Riina wanted to ask the usual questions, where, why, how, what the freaking heck—that Earth phrase felt right for the occasion.
She didn’t.
The large avian’s head tipped the other direction. Its wings shifted, lifting just a bit before settling down again.
And finally, it made a small sound.
Riina, Tim was somewhat relieved to realize, was staying calm. He could only be somewhat relieved because he expected the avian to attack at any moment.
He was not happy that the stowaway bird called T’Korrin was trying to communicate with the large avian.
It could fly away if it went wrong.
Still, the large avian hadn’t attacked yet.
Yet.
He had inputs. He had sensors. He should have known where everyone was—friend and foe—and what was happening around him. Perhaps it was a function of being human that he was so hyper focused on the big bird and unable to process anything else.
It was somewhat comforting to feel Riina pressed against his back. If he was going to die—he found himself unable to complete the thought. He didn’t want her to die, too, even though he also didn’t want to die alone.
He wanted…he wanted them both to live. To walk away together from this. But if they were to die, he needed to tell her…
“Rinna.” Somehow he managed to secure a private connection with her, despite his frozen inputs and outputs.
“Yes.”
“I, you need to know,” he had to swallow. Curse his human throat, his human brain that struggled to find the correct words, if that were possible.
“Yes?” Her voice was gentle.
There was no way for him to truly feel her through their suits, but he was still sure that somehow she’d softened and pressed closer.
“I do not understand all the words or feelings, but I believe, based on what I have seen with the others, that I…” for a moment the word caught in his throat. He forced it out. She deserved it. “I love you. I believe I love you.”
“Oh, Tim.”
The softness in her voice, the happiness closed his throat with something thick. How could she sound happy in their current situation?
“I love you, too.”
The surge of joy caught him by surprise. So that was how it worked. They were going to die. Probably. And they were happy.
“I wish…” He wished he could turn around and take her in his arms.
“I know,” she said. Her hands left his shoulders and slid around his waist.
His suit registered contact the length of his back and legs. His body registered, well, something else.
She loved him. He didn’t want to die, but at least he could die happy. Yes, it was happy, though strange and unfamiliar to one who had been content to be free. He’d thought it was enough. He was glad he’d had the chance to feel this before he died.
And he wished one of them spoke avian.
T’Korrin hopped off his shoulder and trotted over to the big avian, passing under its formidable beak without problem. He reached the big bird’s leg and Tim realized, for the first time, that it had an electronic device circling its beefy leg.
T’Korrin tapped it, then looked back at Tim and chirped at him, its head angling as if to say, “Come get this off.”
“Tim,” Rinna’s voice held a warning note.
