by Ailx Nichols
True, Iyatt had no idea if such a thing could be done. And he’d been sure Unie would say no. But what if…what if, driven by despair, Unie had agreed to try? What if she’d taken over Haysi’s body, dislodging her spirit from it?
Behind him, Haysi shifted.
He felt her hand touching his back. “Unie isn’t here. I can always sense her presence before she reaches into my mind. But I’m picking up nothing right now. We’re alone.”
“I’m sorry about the kiss,” he said without turning around to look at her. It was safer this way.
“You have nothing to apologize for.” He heard her let out a breath and adjust her nightgown. “I enjoyed it.”
He opened his mouth to tell her he had a lot to apologize for, starting with being a monster.
“Are you a virgin?” she asked.
He hadn’t been prepared for that question.
“I won’t shame you if you are,” Haysi began.
“I’m not.” He turned around. “Before I met Unie, I’d had two lovers. Both were divorced, a proficient and a noblewoman. Neither practiced abstinence.”
“And Unie? Did she practice it?”
“Yes,” he said. “I never…” He broke off, unwilling to share such intimate details. “She wanted twelve years as an enforcer before applying for a desk job at LORSS and settling down. I knew that when I proposed.”
Haysi mouth gaped. “You were willing to wait twelve years?”
“I’d waited ten when she died, and I was faithful.”
“How did you cope? I mean, you’re in your prime. Don’t tell me you simply ignored your needs.”
“I didn’t.”
“So?”
He squinted at her then expelled a breath. “Rateh.”
“Oh.”
“And cold showers.”
Her eyes crinkled at the edges. “How heroic and noble!”
Not really. He showed her his right palm. “And this.”
“How often?” She asked, her gaze intent.
“Every night.”
At that he jumped from the bed and strode into the bathroom, locking the door from inside.
Then he stepped under the shower, turning the temperature to cold.
Eleven
When Iyatt came out of the bathroom in the morning, having barely slept, it was past nine. Haysi was already up.
“There’s no need to look for your knife thrower,” she said, looking out the window. “Unie was here about an hour ago. She’s seen Derren. He’s the cyborg who got picked up by the police.”
Iyatt massaged his neck. “That’s bad news.”
“No, it’s good news,” Haysi said. “He’s about to be released.”
“Then we’d better intercept him before he leaves Norbal!”
Apologizing to his friends for skipping breakfast, Iyatt led Haysi to a nearby square where he hailed a cab.
The ride to Siy Central Police Station was short. Much too short for Haysi, judging by how she’d wriggled in her seat the entire time. Looking a little overwhelmed, she’d seemed to struggle with what to focus on during the first five or ten minutes. She was loving the ride in a motor vehicle that glided almost frictionlessly along the ice-smooth street. But the world outside was too exciting to ignore.
She’d tried to enjoy both until a woman on a hover sleigh zoomed past the cab. Haysi’s mouth fell open, and her forehead stayed glued to the window for the rest of the trip.
As they climbed from the cab, Iyatt spied a bionic-sized man descending the steps of the police building.
“Could be Derren,” Haysi whispered.
Iyatt peered at the man. Tall and brawny, he did look like a cyborg. But dressed in local clothes without as much as gauntlets or a helmet, it was impossible to tell if he was a modified one. The cops might’ve confiscated those.
Keeping their distance, Iyatt and Haysi tailed the man down the main avenue and onto a side street. The man turned onto an even narrower and emptier alley. They followed.
Suddenly, the man spun around and lounged at Iyatt.
His reflexes kicking in, Iyatt ducked. Springing up, he delivered two rapid punches to the man’s head and a hard, sideways kick to the jaw.
The cyborg staggered and collapsed to the ground, face down.
Jumping atop him, Iyatt pushed him down. The cyborg snarled. Iyatt grabbed his wrists and twisted them, pressing a knee to the back of his neck.
The cyborg submitted without resisting at first.
There was a confused, disoriented look in his eyes. It betrayed his disarray. Clearly, he couldn’t understand how he—a hive cyborg—had found himself pinned down by an organic.
Under normal circumstances, this was where Iyatt would’ve landed a precise blow to the neck to kill or knock out his opponent. But he fought his instincts. This was a very different kind of situation.
“I mean you no harm, Derren,” he said. “All I want is to talk.”
His brows shooting up when he heard his name, Derren closed his eyes for a brief moment. When he opened them, his daze had given way to something else. Cold determination.
Having seen this before, Iyatt knew immediately that Derren had consulted the hive mind and received his orders.
Using his implant-reinforced legs, Derren began to heave himself off the ground. Despite Iyatt pushing him down as hard as he could and keeping a firm grip on his wrists, Derren managed to rise to his feet. He lashed out at Iyatt with a jab, then another.
Iyatt parried the blows with practiced efficiency.
But Derren’s enhanced body was too massive, too strong, too relentless. The cyborg drove Iyatt to the wall and curled his fingers around the samurai’s throat.
Haysi screamed.
Stiffening his hand into a bladelike shape, Iyatt swung, stabbing his opponent below the jawline.
Derren staggered back. Iyatt knew that hitting his torso or shins would be pointless. Derren’s most vulnerable spot, now that he no longer underestimated his adversary, was his face. Pulling away, Iyatt whipped it with his foot.
Derren swayed but kept his balance.
With a speed Iyatt hadn’t expected from the cyborg, he slammed a meaty fist into Iyatt’s shoulder, propelling him against the wall.
“Stop it! Enough!” Haysi threw herself between them, facing Derren. “Hear us out for Unie’s sake!”
At the mention of his sister’s name, something flickered across Derren’s face, and he lowered his fists.
“Who are you?” His gaze traveled from Haysi to Iyatt. “Plainclothes cops? LOR officials? Yaggar’s spies? Who told you about Unie?”
Iyatt held his gaze. “My name’s Iyatt Martenn. Unie was my fiancée. She must’ve told you about me.”
Derren eyed him with suspicion. “How do I know you are who you claim to be?”
“I have identification papers.”
“They’re easy to fake.”
Iyatt rubbed at his shoulder. “Ask me anything about her.”
“What was her middle name?”
“She didn’t have one.”
“What was her nickname at school?”
Iyatt smiled. “Justice Thraton.”
“What was our father’s dream for her?”
“He wanted her to become an architect,” Iyatt said. “And he hoped you’d join the Masela Space Fleet.”
“Let me see your ID.”
Iyatt showed Derren his papers.
“What do you want?” Derren returned the card and crossed his arms over his chest. “Did she leave a sermonizing message or a letter for me before she died? How did you find me?”
“Unie found you.”
“She may have been an enforcer with access to information and all, but she’s dead now.” Derren lifted a single eyebrow. “And you’re lying.”
“She…” Iyatt glanced at Haysi, looking for words.
“I’m a medium,” Haysi said. “Unie has been communicating with me.”
“You must take me for a complete idiot.”
Derren eyed her up and down.
She gave him a sad little smile. “Your sister is here now, and she’d like to talk with you through me.”
“What in the Pit of Xereill—”
“I’m going let her,” Haysi said.
Derren shut his mouth and folded his arms across his chest, shooting Haysi a cold, hard look.
She closed her eyes. When she reopened them, the expression she wore was no longer hers. It was Unie’s.
“My little brother.” Unie gazed at Derren with infinite tenderness. “My baby squirk!”
Derren frowned, searching her face, as if trying to ascertain if it was his big sister.
She made a move to touch his cheek.
He drew back.
After letting her hand fall, she said, “That day in Fort Crog, you recognized me. You didn’t shoot.”
He said nothing, but his face betrayed his turmoil.
“I want to thank you for that,” Unie said.
“You don’t need to.” He shrugged with feigned nonchalance. “You got shot anyway within minutes of our encounter. You’re dead now.”
Iyatt’s heart pinched at Derren’s harsh words.
Regardless, it was a small victory. It looked like he didn’t doubt he was talking to his sister.
“It was a quick death,” Unie said.
Derren stared at her. “Why are you here? Why aren’t you in Aheya’s Garden where all the goody-goodies go when they die?”
“I’m here because you need my help.”
“No, I don’t.” His lip curled. “I needed my employer’s help, and I received it. Why do you think the cops let me walk? My employer pulled some strings and got me released. It’s just a shame I must leave Norbal immediately.”
“Your employer is a criminal, Derren.”
“Is that what you think?” He narrowed his eyes. “Want to know something? I don’t care. All that matters is that he’s there for me.”
Iyatt winced. Poor Unie! That must’ve hurt.
“He got you out because if you stayed in a local jail, and talked to the local authorities, you’d become a liability,” Iyatt said.
Unie’s gaze clouded. “You’re still angry with me, aren’t you, little brother? After all these years, you—”
“You just left,” Derren interrupted. “Off to pursue your dreams and leaving me to take care of her… I was only fourteen, Unie!”
“Pa was still there when I left.”
“But not for long. When he and Ma divorced, her drinking got out of hand.” He shook his head, frowning. “She completely lost it in the end.”
“I’m so sorry, Derren!” She searched his face. “You’re right. I should’ve stayed, or I should’ve quit my job and returned to Masela when Pa moved out. But I didn’t. I told myself you were a big boy now, finishing school. A bionic.”
He smirked. “As if that gave me the power to make her want to kick her addiction!”
“That was hopeless,” Unie said. “I knew Ma was beyond saving. But not you. When you became of age, I thought you’d land a job and start a new life.”
“Which I did, but not the way you would’ve wanted.”
They looked at each other in silence for a moment.
Unie shuddered, hugging herself.
Or was it Haysi’s body weakening from the intensity of this reading? Her face was ashen.
“I’m not blaming you for anything, if that’s what troubles you,” Derren said. “My new life is pretty amazing, actually. I make good money. I get to travel. My employers gave me all sorts of advanced enhancements—”
“Illegal enhancements!” Unie cried out. “They turned you into a killing machine.”
“So what? It’s not like you haven’t killed anyone.”
“I’ve killed no innocents.”
“That’s what your employers told you.”
“That’s what my judgment told me.” She took a step toward him. “My conscience is clear on that account. Can you say the same?”
He held his ground. “I’m perfectly happy with who I am and with the life I lead.”
“Then why did you spend your annual leave—the entire week—on Masela?” She canted her head. “You went to Ma’s grave every day. You stayed in our crumbling family house. Why?”
“To sell it.”
“The house is a ruin. It wouldn’t fetch more than a hundred drinars. You know that.”
“It’s still money.”
“Are you in financial trouble?” She touched his arm. “You’re my heir and I’ve bequeathed—”
“I don’t need money, especially not yours,” he said, interrupting her.
At those words, Unie dropped her hand. Her expression changed abruptly.
“She’s… gone,” Haysi breathed out.
Swaying, she sank to the ground, half conscious.
Iyatt pulled out his flask and made her drink.
“I’m all right,” she murmured.
No, you’re not. He picked her up and moved her to the wall, so that she could lean on it.
“What just happened?” Derren grabbed Iyatt’s shoulder, his expression panicked. “Is Unie… is she… gone for good?”
Goddess forbid!
“She’ll be back,” Iyatt said.
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
Derren released his grip and drew back.
Slowly, Haysi’s gaze refocused. She sat a little straighter and then pulled herself up, holding onto Iyatt’s arm.
“I’ll be on Hente next month,” Derren said.
Iyatt jerked his head toward him, surprised.
Derren stared at him, deadpan. “A small group of us will deliver fresh supplies and equipment for your realm’s mercenary cyborg squadron.”
Iyatt whipped his commlet out. “Will you give me your ping number?”
“No.” Derren’s mouth curved into a crooked smile. “But I’ll take yours.”
After keying it into his device, the cyborg brow-and-bowed to Iyatt and Haysi. “We’ll talk again.”
He spread his wings, shrugging. “I’ve been outed, so what the hell.”
As Iyatt watched him soar into the sky, he heard Haysi’s voice. “Unie believes she’s pushed me too hard.”
He turned his gaze to her.
“I told her I was fine, but she said she knew better,” Haysi said.
“I’d trust her on this.”
“Unie said that another reading too soon might damage my mind.” Haysi gave him a faint, tight-lipped smile. “There’ll be no more visits until Derren is on Hente.”
He nodded once. “Understood.”
“I’m so sorry, Iyatt!”
He was sorry, too, but not exactly in the way Haysi expected him to be. Clearly, she thought he’d be upset about being unable to communicate with Unie for the next few weeks. Not that he wasn’t upset about it. He was. But something else troubled him more right now and weighed on his conscience.
Haysi’s face was still pale, her gaze dull. She looked so miserable, so defeated. So, unlike her. He wanted to bring back the spark in her eyes. For reasons he could not fathom, he missed her excitement from this morning.
As the rush of adrenaline from the fight wore off, his muscles began to ache. His shoulder was killing him. But no bones were broken, so it didn’t matter.
What mattered was that Haysi recovered her pluck and her energy.
“Come,” he said, grabbing her hand and leading her back to the main avenue. “I’ll show you things you’ve never seen before.”
Twelve
The first place Iyatt showed Haysi was the marina.
What with Hente’s ocean being inaccessible—the terraformed zone had never stretched beyond Sky Rocks, even before the Cataclysm—it was Haysi’s first seashore. She loved the new smells and sounds and how different it looked from Eia’s lakes.
Next, they hopped on a sailboat, which took them to a small island off the coast where they rode a space lift to Norbal’s main tourist at
traction, the Celestial Park. With every hour that passed, Haysi’s mien brightened. Color returned to her cheeks. Her big, expressive eyes shone once again.
Back in Siy, they had lunch in a Pan-Xereill restaurant, where Haysi sampled dishes from all around the galaxy.
After that, Iyatt suggested a visit to the Ra-human Art and History Museum, figuring its art collection would appeal to the creator in Haysi. As he’d expected, it did. More surprisingly, the history section of the museum fascinated her just as much.
“I hadn’t pegged you for a history buff,” Iyatt commented as they walked down a hallway to the Empire War Hall.
She waved dismissively. “I’m not. But I liked the subject in elementary school, and even more in the first two years of middle school.”
“Did you get bored with school in your third year?”
She shook her head. “I dropped out in the third year. Ma couldn’t afford more schooling for me.”
Iyatt felt like an idiot. He should’ve known better than to assume it had been normal for someone like Haysi to attend middle school. Middle school wasn’t mandatory or free. In practice, that meant only the noble and proficient classes sent their children there. A menial who’d finished it would be a rare exception. Even Rhori’s super smart friend Lippin had quit after elementary school to learn his father’s trade. That was the norm.
Come to think of it, Haysi was the only menial he knew who’d been to middle school. Her mother—her harlot mother—must’ve held education in very high regard.
Iyatt smirked, realizing he didn’t even know what his self-effacing, proficient-class mother held in high regard, apart from his father. What his father valued above all else was discipline.
The day Iyatt had appeared before the judge, both of his parents were in the courtroom.
Mother wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t say a word. As for Father… When the judge pronounced Iyatt’s sentence, Father had cried out, “You’re too soft on him!”
Iyatt was sentenced to work in the lightstone quarries from age sixteen to twenty. Because he was only twelve, the judge had asked Father to pay three hundred so Iyatt could finish his education in a boarding school for juvenile offenders.
“I have a wife and a daughter to provide for, and I won’t spend another drinar on that abomination,” Father said. “He’s no son of mine. Send him to the quarries straight away. Or lock him up. I don’t care.”
