thought. “It had malfunctioned, in my opinion. It was made to preserve life, after all.”

“True.” Marcy swirled the dregs of her own tea. “I guess the Builders never thought of that. Or they expected to be there to fine-tune it if needed, and, well, weren’t.”

Nyota nodded slowly, considering this. “Perhaps. And then there’s the matter of what the Occasus wanted with it, or if they even knew it was there. We still don’t know why they were in the area. Our prisoner—”

“Prisoner?” Marcy’s head shot up. Mihre had to reach over to steady her hands and keep her from splashing herself. “You didn’t say anything about that. And wait--Occasus? You ran into Occasus out there?”

Nyota shook her head and chuckled softly at herself. “I didn’t? Damn. My mind will be as grey as my hair at this rate. Yes.” She had to stop and take a sip of tea, raising a hand to her throat with an unhappy hum as her voice cracked.

Marcy put a hand on her arm. “Hey, go easy on yourself. I know you’re not good at that, but…”

That earned her a small, weary, affectionate smile. “I’m fine. Just healing.”Nyota took another sip and laced her fingers around the warm mug again. “Hadley encountered an Occasus guard drone outside the Vault when we were securing a route in. Actual Occasus came to investigate its destruction, with the worst timing… Right as we reached the Warden. It was almost too convenient, but we didn’t see any evidence that someone else had been in that deep. We were not sure what to think. We still aren’t.”

“No kidding… I wouldn’t be, either,” Marcy said slowly, trying to ponder her way through to an answer. It didn’t take long for her to sigh and shake her head. “It’s no good. I can’t think of a reason.”

Mihre made a quiet throaty sound. “She said they have a prisoner. You asked?”

“The library is the best place for this,” Nyota said, keeping close to Marcy and Mihre. “Oldarva, may I—? Ah, thank you.” She leaned lightly on the offered shoulder for balance as she followed her smaller guests.

“You know you shouldn’t be up and about, but Lumen can’t complain too hard if I’m supervising,” Oldarva said quietly, her little grin at once scolding, teasing, and sharing a conspiracy. “Will you be alright on the ladder?”

“Yes, it’s fine. And he’s just looking after me, in the end.” Nyota checked her grip strength against the lower rungs before letting it take her weight. The weak tremor was nearly gone now, a testament to Lumen’s skill. “I owe him a plate of my best flapjacks after putting up with me so well.”

“You know he will hold you to that,” Oldarva said, helping her up the last set of rungs.

Nyota patted her shoulder briefly in thanks for the help. “Of course. I’m counting on it.”

Marcy was waiting in the library with a small, nostalgic smile. “You made some good friends out here, Nyota.”

Nyota echoed the smile. “They found me when we needed each other.” She took Marcy’s hand and guided her over to the sofa. “A little like you did.”

It didn’t take long for Oldarva to return, Gizzie following close behind. They kept their hands clasped in front of them, clearly visible, though Oldarva hadn’t restrained them. Their hood was still up. Nyota could see stray curls in faded shades of blue and brown.

She also saw Marcy stiffen slightly at the sight of the tattered purple robes and cursed internally. She didn’t have an alternative yet.

“Marcy, this is Gizzie,” Nyota said as her prisoner hesitated. “Oldarva captured them outside of the Vault.”

Mihre perked up, impressed. “You caught a prisoner by yourssself? Not bad! Sprout has good taste, yes?”

Oldarva started to reply, but their comment stole her words and left her blushing as red as her hair. “I just did my best.”

“And then some.” Mihre grinned. “Well, well.”

Nyota coughed lightly and hoped it would only come across as trying to get attention. Her throat burned. “Gizzie, this is Mihre, Namina’s older sibling, and my best friend, Marcy. She is also a member of the Protectorate.”

Gizzie looked up sharply at the mention of the Protectorate; Nyota could see the awe in their shadowed face, though they swallowed it and just managed “Nice to meet you.”  

Marcy nodded, though she didn’t say anything in return.

“You can sit down,” Nyota told them. She indicated the open chair.

Gizzie immediately tucked themself into it, legs drawn up and hands in lap. They stayed like that for just a moment before remembering to keep their hands visible. “Sorry, sorry…”

“You can relax a little.” Nyota offered a small smile, aware of the irony in reassuring one of the Occasus. “If you wanted to hurt us, I think you would have tried that a while ago. Your cell door wasn’t locked.”

Gizzie turned the awed look on her. “It wasn’t?”

“You didn’t try the handle?” Sheer surprise would have raised Nyota’s eyebrows if she had any. The idea of being put in a room and not trying to find a way out… no, she couldn’t say it was foreign to her. She had been like that once, many years ago.

Gizzie just shook their head, and Nyota decided to spare them the knowledge of Namina lurking in the hall.

She noticed that Marcy was listening more intently now, though she tried to make it seem like her attention was on her hands, on the floor, anywhere but Gizzie’s face. Nyota took the plunge.

“I have a favor to ask,” she said, and felt Marcy go stiff beside her again. “You can guess what it is, I think. I know you well enough that I won’t force it on you. I have other options. You are just the best choice I have. May I tell you more?”

Marcy was on the verge of refusing. It was clear enough to see in the thin set of her lips. “Occasus aren’t welcome in Patchwork,” she said quietly. “They cause so much trouble, and stir up more between the ruling council and the Floran community. They’re dangerous. And every one of them that pops up makes it harder for the rest of us to prove we should be allowed to stay.”

She looked up and directly at Gizzie for the first time. “We have nowhere else to go. A little trouble could cost us everything, and we have everything to lose.”

Gizzie couldn’t shrink any further in on themself.

“I understand.” Nyota held her cards in silence, still. Marcy wasn’t done.

((At long last, a new chapter ^.^;;))

Marcy glared at her reflection. Or, rather, over her reflection’s shoulder. “You know, this would go a lot faster if you stopped chortling and helped me.”

“I really do not ssee what needs helped,” Mihre said, chuckling anyway in complete disregard of her wrath. Alright, so Marcy would be first to admit that her wrath was less than impressive. But they could have at least pretended.

“Just help me pick what to wear.” She finished tucking her stray curls back into place. “It’s her whole crew, Mihre. A real Protectorate crew. I need to make a good first impression.”

Mihre stood up, stretched creakily, and put both hands on her shoulders. They were small for an adult floran but still quite a bit taller than Marcy, and rarely missed a chance to show that off. “You met quite a few of this crew already, no? It is a bit late for first impressions.”

Marcy made a rather sour face. “You always know how to cheer me up, huh?”

Mihre chuckled again and rested their chin on her head. “Floran has many talentsss.” They drew out the hiss for comedic effect. “So stop fretting and fussing, and all those other pretty little f-words. You will be fine.”

Marcy tilted her chin up, which didn’t dislodge them in the slightest. “Fine starts with f too, you know. And standing on your toes is cheating.”

Mihre smirked and poked her in the ribs. Two seconds later, they were on the floor, rubbing their jaw. Marcy pressed her hand over where her skull had connected with them to stop the stinging.

“Nice reflexes,” Mihre said, too surprised for snark.

“Thanks.” It didn’t hurt as bad as she had expected. “Nyota taught me that one. More or less accidentally, actually.”

“Like right now?” Their grin returned, if a little small and laced with dry humor.

“Pretty much exactly like now,” Marcy confirmed, matching the grin. She helped them back up. “Except bonking an apex jaw hurt a lot worse than bonking yours.”

“Bonking.” They gave her a funny sideways look.

“It’s a technical term.” It took all her self-control to keep a straight face. “It means almost concussing yourself on someone’s chin after they poke you in the side, to better cause widespread misery.”

Mihre went to ruffle her hair, caught the glare again, and settled for almost sheepishly helping fix her wandering curls again. “If you hurt yourssself, the Captain will have my hide, I think. Not to mention your parents. No concussing, please.”

Marcy reached up to tap between their eyes. “Oh, alright. You make a convincing argument. But we still haven’t settled my question. Help me pick something.”

Mihre shrugged, resigned to their fate, and selected a nice grey sweater. “Matches my petals,” they said, passing it to her. “You will look good anywhere with fine floran arm-candy, no?”

Marcy laughed, stopped, and met their eyes. “You’re serious? I don’t mind, but… do you have time?”

They shrugged broadly and casually pulled her sweater on for her. “My Greenfinger can manage without me. Well, for a little while. And I should see that little brother is not making a nuisssance of himself, yes?”

So that explained it. They were worried. Marcy knew their moods well enough by now to see through the words. “Of course you can come along. Dad will probably be happier about me going to a strange spaceship if I have someone with me, too.”

((Sorry in advance for any typos, I got no sleep last night so I don’t have the energy to check))

“So, that’s the gist of it,” Arjun finished, sitting back and tucking his hands in his pockets again. It felt a little odd, like he was giving a report to a professor, which he had never actually done now that he thought about it. But sharing their finds with Esther would be pretty darn close, he guessed. And the little lady, Nyota’s friend. Far as he could tell, Esther was keeping the young lady up to date.

“It must have been incredibly exciting. Is the door still open? Will you be able to go back there? Oh, but I am getting ahead of myself.” Esther Bright took off her glasses and polished the lenses. “First things first, I should congratulate your captain. It sounds like she endured quite the ordeal once again. Where is she?”

“Taking a good long nap,” Arjun said with a flick of the thumb back toward the Outpost. “The others took her home and put her right to bed. Doctor’s strictest orders. She got beat to hell and back by that vault guardian thing. …pardon my language, ma’am.”

“Oh, it’s no bother.” Esther looked over her frames at him, eyes twinkling. “I was a teacher once, you know. Nothing I haven’t heard before. Or said myself, when we get down to it.” The humor vanished under concern as his full statement registered properly. “But she will be alright, I hope?”

“Yeah, she’s a tough nut to crack,” Arjun told her. “Not that it wasn’t trying. Nasty bruises she got out of it, but she was able to walk on her own and everything, and Lumen was still talkative enough. He gets quiet when things are bad.”

“He does.” Esther slid her glasses back on. There was a quiet sadness to her now.

Arjun knew that sadness. He’d felt it too. He reached out, hesitated, offered her his hand. “She’s still here, ma’am. You aren’t the last Protector.”

Esther smiled at him and took his hand. “You can call me Esther, dear.”

*

Mihre sat up as the door creaked open and immediately reached up to hug Marcy as she hurried in, wide-eyed with questions she was afraid to ask.

“Geez, roughest shift I’ve ever had.” She accepted the hug briefly, then pulled loose to take off her uniform jacket. The archives were such a wonderful place, but the stiff, formal clothes were not. She flopped down beside the floran and pulled them into another anxious hug. “Mihre, what happened while I was gone? Are they still in there? Is she—?”

Mihre patted her head until she remembered to breathe. “Is okay,” they all but purred. “The Captain is ssafe.” They passed her the laptop, with the important messages open for her. “Bruises and some cold, but that medic says she will be fine.”

“Cold, huh?” Marcy leaned against Mihre with a soft smile, all the tension melting right out of her. “That reminds me… Did I ever tell you how she came to live with us on Earth?”

Mihre chuckled softly and ruffled Marcy’s curls. “I assumed by spaceship.”

“Hey.” Marcy whacked their leaves. “Literal idiot. You know what I mean. How she came to live with me and my family.”

“Ahh, no.” Mihre settled in more comfortably on the sofa. “You know I like a good story.”

“There isn’t too much to tell,” Marcy said. “She had started working for us a few months before, during the summer. Dad felt sorry for her always having to hide in our air conditioning. Apex and heat, you know.”

Mihre nodded in solemn sympathy. “Thick pelt, not good for sun.”

“Right. She was a good worker. Always showed up on time, figured out the sorting system really fast, even though she wasn’t very good with English or Galactic Common yet. But then she didn’t show up at all one day, mid-December. That’s right before winter on Earth, when the weather started getting really cold.” Marcy stopped and shook her head. “…I don’t know why I’m spilling all this now. It’s been years, and…”

Mihre patted her shoulder. “It interests me.”

Marcy smiled. “Okay.” She took a deep breath. “It’s just… Thinking of her stuck in the cold, it reminds me… It was Isobu who found her.” She managed to keep her voice steady.

Mihre’s hand found hers. She squeezed it, once.

“I hadn’t met him before. He told us he knew her, caught the same transport to Earth with her, back in springtime. He found her curled up in an alley, a few miles from the library. She’d been living there, all that time. Never told us. I think—”

Mihre waited a moment as Marcy stopped mid-thought, then asked, “She was hiding from the Miniknog, wasn’t she.”

“Yes.” Marcy let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. The answer sounded more like a sigh than a word. “I think she was so scared that they would find her. Then she got sick when the weather got bad, and if Isobu hadn’t found her, if we hadn’t looked…”

Her voice trailed off. She started again, much quieter. “I hope she was warmer, this time, and safe, that’s all.” Marcy looked up at the ceiling with odd little smile and another sigh, shaking her head. “I… know what she’s doing is important, and… this is selfish. I finally found her again, and she’s out there somewhere dangerous, where I can’t reach her. I just… I want her to come home safe.”

Mihre nudged her side and she folded into their shoulder like it was a soft pillow. “She will,” they said. “Has a good crew, yess? And my little brother. And she’s strong, you can tell by looking.”

Marcy looked up. “You can? I mean, I know she is. She taught me…”

((Finally back on the normal schedule!))

The pretty ginger apex was waiting for them at the Outpost teleporter. She offered them a very charming little smile and also a hug for Marcy.

“Nyota asked me to pass one along from her,” she explained. “I don’t know if she meant that literally, but people do seem to like a good apex hug. Are you well?”

“I am, thanks.” Marcy’s voice was understandably muffled. “Apex hugs are amazing.”

“Would you like one too?” The apex offered to Mihre.

They looked pleased, but also a little hesitant. “Floran are not very nice to hug, really.”

That only earned them an encouraging smile and open arms. “It is quite alright. I am used to hugging Floran.”

“Oh?” Their dark eyes glittered with curiosity and mischief. “Well, well. So he does have some luck after all.”

The apex laughed and blushed as Mihre accepted her offered hug. Clearly she knew exactly what they were on about.

“It’s Eldie, right?” Marcy asked as they let go. “I haven’t been to the ship yet. Which way is it?”

“It isn’t far,” Eldie reassured her. “Out this door and past the shady gentleman there. Oh, but do stick close.” She adjusted her shawl almost self-consciously. “The hylotl at Legal Goods can be a very insistent salesman if he catches you alone.”

“Shady gentleman,” Marcy echoed. She obeyed the advice, falling in step beside Eldie almost as easily as she once had with Nyota, what felt like a lifetime ago. No, don’t think of that. “I think this is the first time I’ve heard those together.”

Eldie giggled. Coming from anyone else without such a strong aura of innocence, it would have sounded downright conspiratorial. “Mr. Pete does his best to earn it, really. He might be sad if I called him anything less.”

Marcy laughed too. “Would he really? He sounds like you, Mihre.”

Mihre made a noise halfway between chuckle, rasp, and purr. “Really, now. To quote that lovely human classic you like so much, I am no man. But shady gentleplant does have a nice ring to it. Oops!”

They sidestepped, caught a fast-moving wrench that was aimed at their kneecaps, and lifted it (along with its furiously-wriggling penguin owner) up to eye level with a deliberately casual ease. “Ah, so it’s that Mr. Pete,” they said cheerfully. “Hello, Toppy. I see your feathers grew back evenly.”

“Yeah, only took two molts,” Toppy said, a bit grudgingly. “You been practicin’, huh? Can’t hear the hiss now.”

“It’s good for businessss,” Mihre replied smoothly, drawing the sound out for comedic effect as they set their feathered burden down. “Well I am here on business… Catch up later?”

“You better,” Toppy grumbled. “Give my regards to the toothy sprout and old Boss. Hey, give my wrench back?”

“Later.” Mihre patted his head. “Don’t sulk, my dear bird, we both know you have spares.” They flipped the wrench in one hand as they caught up to the two women, who were watching them with bemused stares.

“Well, that was something,” Marcy said. “I can’t actually think of a word for it. Good job.”

Mihre chuckled and handed her the wrench. “Not often I break Marcy. Ms. Eldie, I didn’t scare you?”

“Not badly,” Eldie reassured them. Her fur was only a little fluffed up. “I did get used to seeing that sort of thing over the past few months. Would he really have hit you if you were not so quick, or was it just in play?”

“Oh, it’s always in play,” the floran told her, “even smacking my knees. But that is neither here nor there, yes?”

“That is a fair answer.” Eldie laughed and led them out of the little outskirts market. It was only a few steps from there, to Marcy’s shock. The ship was docked just behind the asteroid, out of sight except from a nearly hidden path down the back. It looked like it had been in a few scuffles recently, from the small dents and space dust splattering the hull. A glitch was diligently painting the words Cherry Jubilee beside the airlock hatch as a lime-green novakid cleaned some of the dust away beside him.

“Excited. Hello, Eldie,” the glitch called as they got close. “Welcome back. And you would be Marcy, correct? It’s a pleasure to meet you in person at last.”

“Same here,” Marcy told him. “You’re Sonny’s boyfriend Arrowmail, right?”

“Flustered. Boyfriend? Er, I— ” His eyes flashed brighter and he broke off with a strangely novakid-like whistle as Sonny fizzed a bit, leaned over, and lightly touched her brand to his cheek. “Error. My goodness. Error. Please stand by.”

“Oops. Sorry ‘bout that,” Sonny giggled, clearly not the slightest bit sorry. “Why don’t y’all go on in? Captain’s waitin’.”

Oldarva smiled and patted Arrowmail’s shoulder as she passed. “We’ll do that. Do go easy on him, won’t you?”