Gryphon

A fountain of sparks cascade across the Hangar floor. Niik blinks each of her eyes in turn, always keeping at least two on the path of the plasma cutter. The twisted metal pieces fall with a clatter, and she shuts off the torch.

Behind her, there is a groan of stressed metal, followed by the tortured shriek of a weld giving way. She turns her head just in time to catch Zahn'ra tear apart a Brig's fused leg armor with brute force.

The big engineer catches Niik's look. "What," she grumbles.

"Who taught you to treat machinery like that?" Niik chitters a laugh, inviting her friend to laugh with her.

Instead, Zahn'ra falls silent. She stares down at the metal beneath her hands and sees the shadow of a larger pair guiding her own.

"Some old coot," she says finally. Her bitter words do not match the furrow of her brow, the downturn of her mouth.

Niik puts down her tools. She recognizes her fellow engineer's expression. Acid sweetness; yesterday's joy, tainted by today's sorrow. Her innocent joke has unearthed something far more complicated.

Holliday once told her that some silences could fester. The only cure is to break it. Niik takes a deep breath.

"I think of Holliday," she says. "Whenever I am here. Sometimes I think… she's just around the corner. Any moment now, she will come in, and everything will be as it was."

Zahn'ra finally sets down the metal with a heavy thud. Each piece is larger than Niik. "So why do you come back?"

The Eliksni looks at the Hangar ceiling. "Happiness may mingle with pain. But it is better than forgetting."

Zahn'ra looks unconvinced. "Sometimes I'd rather forget."

"But you kept your name." Niik gives her a knowing look. Zahn'ra grunts, tracing a finger along the gold inlay in one tusk.

"Well. He taught me a few useful tricks. C'mon. These wrecks won't break themselves down." Zahn'ra kicks the latest pile of twisted scrap. Niik smiles.