by Ann Aguirre
“Correct. I am curious.”
“Kurr talked to me first. I just responded…and then when I saw that death machine, I suggested we team up.”
“Your strategy was brilliant,” Zylar said.
Heat filled her cheeks, chasing delight through her system. “Nobody’s ever said that about me before.”
“It is merely the truth.”
She didn’t know where to go with that, so she changed the subject. “Hey, how’s Helix doing anyway?”
“I’m not certain.”
As they emerged from the tunnel, the sky was dark, but not like it got on Earth, more a deep charcoal, and because of the massive urban sprawl, no stars were visible—just a burn of titian at the horizon from the setting of the red sun. Barathi citizens hurried here and there, rushing toward the nearest sky station to catch a pod wherever they were headed.
“Then let’s check on him. We can do that, right?”
She hated to leave Snaps alone even longer; he must be bored and maybe even scared. On workdays, she used to run home at lunch to give him a snack, let him out, and play with him a bit. But Zylar had left her with the impression that Helix was important to him, so the pup could wait ten more minutes.
“Are you concerned? You barely know him and have never encountered him when he was functioning correctly.”
“Whatever, let’s just go. Is he in the IT department or something?”
“IT?” Zylar seemed to be learning her mannerisms because now he was the one pulling on her hand to guide her. “We will check with Technical.”
“I hope it’s good news,” she said.
“As do I.”
They didn’t speak—Zylar probably because he was worried, and Beryl was still surfing the adrenaline wave from conquering that damn death machine. Mentally she relived the sheer excitement blended with terror she’d felt, sailing through the air. If she hadn’t caught the bar, she would’ve died today, just like that other poor contestant.
But with Kurr’s help, she succeeded, and the announcer had even said, “It’s too early to call, but this Ulian-human collaboration may be worth watching!”
On Earth, she had been nobody, but maybe she could be somebody on Barath.
Those thoughts occupied her as the lift carried them up to the sky station, where the crowds weren’t as pressing as they had been during the day. Only a few Barathi—and one alien she couldn’t identify—stood waiting for the pod, and this time, nobody paid Beryl any attention. She wondered if the Choosing was broadcast like the Olympics, so now everyone knew who she was and what she was doing there.
Hopping on these pods would never get old. It was like traveling by aerial tramway back home, but completely upgraded, and it provided a gorgeous view of Srila at night. As ever, Zylar stood at her back, shielding her with his body. I could get used to that. He finally let go of her hand, and oddly, she missed the contact.
“This is our stop,” he said.
“I’m coming.”
This wasn’t the B’alak building; she could recognize that much at least. From this platform, she could see the spaceport. Hot, wild wind whipped over her, exacerbated by the altitude, and Zylar shot the sky a look just as jagged lightning cracked the darkness. Beryl didn’t smell anything in the air that reminded her of rain, but the way her skin prickled, it did feel like a storm was coming.
“Hurry,” he said, pushing her toward the doors.
“Bad weather on the way?”
“Very bad.” He sounded tense, grim even.
“Is this normal for Barath?”
“Yes, but not this early.” Once they stepped inside, he let out a breath. In a human, that would’ve been a relieved sigh, but it came out almost like a whistle.
Beryl decided it was the Barathi equivalent. “Is everything okay?”
“It’s nothing for us to worry about.” But his tone wasn’t convincing.
“Unless it impacts the trial tomorrow,” she guessed.
His nictitating membrane flickered. If she recalled correctly, it reflected surprise. Yeah, I’m totally learning Barathi body language. “You are astute,” he said finally. “I should have known that you would perform well in the challenges.”
“Well, let’s not worry about the storm right now. We can’t do anything about the weather, and we need to see about Helix.”
“Yes. We should do what we can. Very practical.”
“So much unqualified approval might make me unberylable. Get it? Unberyl—” Zylar stared her, unblinking. Guess puns don’t translate. “Never mind. Let’s go.”
They reached Technical right before it was closing, and the Barathi inside the office—which was wall-to-wall with blinking lights and gizmos Beryl immediately wanted to touch—attempted to shoo them away. “Come back another time.”
“First, I would like an update on Helix’s status.” When the worker hesitated, Zylar added, “Must I remind you that I am a scion of a Founding family, kith?”
The Barathi, this one yellow and gold, churred and clacked, but finally returned to his workspace and did some things with tech beyond Beryl’s grasp. “We are attempting to restore the corrupted data. The process will take time.”
“So he’s not gone, then?” Beryl asked.
“Damaged. Not destroyed. I can offer no assurance or estimation regarding success rate on the retrieval. May I go now?” Aggrieved tone, like they’d really ruined his life with this minor delay.
“Yes. Thank you,” Zylar said.
Just then, Beryl’s stomach growled. Damn, she was freaking starving, but for a huge cheeseburger, not another beet-and-lawn-clipping cube. Hopefully the food maker had alternate flavor profiles, or she might lose the will to live. Zylar froze, eyeing her with wariness she could read.
“Crap,” she mumbled.
“Are you…ill?”
“Nah. Just hungry. Snaps probably is too. He’s used to getting more than one meal a day. We should head home, I need to play with him and take him for a walk. It’s cruel to leave him alone for long stretches.”
“Is it?” Zylar clicked his claws and flourished them, a thoughtful gesture, maybe. “How can I enrich the fur-person’s existence?”
“Well, he needs cuddles. And exercise. Good food. He needs room to run and play.”
“Is he your nestling?” He stopped walking then, that membrane working overtime on both his eyes.
Beryl nearly fell over laughing at the idea that she could’ve given birth to Snaps. This poor Barathi was as clueless about humans as she was his people, and that kind of made it all okay. They could learn the important stuff together.
“I mean, sort of? Not biologically, if that’s what you’re asking. Human babies look much different than dogs, and they’re way less useful.”
“Understood. Our nestlings are not capable of performing advanced tasks until they have passed three intervals.”
“There you go, some common ground,” she said, smiling.
The translator must have fritzed because Zylar took a step toward her, churring, and he said seriously, “No ground that you stand upon could ever be common, Beryl Bowman.”
Oh my God.
That was such a perfect response that her heart skipped a beat, and her insides went warm and fuzzy. With a human partner, she totally would’ve kissed him, but Zylar didn’t have lips. How am I supposed to show affection? When they’d known each other longer, she would definitely ask.
To cover her delight and embarrassment, she tapped the chitin on his chest. “You’re such a smooth talker.”
“My words lack texture? That sounds uncomplimentary.”
Fucking translator.
“No, it’s good, I promise. It means you know what to say and when to say it.”
“Then thank you for the kind remark. And…I appreciate your concern for Helix. Though Kith B’alak is large, I have no one else on my side.”
Her heart turned over, and she had to hug him then, even if the gesture alarmed him. “That’s no
t true. Now you have me.”
[ 7 ]
Zylar froze. Somehow he must have set off her predatory instincts. “I’m happy to hear that, but why are you grappling me?”
Beryl made a guttural sound and tilted her head. “Sorry. It’s a human thing. We hug to offer comfort. It’s supposed to make you feel less alone.”
He stared down at her upturned face—such strange features—and relaxed a fraction, no longer fearing that she might unleash her sonic shriek. She was closer than she had been since he carried her to the shuttle, and she smelled…interesting, musk and a sweet-sour tang from a chemical that her body produced when she exerted herself. Her grabbers were still wrapped around him, though he couldn’t feel the pressure through the chitin. He was willing to give this custom a try and put his arms around her, resting his claws on her back. There wasn’t much sensory input from the contact, but she showed her teeth at him. And with her standing so close, holding onto him physically, he did feel less alone, and the sweetness of that sensation spiraled through him in bursts of brightness.
“Am I doing it correctly?” he asked quietly.
“This is a pretty good hug. How do the Barathi comfort each other?”
The question took him aback because he couldn’t recall the last time anyone had delved into his emotional state, let alone offered to mitigate it. Yet that candid response made him seem pitiful, and did his people no credit either.
“Our interactions tend to be efficient, outside of a pair bond,” he answered finally.
“And within the bond?”
“I have never been Chosen, so I lack that information.”
“That makes sense. All couples are different anyway.” She stepped away, leaving him with the echo of her bittersweet scent. “We should get back to take Snaps for a walk.”
“You did say it was harmful to leave him alone for a long time.”
“Dogs are pack animals, very social, so he’ll get lonely and anxious and develop behavior problems,” she said. “We need to work out a solution going forward… I can’t just leave him alone for the rest of the Choosing.”
“This is important to you?”
“He’s the only family I have here, and when I adopted him, I promised I would take the best possible care of him.”
“I understand,” said Zylar.
Not for the first time, he decided that her loyalty was commendable. What would it be like to have that fierce devotion focused on him? The prospect gave him a pleasurable chill, half frilling his neck ruff. As they closed the distance to his private quarters, he contemplated the problem, but before he came to any conclusions, he heard shouting.
“Hey! Hey! Hey!”
“So that’s what Snaps is saying when he barks,” Beryl said in a thoughtful tone.
“It sounds as if he has important news.” Zylar hurried ahead, entering with haste due to the urgency of Snaps’s cry.
“Finally!” Snaps said. “I’ve been saying ‘hey’ forever and nobody came.”
Beryl knelt beside him and scratched the top of his head. “Sorry, buddy. I’m here now. What’s the problem?”
“I’m bored! I’m so bored! I smelled everything in here so many times and—”
“You want to go out?” Beryl guessed.
“I peed where I’m supposed to. There’s nothing to eat, nothing to dig, nothing to chew. So bored!”
Zylar had no idea what could suffice as an entertainment device, but Beryl turned to him with a look he couldn’t interpret. “I need something that could work as a collar and leash. Otherwise he might get excited and run off.”
“You wish to fit him with movement-restraining devices?” At least, that was how the translator presented her request. If only he could be sure that meanings were ported accurately. Sometimes he found Beryl’s questions so baffling.
“Something like that. A rope would do.”
After some searching, Zylar found a length of cord left from a time when he had been trying to impress the Matriarch, imagining that he might have the skills to compete with Ryzven. He had developed this smooth polymer in the lab; it was soft and light yet incredibly strong, capable of bearing incredible resistance, but Kith B’alak had declined to produce his invention in favor of something Ryzven whipped up, with no regard to how long Zylar had devoted himself to this research.
He churred, annoyed with himself for letting grim memories blight his mood, and returned to Beryl with the cord in hand. “Will this do?”
“It’s perfect!”
She said the word so easily, a lilt in her voice that rippled over him in pleasurable waves. Though he didn’t enjoy looking at her yet, her voice was quite lovely when she wasn’t incapacitating him with that powerful screech. It seemed that if he pleased this nest-guardian, he could expect wonderful music.
As he watched, she quickly knotted the cord, creating a loop with a tail, then she adjusted the size of the circle to fit Snaps. Zylar expected the fur-person to react violently, but instead, he pranced around Beryl’s feet, mouth open. She tugged once, lightly, and Snaps followed her with apparent excitement.
“Walkies! Finally! I get to smell everything. Everything!”
She paused at the door. “You should come with us. I don’t know my way around yet.”
“What is the purpose of this outing?” he asked.
“To give Snaps some exercise and let him have fun. Normally I’d take him to the park or walk around the neighborhood. Here, you can guide us for now. Somewhere that has plants for him to smell would be great.”
“Kith B’alak has a private garden. It is safe…and quiet at this time, as most will be preparing to rest. Will that suffice?”
“Sure,” Beryl said. “Lead the way.”
Snaps danced around on his cord, but he never attempted to break free; to Zylar, it seemed as if he was accustomed to being led this way. Perhaps that was the custom on their world, though he couldn’t imagine any sentient being submitting to such treatment. Beryl moved slowly, letting the fur-person sniff various objects they encountered on the way.
“Find anything good?” she asked.
“Everything smells weird,” said Snaps.
Zylar still couldn’t decipher their relationship, but from what his Terrible One had said, it seemed as if Snaps might be her fostered offspring. She had mentioned adoption, which sounded like an agreement to raise and care for the fur-person. He had no clear idea of how such things worked on her world, but it seemed as if there was some agreement for cross-species nesting. The fact that she had guarded nestlings before…and had even committed to rearing one she had not physically gestated spoke well of her. Those instincts would serve her well in the Choosing. Indeed, she was already commanding attention for her outstanding performance.
They reached the garden, and Beryl turned to him. “Is it safe for him to play on his own here?”
“Define safe.”
“No dog-eating plants, he can’t open the doors and run away, that sort of thing.”
“I can disable to the motion-sensing feature on the entrance,” Zylar said, doing so as he offered. “And there are no aggressive botanical lifeforms cultivated here. Those are contained in the secure greeneries.”
Beryl’s eyes widened. “You’re growing attack petunias somewhere?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Never mind.” She knelt and put her hands on Snaps’s face, so the fur-person had to look at her. “Don’t eat anything in here. You understand? It might make you sick.”
“Eat nothing. Smell everything. I got it!” Snaps said. “Can I dig?”
“It’s probably fine. Just don’t hurt the plants.” She pulled the cord off him, setting him free to explore, while Zylar tried to understand why Snaps wanted to dig.
“I have nothing to bury,” Snaps said sadly, then he bounded off.
Zylar had always liked it here, the soft perfume of the air, the mist that kept the plants hydrated. It was always the same temperature with an artificial cyc
le of light and darkness to provide the perfect growing environment. Just now, it was shaded, mimicking the outdoor weather patterns. Yet this place was protected as outdoor gardens weren’t. No pests could assault tender beds or chew away at delicate leaves.
“It’s beautiful,” she said softly, gazing around in wonder.
This expression he could read, not so much from the contortion of her features, but from the gentle sound of her voice and the slow way she spun, as if it to take it all in. Both his hearts were warming to her, this strange and lovely being he’d stolen like a war prize. His people had not been above such thievery in their uncivilized past, though it was impolite to recollect those times.
Zylar tried to see the garden with fresh eyes, and he found much to admire in the delicate fronds and streaming tendrils, the colors deep and pure, glazed in darkness. Even the air smelled different here, softly spiced by drifting pollen. He wondered how the garden smelled to her, whether it was sweet or sour, or some inextricable blend of the two, like the scent of her smooth skin. Curiosity overcame him the longer he looked.
She took in a little breath, and her voice was full of air when she asked, “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m wondering if it would be acceptable to touch you.”
Beryl stumbled over a trailing vine and nearly pitched into a patch of wildly flowering bushes with silver leaves and bright yellow blooms. Zylar caught her, steadied her, and then withdrew, so that couldn’t have been the sort of touching he meant. Of course, she wasn’t positive what he was asking for, but her heart still thudded wildly anyway.
Fear? Excitement? Maybe both, simultaneously.
She heard Snaps frolicking on the other side of the garden, so the dog offered no excuse to dodge this question. “Uhm. I guess? Unless you’re asking for us to…mate right here, right now. In that case—”
“No! I was not asking to copulate. I must earn that right in the Choosing. But I am curious about you, and I hope you feel the same about me.”
After a few seconds of consideration, she nodded. “That’s fair. Okay, I’m in, as long as it’s not too…intimate.”
Beryl wasn’t entirely sure how she’d decide that, but as long as he kept his claws off her boobs, it would probably be fine. To her surprise, he touched her hair with great delicacy, spreading the strands across his claws like he was trying to style her hair. He was so careful and gentle that it felt good. Her eyes drifted half-closed as he sifted through her hair, and then the tingles started when his claws grazed her scalp. The sensation was so sharp and startling and good that her nipples puckered.
