Beyond the Next Star

by Melody Johnson

  She threw herself back onto the bed just as Torek barged into the room, his arms laden with gauze, a bowl, and bottled water. He locked eyes with her, took a deep breath, then shut the door with his elbow. The latch snicked quietly shut behind him.

  Delaney flinched, wondering if a real animal companion would be frightened by his erratic behavior. As if she’d be able to hide her fear.

  Torek inched forward, slowly now that he was about to pounce again, and Delaney retreated in a cautious crab-walk until her back hit the headboard. He set his supplies on the bedside table next to her manual and crouched beside her.

  Look at the book, she willed.

  His movements were slow and measured. Instead of lunging to pin her down again, he poured water into the bowl, soaked the gauze, and slowly, so very slowly, reached out with his other hand to pet her hip.

  Delaney shuddered as his thumb stroked softly across her side, even though his touch, as always, was gentle and loving. He cared for her, like the owner of a golden retriever would, and if she’d learned anything from watching his daily rounds, besides the dismal abyss of her future boredom, it was that Torek cared a great deal about other people. He made their concerns his concerns, went out of his way to help them and find justice for them. Although he didn’t see Delaney as a person, she suspected his care extended to everything under his protection, even his animal companion.

  He reached out with the gauze, and she didn’t struggle this time when he touched her. The water-soaked gauze was warm and soft. She clenched her teeth and locked her muscles tight, forcing herself to remain motionless. He wedged the gauze between her legs, cleaning the blood from her thighs. He squeezed the excess water and blood into the bowl and wiped again, closer this time. Delaney watched his movements, his careful consideration and gentle touch, and tried to remain in the present, but the past always had a way of being present.

  The pain had been horrible, but Kane’s hand on the back of her head, forcing her face into the comforter and suffocating her on her own screams, was what she remembered most. That and the pure shock. This is not happening, she’d thought over and over again, even as it continued happening. If she could have seen him, maybe she could have braced herself for the stab and slow slice of his knife—a different pain than she’d expected but terrible all the same.

  But Torek didn’t push. There was no pain, and he didn’t force anything. His movements were slow and sure, even if his expression was grim—granted, that was his usual expression—as he dipped, wiped, and squeezed. Dipped, wiped, and squeezed.

  Eventually, Torek released the gauze into the bowl, activated his tablet with a wave of his hand, entered the combination, pressed his thumb to the screen—ah-ha!—and opened the digital version of her manual without a passing glance at the open print edition only inches away.

  She collapsed back onto the bedding, defeated.

  “I know, Reshna. I know,” he murmured, stroking her calf.

  Delaney rolled her eyes.

  Several minutes passed in silence as he read. His hand continued stroking. Delaney continued breathing, and just as she thought her heart wouldn’t pound out of her chest and choke her anymore, Torek released her calf. He turned his wrist to face the flat digital screen of his watch, tapped several times, and said, “Clear calendar and schedule an appointment with Brinon Kore’Onik for this morning, four after first sunrise.”

  Delaney tried not to react. She shouldn’t know exactly what he’d just said, but she did. And she couldn’t hold it in.

  She covered her face with her hands and groaned.

  Ten

  “The bleeding is normal, and Reshna is perfectly healthy,” Brinon Kore’Onik assured Torek. If Brinon resented the early morning addition to his regularly scheduled appointments, he didn’t mention it. He’d met them at his office, performed an evaluation, and returned to the waiting room with Reshna in tow without protest, uttered or otherwise.

  An advantage, perhaps, of being captain of the guard, but Torek was okay with that.

  Brinon handed off her tether. Reshna minced past and tucked herself slightly behind Torek.

  “At her age, assuming she isn’t breeding, a lack of regular bleeding would be a cause for concern,” Brinon added.

  Torek frowned. “What’s regular? Should she have been bleeding more?”

  Reshna made a choked noise in the back of her throat.

  Brinon reached to pat her head, and Reshna flinched.

  Torek narrowed his eyes on Brinon’s hand.

  “Read chapter six of her manual. Her breeding cycle is actually quite similar to the lorok menstrual cycle.” Brinon straightened, and Reshna relaxed into Torek’s side. “Not surprising, considering we’re of the same mukar. But the lorok uterine lining is absorbed back into her body. Reshna’s sheds. And her cycle is much faster. You can expect her to bleed several times every season, every twenty-eight days or so for five to seven days.”

  Torek’s gaze startled up to meet Brinon’s eyes. “She’s fertile every twenty-eight days? Even during Rorak?”

  Brinon nodded and reached down for another head rub, but Reshna dodged his touch. Maybe he should research a new physician for her. Even after several visits, the affection was still one-sided.

  “She’s hale and healthy. Simply change the gauze four times a day. And read chapter six.” Brinon got in a couple of pats on her hip. “And maybe feed her less? She’s gained a little weight.”

  Reshna, who was still cringing away from Brinon’s touch, actually swiped out at him and made a loud hacking noise.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say I offended her!” Brinon laughed.

  “Well, I agree with her, don’t I, Reshna?” Torek tousled her long head hair, and she settled under his touch. “You look much better now, round with health.”

  She made another hacking noise.

  Brinon shook his head. “Still, a little exercise might be warranted. To build her strength now that her diet has, eh, improved?”

  “Well, I’ve never been one to shirk exercise, have I, Reshna?”

  She glanced up at him with those gray eyes, and something warm spread outward from the center of Torek’s chest.

  He straightened away from her and cleared his throat. “Thank you, Kore’Onik. As always, your expertise is much appreciated.”

  An hour later, after picking up Reshna’s new, fitted fur-lined coverings from Neyra Aerai and enduring a disappointing lunch at the Grattao, as usual—at last, something as usual—Torek decided to take Brinon Kore’Onik’s advice, to a point, and visit his forefathers at Graevlai with Reshna. The day was already wasted. He might as well make the most of it, and as much as he loved the memorials, he hadn’t actually stopped to appreciate them in…by Lorien’s horn, he couldn’t even remember how long.

  Torek’s father, his grandfather, and his father before him for a dozen generations had served as captain of the guard to one or several of the Federation’s estates. In honor of their lifelong service, they were all buried at Graevlai, a vast public memorial park composed of walkways, bridges, hiking trails, gazebos, and fountains. Throughout were ice sculptures depicting the many lor and lorok who had died in service to Lorien. Torek would one day join their ranks, and as perverse as it seemed to look forward to inhabiting one’s final resting place, he was proud of his family. In his blackest moments directly following Daerana Weidnar’s death, when he was alone in the dark with his nightmares, the threat of not being buried alongside his forefathers in Graevlai had kept the last thread of his sanity from snapping.

  He led Reshna through one of the winding trails—more vigorous walking than actual hiking—but after only two hours, she began to wheeze. Her cheeks reddened, her stride limped, and her pace lagged.

  Lorien, imbue him with strength and patience if she was still cold while wearing her new coverings and boots.

  He eyed her critically and sighed. She wasn’t shivering. Perhaps she could use a bit more exercise than he’d been giving her
. He’d have to consult her manual to determine her physical limitations, but having her along for his morning runs could be fun. They could make a game of it; judging by her wheezing gasps, he’d have to find some way to make it more enjoyable for both of them.

  Taking pity on her, he stopped at the next memorial they passed. Reshna collapsed onto a bench, reclined against the backrest with her hands locked behind her head, and continued wheezing.

  Torek sat beside her and tousled her curls.

  The ice sculpture at this particular memorial was one of his favorites. It depicted Deraenik Lore’Onik Weidnar Renaar, his great-great-great-great-grandfather, charging into the fray atop his banchai during the first battle of Genai. The sculpted banchai’s wingspan was massive, a to-scale representation of the actual creature, and the artist who had created the memorial deliberately chiseled a prism within the layered feathers of its wings. The first sun winked off the prism and fractured into a dozen rainbows, haloing his forefather’s shaggy head and illuminating his fierce features.

  Torek wondered, as he always did when gazing upon the oldest of his ancestors, how it must have been before the invention of hover and laser technology, when they actually utilized animals as conveyances and not just as household companions. What would it have been like to have felt the power of such a beast as an extension of himself? To have a relationship with it, to trust it to carry him not just high over the city, but into battle. And, in the case of the late Deraenik Lore’Onik Renaar, into death?

  “Torek Lore’Onik Weidnar Kenzo Lesh’Aerai Renaar.”

  Torek turned at the call of his name. Dorai Nikiok Lore’Lorien was rounding a bend in the trail, jogging at a brisk clip, but slowed as she approached him.

  Torek stood and strode forward to meet her. Reshna didn’t immediately follow. Her tether pulled taut.

  “Reshna, come.” He tugged on her collar to give her the hint.

  She didn’t budge, the lazy diva.

  Nikiok bridged the distance between them.

  Torek touched his fingertips to his heart. “Dorai Nikiok Lore’Lorien.”

  She nodded. “Commander. So good to see you outside the estate. You don’t leave often.”

  “My duties at the estate keep me well occupied, as you know.”

  “As I don’t know,” she chided. “I believe I mandated your leave until the first of Genai or until Shemara Kore’Onik clears you for duty. Has either of those scenarios come to pass?”

  “No, they haven’t.” Torek spread his arms wide. “And so you find me here.”

  “Hmmm.” Nikiok eyed him critically, but he could tell that her rebuke was half in jest—her gaze was sharp, but the left corner of her mouth twitched.

  Nikiok wasn’t beautiful in the traditional sense. Her forehead was a bit too pronounced, and her hair was styled unfashionably short—not that his long hair was particularly fashionable—but nevertheless, she was quite striking. She was uncommonly tall for a lorok, slightly taller even than Torek. She was uncommonly muscular. Her eyes were uncommonly pale, and she was uncommonly brash, but then, ruling Lorien was an uncommon task. Was it any wonder an uncommon lorok would take on such responsibility?

  “Graevlai is one of my favorite places on Lorien,” she commented.

  “It’s one of my favorites as well. I—” Torek attempted to step forward and was stopped by the pull of Reshna’s tether. She still hadn’t left the bench.

  Torek whipped back to face her. “Reshna! Come!” Torek commanded with another firm tug. “Greet Dorai Nikiok Lore’Lorien.”

  And there went her eyes again, rolling up to study the sky. At first, he’d thought her not as well behaved as her manual indicated, but after their training sessions, he was starting to think her contrariness more a matter of mood.

  Like now. Her eyes looped around to refocus on him. She stared as if considering his command, and then she turned away, deliberately disobeying him.

  “I’m not sure that you have the same control of your animal companion that you do of your guard, Commander.” Nikiok mused. “I’d love to see her, however. She’s the first of a new companion species, isn’t she?”

  “She is.”

  Torek turned away from Nikiok and approached Reshna. Since, left to her own devices, she was content to become permanently affixed to the bench, he’d have to carry her. He massaged her scalp to reassure and distract, but, smart little thing that she was, she regarded him warily, not reassured or distracted in the slightest. Bully for her. But when he gathered her in his arms, propping her on his hip to carry her to the Dorai, he realized that she was trembling.

  His frustration melted.

  “I know you’re shy and cold, but we can manage a brief hello, can’t we, little one?”

  Torek offered her up. Reshna fisted her fingers in his fur and clung to him as she hadn’t done since that first bath. Her eyes, so wide that their whites showed all around their beautiful gray irises, stared unblinking directly at Nikiok.

  And then her gaze slid past, as if she didn’t even see her. Or didn’t care to. Her little fingers stayed fisted tight.

  Nikiok let loose a soft, soothing viurr, the most gentle thing Torek had ever witnessed from her in all his many seasons of service under her command. He tried to reel in his discomfort and settled for averting his gaze.

  “She is a beauty. I can see why you chose her over some of the more common animal companions. Well done, you.” She pulled one of Reshna’s curls, and the lock bounced and quivered when she released it.

  Reshna flinched, nearly ripping free a fistful of his fur.

  “She’s not very friendly,” Nikiok mused.

  “As I said, she’s shy. But she is quite the beauty.” Torek leaned in and nuzzled Reshna’s cheek, trying to simultaneously warm and comfort her as well as turn her face toward Nikiok. He failed on all fronts. “Aren’t you, little one?”

  Reshna’s trembling increased to near-seizure proportions. She buried her face under Torek’s chin.

  “She certainly is. And if I may, these fitted coverings are adorable.” Nikiok stroked a hand down the back of Reshna’s neck.

  Something wet soaked across Torek’s chest.

  “I hope to see more of you outside the estate. Take advantage of your leave, Commander. You’ve earned it,” Nikiok encouraged.

  “Yes, Dorai.”

  “Take care, Commander.”

  “And you, Dorai.”

  He waited until she disappeared around the bend in the trail and was out of earshot before prying Reshna from around him. “What is wrong with you? One second you’re fine, and the next—”

  Her eyes were leaking again. They had completely soaked the fur covering his chest.

  Torek shuffed. “Enough adventure for one day, Reshna?”

  She blinked those damn eyes at him, once and then a second time, her lashes spiked in the chill afternoon air.

  He nodded knowingly. “Enough adventure for a lifetime, I know.”

  Delaney collapsed into a snowbank, protected from the cold by her custom-fit, fur-lined, hooded onesie and protected from the hard ground by the snow. She tried to catch her breath. Her lungs were burning. Her legs were jelly. Her sides were cramping. From her cocoon of fur and snow, she watched the first sun rise, its muted glow backlighting a blanket of clouds, and seriously considered the chances—and merits—of death by exercise. Of all the ways to die on an alien ice planet, exercise hadn’t been her largest concern. Hypothermia, possibly. Infection from a bacteria her body couldn’t defend against, certainly. Murder at the hands of the bitch who had shot Keil, most definitely, especially after yesterday’s close encounter. But not exercise. Granted, she’d never been particularly athletic, but she’d never considered running a lethal pastime until now.

  This wasn’t her first collapse. She’d dropped exhausted into three different snowbanks this morning, so she knew that Torek would circle back when he realized she’d fallen behind. He’d yell. He’d cajole. He’d tell her that she was a
sweet, beautiful little diva, prop her back on her blistered feet, and take off again, commanding her to come. And she would, because where else did she have to go?

  The torture had begun nearly three hours ago. Torek had risen two hours before dawn, as usual, but instead of disappearing for an hour and twenty minutes, he’d dressed her in one of her new fur-lined snowsuits, complete with a fitted sheet now—ha!—and dragged her along on what was apparently his early morning routine. He ran.

  Mystery solved. No wonder he returned a stinky, sweaty mess every morning. No wonder he was so strong and muscular, his thighs the size of big tree trunks. The true wonder was that he expected her to keep up. The top of her head just reached his chin, she took two strides for each one of his, and he outweighed her by at least 80 pounds, but no, she was a diva for collapsing in a snowbank after two hours of keeping pace with him in an arctic tundra.

  As she caught her breath, Delaney’s thoughts drifted back to yesterday’s hike. She’d thought that outing exhausting at the time. Granted, worse than Torek’s proclivity toward exercise had been the unexpected company.

  Torek knew the woman who had murdered Keil. More than that, he was friendly with her. He’d saluted her. He served her. And Delaney had lost her cool. Luckily, Torek just thought her shy, but the woman, Dorai Nikiok Lore’Lorien—commander of the entire planet, if she’d translated her military rank correctly—was more perceptive.

  Delaney shuddered.

  Several minutes later, Torek still hadn’t circled back. Delaney sat up and stood of her own volition. Her thighs were shaking. She locked her knees to remain upright and finally took real stock of her surroundings. The first sun had fully risen. If today had been a normal morning, she’d be enjoying a nice bowl of gigok in the comfort of Torek’s dining nook. Maybe pretending to eat another page out of his book on dirt and dressing for rounds.