"No. I'm the one who's sorry." He drew away from her. "I hurt you." His teeth chattered.
"Are you cold? I can hold you." She reached for him.
"No! No," he repeated, calmer this time. His distress hung between them thicker than rancid smoke, soiling everything it touched. He trembled, but backed away from her. "I could have killed you. I'm not safe, Joss. I should go."
"No, Pietas, stay. Please." She did not get between him and the way out. I love you. I want you to stay. I'm safe with you. I'm not afraid.
He looked up at her. "You should be. I hurt you." He touched his own throat and motioned toward hers. "I put marks on you." Through their mental bond, his disgust with himself stung her as much as it must have stung him.
She did not shield. "I'm a warrior. I've had worse in practice." The adrenaline of battle had kept her focused, but now it occurred to her they wore nothing but Sempervian moonlight. Taking her time, Joss lifted her arms and unfastened her hair. She shook it out and let the soft curls fall over her shoulders. "I'm fine, Pietas. Stay. Please."
The war she'd sensed within him raged, but at last desire nudged aside self-anger.
He stood up straighter. "I hurt you."
"Don't blame yourself. I can take anything you do to me. I can defend myself. I knew what I was getting into with you. I know you. I got careless." She stood before him. "May I touch you? Please, Pietas. Look at me."
Sorrow filled his eyes. Remorse eddied to her, dirty water clouding a fresh stream. "Joss, the last thing I wanted was hurt you."
"I know that. You didn't do it on purpose. I forgot myself. You weren't abusive. It wasn't your fault." She held out her hands. "Let me hold you."
His ragged breathing calmed. He gave a single nod.
She flattened her hands on his back and drew him up against her.
Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her and tightened them.
Joss leaned into him. "I'm sorry I put you through that."
"I shouldn't have tried to sleep."
"Shh!" She set one finger on his lips and held his gaze. The moonlight silvered his hair and turned his turquoise eyes as gray as his sister's. "You're not invincible. You have to eat, sleep, laugh and make love. You can't be all war. I want you to be free to do those things. I stepped outside the bounds you were ready to handle. It's my fault and it won't happen again." She leaned up and kissed him.
He slid one hand through her hair, wrapped it in his fist. "I love touching you. Making love to you. I know we're rough during play but this... This wasn't right."
She rested her head on his shoulder. "I have no regrets except that I didn't stop and think. I knew better." She squeezed him. "Forgive me?"
He slid his hands down her back. "If you forgive me."
She moved so he could see her smile. "Done."
Pietas studied her, his intense gaze searching, judging. As if he'd found what he sought, he let out a sighing breath. "Thank you."
"Thank you."
"Joss." He drew her back into his arms. "For the record, I know how you like to be kissed and I am never going to forget." He crushed his mouth against hers.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Once the camp slept, Helia slipped out of her pod.
Her panther guardian rose as if to follow.
"Pretosia," she whispered, holding a hand before its nose. "Stay. Guard Dessy."
The cat peered toward Dessy's pod, then lay down and set chin on paws.
After petting the panther, she kissed its nose. At the cave's opening, she paused to make sure the cat hadn't followed.
Pretosia picked up its head and stared at her, but lay down again.
Heart in her throat, Helia tiptoed over to the upright pods and listened. Nothing but the crackling of a fire broke the stillness. The night air chilled like a lover's contempt, slipping beneath all her defenses. She rubbed her arms to warm herself.
On the other side of the pods, Marjo stood watch. When they'd first arrived, the woman had refused to walk a beat during her watch. She'd complained since they were alone on this world and anyone who needed protecting slept in a cave behind her, it wasn't needed. Since Pietas had arrived, she'd walked every shift.
Dangerous to shirk duty around Pietas. Even more so to complain. As much as Helia admired her son's attention to detail and obedience to command, she recognized it as the influence of Mahikos. He had instilled in their children by force what he'd created within her genetically.
They obeyed on instinct. She obeyed an inner compulsion. In both cases, weak as he was, Mahikos ruled them.
Until the children were thrust out, like Pietas, or escaped, like Dessy.
Marjo got up from the campfire and walked toward the pods, which gave Helia an opportunity.
She paused to ensure the cat had not followed, double-checked Marjo was out of sight, and then raced toward the lower waterfall and past it.
After months of illness, unable to do little for herself, the Mingle's restoration left her eager for freedom. How good it felt to have her speed and strength. Her energy. Her drive.
She reached the brackish part of the caldera, near the marsh. No one in camp went there. In sunshine, the soggy ground stank of rotted vegetation. At night, a thick cloud hovered.
Around the bend, however, hid a sheltered spot with trees, grass, and pockets of fresh air. A fetid getaway but once there, no one intruded. She'd never visited on her own. Mahikos had carried her, but she knew how to find it.
Tonight, she'd reach it on her own. She needed no one's help. Would not be carried like a child or an item to be placed where someone else thought it fit.
Mahikos's voice came to her before he walked out into the light.
Loathing for this man rose within her. He had always controlled her. Forced her to do his bidding. He'd kept her captive, chained to himself and his desires.
When he beckoned, her body responded. When he commanded her, she could fight him, resist him, hate him, but in the end, her inner compulsion left her unable to refuse. When he promised her a thing, she believed him, knowing he lied. Knowing he'd use her. Knowing he'd take and never give.
But she believed him anyway.
While he partook of pleasure wherever he fancied, she was bound to him. She could never be with another. When he beat her, she could no more run from him than the sun could go dark at noon.
He'd promised he'd stop hurting her if she gave him complete control over their children. She must allow him to rear them as he wished, without interference. Said it was for their own good to rear them as soldiers.
He'd created them. They were his experiment, not hers.
She resisted. She was a mother. A mother protected her children. That was why she wanted them, to give protection as she had never been protected.
Mahikos hit her harder, more often. Bruised her. Cut her. Starved her. Hurt her in so many ways she lost count.
Then, he threatened to destroy the children. Painfully. Permanently.
She capitulated.
Better they live with a tyrant than not at all. It broke her heart, but once she hardened herself to their misery, her own lessened.
Now, he swore to her, once he became king on Sempervia, he'd give her what she wanted most. He'd finally set her free.
If she helped him get what he wanted. Once he possessed the power he sought, Mahikos would remove her shackles. The technology existed on this world, hidden, part of the bargain he'd made to come here. He'd drawn maps, shown her.
Gaining her freedom now depended on helping him gain the power he wanted. To do that, she must help him destroy the one thing standing in his way.
This, she could control. It was her decision. Her choice. One promised her freedom. The other promised suffering.
She could side with Mahikos. Gain her freedom.
Or suffer by siding against him with their son.
With a smile, Mahikos held out his arms.
Helia ran to him.
Chapter Thirty-eight
> On his side, Pietas opened his eyes to sunlight streaming into the cavern. The bedroll was empty. No scent of Joss remained and her side held no warmth. Cold stone lay behind him. He remained still, taking stock. His empathic senses found no one near. Physically, he hadn't felt this rested in years, even in a comfortable bed. Ultras didn't need long periods of sleep. He napped in some out-of-the way spot and he'd taught himself to sleep standing up. When had he last slept this late?
He turned onto his back and crooked one arm over his eyes. The usual pain in his shoulders didn't happen. He reached up, reached to the side, turned his head in both directions. He took stock of every part of himself; feet, legs, hips, back, shoulders, head. No pain. Anywhere. After well over a year of constant pain, relief made him feel younger.
What had happened? On his fingers, he ticked off recent changes. He'd found his people. His mother was safe. He'd made peace with his sister. His father would be dealt with. He'd discovered a tribe of panther allies. He'd eaten. Slept, apparently, for hours. He'd had raw, unbridled sex with a woman he'd adored since forever.
He cracked a smile. "Had to be the sex."
When he tried to tuck both hands behind his head, the motion sent twin daggers into his shoulders. He caught his breath, lowered his hands and took slow, deep breaths. The pain eased, but knowledge of its reason remained.
Freed after fifteen months of captivity with his arms bound behind him, he hadn't recognized the two blackened sticks as his own arms. His loathing of humans had never been so deep or so all-encompassing as at that moment. They had destroyed his body.
With Six's help, he'd regained most of what he'd lost. Pain still owned his body, but waking this morning pain-free showed him that one day, the cruel master could be banished. Once more, he would be free.
He crooked first one arm, then the other over his eyes. He could make that motion without difficulty, but couldn't reach behind him.
Pietas lifted his arms, pushed his palms toward the roof of the cavern, and stretched. Taking it slow, he reached back. Pain robbed him of breath. He panted until he gained control, and then tried again. And again. After ten times, he lowered his arms to his sides. Instead of lingering, the pain subsided. Good. Good.
As he sat up, a black bird with an orange beak hopped into view, pecking the dirt. Another landed, its flaring wings sending up a pinch of dust. As a child, Pietas had once sent a tendril of chaos toward a bird and it died. He'd practiced with Dessy until he could send so small a trickle, it was less than a whisper along the skin.
Curious, he tested his ability on the two birds hopping about.
Squawking and flapping, both streaked toward the sky.
Once on his feet, he found a metal canteen. He sniffed, tasted, and drank it. He attached the canteen's carabiner to a belt loop and prepared to set out. Joss had created a bower for them in this place and removing the bedroll would wipe away proof they'd spent time together. He hesitated, but left everything as it was, intending to return in the evening. He started back to camp.
He hadn't gone a hundred steps before his inner soldier nagged him about leaving signs an enemy could follow. Stop being paranoid. There's no one out there. Fifty steps later, he spun around and returned.
After shaking out the bedroll, he folded it and tucked it under his arm. He checked one more time for any items they might have left behind. Satisfied that he'd secured the area and their presence had been erased, he set out.
Too much time had passed without drawing the Council together. He needed to discover what they had accomplished so far. The cryopods could not be left as they were. He needed to know how much time they had before they all opened and what steps had already been taken. Other than a camp for themselves and a half-hearted attempt to clear out thorny weeds--which appeared to be a failure--he could see nothing of value.
That would end today. They needed a decisive, straightforward plan of action. If they couldn't come up with one, he would give one to them.
Upon his return to camp, sly looks darted his way from the Ultras gathered around the fire. As little as he indulged in pleasure for pleasure's sake, he refused to feel guilty for it now. But knowing everyone knew what he and Joss had been up to brought heat to his face anyway.
Had they been overheard? Once they were alone he'd given no thought to such things. This was not some random soldier assigned a task.
This was Joss. She would have shielded them.
When he entered the cave where his mother slept, he came up short. All the pods were empty. He stowed the bedroll and strode back out, seeking her.
"Morning." Koliga glanced up as Pietas approached, but then returned to sanding what appeared to be part of a pod. "You sleep well?"
"I did, thanks. Do we have--"
"Any food? Yes." He pointed toward the central campfire. "They saved you some rabbit. The panthers delivered again today."
Pietas acknowledged a beckoning wave from Michel, who stood near the fire. "Did they?"
"We'll get spoiled, if they keep that up."
"Have you--"
"Seen the human? He's with Joss." Koliga pointed. "Over by the pods."
"And--"
"Your mother's with them."
"Lig."
"Hmm?" He kept grinding with the stone.
"I wasn't aware you were--"
"A telepath. Me either." He looked up. "But I've been picking up thoughts ever since you got here." Koliga set down the flat stone he'd been rubbing over a raw metal edge and picked up a rag. "Weird, huh?"
"I imagine so. Although most telepaths don't--"
"Finish sentences for pe-- Oh." His cheeks darkened. "Sorry."
"No problem. Ask Joss. Some sort of code."
"Code, huh?" He rubbed one edge and peered at the metal. "Okay. I'll ask her."
"What are you making, Lig?"
"What do you say it is?"
"A bathtub."
Wiping his hands, the man chuckled. "I'm sure everyone will want to try it out as such, but it's a boat."
"To use where?"
"There's a huge lake in the caldera and it's full of fish. A river too. If we can transport it, maybe we can get a few boats out of here and take them overland to bigger rivers. Once all the pods are open, we need to find a use for them."
"They connect when standing up to make shelter, don't they?"
"Yeah, but we don't need half a million of them."
"Good point. Oars?"
"We have a few tools, so I was able to cut down a small tree. I can get two oars out of it. This thing is big enough for two rowers."
"What do you know about the pod situation?"
"I've been in and out of all the delivery units. Even the upended ones. Wanted to see if I could open one at a time. Not possible, by the way. But I did figure out how to use one of the built-in functions. There's a narrow, flat area on the top and bottom of each pod. Made that way so they won't roll when stacked on pallets. Set one atop the other and trigger this mechanism and it releases surface hydrocarbons. Those ignite methane nanobubbles, allowing the stacked pod to bond with the ones above and below it. It's permanent."
"Perm--" His voice cracked. Pietas coughed, chest tight. "Permanent?" Darkness bundled itself around him. The ground tilted.
"Pietas!" Koliga jumped up and steadied him. "What happened?"
He regained his balance. "Don't worry over me." He withdrew from Koliga's touch. "We need to be sure that doesn't get triggered. We don't want any--" His voice cracked again. "We don't want anyone...trapped."
"Oh, that won't be a problem. There's a failsafe. It won't work if there's a living occupant inside." Koliga sat down and picked up the stone again.
"Is that useful?"
"Very." He hefted the stone. "I can grind and polish with it. It's quite hard. Wish I could find a use for that stupid thorny plant growing everywhere." His dark skin showed no blush, but the warmth of embarrassment emanated from him. "Oh, you meant-- Sorry. Bonding means if we stack the pods of the d
ead and seal them, we can make a wall for protection from the elements and create a memorial at the same time."
"A memorial. How fitting!" Pietas tapped a fist over his heart. "You're a genius."
"No, I'm an engineer." Koliga eyed the metal edge.
"Then you're a genius engineer."
"Thanks, but I didn't invent this process." He looked up at Pietas. "I refuse to quit and I keep going over a problem until I figure out how to go around it or I make it work. Which is why the Toil class elected me to the Council. Not because I'm a genius." He went back to polishing and sanding as if Pietas were not there.
At the campfire, Pietas greeted Armand and Philippe, Michel, Erryq and Marjo. Michel handed him a small metal bowl full of roasted rabbit pieces and Erryq filled his canteen.
He tore into the meat. The juicy flesh quieted his hunger.
"Wish we had coffee." Marjo sipped from her own container.
He swallowed before speaking. "We will before long."
"You have coffee?" Marjo set down the canteen and came to her feet. "Where?"
The other Ultras perked up, dogs hearing their master's step.
Pietas wiped his mouth. "Six found it."
"What?" Marjo glanced around. "That human has coffee? Where? Is it here?"
He lifted one brow, took his time choosing a piece of meat. "That human has a name."
Tucking dark hair behind her ear, Marjo clenched her teeth. "Six has coffee?"
He took the last bite, chewed thoughtfully.
"Pietas, come on! Does he have it or not?"
"Not on him."
Her shoulders sagged. Around the campfire, the other Ultras slumped back into morose disinterest.
"But," he continued, "he discovered coffee trees about a day's walk over the summit." He motioned toward that direction. "He knows how to harvest and prep it. His family worked on a coffee plantation when he was a boy."
"That's some serious skill." Marjo rubbed her hands together. "Might be worth letting him live."
"I'll pretend you didn't say that." Pietas downed the water.
"Didn't say what? Here." Marjo handed him a cloth. "It's damp."
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