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I figure it out and he opens his wings then encloses us with them. As he does, the light of the room is dimmed and just like that, we’re alone. I know, rationally, that we’re not alone. Of course, we’re not, but it feels alone. It feels like there’s only us.
And in each other we find solace.
I understand his pain on a fundamental level. None of us talks about the loss of the ship, which loss would be more than enough for any one person, but that’s not what we really lost. At least not all of it.
My friends. My family. I’ve had to assume they were all lost too. These people I crashed here with, these other survivors, I didn’t know them before we all ended up here. All my life, every person who mattered to me, is gone.
Here, in his arms, surrounded by the depths of his love, I can’t ignore it. It doesn’t matter that I don’t understand exactly what the lie is that has him so upset, because his pain is an echo of my own. The loss of everything. Everything you loved and everything you know, all gone in a moment.
He rests his head on top of mine then he kisses, kissing his way across the top of my head. I lean my head back and when our lips meet it’s even better than the last kiss. The shared loss connecting us enriches the experience. The love beating in my chest in time with my heart colors the kiss, giving it new and deeper meaning.
Our lips move against each other but that’s only physical. This is much more than that. I taste him, accept him, and I’m tasted and accepted in return. The kiss is a seal, a commitment, and an acceptance.
When we break apart, breathless, we stare into one another’s eyes, and I speak first this time.
“I love you,” I whisper because this is private. It’s too personal, too raw, and too new to shout it out loud, though my heart is singing, and I have a sensation that I could walk on air.
“My treasure,” he says, brushing a stray hair out of my face.
I nod and we kiss again. We kiss until the encroaching demands of time, and awareness of our situation, invade strongly enough to shorten the moment that neither of us ever want to end. He eases his grip and I drop from my toes back to flat on my feet. When he opens his wings the first thing I see is Charlie and Asia staring with wide eyes and broad grins.
“Sorry,” I say, cheeks flushing.
“It’s not like we all didn’t see this coming,” Asia says.
“But your timing could be better,” Charlie says.
I nod, too embarrassed to come up with any more of a response. Fortunately, the girls are not cruel. They each give me a quick hug then move on as if nothing untoward happened. Though Asia has a grin that won’t stop, and Charlie keeps glancing in my direction and smiles every time I see her do it.
“Now that all that is over,” Charlie says, “you mind telling us what this says?”
Bahr looks at the destroyed machine then over at the tubes, at the small bodies floating lifelessly. Only now do I look at the other two shapes. Those two are full grown Zmaj. Young looking, but I’m no judge of age for the aliens. None of the shapes are moving and I can’t tell if they’re alive or not.
Bahr growls, shakes his head and motions towards the tubes then drops his arm. I can only describe the look on his face as despair. It’s scary seeing him look like this and it makes my chest ache. I walk closer and put my arm around his waist. It’s all I have to offer, my support and my love, and it does seem to help. He stops growling and then bows his head as he wraps one arm around my shoulders.
“Experiments,” he says. “Unnatural, immoral, and wrong.”
A thundering slam hits the door we came through and the three of us humans jump. Bahr jumps to, but his jump is a spin during which he pulls his lochaber and lands in a partial crouch with the weapon held ready before him. The slam comes again.
They’ve found us.
5
BAHR
Fool!
I us into a trap. Let myself be distracted by the horrors in this room and now I do not know if there is another exit. The desk is holding the door closed for the moment, but it will not last long. The members of the Order do not know these experiments are happening which is our best hope. Kirmanda will not be able to rally the entire compound against us or his secrets will be exposed.
As I look around the room, trying to find another exit, my eyes drift over the tubes. The bijass surges at the sight. The unnaturalness of it, the absolute wrongness makes my scales itch and causes a pain inside my head.
How could he do this? Tajss is the only creator, the idea of manipulating life, of trying to change or alter what Tajss created is abhorrent. I knew Kirmanda was wrong, but this is insane. How long has he been doing this?
My thoughts turn to the younger members of the Order. Ones that were born after the Devastation, is that a lie too? Are they not born as we thought? Are they… no, the thought is too incredulous. It could not possibly be.
Jkaran. Zirthoan.
Could this explain, the two warriors closest to Kirmanda? All the brethren know that they are different than other Zmaj. Sadistic and twisted, lacking honor, but I always assumed it was a reaction to the Devastation.
