Like Mother Like Daughter

Posted on Mon Dec 11th, 2023 @ 7:16am by Lieutenant Commander Lyra Cassiel & Lieutenant Commander Yana Petrova & Immy

Mission: S1 Episode 6: Joy and Ashes
Location: Holodeck 1
Timeline: Date 2371-09-09 at 1730
8814 words - 17.6 OF Standard Post Measure

ON

Yana stood in front of a large arched window with sheer white curtains. Sunlight poured in, bathing the decorative tan tiles with natural warmth. It was an expansive kitchen on one side with tan marble countertops, white cabinets, and gold sinks and fixtures, a mixture of crystal and finery that told everyone that the owner was wealthy. On the near side, a long island cut it off from the rest of the room where sat a round cherry-wood table with beautiful pink flowers in a large vase in the center. Yana herself was wearing a floor-length tan dress that seemed to be made of the same material as the curtains, heavy enough to cover her body, but light enough to show her beautifully shaped legs by the sunlight streaming in through the window. Her toned arms and shoulders were exposed, giving the impression of both youth and elegance.

By the island, several servants in black pants and white uniform shirts prepared a host of ingredients and did most of the unpleasant grunt-work of preparing to make a dish. She didn’t observe or monitor them like she would have done in real life, as the holograms would make no mistakes.

“Lady Petrova, Lyra’s on her way.” came a sweet and youthful voice.

“Thank you, Imogen.” Yana said, looking up at Immy with a pleasant though formal expression. “That’s all I need for now. You can go.”

“Awe.” Immy said with a frown. “I was really hoping to join you.”

“That’s sweet, dear. Maybe we can do that together some time.” Yana said with a warmer smile than before as she reached up and touched the younger woman’s arm. “But, for now, Lyra and I need to have a one on one discussion, and you aren’t exactly a standard hologram.”

“Fine, ma’am. I understand.” Immy said, smiling sadly. She then disappeared, as she was compelled by her programming to do. The genuine holograms remained, doing their jobs. They would tell no secrets.

Many likely would have thought it quite improper to hold this activity so soon after a major tragedy had befallen the ship, but the reality was despite the loss, life went on and it served no purpose to sit and be morose. The Shadow Fleet had recovered enough to resume their course to Sikaris; major repairs were still being made across the fleet, but they could at least fly under their own power now. This had left Security with very little to do, so Lyra had lent out her grunts to the other departments to use for their needs - most of her personnel had at least some training in other areas and those that didn’t had been put on patrols. After body recovery and the lighter clean up had been completed, Lyra had been left with little to do, so she had focused part of her energy on making sure Andrei was taken care of. He had been incredibly busy the past couple of days, so she had made sure that he had at least one meal by bringing it herself, offering some conversation that didn’t revolve around the disaster, and relieving his tension through simple massage or through their favorite means. She had been attentive but not overbearing or pushy about it, and he had seemed pleased.

She made her way toward the holodeck dressed in a simple wrap dress that hit a few inches above her knee and was tied neatly at her side. It was a lovely light material of a dark teal color with a geometric tile pattern of a lighter teal, black, and white; the sleeves and skirt both fluttered and flounced. It was a pretty, feminine dress for the casual occasion and had been paired with simple dark brown strap sandals with just a slight heel. Unlike many women in her line of work, Lyra fully embraced and enjoyed her feminine side which often came as a surprise given her choice of uniform from day to day.

She’d sent word of being on her way, prompt as always, and was walking through the holodeck doors at exactly the appointed time. In her hands she carried a bottle of wine - a favorite of Yana’s according to Andrei.

“Good afternoon.” She greeted with a polite smile, her eyes falling briefly on Yana and then moving around the kitchen. “Beautiful place.”

“Good afternoon.” Yana returned, a smile of her own on her face. “You’re very kind; it’s a replica of our breakfast kitchen in the Grand Kremlin Palace. I don’t reminisce too often, but there are times when it is good for one.”

She turned to Lyra, the gray eyes which were so much like the one her son had remaining communicating none of the warmth that her face so expertly suggested.

“It’s good of you to join me. I’ve been wanting to get to know you better for such a long time. Any woman who keeps my Andrei so completely enthralled has to be a wonder-worker.” She gestured toward the holographic servants finishing the preparations at the island. “I’m going to show you how to make Russian Royal Cake, a childhood favorite of his.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” Lyra nodded, closing the distance between them and offering Yana the bottle of wine. “For you.”

Lyra was perfectly adept at this game as well. It had been easy to see the lack of warmth in Yana’s eyes - Andrei had looked at her with those eyes too for a long time. No longer, of course, but Lyra had no such expectations from Yana. She hoped to have at least a semi-cordial relationship with the woman someday, but warmth and perhaps eventual love never even entered her mind. At the very least, she hoped Yana wouldn’t become a problem; that would be unfortunate for every party. They did at this point seem to want the same thing on different levels though, so Lyra would hold out hope it would be fine. For now.

Yana drew a bit nearer and reached out for the bottle, accepting it gently and bringing it in range of her eyes.

“You’ve done your research, I see. You’re very kind.” She said, turning and moving the bottle to the island. She quickly instructed one of the servants to open it and bring two wine glasses, then grabbed a pink box wrapped with an even more pink silk bow. She brought it over and handed it to Lyra. “It’s a chocolate-like desert found on Banea. They’re round swirling balls of flavor with a delightful treat inside each one. You never know what you’re going to get.”

“Thank you. Chocolate is a weakness of mine so I’m sure I’ll enjoy them.” Lyra took the box with a smile that, like Yana’s, didn’t make it to her eyes despite the look on her face being pleasant. “I know Andrei is quite fond of the Black Forest cake you and Mika both make for him, but this one hasn’t come up yet.”

She put the box of chocolates down out of the way and turned to look at the prepared ingredients. The holographic servant returned and handed each one of them a mostly full wine glass. As she stepped back, Lyra held her glass and turned her attention to Yana once more.

Yana raised the glass slightly, her gaze resting confidently on her guest.

“To future possibilities, and the Empire.” She said.

“Saúde.” Lyra lifted her glass in response, her expression easy but her eyes sharp. She took a sip of the wine in unison with Yana.

“Delicious.” Yana said, licking the wine off of her lips. She looked to the island and gestured with her head. “Shall we?”

“Yes.” Lyra nodded and took the few steps to the island, pausing as the servants brought over aprons for both of them to put on and tie. Lyra did so, speaking while her fingers tied the string. “It has been quite a while since I’ve been in a kitchen to cook something actually good.”

Yana placed her wine glass down and set about the quick and practiced work of pulling the apron around herself. It was pink and comfortable with gold clasps.

“Many ladies of noble birth, both young and old, think it beneath them.” She commented as she sipped the wine and then turned to the table, taking stock of what they had. “What was the last thing you cooked then?”

“I made pao de queijo for Andrei’s birthday to go with our meal. He enjoyed it and it was one of my childhood favorites.” Lyra replied easily. “Cooking an actual meal though, I couldn’t tell you. Probably sometime back in the Academy.”

“Oh, Lyra. We have a lot to accomplish then.” Yana said with a smile, more amused than any before it. “I’m afraid I’ve never had pao de quejio, though I may have heard of it. Why don’t you cook? Too busy?”

Lyra heard the amusement in Yana’s voice and chose to not take offense. It tended to be a difficult thing for people to grasp that her youth had been commanded completely by being trained as a glorified assassin and second as a royal woman of the empire who would become the wife to a great man. Cooking was a peasant skill in reality, and there had been no time for such things. “I didn’t learn when I was young outside of a few things and then never had any reason to do so once I was out on my own.”

“Your childhood must have been very irregular as it was. You can’t be blamed for missing a skill which has become so inconvenient in the modern day. Still, a resourceful woman must embrace art and culture, and there is no culture more enjoyable than that which is experienced through food.” Yana said, speaking reasonably with an understanding voice. “Korolecskiy cake is a layered cake which brings together complimentary flavors in a decorative stack. There aren’t many things like it and it is one of the most difficult to make. So, when you learn it, you’ll be beyond the basics for certain.”

Lyra wondered if Andrei would even care that she was learning this; probably, actually, given this was a skill his mother had and used for his benefit. On the rare occasion Lyra had brought up any of her own “cultural skills” Andrei had been disinterested or downright dismissive. She had since stopped doing so. “Good. Where shall we start?”

Yana looked at the gathered ingredients and gave a gentle sigh. She grabbed a large class mixing bowl and sat it between them on the counter.

“We’ll work on different layers to cut down on time, but we first need to mix the common ingredients in a bowl. First we mix eggs and sugar together.” she said, reaching for the bowl of pre-cracked eggs and quickly pouring them into the large bowl followed by the contents of a bowl of sugar. She then extended a whisk toward Lyra. “We do this part the hard way.”

Lyra’s brows lifted slightly as she was presented with the whisk. Of all the steps, this one seemed like the ideal one to apply technology that had been around for centuries, but she took the whisk anyways and stepped closer to the bowl. She started to work the ingredients together; she wasn’t completely inept at it, but obviously it wasn’t something she had done a lot in her life. Once she felt it was reasonably mixed, she tipped the bowl slightly toward Yana to show her.

“Beautifully done. The form could use some improvement, but you got the job done well.” Yana said, seeming pleased with what had been accomplished by Lyra. She then grabbed additional ingredients, sour cream, vanilla, flour, and baking soda into the bowl, and handed it back to Lyra again with the same whisk.

“Technology has unlocked new horizons for the Terran race, allowing us a history of domination and glory as well as a future which promises more of the same. But we did great things before we had it; great things we easily forget once things get easy.” she said, looking at Lyra with her silvery eyes. “Cooking is my way of…reminding myself who I really am: the daughter of a regional lord who spent her youth singing and cooking in the kitchen with her slaves. It reminds me that the real opportunities in life are more in the humble things than we often realize.”

Lyra listened to Yana while she worked in the next set of ingredients. Her expression remained rather hard to read, but it was clear she was listening to the woman. “Andrei told me of your talent for music. He gets his voice from you, I imagine.”

“I had a promising career in opera. I was singing the lead in Carmen on an Imperial tour. I got to meet many famous…powerful people, including then Grand Duke Antonio Orisni.” she looked up at Lyra again, pausing for a second, her eyes watching the woman work the ingredients in the bowl. She slid another identical one over. “Now we need to split the batter between two bowls and continue with two different recipes.”

“Alright.” Lyra nodded and did as Yana had prompted, splitting what she had in her own bowl with the other and then pulled in the add ins for her own half.

“Anyway.” Yana said, pulling her bowl toward her and stirring it a bit more with her own whisk. “I was singing in the Royal Opera House in Moscow when I met the son of the Lord of Russia. The rest is history.”

Lyra quirked a brow and briefly glanced over to Yana. “Well that’s a bit of a truncated version of the good part. Why did you leave your career?”

“Girls in love often leave their career.” Yana said, smiling at Lyra a bit too broadly. It was a beautiful smile, carrying the gorgeousness it had in younger years along with an attractive hint of wisdom. “You might say my career path took a turn. Is that odd?”

“No.” Lyra replied succinctly, but there was something about the tone in which she said it that indicated more to it. “Is this mixed enough?”

“Yes, it is. Very good.” Yana said after a quick glance into her bowl. “Now we just pour them into those cake pans and start the cooking “

“So you fell in love, became a wife and took over the household since your husband was never around. Is it something you enjoyed more than your vocal career?” Lyra asked while pouring the batter into the cake pans. Once they were filled and level, she walked them over to the oven and put them in.

Yana followed her with her own pans and put them in after. Fortunately, it was a rather large oven made for projects such as this. Once they were in, she closed the door and smiled.

“Now comes the fun part. Wine, conversation, and waiting.” She said, before grabbing her glass of wine and making her way over to the round table on the other side of the room.

“You pretty much have the measure of it. Though, to be quite honest with you, I still kept quite the social life. I was at court often, of course, which allowed me to pursue my own projects; make new friends.”

“You did expand the wealth of Russia quite significantly, from my understanding.” Lyra picked up her wine and followed after Yana at a slightly slower pace. It didn’t really answer her question, but in a way it did she supposed. “Did you enjoy having a husband who was away the majority of the time?”

“It had its costs and benefits.” Yana said with a neutral expression. “I missed my husband, of course, but the freedom it gave me was certainly a plus. When he was home, my schedule was aligned with his and the power to make deals, build business relationships, and decide went back to him. I’m not complaining, of course, and I’m not obsessed with such things. But still, it was a situation that needed mental adjustment. It was a lot like living two lives.”

It didn’t much sound like Yana had missed the man, really. Lyra took a sip of her wine, looking out the beautiful windows to the projected scenery. “He wasn’t with you often though, was he? I’m sure making that adjustment was difficult when he was. Though his absence did also give the benefit of raising your children to your liking.”

“Well, I suppose that’s true. Though, even distant fathers have their effects. In his own way, Andrei is much like his father.” Yana said, sipping her own wine. “Ivan was very loving and devoted when he was around. It’s when they leave that we feel the absence. Hopefully that won’t happen to you two. Out here, there is nothing but togetherness, after all.”

There was a long pause before Lyra spoke again and when she did, she looked at Yana with her brows lifted slightly. “Hopefully not too like his father.”

Her meaning was quite clear despite the absence of words. She approached it indirectly out of respect to Yana, but the whole topic of Kassandra and Ivan’s infidelity was one of the things she most wanted the answers to.

Because Andrei was like Ivan.

Yana knew what she meant right away, and Yana gave a sympathetic expression.

“Actually, in that way, they are quite different. Ivan was never a ladies man. That…incident was an anomaly.” She said, seeming earnest. “He had a moment of stupidity. Andrei was…eternally stupid. But, so far as I can tell, he has been dedicated to you.”

The expression on Lyra’s beautiful face made it quite clear she didn’t entirely believe Yana in her earnestness to defend Ivan. The fact was he was a man on a starship away from his wife for long stretches - that didn’t promote fidelity. He was wise enough to have it at home until he wasn’t.

“That’s not exactly a rousing support of your son’s ability to not give into juvenile weakness.” It wasn’t a criticism, merely an observation made with a curious, probing note.

“Well, he is very young.” Yana responded with a frown. “The two of you are still barely more than teenagers in my perspective. I believe what I see.”

“More away from teenagers now than not.” Lyra pointed out gently, not challenging Yana’s perspective but giving a reminder that both she and Andrei were closer to their thirties than they were to their teens.

“What is it you see?”

“I see an ambitious young woman who wants an ambitious young man. He loves to fight every fight, drink every drink, smoke every smoke, and make love to every pretty little thing in a skirt.” Yana said with a slight shrug. “I also see that he seems to have been on his best behavior. What does that tell you, Lyra?”

“It tells me that he sees me as more than a pretty little thing in a skirt and that I am singularly worthy of something that I know is - at this point in his life at the very least - an effort for him. It tells me that he is attached to me and sees me as his as much as I see him as mine and the thought of anyone else touching me drives him to violence.” Lyra took a sip of her wine and sighed out a soft breath.

“It tells me he loves me.”

“It tells me that too.” Yana said with a smile which reached her eyes more than any before it. “But it doesn’t tell me he is perfect. I would advise you to keep really good intelligence. And if some skirt gets between you and him…”

Yana didn’t finish her sentence, but her smile remained as her mind worked behind her eyes. The genuineness was gone. After a few seconds, it faded.

“Would you tell me what happened?” Lyra asked, her voice taking on a gentle, sympathetic, and surprisingly genuine tone. She wasn’t trying to press, it wasn’t a demand; she wanted to know, but she was being respectful of Yana’s pain. It was something she had really only given to Andrei.

“But, Lyra. You’re a smart girl. You already know what happened.” Yana responded, her fingers dancing for a moment on the wine glass. “And so does my husband. Of course, I’ve never confirmed it..he’s never asked, but he knows. And that is why it only happened once, at least to my knowledge.”

“I know what I think happened, but I don’t know for sure and I wouldn’t pretend to.” Lyra shrugged and looked back outside. “

“Well, tell me what you think happened.” Yana said, smiling amusedly and sipping her drink again. “We can make a game of it.”

Lyra laughed at that and shook her head, a smile remaining briefly. “He is very much your son.”

“Why do you say that?” She asked, turning her head slightly with curiosity.

“You’re both allergic to straight answers.” Lyra replied, clearly amused by the similarity.

“Perhaps one of those times he came home… you weren’t quick enough to resume the role of housewife. You pressed when you shouldn’t have, he got angry as all men do, and he went off and slept with Kassandra’s mother. Now, in my brief moments of speaking with Kassandra, I understand that her ‘family’ were friends of yours. You’re right, Ivan doesn’t seem much like his son in that he would go and sleep with any random whore, so there must have been some connection between her and Ivan before. You’re not foolish, you noticed it before they ever slept together. Did you say something? Did he just ignore you?”

“I prefer the kind of speech that changed things over the kind that shows people what I’m thinking. I tried to teach that same control to my children. That means I never say something just because I know it or because I’m upset. I say it because I expect something to change.”

Yana drained the rest of the glass before motioning to a servant to refill it.

“You have many things correct. Ivan and I had a…rough patch. I was finalizing a trade deal with Australia, one he found he didn’t like when he returned home. I explained to him it’s strategic importance and how much political capital I invested, but he still believed it was the wrong move. I was furious, and I let him know it. I packed up four year old Andrei and I left. My pride kept us away for weeks. When I returned, he had left for his next assignment. I am good at gathering information; it’s my specialty, so it didn’t take me long to discover he had been spending some time with Artaxes wife. Apparently, loneliness didn’t suit him.”

“That answers some things, but not all.” Lyra nodded slowly and watched the servants refill her mostly gone wine as well, but she was being mindful of what she was doing. “They had to have some sort of closeness before, why did you not deal with it?”

The question wasn’t accusing and Lyra was genuinely curious, she looked to Yana directly again, her head shifting slightly. “Or did you miss it?”

“No, I didn’t miss it.”Yana said, seeming almost perturbed by the question. “I was distracted with something important. Something which took a lot of my time and attention in those days. I failed to act and I paid for it. But I wasn’t the only one..”

“What was so important that it would distract you that much?” Lyra chanced the question but honestly didn’t expect an answer.

Yana watched Lyra, a look on her face as inscrutable as humanly possible. Perhaps she was considering what she should say, but maybe she was simply deep in the memory.

“That I can’t share.”she said with a wink which seemed kind and deservedly playful. “Let’s just say my life was far more exciting than anyone would have known at the time, and my work was busy and important enough that I missed this particular risk.”

Given it was the answer she quite expected, Lyra didn’t seem annoyed about Yana’s refusal to elaborate. Perhaps Yana was hiding an affair of her own, but Lyra doubted that very much given what she had been told thus far. She was quiet for a while then, obviously mulling everything over in her own mind. Finally, she turned her head to look at Yana with those cool dark eyes.

“Well, I have to admit that is all even worse than I imagined. I thought it was a mistake of one stupid night on his part, not weeks.”

“So often, when things go wrong in life, they go wrong slowly at first, and then very quickly.” Yana said before looking at the oven timer to see how long they had left to wait. “Just learn from my mistake, as I have no doubt Andrei will learn from his father’s. They aren’t the same man…Andrei is much more dangerous, I think. And you are not me. You don’t have the same job I had, nor the same circumstances or background.”

Lyra nodded, sipped her wine, and considered more though this time a very slight frown had actively appeared on her beautiful, youthful face. “You still loved him even though you were angry and left, did you not? Still your husband, your love, everything to you?”

Yana smiled at the question. It was a very innocent question from a young woman who, in her way, was brutal and terrifying. She allowed a small, polite chuckle.

“If I can say anything about Ivan Petrov, Lyra, it’s that he’s the same man I married. He has a gray beard and he’s rounder around the middle than when we first met, but he’s the same man. He’s good, he’s kind, and he knows how to kill when the time comes. I love those qualities, and I understand them. I know how to use those qualities when needed, as well. One mistake doesn’t change that, and it was so long ago..and the other party involved so very dead..”

Her smile intensified as she seemed to experience some joy in speaking that sentence.

“I will, for one moment, be very honest with you. It’s not something I do often, and I have my reasons. I raised Andrei, not his father. He isn’t good, and I never encouraged him to be good. I encouraged him to be a killer. I made him, and I made him to become king of the hill. He walked on everyone, he lorded over everyone, and everyone hated him…but they feared him too.” She said, her smile fading now as she entered the new topic in her mind. “Despite my efforts, he has refused to purge himself of that final weakness, the one that separates us..from the rest of them. He isn’t careless; he’s like his father. So, he learned to be charming to please the objects of his desire: those girls in skirts, because he likes softness, and nice smells, and girlish laughter, and being wanted. He loves being wanted…he adores being noticed. He pretends he doesn’t care about being celebrated, but he does. He is like his father. It isn’t easy to provide for that need on your own, but you’ve managed to do it so far.”

She pulled the wine glass to her lips, her eyes staying on Lyra, their genuine coldness staying there, dead and gray, communicating nothing.

“A word of advice from me? He isn’t good, but he isn’t a monster either. He cares about those tramps in his own way. If you show your jealousy to him or allow yourself to become…resentful of him, he will be annoyed and the spell will be broken. I did that once, as you can see. Show your jealousy by punishing the girls who are actively tempting him. One, it's more fun to hurt them, because you don’t love them. Two, It’s less fair to hurt them, stoking that tiny sense of justice and propriety which, much to my dismay, remains in his character. Three, there’s nothing more sexy than an illusion. You don’t have to kill or do physical harm, sometimes all you have to do...is bake them something; let them know you notice them..that you were thinking about them.”

Lyra listened intently to Yana, watching the woman’s face and body as she spoke. She didn’t miss the glee with which the demise of Kassandra’s mother was mentioned - no doubt something Yana had a hand in herself. What came next was something she expected from a woman like Yana: never hold a man accountable for his own actions, blame everyone else - even yourself - for his weakness and his choices. Whether Yana wanted to admit it or not, it had only taken one misstep for Ivan to discard her and everything she meant to him. For weeks, she had meant nothing to him, their life together had meant nothing, their child together meant nothing - the only thing that had mattered to Ivan Petrov was his wounded pride and hurt feelings; he never considered his wife. But that wasn’t just a problem of Ivan’s - it was a mentality that plagued noble Terran men and it was so revoltingly fragile. He had made the conscious choice to stop loving her, and it was beyond Lyra why Yana didn’t care.

She sipped her wine again, glancing over to the timer herself. So far, Andrei had enjoyed her jealousy and she had enjoyed his. She could play the game of blaming the women - especially in this setting - for a while, but not forever. Most women (though not all) would be intelligent enough to back off when threatened in the way that Yana had pointed out and only through continued temptation from the man himself would think they had a chance.

Lyra was very like Yana in some ways, but so very not in others - perhaps in the same way that Andrei was like Ivan in some ways, but so very not in others. Lyra did not give her love freely - perhaps she had never loved before at all in the end - but she knew she would never recover from a betrayal like Ivan inflicted against Yana. She would never forgive that conscious choice to stop loving her - that knowledge that even for a moment, she meant nothing to the man she loved, that her sacrifices, all her care, everything… nothing.

“Why did you leave Kassandra alive?”

“Sometimes leaving a loose end untied provides opportunities later.” Yana answered. “After all, I am a senior Starfleet officer with no previous experience and my son is first officer. The benefits are obvious.”

“Would you have let her live if she had been a boy?” The question was simple, of course. Boys were much more of a threat after all.

“Of course not.” Yana said with a dismissive wave. “Sons would threaten a loss of control.”

“I thought not.” Lyra shrugged and took another sip of her wine. “Was it hard for you to play the longsuffering wife that accepted his bastard child and seeing him give his love and care to that mistake like she was anything but that? Or was the ability to press his guilt to use for your own devices that great of a boon that it was enough solace?”

Yana considered the question. Obviously, she had never had this conversation before, so she barely knew how to talk about it.

“I was never thinking of how I felt, I suppose. I was focussed on my mission. But, believe me, I took no pleasure in her existence. Sitting at my table; calling my husband ‘Papa’…it was an unfortunate experience. But, not to worry now. Circumstances had rendered her quite absent without me having to lift a finger.”

“Fate often has a way of righting wrongs and injustices when the perpetrators refuse to do it themselves.” It was a cold, heartless statement, but it was also true. “I’m happy for you in that sense, though the loss of such a pawn could be a blow. At least you are there to be the comforting wife as he deals with his grief.”

She restrained the roll of her eyes and simply looked back outside. It was still never aimed at Yana - she might have not agreed with how the woman had done things but Lyra accepted that there were different approaches in life for certain people. No, it was still simply disgust at Ivan’s complete disregard for her.

Though maybe he didn’t actually love her; she supposed she hadn’t considered that possibility. If he took duty seriously, remaining with her was still his duty… and he was a man, it would explain Mika’s existence.

Yana pursed her lips, seeming disappointed by Lyra’s response. She could tell they were different after all.

“Pride can be so powerful, Lyra. One can use it to lift oneself up to greater heights. But pride also goes before a fall. Despite all our technology, this old truth remains the same. I decided long ago between being angry and being happy. You have to make your own choice.” Yana tapped her fingers on the table. “But I have a long and happy marriage to a devoted husband to lean on, and I wouldn’t have that if I had allowed myself to give in to vengeful hatred.”

Yana winked then, seeming unbothered by Lyra’s subtle insinuations of her own superiority. She knew the younger woman didn’t know the half of it about her, and so she couldn’t possibly understand. She didn’t blame her for thinking she was weak.

“After all. None of us are totally innocent, are we?”

At that point, the timer on the oven went off. Yana smiled and stood, walking to the kitchen area again and opening the oven.

“No, but I imagine that is easier if your husband is a good man as you claim yours is.” Lyra spoke, following after Yana into the kitchen and offering the woman the oven mitts. Maybe he was truly repentant in the end, but that didn’t explain why he had latched onto Kassandra so hard and inflicted the insult again.

“I believe that strength is being the one who decides what to do and how to see things. I decided to feel happy and to live like a good wife. Others make different decisions.” Yana said, speaking in a fair-minded style without pushing any ideas out. She sat the cake layers on a cooling rack one at a time before turning back to Lyra and placing her hands on her stomach.

“So, an operative from youth, having to wait to be allowed to be yourself. You spent much of your life with a different face; a different identity. How have you stayed strong through it all?”

Lyra noticed the phrasing Yana chose, but moved on in the moment with her. They’d spent quite a while on Andrei, Ivan, and Yana herself, so it was only “fair” that it was Yana’s turn to ask questions.

“Discipline and control.” She answered simply, leaning back slightly against the island while facing Yana.

“And, now that you’re completely through that ordeal, do you try to keep that same level of discipline and control, or do you find it hard to contain yourself?” Yana asked. “So often people find it impossible to hold themselves back from what they want after denying themselves for so long.”

“I don’t find it difficult to maintain, no.” Again, it was a simple answer, but Lyra gave no indication of the statement being anything but true. The scent of the baked cakes wafted into the air around them, pleasing and making it smell like a warm and welcoming home. “Even before my life became what it was, they were values instilled in me from an early age by my mother and papai; though of course in my earlier years mistakes were more readily forgiven.”

“And later, after your father was killed? How were mistakes dealt with then?” Yana asked, curiously. The familiar smell of the desert wafted between them, and she took a deep breath of it.

“I learned very quickly that it was much better for my health and wellbeing to not make them.” It was vague of course, but Lyra gave no indication she was inclined to explain with any more depth than that.

“And do you think you will teach the same lessons to your children?” Yana asked, not leading in any way. By her expression it wasn’t clear if she desired any answer in particular and, if she did, which one. She knew Lyra would be honest however. “It’s a difficult thing to be so strong and to raise children who are weaker by their circumstances.”

Lyra’s brow lifted slightly and the slightest of smirks tugged on the corners of her lips. She wondered how interested Yana actually was in being a grandmother. She was still young enough to be popping children out herself. “I’m sure I will.”

“Good. Anything else would be…unjust.” Yana said, smiling. She began to pull the cake layers from the cooling rack and to place them on the island they had been leaning on. “Children deserve every opportunity to succeed in this cruel universe, especially those born of special blood. Your children will be cousins of the Emperor…at least.”

“At least.” Lyra confirmed though the tone indicated she was expecting more than just another line of cousins that would eventually drift into obscurity, maybe to be plucked up in the coming decades to give legitimacy to another ascending bloodline. She watched Yana deal with the cakes, knowing more directions would come but enjoying the conversation as it was.

“Have you and your husband spoken about having more children of your own? Or are you done with your family?”

“Me?” Yana asked with a raised eyebrow. She seemed taken aback by the question, and her face turned to one of confusion. “Out here in the middle of nowhere, and at my age? I don’t think so. Mika was a pleasure to raise, but Andrei was enough trouble for both of them and then some. I have no interest in doing it again. I might not feel ready to be a grandmother, but I’d prefer it to having another myself.”

“You’re not elderly, Yana. It is perfectly normal for women your age to still birth another child or two.” Lyra reminded gently, even seeming to have a bit of sympathy in the words. “We are all stuck out here in the middle of nowhere, and the fact is if we don’t get home in the next year or two… breeding will have to become a consideration.”

There was a strange flicker of Lyra’s expression as she spoke the words, there for only an instant and then gone again. Distaste? Apprehension? It was hard to tell. “But of course you shouldn’t if you don’t want to. I was just curious since after so many years you are together again and I thought your husband might be pressuring you for a do over of sorts.”

“I’m not sure if the thought has occurred to him, actually. If it has, he hasn’t mentioned it.” Yana said, her confused expression melting alway. “To be honest, I’m not on anything preventative, so perhaps you’ll get your way.”

That was certainly more information than Lyra had wanted. It seemed like quite a choice though if she actively didn’t want more children - doubly so now that she was technically conscripted into the military and it was highly “encouraged” that soldiers were on contraceptives while out on deployment - and actively frowned on if they were not.

Still, she simply smiled and shook her head with a good natured chuckle. “Whatever pleases you and Ivan, I’m not in a position to have a preference after all. It might make for some strange family dinners down the line, but such is life.”

Yana didn’t say anything more on the subject, doing the sensible and modest thing and keeping more private things private than not. She pulled over a caramel covered icing and handed Lyra a baking spatula.

“Spread this between each layer. Be sure to be generous.”

Perfectly content to let the topic go, she took the spatula and a step closer to the cake layers which she eyed for a moment to make a mental calculation of roughly how much to use on each and then began the work under Yana’s eye. “So I hear Mika is seeing young Cedrik Feng?”

Of course Lyra knew about it herself, but it was their way to not be so direct.

“Yes, she is. Andrei had a word with him, of course, in his own way.” Yana said as she watched Lyra work. “Cedrik was respectful amid the pressure. He has a good reputation, I know, from my sources, and acceptable breeding. It would be better if his father were more than a Lord Mayor, but it’s a major city, and it isn’t as if there are many options out here amongst the stars. I just hope they don’t let feelings come before judgment. For his sake.”

Lyra took her time with the frosting, precise in her work as she was with most everything. “Only a Lord Mayor, but one of the wealthiest at the very least. He seems like a respectful young man from my own interactions with him, I just hope Ivan and Andrei don’t suffocate the relationship unless it actually becomes necessary. Most everyone is too afraid to interact with her and she is the type of person who suffers from that.”

She paused then, looking down at the cakes and then to Yana questioningly.

“Are they?” Yana asked, her expression communicating curiosity more than genuine surprise. “There was that drunk security officer months ago. He certainly wasn’t afraid.”

“Men get very stupid when they are drunk.” Lyra knew Yana was aware of that fact about men and was just playing dumb. She also wasn’t surprised Yana knew about Romano; it hadn’t been a display she had chosen to keep secret; she was also quite sure Yana was very aware of exactly who had been responsible for the man’s missing hand.

“Is the frosting alright?”

Yana watched as Lyra worked the frosting on top of the designated cake layers, saying nothing as she worked. When she asked, however, Yana nodded.

“More. A bit more on each layer. And it doesn’t have to be so perfect. These layers will be stacked, so no one will ever see your handiwork.” she said, and placed a hand on the island, content to let Lyra finish what she started.

“I was a very social girl, highly positioned and trained to sing, to dance, and to get what I wanted from men.” Yana said, looking at Lyra with her captivating gray eyes. “No one was afraid to talk to me or to use me, and, thank the gods, I figured out how to use it to protect myself. But not before losing myself and almost putting everything I valued at risk.”

She smiled then, a genuine smile. It had pride and peace in it which came from the heart.

“My son is a work of art, and my daughter is too. She is vulnerable for now, but people will fight for her. You have proved that more than anyone else on this ship. Thank you, by the way.”

Lyra had added more frosting at Yana’s prompt, but she had done so with the exact same precision - her handiwork would be seen when the cake was cut and even if it somehow wasn’t, she herself would know she had accomplished the task perfectly. She listened to Yana as she worked, but her eyes were on her task; she wasn’t unaware of her surroundings though. She was finishing just as Yana was boasting of her “art” - she and Andrei really were so alike. It made her wonder briefly, but that was cut off by the thanks Yana had given her.

Had they been doing this a couple weeks ago, Lyra may very well have tipped her hand on her feelings, but she was much improved. She simply smiled pleasantly and slid the layers toward Yana again. “Better?”

“Much.” Yana responded, before reaching over and carefully placing layer upon layer with the sort of precision and speed that came from confident and consistent practice. “Many people think that baking is difficult. It really is just a matter of following instructions and being patient. In my opinion, that is the skill that is in short supply in the universe. You know much about both.”

“I do, yes.” The younger woman confirmed as she watched Yana assembling the cake. There didn’t seem to be a particular pride in her reply, it was simply a fact of life. Yana’s word choice combined with what Yana had said earlier didn’t go unnoticed though. She reflected again on her hope that Yana wouldn't be problematic to her goals, but with every passing conversation her doubt grew.

Once Yana was finished moving the layers around, Lyra spoke up again. “I have two more questions for you. If there’s one thing you especially think I should know about Andrei, what would that be?”

Yana eyed Lyra for a quiet moment, her mind seeming to settle on her rather than on the facts of her son’s life. She arched a brow slightly, turning her head to the side.

“I imagine you know more than I do about him by now, Lyra. I could tell you about how he scraped his knee when he was a boy, but what could I possibly know about Andrei, the man, that you haven’t already discovered?”

With Yana’s head turned away, she would miss the shadow of frustration that passed over Lyra’s features for an instant then was gone again, giving way to her typical neutral face. “You are his mother and as you say, you made him into what he is. Mothers always know about their children even as they age. I’m sure I don’t know everything about Andrei; while we love each other, we haven’t known each other that long. It was asked from a place of care, nothing more.”

“Of course it was. I would expect nothing else.” Yana said with a gentle tone. She considered the question Lyra had asked again. After a moment, the answer came to her and she only considered her phrasing for a few seconds more. “As far back as I can remember, Andrei has always been a planner. He is singularly goal-oriented, no matter how much he professes being open to other possibilities. If he’s doing anything at all, it has always meant it helped him reach his goals. Your relationship clearly falls into that category. I think it might be important for you to remember that; I’m sure you are much the same.”

For a moment, Lyra considered Yana’s words and all that came with them, good and bad. She wasn’t wrong, Lyra and Andrei were much the same in that way. Did that leave room for love, really? Was it real? Did it matter? She didn’t dwell on it further and simply gave a slight nod, indicating she had heard what was said. “What is something small that can be done for him that brings him joy or comfort?”

Yana smiled then and pushed the cake toward Lyra.

“Besides this? A conversation about something philosophical. He hates talking about the mundane. Ask him about the meaning of life; challenge him with your own thoughts. Try not to be emotional. He plays simple, but he is quite the thinker underneath his confident grin.”

Lyra’s brows went up just slightly as she looked down at the cake in front of her. Still looking at it, she spoke. “Does he care about the thoughts of others?”

Her words weren’t accusatory and she seemed genuinely curious to what Yana thought.

“Only if they’re smart and logical. He has never cared about the feelings of others, however. With few exceptions.” Yana answered as she started to apply the creamy icing to the outside of the cake with practiced speed and efficiency. “He has always been very sensitive to direct and logical criticism. He takes it more seriously than he might pretend.”

Quietly, Lyra studied Yana’s hands as they moved and spread the frosting around. For all appearances, she seemed actually invested in learning how to make the cake properly. Andrei seemed to care about her feelings, at least now and then. It was better than not at all. “He gets quite frustrated about it initially, though.”

“Oh, does he?” Yana asked, pausing in her work and looking up at Lyra. “Give me an example?”

The answer didn’t come right away as she considered the question carefully. “Andrei and I sometimes do martial training together to learn a new skill. He of course is an expert in swords while I am an expert with the spear and by extent the quarterstaff. He’s had some basic training which is to be expected, but they are different skill sets and mentality to master. If he isn’t grasping something immediately, he becomes frustrated and annoyed and instead of accepting that it is part of the learning process, he will at times argue that it is the fault of the instruction he was given. He gives into the frustration he feels and instead of taking a moment to center himself, he will keep attacking the problem until he eventually does it correctly, though it would have been much easier had he not allowed himself to get into his own head about it.”

“That’s my Andrei.” Yana said. “He’s always been like that. I can still remember him screaming his little head off because he couldn’t get his jacket on properly in the winter. He wouldn’t let anyone help. I hope he isn’t that bad anymore.”

Lyra tried not to laugh, but honestly couldn’t help it. Strangely, it actually sounded sweet in a way and when she smiled and simply looked out into the kitchen as if she were picturing the moment, Yana could see the warmth Lyra had for her son.

“Well… his head grew.” She shook her head, amused.

“As have his arms. And his ego.” Yana said, laughing right along with her. When she was done, she shrugged. “I never conquered that character trait of his. I just got him disposable teachers.”

“Well, I don’t know that I will be able to either, but by necessity I will try.” She gave a shrug and smile herself, not indicating any type of sureness one way or the other at her potential success or failure in her endeavor. Finally she looked back down to the cake.

“So what is left here?”

“A little chocolate drizzle; some decoration. All for texture and presentability.” Yana answered. She slid a bowl of chocolate toward Lyra. “I can show you how.”

“Please.” Lyra nodded, placing her hands on the bowl and waiting for Yana’s guidance.

They’d finish up the treat and she would bring it home to Andrei to enjoy it with him while she mulled over the conversations she and Yana had together. Interesting, insightful, and concerning all.

END