Chapter 8 #4
Araxis's eyes fluttered open and he leaned away.
I had a moment to regret my stupid mouth before he shifted so that he might take my hands in his, his grip firm and certain.
When I looked at him, his eyes had lost their half-lidded weariness; they were, instead, bright and clear, as if he'd forced himself to be fully present here in this moment with me.
"I know, Sashen," he said gently. "Vivith continues to find it implausible not because of you, but because of how well they know me.
Or how well they believe that they know me.
" His mouth curved in a sad smile and he shrugged one shoulder, trying for ease and failing.
"They seem incapable of understanding that it is possible for you to hold genuine affection for me, given all that I have done and – the way that I am. "
I tried not to stiffen. "What do you mean, the way that you are?"
Some of the weariness returned to his features, and Araxis sighed, soft. "They find it easy to enumerate my flaws, which seem to grow by the day. But it is not worth speaking aloud."
I thought I knew the rest though. "I like how you are," I murmured.
As he held my hands in his own, as he looked at me, exhausted but assuring, I realized that what I wanted, just then, was to lean forward and press my mouth to his.
I didn't want it in the way I had when I'd shoved him against the wall – I wanted to kiss him gently.
To feel him against me, to hold him with tenderness and gratitude.
He'd walked into that meeting room this morning, entirely confident in me.
He trusted me implicitly, completely. He had on the ship before the Tournament, trusting me with the truth of who he was if not the circumstances that had brought us together.
And he trusted me now, I was sure: enough to share anything I asked for with me.
The only difference was that now I knew a hell of a lot more – and now, I was breaking that trust. Although I wasn't telling anyone anything about Araxis or Creche Thiel so maybe I wasn't. But even if that was the case, I couldn't kiss him, no matter how badly I wanted to – not yet anyway.
Araxis dipped his head, looking down at where our hands were joined, as if I'd become impossible to look at directly.
His fingers squeezed mine before he released my hands and finished his cup of tea, setting it neatly back on the table.
He seemed to pull himself together, drawing himself upright, piece by piece.
"I have a meeting in Ballast Ward shortly with a weapons provisioner," said Araxis, glancing down at his wristband.
"I'd intended for Vivith to go. We were meant to have a preliminary meeting with Creche Sanketh, but they've cancelled.
Just as well: I cannot be in both places at once.
I wondered if you might care to join me? "
I frowned. "Shouldn't you sleep?"
He fluted out a breath, somewhere on its way to a trill. "Should I? Yes. Will I? No. It's fine: I will be able to go to bed in –" He glanced at his wristband and grimaced. "Perhaps twelve hours. At worst fifteen. That is assuming nothing else unexpected happens."
Unexpected things always happened; it was why our display panel was shimmering at all hours of the day and night. "I'll make you a deal. I'll go with you to Ballast Ward to look at – what, swords?"
"Blast rifles and arc lances," he supplied. "There are some interesting plasma weapons on offer as well."
Cool. "To look at guns, but I want you in bed in exactly twelve hours and you're not allowed to have your wristband with you."
"Yes," Araxis intoned, pushing himself up and swaying slightly on his feet.
"You have told me before, Sashen: you only wish to have things buzzing in bed if they are fun.
Provisioning is not fun. Nor is – fielding follow up questions from abayan media broadcasters.
" He stopped, hissed something under his breath, and then sighed.
"I will have to write a statement while we're on the ward shuttle.
And send it off. First to Yarix News, then perhaps to Ankalnath Broadcast, then… "
He continued to mutter to himself, his to-do list growing longer by the second, as he stepped into the hygiene room to shower and get changed.
I took the time to finish the practice sheets Inmadra had waiting for me and to mentally bemoan the fact that I was going to miss out on even my own make-up training session.
Tam was going to absolutely murder me when I next made it down to Radiant Ward – my punishment for a schedule that I'd filled past the point of overflowing.
Araxis was absorbed in drafting the statement for abayan broadcasters in the shuttle that zipped us around the outer hull of Sozamia Station to the inter-ward port at Ballast Ward.
I waited until he was done with the first draft and our shuttle was hovering in the queue spiralling its way around the station before I asked, "So how's Egnax? "
He shot me a wry look. "Irritable. She does not care to have others working on her ship, and she suspects sabotage at every turn.
I have told her that if the Concord wishes to move against us, they will think of a much more clever way than installing substandard couplings or inefficient momentum coils, but she remains skeptical.
I am happy to do as she demands." He paused, tapping the interface on his wristband off and turning to look at me.
"The retrofit is proceeding nicely. We're on schedule to leave for Xitera in another four weeks. "
That was good, although I hated the idea of burning through the Maelstrom. Securing a pilot had been the first major obstacle the creche faced when we arrived, and Vivith and Araxis had made a very complex agreement with Creche Arvas to make it work. Although –
"Vivith said Creche Arvas is, uh, particularly upset. Did that fuck us over with the pilot?"
For a moment, Araxis frowned, appearing to consider it, then he waved an elegant hand.
"Ah, no, I do not think so. They may not agree with our politics, but the negotiations were decidedly in their favour.
Vadan –" the antali who'd done most of the negotiating – "is many things, but he is not rash.
Creche Arvas will expect us to be, hm, unconventional and disruptive.
They will have already considered that in the negotiations, which is why the price we paid was steep.
But it is better to pay a steep price than to owe rich favours. "
I'd have to take his word for it, and I guessed if the pilot did fall through, we'd find out sooner rather than later.
We docked and Araxis arranged for a ward transport for us so that we could bypass some of the traffic: Ballast Ward was a utilitarian, cavernous ward with very little in the way of housing, primarily used for shipping, receiving, and trading in massive volumes, which meant that we weren't liable to be accosted by well-intentioned fans, but we were likely to get stuck behind a hovercart that had tried to go under an archway too short for its cargo.
The provisioner we visited was a sephear in impressive power armour who introduced herself eagerly, eyes lighting up the moment they settled on me.
Her pink skin glistened with amphibian mucous, mandibles flaring wide in her approximation of a friendly smile.
"You were my daughter's favourite," she whispered as Araxis reviewed the list she'd compiled of the various weapons we'd be taking back to Xitera with some suggested additions she was certain would sell well.
"Oh?" I asked and the provisioner hastily pulled up a picture of a yellow sephear child, her eyes massive in her little head, fronds still coming in at the back of her oblong skull. She flicked through several photos before settling on a picture of the same child standing in front of a wall of –
I stopped, squinting. "Is that – me?"
"Yes!" gurgled the provisioner happily. "She has had many pictures of you printed.
They make up an entire wall of her room.
And look –" She pinched the photograph to make it bigger, to show me the sword the child – who couldn't be bigger than Adrathi – was holding at her side.
The child's face was cast in a serious expression, wide-eyed and determined.
"Doshyn insists that she would have kept you safe.
She does know more about weapons than your average pre-adolescent, but I think she overestimates her abilities.
" She chortled indulgently, and flashed the photo off.
I tried very hard not to let my instinctive reaction – which was horror that a child had a) made a shrine to me, and b) fantasized about joining the Tournament so she could protect me – show on my face, so I plastered it over with a smile. "Would you like me to sign something for her?"
After I'd scrawled my name on one of the drawings that the provisioner had pinned up in her office, ignoring the way Araxis kept having to smother a pleased smile as he watched the interaction unfold, he stepped aside with the sephear to finalize the paperwork and arrange delivery to our Ballast Ward warehouse.
I wandered around the front rooms of the warehouse, which mostly consisted of displays of different types of weapons that could be imported from various wings of Primus space.
A series of gleaming arc lances caught my eye.
They were tucked away safely behind crystal clear polymer, their angular and dark outlines somehow appealing.
Arc lances always featured on broadcast during deep space firefights: unlike projectile weapons, which could be dangerous on a ship, arc lances used a core that created bursts of deadly light and energy.