Chapter 40
Chapter forty
For hours now, the sound of other Calypsons filled Iax’s mind. Though it had been only days since he had left, the empty silence in his skull had made it seem longer. The first taste of others’ thoughts, the first whisper, had been as welcoming to him as Wynn Lambdin’s embrace.
Those who knew him well reached out in recognition. Then others, sampling that initial connection, had reached out too. The quiet murmur had grown.
Now the chatter crashed against his skull, filled his brain in an aching way, and he could no longer filter out individual voices.
A communal question rose above the rest, curiosity over Wynn and where she had been, and how she could live without coexisting mind-to-mind.
Tension crawled up Iax’s spine the more he listened and absorbed.
He had forgotten how loud it could become, a normal state of existence that no longer felt natural.
Layered on top of the noise, Wynn’s emotions pushed and pulled at him.
It eased the ache in his head and allowed him to focus on her, the volume of chatter turning into background noise.
And when he focused more, he could force that noise further out of his head, cloaking it—even when The Four reached out to him directly.
His full attention on Wynn, he tugged her closer. She fixed her gaze downward through the transparent construction of the corridor.
“It feels like I should be falling,” she murmured, her fingers flexing in his, then her gaze lifted, eyes full of questions.
Her curiosity pulsed at him and soothed his lingering restlessness. He focused on that, on the way she calmed him, and tucked her body under his arm.
“It is a grown material,” he explained, “organic, but also manufactured.” He inhaled deeply, relishing the thickness in the air.
She tipped her head to stare at him, her jaw slack, then blinked. “I’m going to need more explanation than that.”
He felt the corners of his mouth twitch. “You can receive all the answers you want later.” He rubbed his cheek against the top of her head, needing more contact with her body. She curved into him, and he breathed easier. “But first, we need to speak to The Four.”
They were the loudest voices in his head, and the ones who were most… discontented with his continued silence.
Wynn’s throat bobbed in a swallow as she stared up at him. After a long moment, she nodded, and he guided her forward.
The corridor curved upward in a spiral, then darkened as it integrated itself into the decks of the Calypso. Clumps of illumination hung from the overhead, glowing red to light the way. A few more steps and the solid construction of the Calypso’s hull surrounded them.
Wynn leaned her head against him, her arm wrapping around his back. “This is creeping me out. It’s too dark.” Her nervous energy fluctuated.
Iax pushed a thought through the constant babble in his head, and the luminosity in the corridor brightened.
She jerked against him. “Did you do that?” she asked in a whisper, her words echoing off the walls.
“In a manner of speaking,” he said with a small nod. “We all work together to accomplish tasks.”
“I’m not sure that explanation helped with the creepy factor,” she said, finishing with a stilted laugh that died as fast as it started.
They continued to walk upward. The deck curved gently, making it hard to see what lay ahead. He had never thought of it as creepy before this, but he could understand what she meant. He took a deep breath, reminding himself that this was his home, even if seen through new eyes.
“Why is it so quiet?” Wynn whispered. “You said that you missed the noise, but I hear nothing.”
He tipped his head. “For me, it is loud.”
She opened her mouth to say something, when her attention caught on a different sort of light glowing from ahead, chasing away the darkness.
They climbed the last section of the incline, this one steeper, and stepped onto the shiny deck of the original Calypso.
White light brightened the corridor, similar in design to Wynn’s outpost and the warship.
Calypson outgrowth poked through the metal composite in dark, thick bands, holding everything together.
It might have been the light, or the familiar corridors, but the farther they walked, the more Wynn’s shoulders relaxed. Her energy shifted, a nervousness still existing within her, but the frequency changed. And the more comfortable she became, the more he could accept the voices in his head.
She slowed her steps as they neared a door, then murmured, “Engineering,” as they passed the entrance.
“Yes,” he agreed. Though they had not used it for that function in over a century.
She licked lips, then smacked them together. “Why does the air taste like that?”
“Like what?” He mimicked her actions to better answer her question.
“I don’t know.” Her brow furrowed. “Thick. Wet. And some sort of flavor I can’t describe.”
He could not give her a simple answer to her question, so he said, “Perhaps because we have many lifeforms living together.”
She paused in her steps. “What do you mean by lifeforms?”
“Calypson adaptations, extensions, outgrowth.” He gestured to where the thick band of black came out of one section of bulkhead, and disappeared into another. “We have many forms.”
“Many forms,” she repeated, her frown deepening on her forehead. “Are you part of that wall?” She shook her head immediately after asking the question.
“In some manner, yes.” He knew it was not a sufficient response, but could not give her another at the moment.
If he could link their minds, he could explain their entire existence in a brief span of time. But being limited as they were, he felt his frustration mount at not having better words to give her.
“Sorry.” She huffed out a breath. “I think I’m asking too many questions.”
He squeezed her hand. “I do not believe there is such a thing as too many questions.”
“Oh, I know there is. I was definitely told to keep quiet when I was an annoying little kid.”
He tugged her forward. The insistent urging of The Four scratched at his mind the harder he tried to block it. But Wynn was more important than their impatience.
“I would like to see that,” he stated.
She lifted her chin to focus on him instead of the bulkheads. “What?”
“Your curiosity as a child.” He nodded for emphasis when her eyes widened. “I can imagine it being as captivating as your curiosity now.”
She pulled him to a stop, her cheeks brightening with color. “That’s a beautiful thing to say.”
Mesmerized by the emotions fluttering across her face, he said, “If it is beautiful, then it suits the person I’m speaking about.”
Her lips parted, and he could not stop himself from leaning down to steal a kiss from her lips. She sighed and curved into the action, her body aligning with his in a way that felt right. Her hands gripped the front of his shirt to pull him closer, and her softness pressed into him.
A moan emerged from the back of his throat. He deepened the kiss. They had spent many hours together, sharing their bodies, but it never seemed enough. He wanted more. His desire surged, and so did his need to bury himself in her body.
One step, then another, he urged her toward the bulkhead until he could lift her onto one of the dark arms of outgrowth. Her legs wrapped around his hips, and her fingers dug into the back of his scalp. He could not get close enough. Could not devour her enough to suit his rising urgency.
Wrapped up in their intimacy as he was, it took a moment for the shock to register. Not his shock, but others’. It was not the act itself that manifested this emotion in his fellow Calypsons, but the emotions inside him, his intense affection for Wynn, that he could not mask.
Reluctantly, Iax broke the kiss to press his forehead against hers. A deep breath calmed him, then he acknowledged the insistent presence of The Four.
They had been attempting to probe further into his mind since the cruiser had come into range.
He had answered their surface inquiries, but had closed a larger part of himself away from their prying—a task The Four seemed to accomplish without effort, but that strained the edges of his own mental abilities.
Even though he and Wynn were physically alone, he could not hide his actions from the rest of the Calypsons, nor mute his potent emotions.
And their horror reflected their inability to relate or understand his current state of being. Before he left, that would have been cause for change, to fix himself, to adapt, to adhere to the norm.
Right now, he found he did not care what they thought. Being with Wynn was more important than all of them put together.
And that might be the most shocking thing of all.
Her eyes searched his face, a new frown growing there.
“Come,” he said, lowering her to the deck with his hands on her hips. “We are almost there.” Their fingers entwined, he tugged her gently down the corridor.
He felt her eyes on him as they walked the rest of the way to the lift, felt her concern for him swell. He had not thought he outwardly revealed his growing sense of uncertainty as they traveled toward The Four, but she must have seen something for her nervousness to turn into worry for him.
Unable to resist, he tucked her under his arm and kissed the top of her head. She sighed, but her concern for him remained. Selfless. He did not think he had met another as empathetic as her, and it was doubly surprising when considering how and where her childhood started.
She had asked her questions, and they were warranted, but Wynn should have known these things all along. She should have grown up here as he had, despite being different. Or maybe even because of it.