“You’re wrong. I did learn. I do see the universe in more than black and white. I just have a hard time with the casual acceptance of people who live off others, people who . . .”
This time it was the expression on Kyl’s face that stopped her, not his words. He opened his eyes, leaned forward and let the weight of his arms slowly drag his hands to his jaw line and down his neck, to lock across his chest like the bolt of a weapon. His hair, released from his hands, slithered over his forehead and one side of his face. His gaze held a deadly stillness that made her forget about the throbbing in her head. She paid heed, instead, to the cold shiver that warned her that this was a very dangerous man.
“Survival, Dina, is a powerful motivating force. Sometimes we must take from others to survive. It’s the one universal law of all living things. Just look at the animal kingdom on any planet. But there’s a difference between taking to live, and living to take. My friends are good people, Dina. Sandy, Wig, Daemon . . . I would do anything for any one of them. And I believe they’d do the same for me. That’s not evil, Dina. Trust me when I say that I know what evil is.”
She knew about survival and its price. She understood about having to do the unthinkable in order to live another day. She couldn’t argue with what he said, and yet . . . what had she said to turn his eyes so cold? But this was not the time to debate issues of right and wrong. “Tell me about these people, these friends of yours.”
Kyl relaxed a little in his seat, unfurling his arms. “Well, you met Sandy, of course. Sandy is . . . the closest thing I have to a brother. I don’t think I could ever fully explain the bond I have with him.”
“He doesn’t look very old. You must have known him since he was a young boy.”
“Aye . . . then there’s Daemon D’havauron. He’s my business partner on Eruthros. He owns the Wings of Fire Import and Export Co.”
“‘Wings of Fire!’ Phoenix. That’s good. He’s a fence for your stolen goods?”
Kyl sighed again. “Dina, Dina. You’ll forever look at the universe through those Bureau eyes, won’t you? I supply him with a number of goods, yes, but he runs a very legitimate business. He’s my eyes and ears in Terminus.”
Several hours later, they took a break. Dina didn’t think there was anything more about the miserable little planet she could possibly learn. Like Exodus, the Synergy had originally colonized the planet for its rich minerals and crystals. But the bulk of the small planet’s resources had been mined out years ago, and due to its distance from Glacia and the main shipping corridors, the Synergy had withdrawn its presence, along with its substantial cash flow, leaving only a token governmental entity. An entity, which, as Kyl had previously noted, was more interested in its personal survival than in any allegiance to a government that was seated far across Synergic space.
“Kyl.”
He was leaning back again, his eyes closed and his hands forming a headrest for the mass of hair that covered his long fingers. “Ummm.”
“Tired?”
He opened his eyes and leaned forward, the long hair once again sliding over his eyes. “A little, perhaps.” His eyes appraised her, but there was only the ever-present impassive look to his ghost-blue gaze.
His admission, however, gave her the opening she had been waiting for the past few days.
“Do we go into hypersleep soon?” If he was as tired as he looked, perhaps he would welcome the sleep as much as she. It was her fear of spacefever, however, not exhaustion, that prompted the question.
“When you’ve learned what you need to know.”
“Well, how much longer do you think it’ll be? I’ve learned so much already.” She hated his evasive answers, but tried not to allow his words to frustrate her.
Kyl shrugged. “Not long. Another week or so.”
She sighed. The way she’d been feeling lately, a week seemed like a very long time, but she knew it wouldn’t do any good to argue. Kyl personified stubbornness more than anyone she’d ever met, even Rayn, who himself gave new meaning to the word.
Two hours later, though, in the middle of their exercise routine, Dina felt her head start spinning and her sense of equilibrium desert her. She hit the floor hard, and when she tried to raise her head, another wave of dizziness swept over her.
“Dina, don’t move.”
She opened her eyes and tried to focus on Kyl’s face, so close to hers, but his long hair shadowed his features. She felt him check the pulse in her neck and gently hold her eyelids open.
“Lie still. I’ll be right back.”
She closed her eyes and waited. It was the fever—she knew it was—and she knew she wouldn’t be able to fool Kyl into thinking it was something else. He was too experienced a spacer not to recognize the symptoms of spacefever. He returned a moment later and kneeled beside her, supporting her head with one large hand.
“Dina, talk to me. Tell me my name.”
Her eyes fluttered. “’Lecto,” she breathed.
He paused, but if he thought it strange that she used his given name, she never knew.
“Good. Drink this, slowly, just a little.” He tipped her head forward a bit more and held the rim of the cup to her lips. She took in a few sips, and he set the cup down. “Put your arms around me.”
She obeyed without thinking and felt herself being lifted in his arms. As faint as she was, her senses, always keen, registered his closeness with the assault of scents and feelings. His T-shirt was damp from the exertion of their workout, and the warmth from his body easily penetrated the thin layers of clothing. His heart kept a steady drumbeat in her ear, and her nostrils filled with the mixture of sweat and spice that he used as a cleansing scent. She wished she could stay in his arms forever, but by the time the thought could form, he was already lowering her onto a large bed, unpeeling her arms from his neck.
He left her, but soon she felt the side of the mattress dip as he sat next to her. He held a redi-injector to her arm and activated it.
“Dina. Dina, look at me.” His voice was soft, but insistent.
She forced her eyes open, but already her lids were feeling heavy.
“I’ve given you something to counteract the fever. It’ll make you drowsy. We’ll talk when you awaken.”
“Kyl . . .” She wasn’t sure what she wanted to say, knew only that she didn’t want him to leave her.
“Shhh. I’m close by. Get some sleep.” He gently pushed the hair off her forehead, stood, gave a soft command to dim the lights, and was gone.
She let her lids slide shut, then, before she could form another thought, the darkness of the room and softness of the bed claimed her mind and body.
Dina woke several hours later, thankfully remembering no dreams. No dreams meant no nightmares. A brightness to her right caught the corner of her eye, and, turning her head, she was amazed to see a city of lights dotting a vast black landscape. She rose up on her elbows to gaze out the viewport before she realized her dizziness was gone.
“Lights,” she commanded, and the cabin lighting came on, revealing an obscenely large bed in a spacious cabin. The wall to her left contained storage compartments, and across the foot of the bed she saw a room computer, wall displays showing ship’s time, countdown time to their destination, and the status of various ship functions. Star charts filled all remaining wall space, except that on either side of the door. These spots were reserved for an array of weapons, from hand stingers to rupter and rez guns, to daggers and flash balls. There was also an assortment of wrist sheaths, shoulder harnesses, leg holsters, and innocent looking belt buckles and collars which Dina could only imagine secreted hidden weapons and tools as well. She shuddered, remembering that this was Vaizya Repere’s cabin long before it was Kyl’s.
Kyl. She sank back down onto the bed again as she thought of him. The memory of being carried in his arms rushed to
her mind’s eye, and as she buried her face in the bed’s softness, her nostrils filled with his lingering scent.
Stop torturing yourself, she scolded. He’d only been helping her. It meant nothing. He wanted to talk. Most likely to give her an earful on spacefever and how to prevent it. She sighed. No use in putting off the inevitable.
She activated the intercom. “Kyl?”
“I’ll be right there.” His voice through the intercom sounded like it always did. The Captain’s voice. The Master’s voice. Phoenix.
He opened the cabin hatch. As generously as the room was sized, Kyl seemed to fill it completely. His tall frame just cleared the doorway, but more than that, his presence was simply never to be ignored. She propped herself up in the bed as he sat on its edge.
“How do you feel?”
“Better. The dizziness seems to be gone, and I slept well.”
“Dammit, Dina. Why didn’t you tell me?”
She couldn’t lie. Not that it would have done any good anyway.
“I didn’t want you to think there was anything about this flight I couldn’t handle.”
He gave an exasperated sigh. “I’ve seen lots of men, bigger and stronger than you, fall prey to the fever. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
She looked to the stars for a moment, then, with a long, drawn-out breath, turned back to him. “It would have been perceived as a weakness. I couldn’t let that show. Not to any man. Especially not to you.”
“I suppose that’s my fault. That and your silly pride.”
Silly? Perhaps she’d been foolish, but how dare he trivialize her feelings? “‘Silly pride?’ Do you recall your little speech to me when you commandeered this ship? What choice did you give me?” Damn him to the Void! She scrambled to get off the big bed.
“No, you don’t,” he said as he reached over and grabbed her wrist, the muscles popping on his lean arm.
“Let go of me. I’m going back to my own cabin.”
“No, you’re not. That cell of a cabin without a viewport is one of the reasons you have spacefever. Don’t you know that?” He tightened his grip, then, seeing her wince in pain, released her, opting instead to block her escape by sliding further onto the bed.
“Listen to me, Dina. What do you think the past month has been about? It’s about our being partners. It’s about you ensuring my survival and me ensuring yours. If I need help, who do you think I’m going to count on? Why do you think I push you so hard? Your life is mine, and mine, yours. Don’t you see that? Any time you’re hurting, I need to know about it.”
“You don’t need me. And once you have Sandy . . .”
“Sandy’s got nothing to do with the need I have of you.”
Her gaze locked with his, and words failed her. She needn’t have worried, because he knew exactly what to do with her mouth, leaning forward, brushing her hair back, and staking claim to her lips in a way that left no room for doubts. For a long moment there was nothing but him, the warmth of his lips, not teasing, but seeking, insistent. It was what she wanted, wasn’t it? Yes. No. Had anything changed? She felt a ripple of dizziness flow over her, and she pulled back a little, unsure.
He sensed her hesitation and released her, seeking her eyes with his, lightly tracing her hairline with his fingertips. When she met his gaze, his eyes asked the unspoken question.
“I feel faint.”
The only indication she had that he thought she was making an excuse to put him off was the small smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth, but he quickly let it go and was serious once more.
“The fever?”
“Maybe. I don’t know,” she replied softly. Though it was nothing but the truth, she couldn’t look him in the eye. She was thankful he didn’t have Rayn’s psychic power of thought reception. She could never keep any of her doubts safely hidden from Rayn. She certainly didn’t want Kyl knowing everything she thought and felt.
He sighed and sat up straight. “Forgive me. That was unthinking of me. We’ll talk again later.”
She held out a hand to restrain him, though in fact he hadn’t moved from his seat on the edge of the bed.
“No, Kyl, don’t go.”
His gaze held hers, and she dropped her arm. “Tell me a story.”
His brows twitched. “A story?”
“Like the one you told me on the Megaera. Please.”
The dark brows inched higher still, then he bowed his head, and she resisted the urge to weave her fingers through the thick hair. As if he could indeed read her thoughts, he looked up at her, but quickly shifted his gaze to the viewport.
“All right. Scoot over closer to the port.”
She slid over, making additional room for him next to her, and he swung his legs up onto the bed, his side pressed against hers. He studied the stars once again, almost appearing mesmerized by the luminous display.
“Can you name that nebula there?”
She focused on the area he’d indicated, and her brows joined in the effort of concentration. The swirls of turquoise and sapphire were like storm clouds caught in a snapshot, always in motion, yet never changing.
“The Oceanic Mosaic.”
Kyl nodded. “Very good. It’s one of my favorites. A grand sculpture of light and color, isn’t it?”
Dina continued to stare at the faraway weavings of gas and dust and only nodded.
“New stars that were born within give it that blue glow. Very young and very hot.” The last words were breathed into her ear, and it was as though a spark had also jumped from his body to hers, for a shiver skittered from the base of her neck all the way down her spine.
She couldn’t help smiling at the flirtatious words, but tried to follow the streamers of color with her eyes, lest she become too distracted by his heat and the closeness of his body.
“Very well, then. The story of Madjin and Daeva.”
Dina ventured a glance at the face so close to hers and saw the reverence in his eyes as he beheld the stars. What does he really see out there? she thought. Will he ever look at me that way? Did she want him to?
He began slowly, his gaze forever beyond the viewport, but his eyes unfocused, looking inward. “Daeva was the most beautiful and delicate of creatures, but also among the most cursed. She had long white-gold hair, golden skin, and silver eyes, like you do, Hellfire, and though she was as divine and delicious as any creature ever born, she was cursed to have a memory of only one day and one night. Every dawn when she awoke she remembered nothing of the day before. A finely engraved golden bracelet told her that her name was Daeva, but beyond that she knew nothing of the past. She lived in a small cottage in the forest and grew fruits and vegetables in a large garden. In spite of her delicate appearance and lack of yesterdays, she was strong, intelligent and fearless.
“One day a stranger came to Daeva’s forest. He was Madjin, a criminal, wanted on three worlds. But Madjin wasn’t trying to evade the authorities, only trying to find a little of the peace that had eluded him for so many years. His tools were his quick wits and his knowledge of magic, and he lived by these rather than a flashing blade arm or a quick trigger finger, but over the years his magic had faded, and his body bore the scars of too many conflicts lost.”
Kyl’s words painted a landscape across Dina’s field of vision, and, stroke by stroke, images of Madjin and Daeva replaced the sea of lights outside the viewport.
“So one morning when Daeva was kneeling on the earth, tending her garden, a shadow fell across her. She looked up and saw the tall raven-haired stranger, and though he was unshaven, fierce of feature, and strong of sinew, she was unafraid. The stranger looked into Daeva’s silver eyes and knew he had found his peace.
“She offered him food and drink, and later, his hunger sated, he lingered with her, not wanting to leave, so they talked. He saw a
sadness that permeated her beauty, and he tried to draw her out. ‘Tell me, Daeva, what reason a beautiful woman like you, living in this magnificent half-tamed wilderness, has to be sad.’
“Daeva looked into the rugged face and saw not the long scar that followed the line of his cheekbone, but the eyes that would have been empty had they not been so full of pain. ‘As for beauty, there is no one to behold it. As for this wilderness, I know not where it lies. I have no memories, no past, no one except myself in this moment. And I fear there will be no tomorrow, for there was no yesterday.’
“His eyes, once filled with magic and intoxicating as brandy, now filled with an ache for her. ‘How can this be? Is there a spell about you?’
“‘I fear so,’ she answered, ‘but I know not whence it came to be nor how to break it.’
“‘Tell me, then, what it is I can do for you. Call it payment for the refreshment, if you like.’
“‘The refreshment was common hospitality, nothing more, and requires no payment. But, please, if you would, before you leave . . .’
“Madjin had already decided that he would not leave her. ‘Anything, my lady.’
“‘Give me that for which I want. Give me your memories.’
“He was taken aback, scarcely imagining she would ask for that. He hesitated in answering, reluctant to talk about his past. He’d led a hard life, full of anguish, hardship, and loneliness. ‘Daeva, I have not led a gentle life. I have no happy memories to share with you.’
“‘Then share what you have. Please, Madjin, I beg you to do this.’
“He gazed into her eyes and could not refuse her. Nodding his assent, she lightly traced his long scar with the soft pads of her fingertips. He shivered at the gentle touch, more rare and precious than anything he had ever stolen.
“‘Tell me how you got this,’ she breathed.
“So he told her how he’d been betrayed by a man he thought to be his friend. He told how the man tried to turn Madjin over to the authorities for a bounty, how he and his friend fought, how the man laid Mad’s cheek open with a hidden blade, and how Mad was forced to kill his one-time friend in order to save his own life. Daeva was like a sponge, absorbing every word, neither repulsed nor shocked by the violence in the tale.
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