The Android and the Thief

by Wendy Rathbone

  Trev did not reach or grab or move, he just stood there and let Khim kiss him. And Khim was grateful, for he wasn’t sure beyond this bright moment what he might endure or how much he could take. He just wanted to let his mind go into the kiss, both fevered and soothing, but wholly reverent.

  Trev pressed in just a little, as if to let Khim know the kiss was returned, and did nothing more than that.

  A breeze came through the door behind them. Wings flapped to the sky outside. Bees droned.

  Seconds passed… or maybe eons. Finally they pulled back at the same time, Trev’s eyes full and glowing. He was breathing hard when he whispered, “I’m glad you stopped hating me.”

  The light through the windows glanced off Trev’s smooth cheekbones, the firm jaw, settled like sheer lace in his hair. He looked good in Arch’s dark blue shirt, the stiff collar at his neck open, the hollow of his throat exposed but shadowed.

  Khim’s metal hand dropped away from Trev’s face. They stared at each other, still breathing hard. Too many winds surged in Khim’s head. But he withstood them all.

  Trev said, very softly, “Now touch me with the other hand.”

  Anything that voice said, he would do. Khim lifted his left hand. The warmth of the face against his flesh hand, he thought, might leave a red mark on his palm. It was that intense. Slowly, he explored the contours of that beautiful face, tracing sensitive fingertips over forehead, eyelids, nose, lips. Trev’s breath warmed his fingers, almost tickling. Khim’s hand curved to cup Trev’s chin.

  Trev’s eyes never left Khim’s gaze.

  Khim wanted—he didn’t know exactly what he wanted. Or maybe he didn’t want to know. Or to think. Just to feel, that was all. That was everything.

  He started to lean in. Trev moved his head up to meet him.

  The second kiss flared between them.

  Again, Trev did not reach or grab. But it was as if they were already entangled, bodies in a tumult flying through space, careening.

  Khim lost all coherence in that kiss. Everything fit, but nothing made sense.

  It didn’t matter. The sublime moment deserved a universe of its own. With new laws and new logic.

  The black forever opening onto a new land.

  When they again broke apart, lips damp, cheeks flushed, Trev brought his hands up to waist level between them, palms up.

  Khim sent a question with his eyes.

  “I want to put my arms around you, but… I guess I’m asking permission.”

  Khim thought back over the years. Ten as a soldier. Twenty years of fake memory with huge gaping blanks in it. Some amorphous, youthful sexual encounter tried to surface—not his encounter, not his memory, not even his body. He said, “No one has ever done that, that I can remember.”

  Trev’s eyebrows scrunched together. “No one has ever hugged you before?” Khim shook his head. “Fuck.”

  Khim lowered his head, his gaze seeking the floor, stopping and holding on Trev’s bare feet. He heard Trev say, “May I?”

  Khim nodded. Forced himself not to think as Trev came into his personal space, pressed against him chest to chest, and circled him with his arms. Khim’s breath caught as hands put pressure against his ribs, his shoulder blades.

  Trev’s head fit just right under his chin, forcing Khim’s chin up, his gaze moving over Trev’s shoulders to the stripes of light on the white sills, the way the glass all around made everything so brilliant, including the man who held him.

  All breath froze. His throat closed. A sting in his eyes blurred his vision; the moisture in them threatened to break free. He pulled back suddenly. Trev let go, not fighting him.

  He couldn’t see for a moment, couldn’t hear, couldn’t think.

  “You’re okay,” he heard Trev saying. “You’re not going to lose control. Not with me here.”

  But it wasn’t that—lack of control, or even a control issue at all. Or the fact that he might have been weeping. It was simply that he had never felt anything like that, or the kisses, and he wanted it. This feeling. A huge, hollow part of his life was missing this incredible force, this source of all things. The myth he had come to know and never believed in; the myth called love.

  His eyes cleared, and he was again looking down at Trev’s beautiful face.

  Trev looked a little worried. “Too fast?”

  Khim blinked. “No. Do it again.”

  Trev said, “Well—” and pushed his body up against Khim’s again, arms going solidly around him.

  This time Khim brought his own arms up over Trev’s shoulders and gently squeezed.

  “Ow.”

  Khim eased up immediately. “I forgot. The pulse burn!”

  But Trev did not seem to be in much pain. He was clutching him tighter and laughing against his chest, saying between breaths, “Please, don’t let go.”

  It was like holding a squirming, hot light. Trev’s body thrummed with life. Khim could feel that energy pulse into his own body, into his blood, feeding a need, a fierce pleasure. Trev’s hair smelled of the chamomile soap from Arch’s guest bathroom. The dark waves brushed soft against Khim’s cheek.

  Every instinct in him wanted to hold tight, tighter, but he kept himself back, his embrace gentle. Trev’s head moved up until they were face-to-face, arms around each other, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, thighs brushing, and their lips met again.

  Their third kiss was explosive.

  For how long they stood on that porch, Khim did not know. But the light outside was beginning to dim.

  When they finally pulled apart, bodies hot and trembling, Khim said, not without some pain, “We should get ready to leave.”

  Trev looked forlorn.

  THEY PACKED the extra clothing Renn had given them in a zippered bag. Trev wanted the black robes too, so he rolled them up and put them inside.

  Khim said, “We should take the medikit too. You never know.”

  Trev stuck it in a side flap. Another compartment held their money and Trev’s new ID. A bag in another side pocket held some snacks they’d raided from the kitchen. They’d already packed bottled water in the flier.

  “We need some shoes,” Trev said.

  They hunted the house for anything that might fit. Everything they found was too small for Khim or too large for Trev. They decided they would have to wear plain slip-ons, which merely made them look like wealthy vacationers in designer trousers and bright pink flip-flops.

  They stood side by side in front of the wide closet mirrors in Arch’s master bedroom.

  “I think we’ll pass,” Trev said.

  “Except for me.”

  “No. It’s fine. Anyone questions, we’ll just say you’re mine. I mean, well, of course I would never—”

  “No, it’s okay.” Khim turned away from the mirror so he could meet Trev’s eyes without any glass between them. “I’m yours.”

  Trev bit hard on his lower lip. Then he said, “Too bad we can’t stay and get to know this place better.” He reached out his hand, waiting. Khim took it.

  As if everything were perfectly normal, Trev led him out of the room.

  …with one image he would make that beauty explode into me.

  ― Proust

  THE FLIER shot into the pink-edged, dark sky. Already the stars had opened their eyes.

  Khim did not say a word when Trev automatically went to the pilot’s seat. Trev was a fantastic pilot. Khim thought he might show him, someday, that he himself was a little bit better. But now was not the time.

  He could still feel the tingle on his lips, the kiss that had pretty much upstaged his entire life of alien battles, torrid rapists’ brothels, inmate murders, and prison escapes. He could not remember a single moment in all his real-memory life that made him feel so wonderfully torn open, beautiful, amazed. And so filled with desire he almost could not think.

  “So unless you’ve come up with anything better,” Trev said, “we’re off to Gideon. And an off-the-grid motel in the middle of nowhere.”
>
  “We will stand out more there.”

  “You think a bigger city would be better to hide in? They have building screens everywhere. Our pictures have probably been flashed a hundred times since yesterday. We’re fresh in everybody’s minds. Plus, my father—”

  “Yes,” Khim interrupted. “I know. He has a long reach. Spies everywhere.”

  Frowning, Trev jerked his head to look at him. “So, middle of nowhere, then?”

  Khim nodded tightly. To his mind, nowhere was truly safe. They needed to get off-world. But none of Arch’s fliers had been interplanetary spaceworthy. They needed a small ship. One that could enter foldspace—and not one of the old ones that allowed the madness of foldspace to intrude. They needed one with a shield. Then they could stay in foldspace, hide there if they had to.

  But starships, big or little, were not easy to commandeer.

  The flier fell into some clouds for a moment, white against encroaching darkness. And came out of the fog to the sight of two moons rising, twin silver arcs against deep violet.

  Trev said, “Wow.”

  He took them lower, past more clouds, to the dark side of the planet below where night already rested its cloak.

  Khim liked watching Trev’s hands fly over the controls. The flier’s traffic system always compensated for other fliers in the area, so all the pilot had to do was set the destination and relax. But Trev told Khim he liked to keep it on manual sometimes just to alleviate boredom.

  But now Trev set the autopilot.

  “One hour, two minutes to destination,” the flier reported.

  Trev drew up a computer screen. “Damn. I was hoping to make reservations using this system. But this one’s tapped, like all of Arch’s other computer hubs. I don’t dare pull up the wave.”

  “Hopefully the motel takes cash.”

  “Well, we need a store. I can buy a handheld, and we can get some shoes. And I can put some of our cash on a credit chip in case the motel has fits about the cash.” Trev leaned back, and the computer screen disappeared from the air. “There are stores in town near the motel.”

  “More chances of being seen,” Khim commented.

  “I know. But we have to get this stuff.”

  Khim looked down through the floor window. Far below, the cities on this side of Gideon stood out in glittered groupings of lights. In between, in the darker spaces, were mountains or rivers or seas.

  “I always loved flying at night,” Trev said.

  Throughout the flight, Trev made comments. Khim enjoyed listening to his voice, the tone washing over him.

  So far they had not discussed what had happened on the glass porch, but Khim’s insides were still spun by it, his mind in a fever. Trev seemed tense, but their circumstances were on the extreme end of stress-inducing.

  Khim asked, “How does your shoulder feel?”

  “Good. The muscle’s sore. But the worst of the pain left with the meds I took last night.”

  Their conversations were short but comforting. The worst part of the trip was anticipating their arrival and not being able to assess their safety until they scoped everything out.

  When they were minutes away, Trev took back the controls and piloted them into the little town, a collection of white and bronze twinkling lights on the edge of a sand-drifted, dry seabed.

  Low buildings came into view. At the same time, they saw a sign for a small store, and Trev pulled up and parked.

  Khim felt his skin prickle. This moment could be it. The end.

  “I’m going in alone. I have a scarf to tie around my hair.”

  Khim nodded. He didn’t want Trev to leave. He must’ve shown that on his face, because Trev touched the top of his hand gently, and Trev rarely touched him without asking first.

  “Five minutes, I promise. It’ll be okay.”

  Khim said, “If I could go with you—”

  “You’ll just draw more attention. I’m little and good at being invisible.”

  Khim could only nod, his mouth too dry to say anything more.

  He watched Trev, in the blue shirt and the designer trousers that were too long for him, with the slip-on shoes and the scarf, enter the store. While he was gone, Khim could barely keep himself from jumping out of the car and rushing in after him. He pressed his hands tight on his thighs and kept his eyes open for anything unusual.

  For the time of night in this time zone, the store was not busy. It looked like an outpost for tourists more than a regular daily shop-and-go. That was a plus. He and Trev looked like tourists who had every right to be there. Even a high-end flier would not be cause for discussion.

  It took longer than five minutes, but Trev came out the front door laden with packages.

  Khim clicked open the gull-wing back door, and Trev deposited his treasures and then hurried around the front, opened the side door, and got in.

  Two minutes in the air and they were at the motel, with Trev hopping out before the engine had even purred to a stop. Other fliers were parked in the lot, but there was no one outside. Trev moved up to a lighted door, stood there a moment, and then came back to the flier. Khim stayed seated, waiting for the go-ahead.

  Trev popped his head through the doorway. “Good news. The sign says there are vacancies and you can find one with a green light and slide your credit chit in. Auto check-in means we don’t have to deal with people.”

  Khim let out a breath of relief. Trev found a room easily, near where they parked, and they hauled in their few belongings in one trip.

  They stood just inside the door, looking around. It wasn’t a horrible room, for the price. It had red carpet, and the decorations had a country flair, with ruffled curtains, plaid bedspreads, and lamps that looked like paddle cacti. It was small, but warm and clean and off the main highways, far from the cities.

  It also had two beds, and Khim found himself unexpectedly disappointed at that.

  Trev piled all their stuff on one bed, spreading it out. He’d gotten them both shoes, including two pairs in Khim’s large size, black casual slip-ons and leather hiking boots. He also got the handheld and a few other odds and ends, including jackets with hoods. He swore the clerk was bored and barely looked at him as he checked out.

  Beyond the motel they would make new plans, but for now they were glad to have made it through one more day on the run.

  “Are you hungry?” Trev asked.

  Khim realized he was and nodded. Trev was on the handheld in minutes, ordering a pizza to be delivered. When it came, Khim hid in the bathroom so it would look like only one person was in the room.

  They ate, the box with the pizza spread out on one bed.

  Khim said, “We’re going to have to keep moving all the time. Get our food by drive-throughs and delivery. We need a starship so we can just leave.”

  Trev nodded. “I’m working on that. I’m a real good thief, remember?”

  “Yes, you told me the story of the Bradbury.”

  “And if not for my damned father, I would never have gotten caught either.”

  “All for a book.”

  “Yeah, but it’s not just any book. It has elixirs and spells and stars.”

  A flash of white teeth as he grinned shyly.

  There was something very endearing about Trev in that moment—talking about a subject he really loved, sitting in a dusty room away from prison cells and harsh environments, perched on the edge of an old bed, one knee casually pulled up.

  Khim heard the desert wind come up to the door, not knocking, just brushing as if to say I’m here. He smelled the mustiness of age and a scent almost as if embers were embedded in the air.

  Trev leaned forward, both legs over the side of the bed now, elbows on his knees. He ran his hands through his dark, shining hair, his back to Khim, shoulders slightly hunched.

  Khim got up and took the trash to the recycler in the wall. He turned and in two steps was at the foot of the bed. The room was so small. But they were used to a cell, and before that Khim had sha
red a vast bunkroom with a couple of hundred other android soldiers, so this felt like unprecedented luxury.

  Inside his chest, Khim could feel his heart clench, unclench, trip, and speed. Everything inside him had been on edge ever since he’d been sold, but nothing had prepared him for Trev. For this.

  Trev turned his head and looked up. He brushed his palms over his thighs and stood. The clothing he wore was most definitely for a taller man, the cuffs of his trousers dragging the carpet, his shirttails nearly brushing the tops of his knees. The brown eyes sought his and held.

  “Khim.” Trev’s voice came pitched low, tremulous. “Are you okay with everything? About today?”

  Of course Khim wasn’t okay with everything about their day—or the day before that. Prison. Escape. Pulse burn wounds. Putting his trust in the hands of strangers. Heading back out into a world of cameras, people, eyes on every corner. But he knew Trev was referring to none of that. “Yes.”

  Trev stood and took the two steps that brought him directly in front of Khim. “Can I—”

  “Yes,” he said quickly, knowing Trev was asking out of respect, not hesitancy.

  Trev reached out and took his left hand. Just that one gesture, nothing more. He pulled Khim in. Khim felt as if his whole body were falling into that gravity, the thrumming, vibrating, beating life force that was Trev.

  He squeezed Trev’s hand. He did not remember leaning in or initiating anything, but he knew he did, because suddenly his arms were full of Trev, pulling him close, their breaths connecting, their mouths opening into one another.

  Taste of salt. Fire. Extreme pizza. His hands went around Trev’s waist, his arms slowly moving up. He wanted without thinking. He ached without pain.

  Before he knew it, he had pulled Trev up to him. For a second he could not figure out why Trev was gasping—then he realized his grip and his own strength had naturally lifted Trev off the floor, bringing him face-to-face with Khim.

  Trev pulled back in shock, still dangling. Then his eyes began to sparkle. He laughed and hugged Khim tight about the neck, lifting his legs like the acrobat he was and putting them around Khim’s waist.