“Kendra was there, illuminated from within like a flame inside a lantern,” Antony said. “Light washed over the ruins—not daylight, but a bright violet glow that erupted from the ground. It spilled out, filling the cavern. And then she looked to the ceiling, and the light formed a pillar, growing taller until it bored into the rock. The last thing I saw before I woke was Kendra, pointing upward as the ceiling cracked.” He sat beside Seph in holographic form, his knees tucked into his chest. “Strange as it was, I found it comforting to see her.”

Seph leaned back against the couch, blowing out a slow breath through his teeth. “Yeah. You thinking about her lately?”

He nodded. “I’m not surprised she showed up in my dreams.” He paused. “She had so few living relatives. Bria put us in touch, and I offered my condolences, but I didn’t hear anything else from them.”

“I checked the obituaries on her home planet, but I never saw her listed,” Seph said.

Antony tucked his arm against his torso, drumming on his ribcage. “I hate funerals, but I think it would have helped to know she had one.”

“I understand. I think—” There was a knock, and Seph’s eyes snapped to the door.

“What is it?”

“Someone’s at my door. I’m sorry, would you give me a moment?”

Bria stood outside his hotel room, wearing her short tan coat. She folded her hands, her expression tense.

“Seph.”

“What brings you here?”

“I regret what I said in our last conversation, and I want to apologize.”

His eyebrows quirked upward before he could keep the surprise from showing on his face. “I … owe you an apology as well. There were things I wanted to say, but my anxiety got the better of me, and it didn’t make for a productive conversation.”

“Can I come in?”

“You can, but I’m talking to Antony.”

“Thought I heard Bria,” he said as they entered the room. “Hey.”

She stood across from Seph, body angled toward him and Antony’s hologram. Her shoulders were hunched, rendering her small and defeated. “I didn’t expect to speak with both of you, but Antony, you deserve to hear this.”

His expression was attentive as he nodded, sending a ripple through the dots of light that made up his hologram.

“I am aware my demeanor lacks the warmth and friendliness that seem to come more easily to others,” she said. “I don’t want you to think that means I was unaffected by what happened during our expedition. It has weighed on my mind, and yes, it is easier for me to turn to my work than to rest. That does not change the fact that I feel miserable about what happened to Kendra and to you, Antony.”

She paused, waiting for his response, and he leaned back, staring at the ceiling. The silence lengthened and then halted at the edge of being uncomfortable. “What happened in the ruins was outside our understanding, and it’s not your fault,” he said. “I appreciate now that you showed concern in your own way—working through my medical documentation. Whatever you did, my compensation came a lot faster than I expected.”

“It felt like the only way I could help,” she said. “I doubted I would be much use to you back on the medical ship. I’m glad you two have been able to support each other.”

“Me too,” Antony said, shooting Seph a quick grin. He turned back to Bria. “Far as I’m concerned, you and I are good. We’re even. There’s one thing bothering me, though. Did Kendra’s family ever have a funeral?”

Bria shook her head. “I was in contact with her cousins, but they gave few details. I don’t believe her living relatives were close enough to know her well, and I was never informed of any funeral happening or even a grave.”

“Then I want to do something for her,” Antony said. “Not a huge spectacle, just time to—I don’t know—sit with what happened. Because she’s stuck in my head and I feel like I can’t move on.”

“We could have a gathering. Would you prefer to do so in person?” Bria asked. Her tone remained neutral, but her fingers twitched with restlessness, and the glassiness in her eyes suggested to Seph that she wanted to run from the room.

Antony shook his head. “No, I can come in virtually.”

“We could use the chapel in the campus park,” Seph said. “It’s small and quiet—geared toward students coming in to meditate or pray between classes.”

“Good. That’ll work.”

“Then I will make arrangements,” Bria said.

The chapel stood at the edge of the campus’s west lawn. It was a minimalist white structure with a pointed roof covered in black shingles, large enough to hold perhaps two dozen people. University buildings rose on all sides of the expanse of grass and gardens. Above the entrance sat a small plaque. Seph scanned the words engraved there and translated them. “As you find knowledge, may you also find peace,” he murmured. With any luck, maybe he would, but he doubted that peace would come here on Acinos, while he lived out of a hotel room.

The interior was warm, with pews carved from tan wood. Stained glass windows spread out over the far wall; they depicted a flower-filled meadow, sending blue and green and yellow light across the chapel. Bria stood beside Isabelle. Isabelle’s black dress flitted around her knees as she turned to face him and waved. Bria’s expression remained solemn, her mouth drawn into a hard line.

He greeted them with a smile, though his stomach turned over with nerves. A ping from his wearable alerted him that Antony was ready, and he withdrew a small disc from his leather bag. It hovered, projecting Antony’s hologram. They sat in a pew on the right.

Bria hesitated, one fist balled against her pants and the other clutching a small sheet of paper. She took a halting step forward and stopped again, sitting down hard on the nearest pew with her face buried in her hands. Isabelle rested a palm on her shoulder. They stayed that way until Bria cleared her throat, prompting a quiet conversation between them. Then Isabelle rose and stood at the front.

“Thank you for coming,” she said. “Though I did not know Kendra, I want to acknowledge the pain that comes with losing a colleague. There is also a sense of loss from not getting to know someone as well as you would have liked. I want to recognize those feelings of grief, loss, and missed opportunity as we meet here today.”

Isabelle bowed and returned to Bria’s side. Antony rubbed his temples and stood, his hologram floating to the front of the chapel. He sucked in a breath and held it for a beat before he spoke. “I knew Kendra for over a decade. We worked together off and on—we were colleagues. Then friends. I got to know her well enough to understand that she was dealt an unfair hand. Despite that, she had a tenacity I admired from the beginning. She was good. A good scientist, a good friend. I hope, wherever she is now, that it’s better. That she moved on beyond everything that held her back.”

Antony’s hologram flickered as he returned to his seat. His exhaustion was visible, and he rested his head in his hand. Seph wished he could put an arm around his shoulders, but he settled for a nod.

“I don’t expect you to make a speech,” Antony said.

“I know.” He leaned forward, bracing his wrists against the pew in front of him. Beams of pink and violet light from the stained glass flowers shifted across his clasped hands, and the pale hues brought to mind the view from the plateau on that faraway planet. He and Kendra had reached the top, and he remembered the soft pastel light of the sky there. The two moons. And Kendra, admiring the view of the raw wilderness of an uninhabited planet.

Had everything gone as planned, he would have worked with her again. She was an easy colleague, and he suspected that with time, he may have called her a friend. Isabelle was right; there was a pain in acknowledging that missed opportunity.

His eyes flicked to the man beside him. They had passed each other over the years, orbiting briefly before falling away again. He didn’t want Antony to be another missed opportunity. An irrational urge seized him, to grasp Antony’s shoulder, to hold on to him, but he wasn’t really there. He was only a hologram, a million specks of light.

Antony met his gaze, and Seph cleared his throat. “There’s a garden behind the chapel,” he offered.

Most flowerbeds were empty, save for small patches of snow and the woody branches of bushes and shrubs. Sculptures dotted the cobblestone path, ranging from dark metal twisted into abstract, elegant shapes to figures with placid expressions. They stopped in front of a statue of a woman whose gown swirled around her as she held a book to her face.

In the distance, Bria and Isabelle exited the chapel. Isabelle slowly wrapped an arm around her back, Bria crying from the looks of it. She wiped her eyes on the handkerchief Isabelle gave her. The wind whistled through the trees, mostly bare of their leaves, and soft voices marked the arrival of Bria’s students.

“What is it?” Antony asked. “I can’t see what you’re looking at.”

“Bria’s students came by.” He sighed. “I overreacted when I spoke with her before. She’s not a bad mentor. I just wish things had been different. She and I will never be close, but maybe we can part on good terms.”

Antony hummed in response. “I hope you can, if only for your peace of mind.”

Seph walked in the direction of the nearby hill. It overlooked the park below and the city in the distance. The two moons of Acinos were in view, and the orange sky sent shadows over the clouds.

They stood at the edge of the hill. His eyes prickled as the cool wind blew over him, ruffling his hair.

“Did you get new pants?” Antony asked.

Seph smoothed his hands over them and twisted around. “I did. Can’t decide if I overcompensated for my baggy pants and these are too tight or if this is how pants are supposed to fit.”

Antony peered behind him, and his eyes flicked downward. “Those look good on you.”

“Are you checking me out at a funeral?”

“Kendra would be honored that I’ve gotten my act together enough to flirt instead of mope.”

He snorted. “Yeah, okay, I believe that. And thanks.” He took a better look at Antony now that they were alone. The shadows beneath his eyes were less pronounced, like he’d slept for a week, though the lines there deepened as he smiled back at Seph. His hair had been cropped shorter and tidied into an appealing sea of waves atop his head. “You look good, too,” he said with an exaggerated quirk of his eyebrows.

Antony let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Thanks. You know, I’m grateful we got to know each other.”

“Powered through the awkwardness, you mean.”

“It was worth it,” he said. “I miss Kendra, and I hate what happened to her. But it shook me up, and I realized I want my life to be different.” He squared his shoulders, watching Seph with a sudden intensity. “Would you consider moving to New Calathea with me? I’m, ah, not suggesting we live together, to be clear. But I want to see you more. And, well, see what happens.”

“I’d like that, Antony. A chance to get to know each other properly.”

Antony grinned at him. “Good. I’m happy to hear that.”

Footsteps approached. Bria was crossing the lawn toward them, her eyes still red-rimmed. She nodded curtly. “I’m glad you both made it.”

“And I’m glad we did this,” Antony said.

“As am I. It was the least I could do.”

There was a pause as they stood there, watching the lower park where people moved about the walkways, hurrying to lectures or labs. And as Seph watched the bustle of a crowd spilling onto the sidewalk from a university building, it occurred to him that it felt good to stand still.

“I’m going to head out,” Antony said. “You take care of yourself, Bria.”

“You too, Antony.”

“And Seph—I’ll see you soon.”

Seph smiled at him as he flickered out of sight. Then he collected the small hologram generator and stowed it back in his bag. Bria hovered nearby, a question etched into her expression.

“Do you have some time to talk?”

“I was thinking I’d make tea,” she said.

“Tea sounds good.”

He leaned against the island in her kitchen while she boiled water in an electric kettle and removed a basket of teabags from a cabinet. Her home was neutral, with small pops of color here and there. He spotted the occasional trinket, but it was clearly the home of someone who didn’t spend much time there. Or didn’t spend much time relaxing.

“I think Antony and I are headed to New Calathea after this. I’ve been thinking about going back to Lythrum-9 anyway, and he found a good prosthetics department there.”

“I’ve heard their hospital system is well regarded. There are good universities in that area. Isabelle has some old friends there,” Bria said. “Then again, I think she knows someone at every university in the galaxy.”

He laughed and followed her into the sparsely decorated front room. They sat on opposite ends of the couch, and Bria sighed into her tea. “I needed to talk to you before you leave, but I’m afraid the words won’t come out right.”

“Tell me about it. I botched the conversation I tried to have with you before, and I’ve botched many conversations with Antony.”

“You two seem to be on good terms now. Antony doesn’t strike me as someone who keeps in touch with people unless he wants to. He must enjoy your company.”

“I believe he does.”

They sipped at their tea in silence.

“I’m sorry that your time working in my lab wasn’t a good one,” she said. “I didn’t understand how bad the lab environment had become. I’ve never been good at guessing what other people are thinking or feeling, so I’m left needing to learn to communicate better. Now I am working with my students to understand what they need from me.”

“It might feel awkward, but I think that will help. All I wanted was for you to acknowledge I had been uncomfortable. To let me know I wasn’t being absurd or too sensitive.”

“You weren’t being too sensitive; you were picking up on what I missed,” Bria said. “I see that now, and I’m sorry. I wish I were better at reading people—Isabelle is. She’s a better mentor than I am.”

“She is a good one,” he said. “But you have strengths of your own. Even if people skills don’t come as naturally, you can get around that by asking others what they need. And you’re good at being straightforward.”

“It’s not just mentoring. Isabelle is better than me at teaching, at speaking, at being a scientist. And she would be all those things even if she weren’t a professor in academia. Her personality and competence and kindness all shine through in every area of her life. I’m not strong enough to stand on my own outside of academia. I have my work, and I don’t know what I am without it.”

She leaned back against the couch and gestured to the far wall, where a pot held dirt and a few dessicated leaves. “I’m not good with people. I can’t keep a houseplant alive. Sometimes I don’t even know what Isabelle could see in me.” A blush bloomed across her cheeks, and she held her mug to her face as if the steam might hide it.

“I think Isabelle cares about you very much, as you do about her,” Seph said.

“I didn’t like being so far from her on our expedition,” Bria said. “She was dealing with a lot, and I wanted to be there for her in any way I could manage. Yet Isabelle has always been a vibrant person, and now, since her transition, she is even more so. Her identity has coalesced into such a full expression of self and I … I feel as if I’ve been broken apart. The only part of myself I know is who I am as a researcher, and even that has been stretched thin.”

“If you don’t know who you are outside of work anymore, that’s okay. You have time to figure it out.”

“I don’t know how to start. I keep trying to reason myself out of having feelings. And lately my feelings are so much bigger than I know what to do with. How do I manage them without numbing myself, without burying myself in work?”

“Walk through new neighborhoods. Write in a journal. Spend time with Isabelle. Spend time with yourself. Talk to a therapist. Buy a houseplant. If it dies, buy another. I don’t know what’s going to work for you, and I think that means you have to try until you find what’s right.”

Bria scoffed, though he could tell the irritation in her expression was aimed at herself and not him. “I think about trying new things and I realize my life feels so empty. But the thought of making it fuller overwhelms me.”

“You have to try. You have to be kind enough to yourself to try things in the hope that they’ll make you feel better,” Seph said. He grinned. “Think of it as an experiment—collecting data in search of future happiness.”

“I am a scientist; I know how to gather data.” Bria smiled back at him. “Maybe that’s where I start.”