"Porter, I think the tunnel's getting brighter."
Abriel hadn't been sure before; with so much darkness, it was difficult to tell. Now, her optic spheres were lightening, decreasing the resolution as the ambient light increased.
Porter stopped and cocked his head to the side. "Guess the trip is faster when you know where you're going."
Anticipation filled Abriel. Excitement, dread, and dozen other emotions threatened to strangle her on their way to the surface.
"It might take time for our eyes to adjust," Porter continued. "You have light in the Crescent, but sunlight is brighter, more intense. It's comparable to the hydroponics labs, but it's not like the vids. It has a warmth and almost a texture you have to experience for yourself."
Sunlight? A warmth and texture? Well, she'd know firsthand soon enough. In the meantime, she marched forward, trying not to rush him. Still, he rushed too. His pace increased from a walk to a solid trot. When he removed his optic spheres, she did the same, though she did have to reach up and flick his off—he kept forgetting to power-down. She blinked. It was brighter, and warmer. The air didn't hold the same coolness, and there was a humidity to it she'd only ever experienced in the hydroponics labs. And it smelled like flowers, and dirt, and nothing all at once—not like the filtered or recycled air she'd breathed all her life.
As the tunnel grew wider, the incline less steep, and the walls less damp, she found herself running. An opening appeared. It was so bright, it looked like a giant canvas vid screen—all white and without distinguishing features. Then she had to stop. It was too much. She caught herself on a rock outcrop, wincing. As much as she wished to charge out, she couldn't. Not the way her eyes burned and filled with tears. When the pain receded enough that it became bearable, she edged closer. The world through the opening looked less white and grew in detail and color. She paused again, waited. Moved closer. Waited. Edged closer still. Her hair was moving now, some unseen force having its way with it, bringing strands to tickle at her nose. Wind! Not air pushed by fans to ventilate tunnels or a gust whipped up because she was running. Real wind!
"Abriel?" Keko's sending resonated with concern. "If it's too painful, we can turn back."
"No way! Just stick with me, puppy."
"Always." She could feel him at her hip, brushing against her left side.
"Porter?" she called out, voice shaky. "You there?"
"I'm right here." His voice was close to her ear. "Try the optic spheres again. They might help you tone down the brightness."
"No. I want to see it with my own eyes."
Slowly, so slowly, the pain lessened and the images coalesced. She took another step forward. She could see trees now, and a sky. Lost ancestors, a sky! Blue! A blue like she'd never seen before. So deep and rich a blue, she was crying without even realizing because it was so impossible, so unlooked for, so...
She fell to her knees, overwhelmed by it all. "I can't..." Her breath caught. Words failed her. "It's too much!"
Porter fell with her. He touched her shoulder, brushed the hair back from her face, gazed down at her. "You can."
"Why didn't you warn me?" she whispered. "Why didn't you say it would be so..." Her voice cracked. "So...blue?"
He smiled and with ease, scooped her into his arms. "I'll take you the rest of the way."
"No, that's stupid. I can walk," she protested, pushing vainly against his shoulders.
"I don't care. I'm carrying you."
So he did, carrying her in his arms into a world of light and warmth and wind she would never have believed existed.
For long moments, she had to press her face into Porter's shoulder to shield her eyes. He said nothing, merely carried her in that steady grip.
After a time she realized with some surprise, "I'm hot."
"It's the scout leathers. Good for underground. Not good for summer."
"Summer."
Abriel tasted the word in her mouth, drawing out the syllables. For the first time in her life, the word 'summer' meant something. She pulled back from Porter, opened her eyes a crack. Less pain. More endurable. "You doing okay, Keko?"
His thoughts were little more than a grunt, so she settled back and focused on herself.
She opened her eyes and, "Fuck me Porter! You never said there would be two suns!"
Porter stumbled and dropped her, banging his knee on a raised stone. "Guess it never came up," he said, rubbing the knee.
She laughed. She couldn't help it. Even though she'd just been unceremoniously dumped on her ass, she'd never felt so good. Not just good. She felt giddy and silly and happy in a way she'd never known before. A moment later she sobered. "We'll need to find your friend now."
Porter nodded from where he sat on the ground beside her. "Yes. His name's Taveel. I don't have my micro-tablet to contact him and to my knowledge, there's no reason in the world for anyone to be looking in this direction via satellite linkup. We're still off the grid. " He looked at the digital timepiece on his wrist. "We're a few days early for the rendezvous. If we hike it straight down with minimal rest stops and forego a full campsite, I estimate we'll reach the bottom by this time tomorrow. Then we can head into Shamir."
"Sounds exhausting," came Keko's weary reply.
"Extra rubs for you when we get to the bottom, puppy," Abriel offered.
"In that case, what are we waiting for?"
After a grueling hike down the mountain, or rather, an oversized hill in the hot sun that left her sweating in her scout's leathers, they reached the bottom. Abriel sat on the ground, pulled off her boots, and striped off her leathers until she wore a sleeveless tank-top and briefs. She gave Keko his promised rubdown, paying special attention to his battered paws and dug into her field kit for antiseptic wipes, antibiotic cream, and a covering foam sealant spray that kept wounds clean. Next, she checked over her small personal arsenal—laser pistols still charged, all knives and pipe bombs accounted for. Water and food rations in good shape. She looked at her arms; was it just her, or did her skin look slightly pink? Was she burning? How odd.
She looked up from beside Keko. "Which direction is Shamir?"
Porter had removed his jacket and shirt sometime during her inspections and stood there bare-chested. Helpless, Abriel ogled the broad shoulders, flat stomach, and perfect abs. Lost ancestors, how pathetic to be drawn to such eye-candy! It wasn't like she hadn't seen the same before—scouts kept themselves in excellent physical condition. But with Porter, it just seemed like so much more. She was helpless to stop herself. The wrapping was very nice.
Porter swung his gaze back from the far horizon and looked at her. His gaze swept over her with focused intensity. Despite the heat, she shivered. Keko barked and Abriel shook herself, the spell broken.
"You're getting a sunburn," he said. "We'll get cream for that in Shamir."
So she wasn't the only one ogling. "While we search for Taveel?"
He nodded, already looking away and donning the discarded clothing. "Yes, while we search."
*
More hiking, except this time, they walked beside a gray-black flat surface Porter said was called a road. Along the road was more greenery growing in one place than she'd ever seen in her life. There was no careful tending of plants. No painstaking irrigation. Things grew without reason or place with a wildness she'd never imagined. To think all this lay above them, and they'd never known. She swallowed the rage as best she could. If she didn't keep a lid on it, she'd go berserk. There was no point in getting angry at Porter. She wondered if in the whole world if there was even a person alive at whom she could focus all her rage.
It was near dark when they reached Shamir. Second twilight, Porter called it. Of the town itself, Abriel got the impression of clustered buildings, a grid pattern of streets, dim lighting. She also had her first glimpse of other surface people—who looked disappointingly like Crescent people. Moleboys too, for that matter. She itched to turn on her optic spheres and take a good look at everything. Still, some things were obvious. The buildings with large windows where people sat inside at tables with dim and intimate lighting—those had to be taverns. The other buildings—single structure stand-alones—were houses. Or maybe, places of work.
"What's that high-pitched chirping noise?" she asked at one point.
"What? Oh, crickets," Porter said, sounding distracted as they wandered the sidewalks in a haphazard fashion.
"What's your plan for finding Taveel?"
"I could try scanning minds to discover if anyone's had any dealings with him," Keko offered. "Unfortunately, that could take forever. If people aren't thinking about him, I can't pick him up. Plus, my range is limited so I wouldn't know where to focus."
"Let's not get carried away," Porter said. He stretched and rubbed a hand across his face, scratching at the stubble. He looked tired. Abriel couldn't blame him. She felt the same exhaustion. Keko was also a tired, lumpy mess in her brain. "I already know where Taveel is. He's in the hotel room I booked for myself, probably spending my credits faster than I can replenish them. I'll head there shortly. First, I want to log into the light-web, catch up on the latest Hope City news, and find somewhere put you and Keko for the night—although, not necessarily in that order."
"I understand about half of what you're saying," she answered with her own yawn.
Porter laughed, before drawing her attention to a small building with numerous people streaming in and out—a marked contrast to the darkened intersection where they now stood. "Down there is the local light-web reader. Wait here while I check it out. I'd suggest you come with me, but it's best to keep Keko hidden and you look like a walking armory. I'm not sure which of you would scare the locals more."
"Very funny. Still, it makes sense, even if I don't like it."
So she and Keko waited in the shadows while Porter saunter down the street like he owned it and inserted himself into the crowd. She wasn't sure how long Porter was gone, perhaps a few minutes, when she felt a knife-sharp mental jolt. It sliced into her brain, cutting through the telepathic shields.
"It's Porter," Keko grunted. She could sense him fighting the emotional intrusion, forcing it from her head and back where it belonged. "His rage is overwhelming. The boy...It's not good."
Another slice of rage and pain hit her. It wanted to settle inside her skull and have her take ownership. Abriel winced as Keko fought to free her.
"It's too much. I can't hold everything back so you're not impacted," Keko sent, emitting high pitched whines while he fought.
Abriel braced herself. "Then don't. Let him through the shields. Let me understand what's happening."
Shields dropped like stones and dull emotion turned into raging thought.
"He's dead!" Porter's thoughts screamed at her. "Taveel's been murdered!"
His sheer rage forced her hands to her pistols, demanding she strike out. Shoot! Kill! Hurt! All those thoughts pounded at her, his fury making her senseless because it so matched what she'd felt all those weeks ago at the hydroponics lab when she'd learned what the moleboys had done to her father.
"Who did this?" she sent back, just as fiercely. "Tell me and I'll kill them for you."
The rage ended, leaving Abriel alone in her own head. She was sitting on her ass in the dirt, Keko huddled beside her. She felt so cold, she dropped her pistols and hugged herself.
"What just happened?" she sent to her shepherd.
Keko raised his head, gave up, and let it hit the ground again. "Porter's emotions. The boy is dead. They found his body in a trash dumpster, his neck broken. It's been ruled foul play, but they have no suspects. Porter received a confirmation via the Chatter that the petition for adoption was filed. He believes someone among the Progeny found out about the adoption and decided to put an end to the matter."
"Does he know who?"
"I don't know. His thoughts cut out before I could learn more."
The questions halted as she saw Porter stagger down the street toward them. Abriel jumped up and ran to him, catching him when it seemed he might fall.
"Porter!" she cried, trying to hold onto him. "What happened?"
Instead, he grabbed her by the shoulders, holding her away so he could look at her, shaking her a little with every word.
"You will not kill for me! Do you understand that? Taveel is dead, but killing doesn't make it better. That's not how the world works here. Tell me you understand that much!"
"I'm not some savage, Porter! Just tell me you're okay. That's all I care about!" she pleaded, hands plucking at him as she stared into his wild green eyes.
"I'm sorry. Stars, I'm so fucking sorry for dragging you into this. This is a mess." Porter shook himself like a wet shepherd, then let her go and rubbed his hands over his face. He swallowed and paced before her, running his hands violently through his blond hair.
"Just let me help you," she whispered. "Let me do something for you. Please."
When he stopped pacing, she wasn't sure if she was relieved or afraid. His eyes met hers in the darkness, and when he spoke, there was a dangerous hardness to his voice she'd never heard before. "We're going to Hope City. Now."
*
Abriel looked at the lowboy when Porter pulled up to the cluster of trees where she and Keko waited. The vehicle did not look safe. Too flimsy and sleek with its retractable wheels and one-way glass. Still, she got in and fastened the harness as instructed, even though it pinched her neck. Keko took the whole backseat, sprawling in the cramped space. Then Porter put the lowboy in gear—his words, not hers—and with the hum of engines and the rushing past of night-darkened scenery, she fell asleep.
And woke up in a bed, dressed in her undergarments, with sunlight streaming through a window over her skin. She remembered parking the lowboy, riding upwards in an elevator, and a few other hazy images as she stumbled behind him. Otherwise, nothing else stuck.
She sat up on the most comfortable mattress she'd every enjoyed in her life and looked about. White walls. White carpet on the floor. The furniture and fabrics all white and light-colors woods. Pistols? Bedside table. Leathers? Hanging on the door. Keko? Somewhere, but not close by. Neither was Porter. They were outside in a heavily wooded area, away from people. Keko was doing his business. She rolled off the bed—damn, it was soft—and hit the floor flat-footed.
She needed to find a lavatory. Plus she was hungry. What was the layout of Porter's quarters? She stepped into a narrow hallway where the same colorless palette continued, broken by a few pictures of brightly-colored geometric shapes on the wall. Definitely dull.
"Porter, where's the lavatory?" she sent. She caught a vague sounding, 'second door to the left'. Whatever he was doing, he seemed distracted. Keko, too.
'Second door to the left' turned out to be what she needed. More white inside as well. However the walls and floor were tiled, and there were heaps of clean towels on nearby shelves. In the corner, encased in frosted glass and looking big enough to fit several people, was a shower. The plumbing was different but after investigating the rotating dials and drains, it ultimately worked the same.
After the most luxurious and decadent experience of her life, where she didn't run out of hot water or use towels infested with shepherd fur that clung to her skin, she found a robe, belted it around her waist, and padded back to the kitchen. Again, more white. She poked through cupboards and the cooling unit but found nothing worth eating. Instead, she went back to her room and munched on her Crescent rations. As she ate, she plotted what to do next.
"Keko? Where are you?"
She caught an image—pure animal, all sensory images, no words. Sometimes she got that from Keko if he was distracted.
Warm. Sun on fur. Running. Claws in dirt. A scent. Sweet. Had to be followed. Want. Too much want. Pent up and overflowing want. Complicated by human thoughts.
She caught a clear image of Keko's actions and hastily broke contact.
Ah hell. Keko had found a bitch in heat.
He was outside now with Porter, in the wooded area. She caught his thrill at being outdoors, his pleasure at finding the female's scent, his instant arousal, the heated desire in the chase, and once he'd caught her—which wasn't difficult since he was bigger and more powerful than any other animal in the field—his waves of heated release. Abriel ran fingers through her towel-dried hair and groaned. Nice to know all species were compatible.
Time to distract herself, because Keko couldn't—or wouldn't—shield her.
Her room had a sliding door to the outside. Lost ancestors, she needed fresh air! Needed to shut Keko out, because it was triggering her own arousal. Damn, damn, damn! Why was he being so sloppy? With fumbling fingers, she fought with the lock and threw open the glass door. In her haste to get outside, she tangled herself in the sheer draperies and ripped them off the wall. It was all she could do to hold on to the robe and keep it closed.
Outside finally! She stood on a balcony. Wind whipped through her hair, sending the black strands every which way. With a gasp, she held the railing in a rigid grip, half afraid she might tumble over the side. So high! She nearly screamed at the height. Keko's arousal hit her again. She fought it back, concentrating on the scenery.
There were two suns, high overhead. And a moon. A tiny pink moon. The sky was that same impossible blue and there were puffy white clouds floating in it. How amazing to say the words she'd learned but never thought she'd use. Below was Hope City. It stretched out farther than she could imagine, hugging the shoreline of an enormous sparkling lake. Or was it an ocean? She felt tiny just looking at it. Over the whole city stood three large towers. She'd have to ask Porter what they were.
Porter. It was almost painful to think of him now. It wasn't so much the arousal. It was the want. Now she understood. Keko's want, his desires...They were just hers, repressed and reflected back at her.
As if she'd conjured him up, her bedroom door opened. Porter stood in the doorway and filled the space. Her throat went dry just looking.
He crossed the room, eyes tracking her. She watched him step around the bed, coming closer. Lost ancestors, why was she only wearing a robe? Shouldn't she say something to stop him? But she did nothing. Merely watched.
He paused in the glass doorframe, hands braced on either side. Wind caught his hair, teasing the blond strands. She pressed her back against the balcony railing. One hand gripped the metal rod, the other the collar of her robe. She wasn't sure which she held more fiercely.
"I took Keko for a run. He had a slight accident." His deep voice was husky and low, making things in Abriel's body tighten. "I thought it best to get back before he went too far around the bend. He's in the other room, sleeping it off, so to speak."
"Wise decision." She swallowed, and lost whatever brilliant thing she meant to say next.
"Mind if I join you out here?" Without waiting for a reply, he stepped out. He towered over her; she could have tucked her head under his chin. She took a long blink and a deep breath, then wished she hadn't. He smelled like pine, and leather, and the same soap from the shower. Before, it had just smelled clean. Now it smelled...Her stomach dropped and rose back up with dizzying speed.
"Like the view?" he asked.
What view? His nearness blocked everything. When she reached up to brush hair from her eyes, his hand was already doing it for her, tucking it behind her ear.
"It's lovely," she managed. "I want to see it all."
He smiled. Her stomach dove again. "You will."
"Keko...In the park..." she tried. Naturally, it wasn't coming out right. "He never loses control—"
"He did today." He moved in so close, she could only focus on his shirt buttons. His hands went to the balcony railing on either side of her waist, trapping her. She could feel the material of his trousers against her bare thighs.
"Well, yes," she whispered, flustered. "Sometimes he broadcasts things—"
"Stop talking about Keko."
Startled, her gaze shot to his face. His eyes were so green, and his cheeks with their perfect bone structure were flushed. The moment stretched and teetered. The wind mixed strands of her dark hair with his. She wanted to say something. Wanted to talk about Keko. Wanted to plot their next move in Hope City. Wanted...
Everything got lost as Porter raised her up until she stood on tiptoe, lips already half on hers. His hands ran through her damp hair and tipped her head back, forcing her to open further for him. Her own hands went to his arms to keep herself steady and she felt his muscles jump and bunch under her touch. Then he was taking her away from the balcony, back inside.
Somehow, the bed with its gorgeously soft mattress was beneath her. She sank into it, pulling him with her, afraid to let him go. He removed the useless robe, and his hands were on her skin. They moved over her until she writhed and arched, panting frantically. Hers were just as busy, yanking away his shirt to run over the muscles of his chest and stomach. She paused a moment—had to—just to admire the view. Then he slanted over her, pining her to the bed, so big, so solid, so real.
"I've wanted to touch you like this since...I don't know...I can't think of a time when I didn't want it," he murmured, breathing the words into her neck, shoulder, hair.
The idiot part of her brain blurted, "How do you know you're not just reacting to Keko?"
He pulled back a few scant inches so she could see his face. Even so, his hands were somehow on her breasts and his right knee between her thighs, goading her. "And how do you know he's not reacting to us? Have you thought about what this bond means? I have. I've thought about it so hard, I thought my head would explode. I want to explore what it could be."
A heartbeat later, a rush of emotion hit her as Keko's shields dissolved. It struck with the force of a pipe bomb, leveling her until she cried out. She felt the want again—consuming, lustful, greedy, must-have desire. But under it, a need to connect. A desperate longing to find that single one he knew had to be his.
"Porter, I'm not that person," she sent, her mind cresting into his. "How can I be when I'm angry and grieving for my father, and my whole life is a series of blundering mistakes?"
"You aren't a mistake. You have that same need I do. I know it's there. Just let it happen. Please. I don't think I can stop this from happening between us."
Some unknown coil in her body released itself, and she stopped thinking. Desire raged and left her both weak and hot. There wasn't time to touch and explore. Not now. Not when she had to have him. Had to. Now. Immediately.
With careless speed, he took her. Hard. Possessing. She hadn't thought him capable of such forcefulness and that alone brought her in a way none of her previous lovers had. She screamed. His mouth muffled it. All the while, with every thrust, his mind wove into hers, forging a link so bright and hot, she thought it would burn.
"You have to believe it matters. That it's more than want."
She came again. Riding the wave, she felt him break over her. His back arched and he cried out into her mouth. But what filled her, what carried her was his mind wrapped around hers, seared together, his thoughts, his self so part of her, she didn't know how to let him go.
"Porter," she whispered once he'd stilled, his body draped over hers like a shield. "Don't leave me."
He pressed a kiss to her eyes, her mouth. "I won't."
*
"This better be good," Meshodi said, sneering at the group. A posse of Izak and Aquila's men, plus the two head morons had gathered in the Swamp. With him was Lymin, and two others—Cis and Syd—a fourth gen legacy child brother-sister team who were the most reliable muscle in his paddock. Nadia wanted to be there too, but he wasn't sure he could keep her safe. Abriel might have culled the rabble, but even she couldn't keep all the frogs out of the pond.
Izak grinned, displaying a mouthful of stained and yellowed teeth. "Looks like I'm the one with the plan, Meshodi. I'm the one with inside guy. I'm the one—"
"Spill it, or do you want me to shoot it out of you? You called this meeting. Said we need the triumvirate or this wouldn't work. And now I have to listen to this varad shit and dance? We're leaving," Meshodi said, motioning to the three with him.
"This'll be good. I swear," Aquila assured him, making a placating gesture with his hands. He cast an angry, but unfocused look at Izak. "Tell him before it all gets fucked up. We'll never get another chance like this."
Izak looked like he wanted to shoot something. He picked a rock.
"At least he didn't whack one of his own people again," Lymin murmured at his left. "Maybe he's getting smarter."
"Or he has terrible aim." That from Cis.
"We've going to take the Crescent. Three days from now. We got a way in, but it needs all of us to work. My guy says no deal otherwise."
Meshodi raised an eyebrow, the one not scarred. "What, exactly, is supposed to happen?"
"There's gonna be a rally in the Crescent. My guy lets us into their big building—calls it the CAB. We wait for his signal, then come out and whack his enemies. He wants to use us like a hit squad. Says the scouts have folded since the old Captain died and needs us to clean up. In return, we get food, women, and embryos—all the things we need to break from the Crescent."
"We need our best fighters, best shots, best of everything. He'll supply the weapons. We do the job and get everything we need," Aquila finished in an excited rush.
"It's nice to know you boys were listening all those times I was lecturing. Guess something finally made it through the rock-candy," Meshodi said with an irritated drawl. "Did it occur to you this is a trap?"
To his surprise, Izak laughed. "He said you'd say that. Said you'd act like a scared little pussy, too afraid to take the prize he's offering."
"Prize? He's handing us the Crescent for the taking and you don't think it's strange?"
"He's not stupid. He just wants us out of the way. This works for both of us."
It sounded so logical, and yet, Meshodi couldn't accept it. "How long do you think these fabulous resources will last us? You know there'll be hoarding and wasting. People will die. If it's not managed properly, we'll be right back to where we are now."
"Isn't that just fucking like you, Meshodi? With your useless rules, making everyone do what you say. Know what I think? I think you're pissed because someone else is getting the glory."
"I think this is a lame-ass idea, full of holes," Meshodi growled.
"Yeah? And I think you got no ideas. My man said you'd be pissed cuz you lost your edge. You're old and slow. Said you picked a loser in the Crescent and it'd make you say and do stupid things because you're jealous you're not the one running things. Fuck me surprised, Meshodi. Are you jealous?"
"Don't fall for it," Lymin whispered. "You know it's all nastas shit."
Ah hell, the boy was right. So fucking right. He'd watched Braen beat Izak to a pulp in the Wet Grounds. Then Braen had let them blow up the Vault and ravage a portion of the Crescent. And now he was offering up the slaughter of his own people. It didn't make any sense. It had to be a trap. It was ridiculous and would get them all killed. He knew better. He should walk away. But in his own fucked up way, Izak was right. There were no more plans. He was out of ideas. He'd used all the cards up his sleeve, and maybe, this was as good as he could get. At the same time, rage filled him. Watching that grease-stain Izak laughing with all his stupid, fucking moronic followers, accusing him of being old, slow, and used-up when all he'd ever done was watch out for the welfare of all these ungrateful pricks while they fucked around at every turn...
"Fine. Tell me what we need to do to bring the Crescent to its knees."
"Meshodi." Lymin's voice was low with warning.
He rounded on him. "If you don't like it, then fucking go! I didn't realize being in the Vault had turned you into such a whiny bitch." He leaned in close, grabbing him by the leather vest and shook him. "Find Brighton. Warn her," he whispered. Aloud, "Run away like your useless mother. We need another bellyacher like we need a punch in the face. " And he pushed Lymin until the younger man staggered and lost his footing.
Lymin looked at him a long moment, angry and confused. Still, he nodded, even though Meshodi could see the boy didn't know what he was agreeing to. "Fine. I will."
He stormed from the Swamp while Meshodi turned back to lie in the bed he'd just made.
Lost ancestors, help the Crescent.