by Lili Zander
What complete nonsense. “Self-centered asshole?” I scoff. “Is that why you came to rescue two women you didn’t know? Cassie and I were perfect strangers to you, and you spent how long trying to find us?”
He waves aside my praise. “Sixth told me to keep taking cranisum. It should ward off the worst of Noturn’s effects. So that’s the plan. I pretend to be a safety inspector. If there’s a prison here, I have fourteen days to find it.”
We lie next to each other, closer now, our hands touching. I’m still worried for Danek—how could I not be?—but I’m also… happy? He didn’t have to answer my questions, but he did. He called me a liability at the start of this mission, but from the moment we landed on the Wekat Exchange, and we left the safety of his ship, he has treated me as if I’m his partner. He’s treated me as if I matter.
He might just be a good actor, Naomi.
My inner voice, my subconscious, whatever you want to call it, steers me out of trouble and keeps me safe. But just this once, I ignore my inner caution.
We’re alone in our house. Apart from the too-silent floofs, that is. There’s no one here to witness Danek’s performance. No one here he needs to impress.
Maybe he isn’t pretending. Maybe—just maybe—he really does care.
18
Danek
When she’d asked me what Sixth had said, my initial instinct had been to hide the seriousness of my reaction.
But when I’d opened my mouth to lie, guilt had sloshed through my insides. I just slept with Naomi. I didn’t want to lie to her, especially not now. Not when my body was still sated from our lovemaking.
I’ve kept so much from her already. When she touches me, the rathr goes away. From the first moment I gathered her into my arms, I knew what that meant.
Naomi is my mate.
But I haven’t told her that. I haven’t told her about the impact she has on me. I haven’t even allowed myself to acknowledge it.
Maybe now you can.
What was inconceivable a month ago suddenly looks within the realms of possibility. Naomi is getting better, much better. She’s been thrown in one new environment after another, and she’s handling it with aplomb. She faced her fears and allowed Bash, the Cindifin scientist to screen her for heliviruses, and when we landed here, when I’d lost consciousness, she dealt with Kenia without fear.
I told her that if she weren’t here, I might have continued with the mission. That wasn’t a lie. If she didn’t exist, I would have thrown myself into one dangerous mission after the other, in a desperate bid to outrun the sins of my past. But she’s here, and things have changed. If I’m unconscious, I can’t protect Naomi. I won’t take any chances with my mate’s safety.
When I told her that if she weren’t here, I’d push on, she’d bluntly responded that was both reckless and dumb. And then she told me she would be devastated if something were to happen to me.
Hope—long dormant hope—stirs cautiously to life. For the first time in sixty days, I don’t stomp it out. For the first time in sixty days, I let it take root.
The next morning, I meet with the on-site administrator, a man named Rannzar.
Of course, because of Noturn’s effects, Rannzar is new too; he landed here on the same shuttle as us. But he must have been prepared for this job via virtual simulation, because he seems to know his way around. “There are four domes,” he says, as we walk down a maintenance tunnel. “All are occupied.”
“Why? Each dome is more than big enough to accommodate five hundred people.”
“Why not?” he counters. “We need to keep their habitats running, whether they are occupied or not. Might as well space people out. They seem to appreciate the extra room. Ah, here we are.”
We round the corner. Five bubble-shaped skimmers are parked along the wall, all painted bright green. Cindifin colors. “This is how you get around,” Rannzar says, waving at them. “You have enough air in each one to last two hours. Each dome is thirty minutes apart at top speed. The skimmer’s display will tell you how much air you have left.”
“Perfect.”
“Can you start in two days?” he asks.
“Sooner, if you need,” I tell him in complete sincerity. The sooner I get going, the faster I find what I need, and we get out of here.
He looks surprised by my words. “No, no,” he says hastily. “There’s no hurry. We build quite a bit of slack into the maintenance schedule. Besides, Director Lashi’vi mentioned that you are newly bonded, and that your bondmate is on Noturn with you. The day after tomorrow is more than enough.”
Each dome has multiple points of failure. The safety glass panes can crack. The welds holding the panes together can weaken and give way. The atmospheric regulators that calibrate the air inside the dome can stop working, leading to a dangerous build-up of toxic gasses. The airlocks at the entrance of the tunnels to the mines can fail.
Every one of these points of failure is monitored by dozens of automated sensors, of course. If something goes wrong, klaxons will blare, and everyone is immediately supposed to connect to a portable oxygen supply. Every house has them. Our tanks are located just inside the front door. They’re painted a bright shade of blue, the color of blood, and emit a soft beep every hour, as if to remind us of their presence. The first time Plague had heard the beep, she’d been so startled she’d almost fallen off the back of the couch.
Sensors aren’t enough. Safety protocol dictates that each dome be inspected manually four times a year, which is why I’m here. My job is to suit up and crawl all over the outside surface of the dome, making sure that the welds are intact and that there are no cracks or weak spots in the glass.
Two days after we arrive on Noturn, I get to work, starting with the dome we’re living in.
Naomi’s still in bed when I leave, and I don’t wake her. All morning, I inspect domes while trying to figure out why I’m feeling off-balance, and it’s only after four hours of clambering over slippery glass that I figure it out.
I miss her.
Over the last four days, I’ve spent all my time with Naomi. Usually, by this time, I’d be ready to claim exhaustion and seek refuge in solitude. Too much social interaction makes me grumpy, and that’s part of the reason I avoid most people.
But time with Naomi doesn’t make me unhappy. It does exactly the opposite.
She’s easy to get along with. She’s cheerful, but not irrationally so. She doesn’t sulk, she doesn’t pout, and she doesn’t whine. When the floofs make a mess—and by Caeron, those three create more chaos than should be possible—she just laughs and cleans it up.
Pumpkin, Plague, and Pestilence have bonded to her, just as the saleswoman in the pet store had predicted. They follow her around from room to room; they push open the door to the refresher if she’s in there, and insist on keeping her company, and at night, they curl up all around her, weighing down her blankets. Their antics would be annoying—especially when they hiss and grumble when I reach for Naomi—if it weren’t obvious how much they adore her. In a few short days, she’s become indispensable to them.
And to me.
19
Naomi
It’s Danek’s first day of work, and even with the floofs running around the place, I feel his absence keenly. Everything is too quiet. The house feels empty.
Naomi, you are being ridiculous.
Danek and I went exploring yesterday. Most of the dome is residential, but there is one street with a couple of retail stores. There’s one self-serve restaurant, in case we get tired of eating at home, and a small grocery store, for when we get tired of syn-made food.
I’d dragged Danek inside the grocery store, I’d made him explain what everything was, and I’d ended up buying a crapload of alien food.
The vegetables are new to me, strange in appearance, taste, and texture. For most of the morning, I fiddle around in the kitchen, crafting the raw and frozen ingredients into a stir-fry, which I eat with great enjoyment. Pumpkin, Plague, and Pestilence ignore m
e during the cooking, but show up when I sit down with the food, demanding their share. Adorable little floofs.
I’ve spent many days in my apartment in Bestea with nothing to do. This feels different somehow. I feel more optimistic. More alive. I think it’s because I know I won’t be alone. Danek will be back in the evening.
Will you stop that, Naomi?
I read for a couple of hours after lunch, and then, feeling the need for some physical exertion, I head outside for a run, and jog around the park twice. I’m ready to go back home—I have fantasies of cooking dinner before Danek returns—when I’m intercepted by a Zorahn woman with spiky purple hair. “You must be Naomi Knoll,” she says, her voice high and cheerful. “I’m Praki.”
How does she know who I am? “Umm, hi.”
“I’m the social coordinator in charge of this dome,” she continues with a bright smile. “I sent a message to your comm, but since I didn’t hear back from you, I thought I’d follow up. We’re having a party tonight in the park. Dremonae, cold beer, and, once we switch to night mode, we’ll be screening a new vid from the Homeworld. Everyone will be there. You should come.”
I haven’t bothered to check my comm since I got here—who’s going to call me?—which explains why I missed her message. “That sounds fun.”
“Great.” She beams in satisfaction, her attention already on her next target. “I’ll see you this evening.”
Danek walks through the door just when I’m putting the finishing touches on dinner. The floofs run to the front to investigate. They jump into his arms, run up his shoulder, and sniff his feet, nearly tripping him in the process. I do my best to stifle my giggles, and then, taking pity on him, I distract the little horrors by throwing some treats on the ground.
He grins at me, and my stomach does a little flip. “Hey,” I murmur, trying to recover from the impact of that smile. “How was your day?”
“Frustrating. How was yours?” He sniffs the air. “You cooked?”
“Yeah, are you hungry? I made chili. Well, it’s chili-adjacent.” I clear my throat, feeling a little foolish. “I don’t know if you like spicy food, or if this will taste strange to you, but—”
“I’d love to try some,” he interrupts. “Thank you for cooking.” He bends his head and kisses me, and a shiver runs through my body. “I’ve spent all day in a spacesuit. I’m hot and sweaty. Give me five minutes to shower?”
Want me to wash your back? The words die on my tongue. Me cooking for him, him showering before sitting down to eat—this is all too domestic. It feels like we’re a real couple.
“Sure,” I tell him, my smile fading. It’s a fantasy. It’s not real. We’re playing house on Noturn, but when we get back to the Rebellion’s headquarters, things will go back to normal. I have to remember that.
True to his word, Danek is out of the shower in five minutes. We fill our bowls with food and move to the couch. “What did you do with your day?” he asks. He tastes the chili, and a surprised look fills his face. “This is delicious.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I am, a little,” he admits sheepishly. “I guess I assumed all human food would be weird.”
I chuckle. “That’s okay; I’ve been making the same assumptions about Zorahn food. Everything looks so different from what I’m used to.”
He eats a bowl of chili and goes back for more. By the time he gets back to the couch, Pumpkin has staked his claim to the space. Rolling his eyes, Danek pushes him out of the way. The floof promptly takes offense, stalking off with his three orange tails held high in the air.
My lips twitch. “Don’t worry, he’ll be back. Why was your day frustrating? No sign of the prison?”
“Trust me, I wasn't worried,” he replies dryly. He leans back on the couch, stretching his legs out. “Yeah. I don’t know what I thought I’d find, but I hoped there would be something. Some sign of dome construction, some debris, something.” He shrugs philosophically. “Still, there’s time.”
Not that much time. Just twelve more days.
When we’re done, Danek cleans up, refusing my offer of help. “Do you want a drink?” he asks. “Beer, Vabrian, something else?”
“Blood of my enemies?” I quip, remembering our exchange back at the Rebellion. “Yeah, I’ll take a beer, please.”
He fiddles with the syn and produces two cold glasses of beer, one for him and one for me. I’m almost done drinking it when I remember the social coordinator’s invitation. “Oh, there’s some kind of party in the park tonight.”
He winces. “Yes, I got Praki’s comm. Dremonae, beer, and something called a soap opera from the Homeworld.”
“A soap opera?” I sit up, surprised. “Hang on, your people have soaps too? That’s hilarious.”
“It’s a new invention,” he replies. “The rumor is that it was brought back to the Homeworld from your planet. One of the linguists that studied English for the translators watched hours of your vids to hone his understanding of the English language, got addicted, and decided to replicate them in the High Empire.”
“You’re joking.” I laugh out loud. “Of all the things to import from Earth, you guys pick soap operas? This I have to see.”
“Of course you do.” He sounds resigned.
“You don’t sound enthusiastic about it.”
He smiles at me, slow and lazy. “I have much better ideas about what we could do with our evening.”
Oh. Desire prickles through me, and a shiver of anticipation rolls through my body. “What if we go to the park for a little bit? Maybe we can discreetly question people, see if they know anything about the prison? And then, we’ll come back and do some of the things you have in mind.”
He gives me an amused smile. “Admit it, you aren’t going to the park because of the mission. You just want to see a Zorahn soap opera.”
He knows me well. I beam back at him. “I really do.”
I dress in a pale pink blouse with spaghetti straps and ruffles down the front. It’s very pretty and very feminine. I’m probably too old to be wearing ruffles, but when I saw the blouse in Xeni’s boutique, giant white and pink flowers on a pastel pink sea, I’d fallen in love with it. To counter its frivolousness, I pull on a pair of utilitarian gray pants and tie my hair back in its usual braid. A dash of mascara, eye liner, and lip gloss later, I’m good to go.
The two of us stroll out. The dome is always warm, always the temperature of a perfect summer evening. The park is just outside our door, so there’s no need to hail a skimmer. We walk to the picnic tables, where a crowd of people is milling about.
“Danek,” a familiar voice calls out. “I was hoping to run into you.”
It’s Kenia. Today, the young scientist isn’t wearing the traditional indigo robes. She’s wearing a floaty dress in a shade of forest green, with ruffles all down the front. She looks young and very, very pretty.
She comes up to us. Nodding to me pleasantly, she puts her hand on Danek’s forearm. “I’ve been worried about you,” she says breathlessly. “How do you feel? Is the resonance sickness still bothering you?” She draws closer, her voice lowering. “Do you need another dose of cranisum?”
She’s so close to him that her boobs are practically pressed against his chest. A flash of pure rage slices through me, and I see red.
I’m forty. Even when I was twenty, my body never looked like that. I don’t think I’ve ever been this young, this fresh-faced.
Oh dear God, I’m jealous of Kenia.
And being jealous of Kenia means I’m possessive of Danek. Which is the stupidest thing in the galaxy to feel.
I have no claim on Danek. None at all. We’re sleeping together, but sex doesn’t mean commitment. We’re two people that are on an assignment here, and we’re having sex because we’re attracted to each other. That’s all this is.
She laughs at something he says. I turn away abruptly before I do something I regret and march over to the table holding tubs of dremonae.
B
ack on Earth, this would be a perfect time to sit on my couch, feel sorry for myself, and polish off an entire tub of Ben & Jerrys. Since I’m not on Earth, I’ll have to settle for all the dremonae I can eat.
Dremonae look like caviar, tiny little colorful bubbles, and they taste like frozen juice pops. I stand in line, and when I reach the table, I fill a bowl with purple, green, and yellow bubbles.
There’s a red-headed man in line in front of me. He fills his bowl as well. We both reach for the yellow bubbles at the same time, our hands colliding. He laughs and waves me ahead. “Sorry about that. I’m Hari.”
“Naomi.”
“We haven’t met, have we?” he asks me. “I’m very bad at remembering faces.”
“Me too,” I tell him. “No, I don’t think so.”
Hari is a talker. “Are you a miner?” he asks curiously.
“No, my bondmate is the safety inspector. We’re newly bonded, so I took some time off and came with him to Noturn.” I nod in the direction of Danek, who is still talking to Kenia. “You?”
“I’m a geologist,” he replies. He tilts his head to one side. “You came to Noturn voluntarily?”
“The vibrations don’t affect me,” I explain.
His head snaps up. “They don’t? How fascinating. Does Kenia know?”
If Kenia doesn’t stop talking to Danek, I might have to scratch her eyes out. “It’s in my file,” I murmur. “She must know. Why?”
“That’s why I’m here,” he explains. “I’m a geologist at the Royal Naturium. The House of Cindifin has recently partnered with us to study Noturn. I’ve been sent to study the planet’s vibrations with a view to blocking its effects on Zorahn.” He pops a blue dremona in his mouth. “To do that, we need to start by measuring them.”
“How do you measure the planet’s vibrations?”
“We’re on the Plains of Kaanir here,” he says. “There are seismographs all around the domes. They’re extremely sensitive.”
