Waking Dream

by Viola Grace

  He chuckled. “We have a lift.”

  He stroked the column that ran through the centre of the stairs and a doorway opened. “For occasions such as this.”

  She grumbled and stomped past him.

  He pressed the floor number, and they were silently whisked to their floor. She muttered to herself and palmed open her door.

  Peeling her way out of the suit was awkward, but she stumbled naked into the lav and stood under the hot spray with a sigh of relief. Once her muscles were loose, she used the coldest water she could stand to reduce the bruising.

  With her limbs shaking but a slightly improved ease of movement, she took a look in the mirror and admired the bruises on her ribcage and thighs. She twisted and admired the blackish blue on her shoulder blade, her twisting pattern of veins deep beneath her skin made the tissue stand out in reverse on the bruise itself.

  She grimaced and headed back into the bedroom, seeking something else to wear that wasn’t coated in sweat.

  The wardrobe yielded a generic bodysuit and deep amethyst robes. The suit was a close-enough fit, and she enjoyed twirling with the robes on, watching the fabric flare and twist as she spun. Of course, then, she turned the wrong way and limped over to the bed.

  She looked across the room and saw the com unit. Groaning, she dragged herself over and keyed in the code for the Kwinto platform.

  Seeing her cousin’s face and then speaking to her grandfather made her feel better. He laughed at her explanation of the testing she had just undergone. “I am surprised that he got the better of you, dumpling.”

  “He is very good.”

  “And your new partner, how is he?” The calculating gleam in Vecho’s eyes was unmistakable.

  “He is very concerned for my wellbeing but equally willing to watch me get my ass handed to me, so he will let me stand on my own without hovering. I think we will work very well together.” She smiled and wrinkled her nose at him.

  “I think so too. I have the list of baby names your great-grandmother left for you, I mean, just in case.”

  She laughed. “Let’s let me learn his full name before we go on planning offspring.”

  Vecho shrugged. “It will happen. She has not been wrong yet. When I read what my children were to be called, I was surprised, I had always thought to have a big family. Two sons were all that was listed and that is all that I had. They both did me proud, and I love all the grandchildren that they provided. When you are ready, your file is here. Be safe, be warm and keep breathing.”

  She echoed the traditional farewell of the platforms and disconnected the call.

  “How long were you listening, Burin?”

  “Deskillian Burin of the Wyoran trading families. Third son, twelfth grandson, only boys in my family it seems. Now, what file?”

  She chuckled. “I did tell you that one of my great-grandmothers was a seer. She wrote down the names of all the family children for generations. I have a file with the name of my children, if I am to have any. Given my grandfather’s comments, there are actual names on that list.”

  She rubbed the back of her neck. “I actually thought that it would be a blank slate.”

  He grinned. “Does it list the father?”

  She shook her head. “It does not, at least not that I know of. No one sees the list but the person who is about to have a child.”

  She got to her feet and walked up to him, slowly and carefully. “So, Deskillian, huh? Fancy name.”

  “Family name. I am told it goes back nine generations.”

  “I think I need a cup of caf and a comfortable place to sit. Possibly a visit to the healers.”

  He was at her side immediately. “Are you badly damaged?”

  “I should have waited for the armour. My circulatory system makes me much more prone to subsurface bleeding. Yes, I think the healers first is a good idea.”

  He wrapped an arm around her waist and helped her back into the lift. Her vision was blurring intermittently, and she was more dead weight than companion when he made it to the medical area.

  She was scanned and two contact healers grabbed her hands, working in tandem to stop the bleeding. She tried to allay Burin’s concern. “Prishkin veins. They look neat, but they are very inconvenient at times. Don’t tell Tero. I don’t want him to feel bad.”

  After the first round of treatment, they stripped her so they could monitor and focus the healing. One of the healers politely put a drape across her breasts and another across her hips. It was fine until she had to turn and they gasped at the damage.

  “Sorry for this extra work, healers.” She twisted her lips and breathed through the pain of the healing.

  “Don’t worry about it, Specialist Kwinto. It is a pleasure to work on a Prishkin. You don’t see this kind of biology much.”

  Laughing, she buried her head in the pillows. She was a learning experience. Lovely.

  “Enjoy the moment, healers. I am not letting Tero get me on my ass again.” She smirked.

  “You went up against Tero and this was all the damage you have?” The healer on the left who was working on her shoulder whistled softly.

  “It was a skills assessment.”

  Burin’s voice broke in, “She lasted forty-five minutes and walked out.”

  The healers spoke excitedly and continued on until her body was clear of damage. They helped her ease back into her suit, and once she was robed again, she bowed her thanks. “That is going to help me get some rest tonight.”

  Burin laughed as the healers discussed and made notes on their data tablets, ignoring their healed patient. The dining hall waited.

  Chapter Ten

  The next day was taken up by auditing courses given at the Citadel. She acknowledged that she did seem to have most of the characteristics of a hunter. She may as well take in a few courses on legal procedures.

  Burin had to teach, and his class was about supplementing a talent for tracking with all the technology available. The different everyday medical scanners that each shuttle carried could be wired into the long-range scanners to seek out floating pods with missing personnel.

  He was a good instructor, and from her position in back, she could still see the expressive features that gave life to his topic.

  The following day, she retrieved her armoured suit from Hydel and proved to him that she knew how to turn the nodes on and off that he had wired in. She could leave her body like normal if the suit was passive, but when she activated anyone of the twelve nodes he had installed, the rest of the suit was activated, and she was locked in her form.

  “The nodes are set up so that if someone is using your suit to confine you, you can still turn the suit off on your own with deliberate pressure. This is not a prison, it is a tool.” Hydel was very proud of himself.

  She twisted and moved in the suit, pleased with the mobility. She jumped in surprise when she felt an impact near her waist, and there stood Hydel with his blade broken against her suit.

  He grinned. “It gives out contrasting harmonics that shatter a piece of metal. I just thought of it yesterday.”

  Delighted, Wiyra hugged him and was treated to a hug in return. He let go, flustered and said, “It is also wired into your com system, so once you set your frequency, you can be located within ten thousand kilometres of your shuttle.”

  “Thank you, Hydel. It feels wonderful.”

  “It should. It is fully insulated, has a water recycler and will keep your body warm when you are not in it.”

  “All this and safety too? You are truly a master craftsman.”

  “Thank you. It is nice to be appreciated. I grow all these suits from scratch, so incorporating the armour and wiring is the most complicated part of the procedure.”

  “You grow these suits?”

  “Each Citadel has their own secrets. I am the secret of Citadel Reevish.” Hydel smiled shyly.

  “You are an excellent secret. I promise to report to you every adventure that your suit has.”

&nbs
p; “It is your suit now, Wiyra.”

  “It will always be your suit, Hydel. Now, I must meet Burin for lunch. He had a tricky class today, so I have to be on my way. Thank you again, Hydel.”

  She waved farewell and sprinted back to the Citadel with her old suit wadded up under one arm.

  Burin met her in the courtyard. “We have an assignment, Wiyra.”

  She blinked. “So soon?”

  “Apparently, the place we are going does not enjoy alien visitations, but they need help finding someone. They fear that they won’t locate them in time to stop them from suffocating.”

  She nodded. “Of course. To the shuttle.”

  He looked delighted. “To the shuttle.”

  She opened the door and watched the sand of the beach that she knew only in her memory as the surrounding coastline framed it. Burin had seen the tracks left by the lost couple, and he had given her the information she needed to find them. The urge to look at the embankment that framed her parent’s photo with her own eyes had been irresistible.

  “Back away from the door, Wiyra. There is a bit of a wind kicking up.”

  His words followed her as she pitched out the door as the shuttle wobbled. It was a fifteen-foot fall to the cliff, and she thudded to the sand with a complete lack of grace.

  “Ow.” She waved at the shuttle then used the com. “I am fine, Burin.”

  “Good. Now, go find those missing people. The entry is up and to the left.”

  She slogged to the door in the cliff face and pressed the code. As the door slid upward, she beckoned the couple inside to emerge. “Get out of there.”

  The couple ran forward, and their clasped hands led to forearms with the same vines and scripts that marked Wiyra.

  “Burin, we have a problem.”

  “What is it? They are free.”

  “Yeah, but they are Prishkin, and unless I miss my guess, I just stuck my foot in the temple of the gods. That isn’t allowed.” She sighed. “Park somewhere safe while I deal with the elders.”

  The couple was pale and shivering, blubbering gratefully at her as she walked them up the beach to the path that was so often in her field of vision. Her parents had been here at least once in their lives, and she wasn’t even allowed to enjoy the contact with her departed progenitors.

  They met the villagers on their way out. Apparently, even a Prishkin could follow the sight of a hovering shuttle. Burin parked in a bare field and walked toward them, standing at her side.

  She felt the strength that he was going to offer, but she froze in place when she saw the woman leading the villagers. She swallowed and continued onward.

  The rescued idiots were surrounded by friends and family and whisked away.

  “Elder, I apologise for touching my feet to your soil. I beg forgiveness for entering the temple of the gods with one foot.” She stood straight and stared at her maternal grandmother.

  “I know you child, don’t I?” Elder Miyan looked at her carefully.

  “I am Wiyra Kwinto.”

  The elder reeled in shock. “You can’t be.”

  “I can and am.” She opened the seal on one of the tight sleeves and showed the marks on her skin that mimicked Miyan’s.

  “My daughter died.”

  “She left two sons and two daughters.”

  Elder Miyan blinked rapidly. “You are obviously familiar with some of our traditions, so you know that there must be a sacrifice for the trespass.”

  “I know it.”

  “Good, it will be arranged. Follow us to the square where you may make the sacrifice.” Elder Miyan walked away abruptly.

  Burin followed with Wiyra. “She is really your grandmother?”

  “One of them. The other was an Uhn. Grandpa was nervous, but he was well-loved.”

  “She hasn’t seen you.”

  “No, once a Prishkin woman leaves her world, she can’t return. Once she mates with someone outside her species, she is dead to her family. It is their way. The picture I have must have been their wedding day.”

  “At least you have that image of them. It seems like Miyan is not welcoming to her own blood.”

  “My mother was an only child. Miyan has no grandchildren but us.”

  Burin held her hand in his, and she took the comfort for the emotional surprise she had just undergone. Shesali hadn’t mentioned that the population was Prishkin, but then, why would she when the people of this world didn’t speak to others except under duress.

  Urada was the name of her mother’s home world, and Wiyra was going to hold it close to her heart. It was another piece of herself found in the scattered reaches of space. She held Burin’s hand tightly. Not every piece of her soul would come to her.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Prove to me that you can uphold the honour of your bloodline.” Her grandmother grinned at her. It was the first warmth that Miyan had shown.

  Wiyra looked at the assembled folks and the band that was setting up. “You have to be kidding.”

  “I am not. You trespassed on our sacred beach, and you have to show proper tribute to the gods. It won’t be horrible, I am sure your mother taught you what she could before she passed on to the great stellar wave.” Miyan looked thoughtful. “Mind you, she wasn’t a very skilled dancer.”

  Burin put the nail in her coffin. “Whatever price needs to be paid, I owe half for my part in her landing.”

  Elder Miyan clapped her hands, and the band started up.

  Wiyra turned to Burin and whispered, “You have no idea what you just agreed to.”

  He jumped as the drums picked up ferocity. “Uh, what do we have to do?”

  “Why, dear partner, we have to dance.” She ignored his surprised look and backed up while holding his hands. The crowd formed a circle around them, and as the music and beat became insistent, she started to sway.

  She pressed her hands against his palms and used her arms to move him to the beat. After a few stunned seconds, he relaxed and stepped forward and back with her to the sound of the drums and the strange metallic chixka.

  She twisted with him until he was behind her and his hands were on his hips. The crowd murmured appreciatively as she kept stepping in time and Burin followed.

  She heard a whisper. “What can’t we do?”

  She grinned, “Sex on the dance floor is frowned on.”

  He spun her out and brought her back against him with a thud, still moving to the rhythm. The crowd cheered. Wiyra snaked her hands up around his neck and loosed his hair. He did the same to her and with another twirl, her hair swung loose in a heavy wave while his floated eerily around him.

  She stepped, twisted, pulsed with every shift in tempo, her hands moving from neck to chest to arms and back to hands as they circled, parted and came back together.

  Other dancers started to move with them as the gods were satisfied by their physical sacrifice. Wiyra and Burin kept dancing, twisting and writhing as much as their armoured suits would allow.

  As the beat finally slowed, they were chest to chest, slowly moving in a circle that, to Wiyra, felt like the mark of harmony on all the local temples. She inhaled Burin’s scent from the crook of his neck, and his lips nibbled at her ear. Her body was definitely warm, coated in sweat and she had never felt less like being in public.

  When the music stopped, they froze in place and slowly lowered their arms.

  Wild applause broke out, and Elder Miyan came up to them, a hot blush in her cheeks. “Well, that was…well. Excellent, Yavila’s daughter. You and your partner are free to go.”

  She tried to control her breathing and bowed her head. “Thank you, Grandmother. We will be on our way.”

  Burin put his arm around her waist and started on their way back to the shuttle when they heard, “Wiyra!”

  Wiyra turned. “Yes, Elder Miyan?”

  Her grandmother swallowed. “Your mother would be proud, and I would be happy to tell you about her if you would visit again.”

  Her throat clos
ed with emotion, and she nodded.

  Burin spoke for her. “That will be acceptable. She will contact you when she knows an available time.”

  “Thank you, Tracker.” The Elder brushed at her eye and turned away.

  Wiyra and Burin returned to the shuttle and headed back to Reevish. Wiyra was busy writing the report when Burin took the data pad out of her hands and pulled her into his lap.

  “I didn’t know you were such a passionate dancer.” He smiled and caressed her hip.

  “The Hayish are great dancers. We have a party every time two platforms get together. If you don’t dance, you will never meet a member of the opposite sex or the same sex if that is your preference. You have to get out onto the dance floor where clans and families don’t matter, just for a few minutes.” She leaned her head on his shoulder.

  “I can see that it would be an important socialising skill.”

  “Oh, it was. You had some nice moves. Do Wyorans and Azon dance much?” She teased the closure of his suit near his neckline.

  “They are both species that are very big on any rituals that will get them closer to a mate.” He chuckled and played with her hair. “Dancing is one of the necessary skills I had to acquire.”

  “I like it. I am normal when I am dancing, just another girl.” She feathered small kisses along his jaw toward his mouth.

  “You are never just another girl, Wiyra. You are extraordinary in every way and a truly unique female. I am glad you didn’t find a mate among your kind. It was far luckier for me.” He turned and caught her lips in a kiss that made the insulated suit seem stifling.

  He reached out and set the flight computer to automatic return.

  “That will take days.” She gasped as his hands opened her suit.

  “I will just tell them that your suit was damaged and that the containment could not be assured.” He leaned down and his teeth crunched through the circuitry of her suit.

  She held on as he moved them to the back of the shuttle, and she sat on the bunk as he peeled the suit off her, carefully damaging a few more nodes on his way.