108. Chapter Eleven
Chapter Eleven
O ne month later…
Anya
“Can I tell you again what a terrible mistake I think you’re making?” Petra says as she works the blush brush a bit too vigorously. She’s the hair and makeup artist onboard, but I should have never asked for a makeover before we arrive on Numa.
“I heard you the first five times, Petra. I got it. You think it’s stupid for me to spend time with Rynn.”
“No. Not stupid. Dangerous. Dang-er-ous! Your love with Zar was epic. He’s gone. Just what do you think you can create with Rynn that won’t be a pale copy of what you had with your mate ? You’ll never get back the depth of emotion you had with Zar. Trying could destroy both you and the parasite.”
“He has a name. It’s Rynn. And we will never again be referring to him as a parasite, Petra. That’s just mean. He’s been onboard for two months. You should have gotten used to him by now.”
“I’m making a point,” she says brusquely, her lips formed into a pout as she applies eyeliner. “Why are you making yourself up like this? You never did before. Do you think you have to make yourself into something you’re not just so he’ll like you? If he’s not into you already, fuck him. You’re a wonderful, beautiful person.”
She steps back to admire her handiwork.
“You’re right,” I say. What was I thinking? Eyeliner? That’s so not me. “Wipe it off!”
“Not on your life, Miss Nash. You look mahvelous. Might as well keep it on.”
She tips the hand mirror toward me and I have to admit, I look great. You can hardly tell I was crying last night. I just scolded her for not getting over things, but I’m still mourning Zar.
“Are you ready, Anya?” I hear from down the hallway. It’s Zar’s voice, but of course it’s not Zar.
My heart flutters in my chest when he stands in the doorway. He’s never looked so Zar-like. Even Petra gasped.
He’s wearing the knee-high black boots, black leather kilt, and cross-body sash all the gladiators wear when we’re on-planet. He’s tall and strong and full of purpose.
When I had Shadow take him all of Zar’s clothes, I never imagined he’d wear this outfit. It even has the extra pocket-flap Dax added to the belt. It holds a small notebook and pen Zar used to write on when the mood struck.
“Rynn,” I say, to acknowledge his arrival as well as remind myself who resides behind his face.
“You look…” he says, then abruptly stops, obviously flustered.
“Beautiful?” Petra prompts.
“Painted.”
I laugh as my glance cuts to Petra, whose mouth quirks.
“This is what human females do when they want to look good for someone,” Petra informs him, her mouth pinched into a disapproving line.
“Well, Miss Anya, you’ve certainly succeeded. You look very good.” He nods happily.
“Just give me a minute. I’ll wipe it off.” I grab for a nearby towel.
He approaches me in two giant strides and pries the towel out of my hand.
“Petra is right, you’re beautiful. You don’t need to paint yourself for me, but the fact that you went to the trouble to do it makes me happy.”
He reaches for my hand, nods his thanks to Petra, and accompanies me to the gangway. We’re getting to know each other, and if this is any indication, he’s trying hard to make this comfortable. I squeeze his hand to let him know I appreciate it.
“I’ve rented us a hover,” I tell him. “Mind if I drive? I love it. I feel like I’m the star of a movie.”
“As you wish.”
Well, that’s a different movie, I think, remembering the line from the Princess Bride . I must have watched that movie a hundred times as a kid.
The rented hover is parked near our ship, and in a matter of moments, I’ve completed my pre-flight checklist, and we’re in the air.
“Numa’s a weird planet,” I explain, although why I bother, I don’t know. This male is the repository of all the information in the galaxy. “Invaders came to strip mine centuries ago. Half the planet is an ecological mess.”
I wave my hand at the view. Here near the docks, it’s a maze of crappy streets lined with crappy bars, casinos, and flesh palaces. In the distant vista, it’s brown, denuded soil as far as the eye can see.
“Luckily, the planet elders lobbied with the Federation leaders just in time to save the other half of the planet. It’s still lush and beautiful there. That’s where we’re headed.”
“How did you know I wouldn’t be interested in the…” He leans forward to get a good look down below. “Golden Pussy Saloon?”
I have to snatch a quick look at him to ensure he’s joking. He’s got a close-lipped smile on his face. It looks good on him, and not because it reminds me of Zar, because it doesn’t. Zar smiled wide with me, never trying to hide those fierce fangs. Rynn’s smile is a bit more subdued.
“I like when you joke with me, Rynn,” I tell him easily. This is what I’d envisioned when we struck our deal—an easy camaraderie. Well, I can’t lie, I’d also envisioned sex. But he was smart to put a prohibition on that. Once we break that barrier, it can’t be undone.
“I wasn’t joking,” he says with a straight face.
I don’t need to even look at him this time to know he is joking. I keep my eyes on the screens, but reach over to pat his knee. It’s as natural as breathing to touch him.
“Is this okay?” I ask as I pat him again.
“Yes. I told a joke—two of them. And you laughed—twice. This is fun.”
It’s like there’s a five-year-old in Zar’s body. Rynn is becoming a person rather than a Recepticon. I’m happy for him.
We travel in companionable silence for a while. The moment the horizon turns green, we both release a deep breath.
“I organized a tour of a drassah plantation. It’s the closest thing to Earth coffee we’ve found. I thought it would be fun to take the tour, then buy coffee for the ship.”
“Coffee?”
“Oh, buddy, you’re going to love it. It’s delish.”
I feel my cheeks pinken when I remember our little discussion weeks ago when he admitted to tasting his own sperm because he had to explain why he thought our taste buds were different.
“I’ve discovered,” he says as he lays his hand ever so lightly on top of my hand that’s still resting on his thigh above his knee, “that our tastes are pretty similar with only one exception.”
We both laugh. He just found a tasteful way to banish the elephant in the room.
He’s not Zar, I remind myself. Zar is gone. But Rynn is a nice male with a developing sense of humor and a good heart.
“Tell me the nicest thing you’ve ever done,” I say. I want to get to know him, and we still have an hour’s hover drive.
He thinks for longer than I anticipated. When I pull my gaze from the screens, he looks deflated.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t think I’ve done many nice things,” he admits, his mouth turned down at the corners, his brow furrowed. “I’ve been so consumed with my mission that I allowed my relationships to wither. I thought the good I was doing for the galaxy at large precluded a need to nurture my connections with others.”
He turns to me and pauses until I look at him. His expression is so earnest, his face is open and sincere. “I want to change that, Anya. I want to have friends and connections. I want people to care whether I live or die.”
“That’s what I want for you, too,” I say. I can’t stop my hand from cupping his furred cheek. My touch surprises him, but it’s clear he wants it. He leans into my palm and nuzzles me.
He’s lived a long life, but I realize now how utterly alone he’s been. I’ve felt guilty since we came up with our interesting truce, our plan to spend three months getting to know each other. I figured the gain would be one-sided. But now I realize it’s not. No matter how this turns out, he’s going to benefit, too. He’s going to learn who he is. And when all is said and done, he’s going to have some friends.
“So, I’ve got an answer to my question,” I tell him sincerely, then swing my gaze out the front window.
“You’re going to tell me the nicest thing you’ve ever done?” he asks.
“Nope. I’m going to tell you the nicest thing you’ve ever done.”
He lifts an eyebrow, then waits.
“You decided thousands of years ago to become a Recepticon, right?”
“Yes.”
“If you hadn’t done that, what would your life have been like?”
“We, my people, the Arclites, we live forever. Or we can, if we choose to. We’re lighter than air. We fly and play all day. We can go anywhere with just a thought. I could have visited every planet and every shrine. I would have stayed in my gaseous form and been in my pod for my whole life.”
“Pod?”
“Yes. Because we live forever, we aren’t born in the sense you understand. Our family units are by proximity, not genetics, like solid beings such as yourself. We have pods. We keep relationships with our pod-mates our entire lives. We love each other. There is no war, no fighting, no want. We have no needs. We’re perpetually happy.”
He looks wistful, with a pensive smile and a far-off look.
“So instead of perpetual bliss and an unending lifetime of close relationships with your podmates, young Rynn chose to reject all that. He signed on for a lifetime of hard work that was so relentless he never got a break. Always in search of knowledge, he had a series of bodies he had to live in rather than the ethereal joy of formlessness. Those lives were spent without friendships or family. All so he could be in service to the galaxy. Um, yeah, I guess it’s impossible to figure out the nicest thing you’ve ever done.” I scowl playfully at him.
“I guess if you put it like that… I did something good.”
“And the Council didn’t know it, perhaps you still don’t believe it, but they gave you a reprieve. They commuted your sentence. You get to live now. You get to develop friendships and relationships and find another purpose.”
I get serious for a moment because I’m so caught up in imagining the life he rejected. The formless existence of pure, continuous bliss.
“And Rynn, if this doesn’t work out…” I point between him and me, “you’re going to find love. You deserve it.”
Rynn
It sounds believable when she says it. It resonates deep within me. Do I? Do I really deserve love? Due to circumstances beyond my control, I failed my mission to the Symbiont Council. But I can use all that information stored in my head for something good. I just need to figure out how to do that.
Knowing all the information in the galaxy means my mind is filled with many things. I have pictures of the wonders of a hundred planets, as well as the best art of the galaxy. I have compiled millions of anecdotes of people helping each other, caring for each other, loving each other.
Sadly, though, for every piece of knowledge I carry that extols the kindness of people’s nature, I have a hundred of how people are callous and abusive to each other. I have exabytes of information on wars, killing, mutilation, rape, pillaging, and razing cities to the ground.
People can be monsters.
How lucky I’m sitting so close to Anya. She’s a good person. Although everyone on the Fool’s Errand might wish I were dead and their captain was still alive, they’ve all been kind to me. I’ve been learning from them. I’m going to be a better person.
I glance at Anya, and for the hundredth time I realize how beautiful she is. I vow that no matter if this works out between us or not, I’m going to make her life better. I can’t bring Zar back, but I can help her during this transition. I can help her through her loss.
Squeezing her hand, I look out the front screen and notice how magnificent this side of the planet is. It’s lush and green, filled with plants with huge leaves.
“I want to taste drassah ,” I tell her. I want to taste… life.