Tonya R. Moore - Speculative Fiction Writer

Pain vibrated from the back of his neck to the lower tips of his spine. He’d cushioned Kheera’s backward tumble but the weapon’s recoil had caused him to slam backward into the shattered ground. He felt a warm wetness where the wound in his back from Qwont re-opened. He could barely breathe. His vision wavered. He clung to his friend with trembling arms. Around them, the earth had been shattered. Jagged veins split the surface in all directions from the epicenter where he was crouched, her limp form cradled in his arms.

He shrank away from the stout stranger who loomed over them. The dust hadn’t even cleared yet. He could hear frantic people rushing about, all around. He heard shouting. It was all to familiar, this devastated scenery. The high officials on Qwont had not been very forgiving. Although, she’d saved them all by stopping the advance of the syvot swarm, they’d locked her up and separated her from Echo and Moth for five torturous days.

“Please don’t do anything to her!” His arms were shaking. He was starting to lose feeling. How much longer could he hold on? “We’ll leave this place if you wish.” Echo whimpered. “Just... don’t take her away.”

The warrior frowned. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He eased back but not by much. He motioned with both hands. The movements were only vaguely familiar, a Heroon gesture but Echo hadn’t spent enough time among his own people to know what it meant.

“Let me help.”  This time, it seemed he was making an effort to gentle his gruff voice. His eyes whipped from Kheera’s bloody arms to Echo’s frantic eyes. She was beginning to stir. Her small moan was barely audible. “She needs medical treatment,” The large human tried to reason with Echo again. “So do you. It does my heart good though, to know that you cherish someone so precious to us.”

Echo regarded him wildly. He swallowed hard. Even talking was becoming taxing.

“Precious?”

The man nodded. His gaze was steady but Echo wavered. He didn’t know these people. Could he trust them? They’d been lied to before. How could he trust these humans when he couldn’t trust his own kind? He knelt there, straining to breathe--to think. He barely felt the pin-prick at the back of his neck. As he tumbled sideways, the man snatched Kheera from his arms.

Syriana surged forward and grasped Echo’s  shoulders from behind, before his body could hit the ground. “Nicely done, Yori. Thank you.”

General Bassan stood, Kheera practically weightless in his arms. He was staring down at the unconscious Heroon. He sucked in a sharp breath when Syriana’s fingers parted the torn fabric at Echo’s back. The boy had already been injured recently. The flesh that had begun to knit together had been ripped apart when he’d fallen just now. He was bleeding copiously, the inky mess staining the ground.

“Syriana,” he asked at length. “What exactly happened to these children on Qwont?”

“More than I realized.” Shaken, she watched the helpers who’d rushed over, secure the sedated alien to a carrier.

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Nikol stretched sat up. “How long did I sleep?”

"It’s just past midday.” Pras waved at sensor built into the wall. The window’s transparent barrier slid away and the lights went out. He tugged on Nikol’s hand. “I want to show you something.”

A cloudy darkness cradled them. It was so thick he barely see Pras. He could only feel him, the heat of his body as he urged him to cross the darkened room. “There’s a storm.”

Nikol followed, intrigued by the way he spoke in such an excited rush of breath. The wind blew in, carrying the taste and wetness of the rain with it. It was full of earth, mineral and the green scent of wounded trees. The clouds obscured the sky. It might as well have been night. Drenched by the wetness from the sky, the tree with crimson leaves was in full bloom. Its swollen petals were glowing. Their sharp, sweet fragrance filled the air. Nikol stared, awestruck by the wonder that graced the wild garden below. The tree was glimmering like a star. It was an impossible, magnificent thing.

"Bioluminous?"  

"Only after rain." Pras' his eyes glittered in the dark. “This is the garden that I made, Nikol. Do you see?”

When the wind whipped through the canopy, hundreds of blossoms were being carried away down the raggedly slope to the sea. There was already a wide and winding river of them streaming toward the distant horizon.

“Once when I was sleeping,” the immortal murmured. “I had this dream.”

It was both beautiful and disturbing, this incredible vision that Pras had realized. What exactly had he been trying to capture? What had he been chasing as he slept? His eyes were brimming with some deep, heretic emotion that Nikol both yearned for and wilted away from touching. Overwhelmed, he shook his head, slowly.  Wordlessly. He was shaken, breathless. He couldn’t look away from him, couldn’t speak. In that instance, Pras wasn’t the man Nikol felt he knew. Once again, he was something else. He was something mysterious, maddening and lost in some faraway place that Nikol could never hope to reach him. Those eyes cleared after a moment, and he was himself again.

He smiled in that slightly chagrined way of his. “What do you suppose it means?”

Nikol’s heart ached. He reached out before he realized it, sank into Pras’ embrace. He drank in his scent, inexplicably relieved it was the same as always. “Don’t do that anymore,” he uttered senselessly. "I don't like it!"

Bewildered, Pras’ hands cradled Nikol’s dazed, upturned face. He was shaken by the beseeching look in his eyes. “I’m not sure I--”

His protest was swallowed up by a desperate kiss. The clouds rumbled and the downpour intensified again. A blast of wind carried in the rain, drenching them both. Nikol’s wandering hands tugged at the belt of his robe. He shuddered as the wet fabric slipped to the ground at their feet. Lightning and the soft glow from the tree set them aflame. He was sinking. Drowning. He let the current pull him under. Limbs tangling, they tumbled together.

“You’re being incredibly selfish, Pras.”

Pras’ laugh was bit forced. He seemed to be having trouble breathing. “No, I'm not.”

The frenzied, ravenous feeling slowly dissipated. The spinning in Nikol's head finally ground to a slow waltz. Breathing became easier. His body curled against Pras. He suddenly shivered.

The immortal’s breath was warm against his ear. “Cold?”

“So it seems.”

Pras surged to his feet. He led Nikol out of the rain soaked room and to another sprawling suite, not far down the hallway. They settled amidst the soft cushions there, burrowing under warm coverings. Pras’ fingers toyed with the damp curls of his hair. The silence enveloped them until Pras finally broke it.

“What you thought you were feeling just now. You understand?”

“Yes.”

Wide eyed now, Nikol stared up at the skylit ceiling. The clouds were clearing. The light of day, slowly returning. He released a shaky breath. Lust. Hunger. They were an overwhelmingly erotic and powerful combination. The taste was still thick and heavy in his mouth. Everything Pras was feeling had been flowing into him.  Eagerly feeding into that sensation, he’d been recklessly urging him on. A sudden jolt of realization hit him. For a vampire, taking blood without taking a life must take such monumental effort.

Pras nodded briefly at his chagrined look. “Be more cautious next time, will you?”

Nikol raised a brow. “What makes you think there will be a next time?”

Eyes, dark and endless trapped him and stole his breath. There was a challenging, relentless smile. “Won’t there be?”




The moon was a misshapen oval in the sky. It had been that way since long before humans came to this world, even before sapient life first sparked there in the murky brew of the emerald depths. The ship had set out at dawn, three days earlier. The captain, a burly man with a scar beneath his right eye, had overseen the purposeful flurry of activity. A robust gust had risen up and drawn the lofty sails into it’s embrace. They’d sped into the brilliance of the distant horizon. The sun, peeking up from the lower hemisphere had been a glittery beacon pulling them toward the center and into the unknown.

The captain, back to the horizon, had watched the mainland until it fell away from view with a growing sense of dread. The man knew that on this vast ocean, every time he set sail might be the last time he’d ever set his eyes on solid earth again, for humans held no dominion over this great body. Ships were merely flotsam that may or may not be tolerated by the capricious being that carried them. Their fates were all too often determined by the water’s whim.

His ominous passenger lay at the root of his discontent. She was an enigma, the dark woman-child whose stormy eyes were brimming with untold secrets. They'd crossed the ocean from the island temple a continent away. He was already a strongly superstitious being. When the high priest of one of the oldest known religious orders made the request to transport the temple's ward to the forbidden coast, he couldn’t have refused could he?

Earlier a storm had risen. Dark clouds had covered the sky, turning day into night. The waves had spun them about and off course. The sky had remained dark even after the water had quieted. When the captain contemplated dropping anchor until either the sun or stars appeared, the girl had simply pointed obliquely and ordered him to keep the ship moving. Not long after, they’d come upon the ghostly path of lights leading in the direction she’d told them to go. Although there was no moon, they’d all seen it, the eerie light beckoning from a great distance away.

As they lowered her small watercraft into the water near the shore, she called out an order. “Return to the temple and tell them what you've seen.”

Without so much as thanks or a fare-thee-well, she turned about and began rowing towards the shore. The captain had muttered a small prayer of thanks that the ungrateful brat had been right and that they had completed that accursed mission with expedience.

Shannah Varia tossed one last scowling glance at the vessel she’d just left.

“I heard that, damn you!”  She muttered under-breath.

She was torn between rejoicing being free of that nasty, paranoid lot and worrying about the challenge that lay ahead. Her anxiety was such that her heart was racing painfully. She faced the dark mass of land that loomed ahead with trepidation. What was she more afraid of? The possible horrors that lay ahead or the painful death that awaited back at the temple, should she fail. She rowed until she lost the feeling in her arms. When the bow of her small boat finally touched solid ground, she barely had enough strength left to drag it away from the waves. Thoroughly exhausted, she lay inside the grounded vessel and closed her eyes, intending only to rest long enough to catch her breath.



A massive entrance had been built into the windward side of the great hill, allowing easy access to where Pras ship was stored. Nikol distractedly guided the Prideful Hooligan downward and toward the opening. He was still bleary eyed-from sleep and drunk on the events from the day and night before. Unconsciously, he brought his fingers to the back of his neck where Pras had bitten him. At his own insistence! The memory made him shudder, made his body go tight all...

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?"

Pandora’s shriek had him snapping back to the present. With a jolt, he pulled up just seconds shy of careening into the side of the hill.

“Sorry--sorry! I guess I’m a bit... er... distracted today.”

“You don’t say."  Was her disgruntled retort.

It had been enough of a near miss for his hands to still be shaking as he brought his ship back upwards and circled around again for entry. He happened to glance land-ward as he completed the arc and ended up swinging about and away. He circled the coast once before heading back towards the hill.

He buzzed the bridge as he carefully guided the Hooligan into Pandora’s cargo bay.

“Pras, could you come down for a bit? Something strange seems to have washed ashore.”

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“What’s that noise?” Nikol asked suddenly.

The earth was throbbing in tandem with the rumbles of distant machinery. When had that begun? Pras had been so lost in thought, he’d barely even noticed. “Drones. They’re mining for the raw material Pandora needs.”

“Ah.”

“She should be ready for take off in two days. You’re coming with us, aren’t you?”

“I’m hardly going to let you strand me here after you caused me to miss my departure window.” Nikol shook his head at Pras’ sheepish look. “You don’t even think before you do these things. Do you?”

There was a blur of motion and Pras’ face was suddenly inches away from Nikol’s. Nikol grabbed his arm and Pras lost his precarious balance, tumbling forward. He sighed and closed his eyes, drinking in the pilot’s scent, listening to his steady pulse. The wind stirred up around them again. Nikol reached forward to unwind the crude wire that bound the immortal’s hair. He raked his fingers through the soft blackness.

“You’re still uneasy,” he murmured, one thumb tracing a line down Pras' cheek.

“Aren’t you?”

“Not particularly,” he shrugged. “Then again, my responses to most things are abnormal at best. Although...”

Pras frowned when his voice trailed off and his eyes drifted shut. That he’d become exhausted so quickly after only talking for such a short time was a clear sign that the damage Nikol had sustained was more detrimental than he claimed. He was also well aware that Nikol wouldn’t have done something so reckless in that instance if he hadn’t driven him to it. He nudged him awake before helping him up.

“Were you thinking of sleeping outdoors tonight, Nikol? The temperature here drops sharply just before dawn.” There was a flash of teeth as he grinned. “I could probably withstand it but you’d die.”

There were guards posted at his door. Even if he’d been able to stay on his feet long enough to go and seek Torrin out, he wasn’t allowed to make it past the threshold.

There was a sound at the doorway. “Torrin--”
 
Instead, it was his father who strode in. He sat down at the table across from where Dorian lay. This fearsome man who’d brought him down with so little effort, had also sat beside him through the night. Dorian had a fleeting impression of his fingers smoothing his brow, brushing his hair from his eyes.
 
His manner now though, was unmistakably disapproving. “You don’t need me to explain it to you, do you? The difference between a body slave and a consort.”
 
Dorian surged to his feet and was immediately rewarded with another wave of pain, like being stabbed right between the eyes. He sank back down. He shot Apollo a disgruntled look. “I’m not a child. I understand the distinction.”

“Do you? You damned well nearly killed him.”
 
Dorian’s gut clenched. That anxious lump in his throat swelled into something unsavory that made his eyes sting. That painful knot balled up in his chest was making it hard to breathe.
 
“Is he...?” Hell. Why couldn’t he even say the words?
 
“He’ll recover.”
 
“I didn’t know I was even capable of that.” Dorian groaned and ran an agitated hand through his hair. “Maybe if I did, I might have reacted differently.”
 
Could they go back now, to the way they were before? They’d lost something important, hadn’t they? He was to blame, wasn’t he?
 
“If I could take it back I would. I wish I could.”
 
Apollo relented. “I’m not suggesting that rank or class should be a deciding factor in such things but your first mistake was stepping outside the boundaries of the pact. Body slaves and contractors have rigid rules of conduct for a reason.”

Dorian shot his father a tight glare. “What exactly are you trying to say?”

“Love tends to get messy when all parties aren’t standing on equal ground.”
 
Dorian scoffed. “Doesn’t it, regardless?”
 
 “True enough.” Apollo eyed his son, considering. “What then? Do you plan on leaving things as they are?”
 
Dorian looked up at his father gravelly. “How do I fix this? Where do I even start?” He stared down at his clenched fists. “I did something I never imagined I could... or would. He’ll never forgive me,” his muttered. “I’d never forgive me.”
 
“Can’t things that get broken usually be fixed?”
 
“Easier said than done.”
 
“It’s not that complicated, is it?”
 
“I’m sure you know all about--”
 
“I do know something of it!” Apollo’s retort was full of the tormented ferocity he’d displayed the day before but it was fleeting. “I had a lifetime to prepare myself for this. In the end, I still wasn’t ready. To lose her like that. To lose her at all.”
 
Dorian faltered. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”
 
His father sighed. “Syriana told me once, that Indira was determined to not form any attachments with anyone or anything in this life. You understand why she felt she needed to be that way?”

Dorian couldn’t bring himself to face it. He didn’t understand it. What was a Nyacene, really? Why did she have to die? He wanted to rail at his father and demand those answers. For a while, he just wanted to indulge himself and nurse the wound of losing her after having only just found her.
 
Instead he found himself tiredly pinching at that throbbing spot between his eyes. “She knew all along, that she’d wind up here. That she would die here?”

“Even as a child,” Apollo nodded. “So, it became equally important for me to get this through to her; why else should she make a sacrifice of this magnitude, if not for people she loved?  A husband. Children. People who would remember her, always.”

He stood, drew in a deep, steadying breath. “It’s strange talking to you like this. In my mind, only a matter of months has passed since we parted ways. I want to know everything about my children, Dorian. The lives you’ve all made for yourselves but this isn’t the best time, I’m afraid.”

“Wait, I--”

“You need to rest. You’ll be feeling the effects of my dagger for a while yet." He halted briefly at the threshold. “Dorian, I realize that you were never formally trained and that your abilities took you by surprise yesterday. Inadvertently or not--if you ever use your mind as a weapon against a non-telepath again, I just might kill you myself.”

That said, in what Dorian was coming to recognize as his customarily casual manner, he was gone.

Benjamin surged forward. “Kheera???"

“West courtyard.” An assistant called out.

General Bassan was already hurrying out into the courtyard. “Order everyone in pursuit of the raiders to withdraw as fast as possible.”

When Benjamin didn’t show any reaction, Syriana snapped. “Do it now!”

"Why is my dau---”

Syriana cut the connection abruptly. “Get that barrier down!”



“Do you know who I am?”

Torrin eyed the man who sank down onto the empty cot across from him warily. Apollo of Avanu looked more like a sibling than Dorian’s parent. He was a vaguely wild sort. The steely muscle showing through his tunic suggested a well trained fighter but those stormy eyes were unmistakably familiar. The deep shadows under his eyes suggested lack of sleep. There was palpable grief lurking beneath that frank and curiously assessing gaze.

“I could hazard a guess,” he finally ventured.
 
Apollo scratched his head. “It’s strange. I feel like I should apologize for my son’s--”
 
Torrin scowled. “He can speak for himself.”
 
“That he can,” there was a tiny smile. Apollo’s brows arced. “Aren’t you forgetting something, though?” 
 
“I meant no disrespect,” Torrin’s eyes rolled skyward, a humorless curve touched his lips. “Your Highness... you were saying?”
 
The emperor grimaced. “Never mind formality,” he muttered, his discomfiture with Torrin’s use of the moniker apparent. “It’s unsettling, how much time passed while I was sleeping. My mind still can’t quite catch up to the thought that he’s no longer the little boy we left with Ti’rel.”
 
Torrin studied Apollo thoughtfully. “I can’t imagine you’re quite the same father he remembers.”
 
Apollo eyed his son’s paramour. “Nor can I.” He switched subjects abruptly. “They’re reckless, the Nyacene. They always plunge headlong into these circumstances. My wife was ruthless when it came to getting her own way. You should know that you never stood a chance. In the end, even I couldn’t...”
 
 “Whatever choices I made were my own.” Torrin bit out. “I harbor no regret.”
 
Well, that last bit was an obvious lie. That shameful feeling rose up again. It had been one thing, guessing how badly his actions would hurt Dorian. It was another entirely, knowing and feeling exactly what he’d felt in that moment. The weight of it on his mind was crushing and confusing. He couldn’t tell for certain where his own turmoil ended and Dorian’s began. Syriana had told him that the effect would wear off in a few days time. By the time the interstellar shift was complete, he’d be able to see things clearly again--she’d assured. He wasn’t counting on it.
 
The separators shifted and Becks entered. Apollo stood to leave. He nodded at Becks.

He stopped and turned, suddenly. “Torrin, consider my termination of your service, an official act as the rightful regent of Avanu.”

Torrin gaped at Apollo, his mind absolutely refusing to catch up. “Termination? You’re just--”

“Think about Becks’ offer.” Apollo cut him off abruptly. “She’s tricky but I trust her with my life.”

Becks frowned. “What makes you think that I--”

“Well, it’s obvious,” he murmured as he walked past her. “Isn’t it, General?”

Terminated? Just like that. What was it with these Avanus? Using people as they wished, twisting them around. Casting them aside in the absence of absolute obedience. He might have expected something like this from Rohan and certainly, those words coming from their father should have come as no surprise. He’d been foolish enough to think Dorian was different. Dorian... Torrin’s brow furrowed. Dorian--save for certain indulgences had behaved exactly like one might have expected of a contractor to a body-slave, had he not?

I just got carried away, didn’t I?
 
“I’ll tell you something about Apollo.” Becks' voice had his gaze shifting upward. “He’s never been much for throwing his political weight around. The man loves to meddle but he’s not an entirely thoughtless person.”
 
She was wearing a form fitting armour similar to Tatya’s, except hers was crimson with dark stripes down the sides.
 
“I’m not sure how I’m supposed to take relationship advice from one of the thirteen generals of the Nyacene.”
 
“Quick on the uptake, aren’t you?”
 
Torrin shrugged. “Or I just have a decent pair of ears.”
 
Becks grinned. “Or that.”
 
“I’ve had an endless parade of visitors today.” None of them had been Dorian though, he added silently. “What gives?”

He moved to sit up and was momentarily blinded by a swift shaft of pain that speared right between his eyes. “Don’t tell me nearly getting my brain turned to mush propelled me to instant popularity.”
 
“Actually,” she ventured. “I want you to join my regiment.”
 
Torrin blinked. “Say again?”
 
“I was watching when you sparred with Tatya. You’re a natural. We could have you--”
 
“You cannot be serious. What in the stars makes you think I could even become one of you?”
 
“That’s easy. You already are.” Her triumphant smile was both both hair-raising and bewildering. “Clever as you are, I thought you might have figured that bit out by now.”
 
Torrin regarded her uncertainly. “Can’t exactly say I have.”
 
“All Nyacene warriors share this one, special characteristic. We’re all survivors, Torrin--of worlds destroyed by the Var.”

There were over a hundred thousand of them. How many worlds had the Var destroyed already? Was it hundreds? Thousands. His mind was reeling. There was no way he could have imagined this, was there?

“Blows the mind,” he murmured.

Becks became restless. Was she getting impatient with him? She was pacing back and forth by his bedside, a subtle mess of caged energy. She stopped, tilted her head down at him and frowned. “It’s not like you have some other pressing obligation, anymore. Is it?”
 
His gut clenched. She was a brutal sort, wasn’t she? “Is that why he--aah!”

He suddenly threw up an arm to cover his eyes. The light pouring in from outside brightened until it became painfully blinding. Before he even had time to wonder what was happening, Becks bent over him. She was so close, her breath was hot on his cheek. Instinct made him push forward but she pressed her palms down on his chest forcefully, immobilizing him effectively.

“Be still!”

The building shuddered. The tremor was closely followed by the disconcertingly close boom of an explosion. Moments later, a massive shockwave sent equipment and everything that wasn’t bolted down flying. There was a scream. Torrin could hear people shouting outside. Were they under attack?

He tried to swallow down his panic. “What was that?”

Becks eased up and away. She didn’t answer, nor did she seem at all troubled by what had just happened. In fact, her excitement was palpable. She laughed as she walked away. The sound was low and smooth. Once again, Torrin found himself wondering about what Tatya had said about her. It was impossible to quite gauge what she might be thinking. The ambiguous guardian was even more of a mystery to him now. Her casually sage manner was disconcerting. It gave him the chills.

“Give it some thought, why don’t you? She stopped at the exit and turned. “Unless you really intend to be on the sidelines for all this.”

There was a disembodied and unmistakably female chuckle. “Don’t you think you should introduce yourself before you do any more touching?”

He pulled his hand away as if burned. “My mistake. I assumed this was...” When he turned around there was nobody there. He cast his eyes about searching. “Who said that?”

“Maybe you really are stupid.”

When he only frowned in confusion, there was a dramatic sigh. “Great hulking mass of metal, dead ahead. I’d be Pandora.”

Nikol’s mouth fell open. “A mind? A ship with a mind!”

He touched the hull again. He ran his fingers along the strange patterns. Again and again. “You’re a living legend! Do you know?” He murmured reverently. “How many historians would kill to be where I’m standing right now?”

“Are you trying to pick a fight with me?”

His fingers froze. “Sore topic?”

“Ask the idiot who left me languishing down here for centuries.” She answered dryly.

Nikol perked up. “Where might said idiot happen to be right now?”

There was a pause. “I’ll tell you but only if you promise to kindly remove him for a while.”

He nodded eagerly. “Consider me your humble servant.”

An opening appeared to the far left. “He’s in my control module making a nuisance of himself--and hiding from you,” she added meanly.

Nikol paused at the threshold. “Hiding. Why?”

“Why do you think?”

He boarded, looking around avidly. When he stopped to run his palm along another data console absently, Pandora finally gave in to her own curiosity.

“Do you do that a lot? Touch things compulsively.”

Nikol’s hand froze. He hesitated. “Sometimes I don’t realize... a childhood habit I’ve never been quite able to break,” he murmured. “Does it bother you?”

“I’m more curious about the fact that you seem to behave oddly, for a human.”

“What would you know about that?” Annoyance crept into his voice for the first time.

“Well, I was human once, you know.”

Nikol’s face was a comical mask of surprise. “But how...?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I’d like to hear it.”

Pandora laughed, “One of these days, maybe. Right now, I want you to take two steps to your left and stand completely still for a moment.” She marvelled when he complied without hesitation.  “Do you also have a strange tendency to always do as you’re told?”

“Huh?”

He frowned up at where her voice streamed out of speakers then yelped at the sudden, blinding flash of light and burst of electric energy that flooded his body. It only lasted for a fraction of a second but it made his bones hum and his hair stand on end.

“What the hell did you just do to me?”

“Only an imbecile would be so trusting.”

His narrow gaze slid sideways. “You know, you really didn’t strike me as such an evil sort,” he retorted. “My mistake.” He stalked down the next passageway grumbling.

“Relax, it was just a scan.”

He scowled.  “What for?”

“Oh, don’t be churlish. Turn left now, there’s a lift with access to the bridge. When exactly were you hardwired with a psionic inhibitor? I can’t imagine anyone would volunteer for something as horrendous as that.”

Nikol stepped on the lift, which was nothing more than a cylindrical tube wide enough for two people at the most.  There was an initial jerk but the motion was smooth afterward. For the first time since he set foot on the ship, his demeanor grew really serious. “You’re a clever one, aren’t you?”

“I’d like to think so.” She waited a few heartbeats. “Well?”

“It happened when I was a child, all right? I caused some... problems. It’s not exactly something I like to talk about.”

Pandora wasn’t quite satisfied though. “Why didn’t you have it removed when you became an adult?”

He smiled tightly. She was a persistent sort, wasn’t she? “It wouldn’t exactly be an asset in my line of work, would it?” He stared down a his open palm. “Just a little when I need it is enough, I think.”

“Yah,” the ship answered dryly. “And otherwise, Pras might have noticed that you’re an empath.”

He cringed as he stepped out of the lift. “Please don’t use that word.”

“Hmmm. I suppose I still don’t have my answer then.”

Nikol halted. “What else is there to ascertain?  You already figured out my Big Secret.”

“Oh that,” she chuckled. “No. What I was trying to determine was, Pras or you--who’s the bigger idiot?”

When he simply stood rooted to the spot, before the open entryway--completely dumbfounded, she snorted drolly. “Well, don’t just stand there. Pry him loose and be gone already!”

The interior of Pandora’s command module was surprisingly pristine, considering that she’d lain dormant beneath the earth for so many centuries. Nikol’s natural curiosity ran amok. The command terminal’s screen was filled with a myriad of symbols and glyphs, some language too old for him to recognize. Pandora’s technology was so different from anything he’d seen before. It was completely alien both in form and function; he could tell with just a glance. He had to rein himself in tightly, to keep from rushing this way and that examining everything. He’d made a deal and he wasn’t entirely confident that she wouldn’t flatten him if he reneged.

The immortal was kneeling over a jumbled mess of wiring. He’d tied his hair back with a loose strip of wire when it had started to become a bother. His profile was awash in pale blue light. He bent to examine a connection he’d just altered, completely absorbed in his task. He spoke companionably with Pandora, as though she weren’t pointedly ignoring him.

“If I can get the nodes here to cooperate, I think we could increase output of the Zyan crystals considerably. The raw material was a bit hard to find when we first came to the Outer territories, wasn’t it? It would be best if we could find a way to extend their life cycles--”

“Pras.” Nikol knelt beside him, saw the way he tensed and his busy fingers stilled suddenly.

He seemed so calm and collected, otherwise. It was somewhat irritating. Nikol’s fingers captured a few loose strands of dark, silky hair. He was immediately assaulted by a messy jangle of nerves that made even his stomach roll. His mouth tilted. The immortal had no idea how transparent he really was.

Pras set his equipment down carefully. He shot Nikol a rueful look. “The two of you became fast-friends, did you?”

Nikol considered the abrasive personality he’d just encountered.  “Friends?  I wouldn’t go that far,” he muttered, still smarting just a bit from her neatly aimed remark.

“Pandora let you on board without even telling me,” Pras mused.  “That’s unusual.”

“Seems we have a few things to discuss.” Nikol nodded towards the mess that Pras had made. “This can all wait a little while, can’t it?”

Pras glanced up towards Pandora’s sensor point uncertainly. The entry doors flew open, clear indication that he and Nikol were to leave. Immediately.

Nikol laughed. “I guess that’s decided then.”

As they took the access tube Nikol had utilized earlier to exit, Pras regarded him quietly. “You seem to be taking all of this rather well.”

Nikol suppressed a grin. “I seem to be, don’t I?”


Once back at ground level, Nikol led the way out to the garden that Pras had made. He made a beeline for the massive tree that dominated the otherwise sparse landscape. A glassy ocean of amber beckoned from a dizzying distance below the cliff side. He shuddered slightly. This place was doing strange things to his sense of equilibrium. It looked as if a particularly strong gust of wind was all that it would take to send him tumbling over the edge to a watery death, yet where he walked, the surface felt perfectly aligned. The hostile garden’s effect was purely psychological. No one who summoned the nerve to walk here would actually fall, he suddenly realized.

Nikol stepped carefully over the massive roots, came to a stop at the tree’s base. He ran his palm along the the knotted bark. It was warm to the touch, sturdy despite its age. He glanced back at Pras who had stopped short and was now staring at him oddly from a short distance up the incline.

His breath hitched. A very long time ago, Pras had felt the need to make this obscenely unwelcoming space. Save for the grass that carpeted the ground, he’d planted just a single tree in it. What had driven him to that? Had he manipulated the earth there at the edge into collapsing as well? This, Nikol realized was what made Pras truly dangerous. The man was completely ruled by his emotions, violent and creative alike.  Nikol took a deep breath and leaned back against the trunk. Despite it’s sheer beauty and vitality, there was something palpably tragic about it being so ageless and so isolated all at once.

“I’ve been wondering why you never attempted to control my thoughts and actions before yesterday.”  he commented. “Did it never cross your mind?”

At Pras suddenly stricken expression, Nikol laughed. “Seriously?”

Pras sat down a short distance away from where Nikol stood. “I’m not proud of deceiving you but you should know I’m not very sorry either.” A wind stirred up above the surface, whipping the water into froth. “It was fine, wasn’t it? The way things were. I realize it was an illusion but I liked knowing that you felt at ease in my presence. I preferred that you didn’t know enough about me to be wary. That you didn’t realize --”

“How dense do you think I am?” Nikol interjected incredulously.

He gestured grandly. “Have a look around.  Anyone with half a brain would wonder how you ended up living in place like this, all alone. You’re so out of place in this world. A grand city dominates the other continent but you’ve completely sealed yourself off from it.  You’re a strange man, Pras. I’ve never been unaware of that.”

Nikol sighed. He leaned against the massive branch, threw his head back. He brought one hand up, shielded his eyes against the glare of the sun. “You’re probably the shadiest person I’ve ever met.”

“Why in the stars did you keep coming back here, then? You knew I was hiding something but not once, did you ask what that was? Kindly explain that.”

“We were both content with things as they were. I saw no reason to --”

“Explain it to me!”

“Haah?” Nikol’s ire surged. “You were human once so you understand already, don’t you? What exactly are you demanding that I explain?”

Pras glared at him in consternation. His mouth opened, snapped shut after a moment. “I’m not entirely sure,” he muttered after a moment. “I have no clue what’s happening here!” he scowled.

This was going neither as well as he’d hoped or as badly as he’d feared. In fact, this whole conversation seemed to be going sideways. His eyes swung toward his companion and it occurred to him that for the first time that he could remember, he was alarmed--truly alarmed. Nikol’s attitude had knocked him completely off balance. How was that even possible?

The pilot studied his profile obliquely. “Maybe you have forgotten. You’re entitled to your secrets, Pras. Lies, secrets--we’re all brimming with them. Mine, I’m not inclined to share with anyone. Not even with you.”

Pras’ eyes narrowed into sharp little slits. A growl erupted in his throat.  Without thinking, he moved in the way of his kind. In a flash, he was right before Nikol, eyes glittery and terrible. His palm was pressed squarely in the middle on the pilot’s chest. With his back against the tree, Pras had him immobilized.

“What was that?”

He’d moved so fast, Nikol’s eyes hadn’t been able to keep up. Not only that, his whole countenance had changed, in the worst possible way. He felt Pras’ anger coming at him in sickening waves. His palm on his chest was oppressive and heavy, filled him with dread. He couldn’t seem to breath. His fingers curled around Pras’ hand.

“Back off,”  he uttered through gritted teeth, then a little more forcefully.  “Now!”

He’d summoned every bit of energy he had for that monumental attempt to overcome the inhibitor’s limitations, even in such a small way. Like always, he was going to have to pay for that dearly later. The first signs of a headache scratched at the insides of his skull. He breathed a little easier when Pras stumbled backwards frowning at him in consternation.

“You're far too accustomed to always having your way.” Nikol spat. “I am neither puppet nor acolyte. Acquaint yourself with that notion for a blasted change!”

It was strange enough that Nikol seemed to be in distress. Stranger yet, that Nikol was shouting at him now. Pras stared, confounded. Had Nikol forced his own will on him, moments ago? Pras frowned down at his hand. He really didn’t think he’d used that much force. Why was Nikol’s breathing so labored now? He rushed forward but stopped in his tracks when the pilot glared at him. His arms hung uselessly at his sides.

“I didn’t mean to be so rough,” he declared baldly. “Have your injuries not healed completely?”

“My injuries healed just fine,” Nikol griped, sinking tiredly to the ground. “It’s dealing with you that seems to be doing me in.” Nikol’s ire rose even as he spoke. “Being what you say you are--shouldn’t you have at least been able to discern that?

Pras frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Nikol fixed him a droll look. He really was an impossible sort, wasn’t he? “Give it some thought,” he muttered evenly. “I’m sure it’ll come to you eventually.”

When Pras stood abruptly, glaring down at him accusingly, Nikol sighed. “I didn’t set out to hide anything from you. Fact is, if you hadn’t been so busy trying to pretend you were someone else, you might have noticed already.”

He watched the immortal stalk away. Nikol closed his eyes and groaned as the throbbing in his head bloomed into full-fledged agony. “I didn’t realize that you were such an egotist, Pras. Why are so annoyed with me for doing the very same thing that you did?”

Nikol shuddered. His vision blurred as another wave of nausea hit. He clutched at the sides of his head with his hands. It has been such a long time since he’d made an attempt to forcibly overcome the inhibitor; something that was ill-advised at best. Well, the damage was done and now he had to pay the price. He reached inside his shirt, twisted the top off the metallic amulet that hung from his neck. He let one of the three remaining three medicinal ampules fall into his palm.

He toyed with his wrist console for a bit before removing two flat, iridescent discs from a small compartment. One, he pressed to the base of his neck, the other to his forehead between his eyes. He studied the readings on his console for a few seconds, before he opened a communication link to Pras’ ship.

“Pandora. I assume your scan earlier included detailed mapping of neocortical activity? Would you compare those results with the readings I’m transmitting now?” He murmured thoughtfully. “I usually have Dorian do this for me but my guess is, you should have some idea of what this entails.”

There was a pause. “Are you asking me to confirm signs of or to merely determine the extent of cellular deterioration?”

A shadow of a grin passed over his lips. She was a sharp one wasn’t she? “Extent.”

“I see...”

He closed his eyes and swallowed the bitter capsule. “I’m going to sleep for a little while. Could you be a gem and not mention this to Pras just yet?” He was already drifting away in the next instant and didn’t hear whether or not she answered.