"You cannot make melook bad," he said, quiet across the space between us.
"Apparently I can."I reached to pluck at the collar of my shirt, trying to get it to fall over the bare skin of my neck – and failing.I sighed, hauling it off again and digging around for a better base layer.At this rate, I'd need to live in conservative abayan undershirts.
"I can see why I should have explained thecaldathessearlier," said Araxis distantly as I rifled around for a specific shirt."But that ismyerror, Sashen.It is not yours.Although… I think your concern is less about fault and more about… understanding.It is important that you have control, and knowledge offers you that.It is empowering."He said it like it was somehow a confusing concept.
I paced out of the closet, new shirt in hand, making sure my face was still schooled to something bland and polite.But when I looked at him, I realized with a frisson ofsomethingthat he wasn't just looking at me: he wasstaringat the skin of my neck, but it definitely wasn't with regret or upset.
That stare was all hunger.
All at once, his eyes on me, his posture square and upright, I wanted him with a low, insistent pulse.My fingers tightened on the shirt bunched in my hand.I wanted to step across the space between us and take his face in my hands; I wanted to shove him on to our stupid bed and crawl on top of him and kiss him so thoroughly that we made up for all lost time.I felt the desire flare inside of me, hot and tight and intense, and I allowed myself one deep breath before I folded it away.
"The more you can tell me, the happier I'll be.For now, though, I thought I'd go clear my head.I won't be long.I know we have an early start tomorrow."I kept my voice perfectly even."I assume you don't need me for anything else tonight?"
I heard the second, unintended implication the moment I said it.Maybe it was there because he was looking at me with a simmering heat in his black eyes, and I felt it, alive in my body.
But Araxis only smiled carefully, spartan."Your time is your own.I will prepare a dossier for you with more information about the creches we are likely to interact with."
I tugged on the base layer, thin and breathable at least, and headed out into Sozamia Station.I'd gone running quite a few times in Verdant Ward: there were certainly plenty of avenues and boulevards and parks with winding, tidy paths to run through; it was boring, but boring was fine, especially when it gave me an excuse to get out of our bedroom and into some fresh air.Well, the fresh air was fake: it was all recycled, but it was nice to pretend.Probably my body wouldn't even know how to processrealfresh air.I quickly mapped a route in my mind, picking a few of the walkways that would be busier this time of night.I'd run through some residential areas before this late, and found them unsettling when they were empty.What kind of place didn't have nightlife on every corner?
As I took off toward a neighbourhood that would have a bit more activity, I let my thoughts drift ahead to tomorrow so that they didn't, instead, turn to Araxis.Tomorrow's early morning meeting was going to be pinged off deep space relays, which tried my patience at the best of times so I knew I needed to at leastattemptto get a good night's sleep.While that was more or less always out of my control, usually if I ran really hard beforehand, my body wouldn't be quite as traitorous.
Part of me wondered if the reason I hadn't had so many nightmares at the den was because I'd always tired my body out in other substantially more fun ways.Then again, no one had ever tried tomurderme there, so maybe that had something to do with having fewer nightmares.
I panted out a laugh as I threaded my way through one of the public gardens in Verdant Ward lit up by little mechanized insects that emitted gently shifting lights in blues and teals as they drifted overhead in time with the music that was being played by a live band.
Seeing as fucking was off the table, running would have to do.Although Araxis would probably be amenable.He'ddefinitelybe amenable.I slowed my pace, drifting to a walk as I turned on to a boulevard of pristine storefronts and restaurants, chewing on my lip.
I wasn't supposed to be thinking about him, but it was hard to resist.Hewas hard to resist, even when I was mad and hurt – maybe especially then.So before I could think about it too much, I called up my message interface.Do me a favour, I wrote.Tell me it's a bad idea to have sex with Araxis.
I was halfway down the boulevard, teeming with polite crowds at this time of night, when my wristband buzzed with a response.It's a bad idea!
I sighed, and then a second message followed on the tail of the first.Although it could also be a good idea.A life fully lived, etc etc?
You're no help at all, I sent to Valerie Prior.
What if, she proposed,you just made out a little.Some groping?You could take it slow!
I didn't think I'd be able to handle that, and I definitely didn't think it would do anything to take the edge off what I was feeling.I shoved my hand through my sweat-damp hair, pausing outside of a very orderly arcade – really, it barely counted as an arcade; it probably billed itself as acurated entertainment experience– where some floating screens were displaying the news to the crowds who wandered down the boulevard.
My wristband buzzed again.Also – glad you didn't get caught up in that mess in Radiant Ward.Yikes!
I frowned, tearing my stare away from the screens that were now broadcasting footage of a refinery somewhere that looked to be on fire.What do you mean?
Hang on.Her letters glowed green above my wrist, and I ducked off to the side and out of the way of the crowds, pulling up the collar of my high-necked shirt to swipe sweat away from my forehead.
A moment later, the rest of her message appeared.Yeah, just checked your station newsfeed.Looks like they suppressed the reports.I'll send some information along: there was a "riot" at the cultural centre and "agitators and malcontents" were arrested.You know when they call people 'malcontents,' they're one thousand percent full of shit.You were right to say the vibe was weird!Good call.See: a political science degree does not trump real world experience and gut instinct.
Something uneasy prickled up along my neck.I thought about the thronging crowd of abaya – crecheless – and the leader who'd travelled from Xitera to speak with them.I thought about how quick Elethenn had been to remove me from the centre, and how insistent Rodil was that we leave.It had been private.
I also knew a little about the working conditions of crecheless abaya.One of the arkathi we'd met from Creche Eshos had mentioned it and wondered if Creche Thiel would be interested in supporting a measure to introduce repatriation legislation.As it stands, the entinn had said,our crecheless kin are condemned to very difficult lives outside of Xitera.We are working with some other creches on a program that might allow them to apply to return in some capacity, so that at least they would fall under the protection of a creche.They are otherwise vulnerable to less respectable paths.Which had sounded a bit patronizing to me, but what did I know?Besides, I loved a less respectable path.
Still, there had been a lot of crecheless abaya at that gathering.I'dmeta lot of crecheless abaya.It wasn't an easy life: it wasn't easy for anyone who didn't have anything, not in Primus.There was a reason the Galactic Tournament of Superiority existed and it wasn't because people living normal lives were tempted by a battle cruiser.
Was that speaker – Nizanin, Rodil had said, and the faction was the Unbound – part of some sort of movement to organize crecheless abaya?
A file pinged on my wristband, and I downloaded it quickly, turning back toward the suite.This was probably the kind of thing I needed to tell Araxis.He didn't need to know I'dbeenthere, but if this was about what was happening right now in the empire, if this was about politics – and it had to be, even if I couldn't understand the exact shape – then he should know.At least I could do that much.
I thanked Val for the information and asked if she could send me anything else she found, before setting off again at a jog, picking my way back toward Creche Thiel.I read the article along the way, which was sparse on details – par for the course for anything about abaya – but heavy on implication: there'd been a speaker from Xitera, and while the article didn't say who or what they represented, they did describe Nizanin asradical; a crowd of abaya who lived on station were in attendance; guards had made a series of arrests to address the disorderly conduct and destruction of property and some subsequent acts of violence; they acted swiftly and decisively to end theriot.I thought of the crowd – quiet, attentive, controlled – and shook my head.Bullshit.
