Wynn showed them to a guest house. Sorcha settled on the couch. Though she had managed to get a nap on the train and when Wynn was driving, she felt the bumps and travel in her bones. Kynaston came up behind her and offered a glass of water. She thanked him in a mumble and took the glass.
He settled in next to her. The couch was old and it sagged in the middle forcing them to lean against each other. Not that they had been any further apart when they had been on the train. Sorcha realised she might be giving off signals. Or maybe he was.
She asked, “Are you interested in me? I mean…” this is where she faltered. She wasn’t very good at human interaction. It was why she had preferred science as she didn’t have any social skills to look at the stars. Even when she was allowed to indulge her artistic streak, she spent most of her time in silence and solitude with paint and canvas.
He flashed her a grin, amused by her awkwardness. A blush crept up her neck. “Very. I must be losing my knack if it was unclear.”
She shrugged and said, “When we first met you were all raunchy innuendos but you stopped.”
He quirked a single eyebrow. “The first time being a gentleman was misconstrued for me. You didn’t respond positively to my overtures so I backed off. Was I wrong?”
She had to think about that. “Yes. I’m… well I’m not very good with dating.” She had dated a little but they had all been men her father had encouraged but she had stopped that when she had realised they had only wanted to date her because they thought it was a way to get to her father. He had power in the government. Even when she had dated other scientists they had ended up in disaster.
Instead of wanting her father’s political power they had assumed that she would be as ambitious as her father in her own arena and when they figured she was completely satisfied to either stare at the stars but that her real ambition was to do something creative.
Kynaston said, “Well you can’t be any worse than I am. I haven’t even seen a woman in years before you stumbled into my room. All my conversations have been purely fictional.”
She wondered what she would have done if he had kept up the raunchy commentary. She wasn’t used to bold conversation.
“Thanks.”
“For what?” Kynaston asked.
“For backing off. Not everybody would in your situation.”
He snorted at that and asked, “So what do you want to do?”
“I’m not sure. This is all very awkward.”
He shrugged. “It might be because we are exhausted. Let’s have dinner and get some rest maybe in the morning you will know what you want.”
He stood up to prepare their meal when she reached up and caught his hand. She tugged him back down onto the couch almost spilling her own drink of water. She put it aside and pulled Kynaston in for a kiss. He responded tentatively.
She could feel the tension in his body and knew he was tempering his response for her sake. Sorcha deepened the kiss and he moved his hands to touch and caress. His own glass empty of water rolled onto the ground next to the couch.
Sorcha pushed her hand up under his shirt and felt his muscles firm under her touch. None of the men she had dated had been athletic in the least. He hummed in pleasure at her touch and lay back on the couch pulling her with him. His own hands moved up under the back of her blouse.
The kisses got more fevered at this stage then like a switch had been thrown Kynaston pulled away so fast he fell off the couch.
Her breathing was laboured and she asked, “What?”
He rested his brow on the edge of the couch. His own breath a ragged imitation of his usual self.
He gulped. “Sorry.”
She frowned and asked again, “What is it?”
He spoke without looking up. “I’m not ready.”
She gaped at him. That was usually her line. She reached out and ran a hand through his hair, thinking of those times when she had uttered those words. Usually she had meant she was scared of something. Or unsure of the relationship.
She had to ask, “Is it us?”
He groaned and looked up at her. His eyes fierce with his emotion. “No. It is something I have to deal with.” He pursed his lips and eventually said, “I’m broken and I want to fix myself before we start anything.”
“Why? No, I mean can’t I help fix you.”
He shook his head. “I don’t want to use you as a crutch to fix me. I have to come to this as an equal. Whole. And that unfortunately means we can’t take this further until I am ready.”
She studied him. His features pulled with the tension he must feel. The flicker of fear in his eyes assured her it wasn’t about how compatible they were but rather fear.
He let out a long breath and said, “I’ve never felt this way, Sorcha. I’ve dated a lot of women but this is as far as I’ve gotten with any of them.”
“Any of them? Ever?” She assessed him. He was a strapping man. He had stunning green eyes with a few flecks of gold. His hair a dirty blonde was a little long at the moment and tussled from their couch wrestling. But he held himself with confidence she would never have pegged him as someone without experience.
Her own experience wasn’t extensive but she did have some. She asked, “I have. Does that make me wrong?”
“No, just braver than me. I couldn’t risk my secrets to anyone and I realised early that if I invited a woman to my bed that I wanted intimacy in all aspects of the word and I couldn’t have that if I kept things from them.” Which explained his confession.
She smoothed a hand through his hair again and cupped his cheek. “Slow is always fun.”
He grunted at the double entendre and said, “Let me make dinner.”
He picked himself off the floor. Sorcha watched him with her eyes half lidded. She wasn’t nearly as exhausted as she had been before she had kissed Kynaston. A surprising development as usually when she spent time with people, she felt drained. This did indeed need time to consider. She could wait.
13
Serenity
Kynaston signalled to Wynn to slow the vehicle. He pointed up and Sorcha asked, “What is that?”
They had just come into view of the mountain. It was a single mountain with fiains thick around the base. Snow capped the top but mostly bare the thing growing out the side was obvious. It was definitely man-made as it had smooth sides to it and a domed top.
Kynaston shrugged, “No idea but I think that is what the seer wanted us to look out for.”
Wynn rested his hands on the steering wheel and asked, “Want to get closer or sneak up?”
“Sneaking might be the best bet,” Kynaston answered.
Wynn nodded and said, “Give a yell if you need rescuing.”
Kynaston snorted and then grinned at the man. They had discussed Wynn’s part in all of this when he had picked them up from the Serenity city in the mountains. The seer had wanted Kynaston and Sorcha to deal with this on their own and there might be a reason for that. Kynaston was willing to go along with that plan until he needed reinforcements.
Sorcha eyed the slope up the mountain and he felt his own trepidation at the climb. It would take them hours to get anywhere near the strange building attached to the side of the mountain. Wynn must have known they would be awhile as he had set up a small camp. At least when they got back, they could come back to a fire and maybe even some cooked food.
First, they had to climb the mountain and though he was fit; it wasn’t a pass time he was familiar with. Sorcha puffed as they walked and said between each breath, “I think I know what this place is.”
Kynaston glanced over his shoulder. Though not as fit as him Sorcha was doing well to keep up with him. They would break soon as they had plenty of daylight and hopefully, they could camp at the strange building over night before they had to head back down the mountain.
Sorcha continued. “I think it’s the first landing. You know the scientific capsule they sent about six hundred years ago.”
Kynaston knew his h
istory. Because of the gulf between Earth and Ardin meant that astronauts couldn’t check for themselves the viability of the planet. So instead they had sent the scientific capsule. It had reported back that the planet was viable.
When their ship, Plato, had first landed, it had been onto a large plain where they would have space to spread out. They had sent men to the capsule but most had died as the capsule wasn’t covered by a kupal and they hadn’t been prepared for the wildlife. By that stage they were building their own scientific facilities so it was abandoned. That was over two hundred years before. But it had been built to last.
Kynaston asked, “Do you think it will be safe to stay there?”
Sorcha said, “Yes. We have a portable kupal don’t we? I thought I saw Wynn give you one.”
He kept the grin to himself. “What if I told you that I forgot it back at the vehicle?”
“You didn’t, did you?”
“No, but I wanted to see if I could get you going for a while.”
“That isn’t funny.” As they got closer Kynaston could see the old earth human style that was indicative of their construction. Exposed metal as it was cheaper than coating it with anything. Ceramics made up the rest of the outer shell to protect it in space. It had since cracked and made the surface seem like an old woman with wrinkles. There were large sections of it buried in the side of the mountain.
He wasn’t sure what the early scientists were thinking about their programming but surely, they would have set it to land in a more hospitable environment. It was pure luck it had embedded in the side of the mountain rather than tumbling down in a cascade of rock to be forever buried under a ton of Ardin soil. The end that pointed up was off by a bit but Kynaston couldn’t tell if that was a recent development.
It was hundreds of years old after all or if it had landed that way when it had first hit Ardin. There was a convenient path up to the door which was closer to the mountainside than the cliff side that looked down to the valley below.
The door was cracked open by a slight amount so he assumed some animal might be inside though unlikely to be anything of significant size. He sent his mind in but there was nothing there. He pushed the door open which swung and impressed him with human construction. That door must have been slammed around by storms and yet it still managed to swing easily on its hinges.
Inside was darker than expected though he should have figured that out as there were no windows. Sorcha flicked on a torch behind him and moved the beam.
There were banks of consoles around most of the walls. There was a ladder up to a loft area above that had some soft material hanging off it. There were plants hanging from the rafters, making it difficult to see anything. Overall, he didn’t think there was anything there to worry about.
He stepped aside so Sorcha could enter while he pulled out his own flashlight. He could have created a small light with his Serenity powers but he didn’t like to waste it when he might need it later to help start a fire or keep them warm.
A bang had him slamming his back against the wall in instinct. He looked around. A new square of light appeared on the other side of the room which silhouetted a figure. The figure held something and Kynaston assumed it was a weapon of some sort.
Kynaston reached out with his mind and yanked the weapon from the man. Slapping it into his own palm. He twisted his other hand and used it to focus his thoughts and directed it to pick up the man and press him up against the roof of the small room.
Only then did he look around to see if Sorcha was fine. She crouched down with a hand to her shoulder. His heart flipped as he contemplated her being killed because he had been busy fiddling with his torch rather than protecting her. He should have searched further rather than just checking the room.
He asked, “Sorcha?”
She moved her hand away from her shoulder and answered, “Just a graze, I’m fine.”
He turned his attention back to their attacker. He was an old man. His clothes were grey overalls and hung loosely on his thin frame.
He muttered, “Oh, one of the angel humans. I didn’t know it was an angel. I’m so sorry, thought you were the demon doctor spawn. Didn’t realise that one of the demon spawns would work for one of the angels.”
He giggled and then went back to ranting about angels and demons. Kynaston closed the gap. The light was better now with the back door open. The room had that feel of being lived in with dried herbs hanging from the roof. He had thought they were plants migrated in from the fiain.
Kynaston asked, “Who are you?”
Sorcha said, “He isn’t a model human.” Kynaston glanced back at her. She had taken a seat and peeled back the material from her wound to deal with it. Kynaston dropped the man and the old man crumpled.
Kynaston grabbed him again and threw him into a chair. The old man chuckled. “Who would have thought the angels get would be so rough.”
“What is this angel stuff?” Kynaston demanded an answer. Though he doubted the man had the sanity to answer it.
“You are descended from the angel doctor.” Kynaston was not able to understand the man’s meandering thoughts.
The old nodded his head to indicate Sorcha. “She is descended from the demon doctor.” Kynaston frowned.
Sorcha explained, “He is probably talking about the human doctors on earth who created the model human strands. There were two doctors. One made the Serenities and the other made the Scribes.”
The old man giggled like a child. “Yes, yes, one wanted the Scribes to rule the other wanted the Serenities to rule. Both made to have power. Silly doctors, of course there was war.”
Kynaston asked Sorcha, “Are you sure he isn’t a model human?”
She patted her arm where she has placed a bandage over her wound and looked up to answer. “Yes. He has lobes that are not in our genetic makeup. They tried to get rid of as many recessives as possible. He must be descended from the crew members,” The last was said softly.
Kynaston hadn’t realised that there had been any left. He had thought the crew members hadn’t had any children of their own. They were supposed to sterilise themselves when they landed. By the old man’s presence, it meant some of them had not followed this directive. They also hadn’t bred into the model humans either. Though he wasn’t surprised by that. Most had genetics tests before they married and it didn’t seem like this man had any ID. For the crew members to stay off the radar they would have removed themselves from any genetic ID system. Including any of their children. It would have isolated them as their society used the genetic ID’s for everything from opening bank accounts to marrying.
In awe of the man’s existence he turned back and asked, “Are there any more of you.”
“More? Ha, I’m lucky I even exist.”
Before they could ask him more of what he knew, the lights on the consoles along the wall all lit up and a voice echoed in the room, “Daily report. Life support stable. Fuel reserves nominal.” It crackled and the voice droned on about other things happening on the ship.
“What ship are they talking about?” Kynaston asked though he was pretty sure he knew.
“The demons’ harbingers,” The old man stated.
Kynaston ignored the crazy man and turned to see what Sorcha thought of the disembodied voice, “The others?” it couldn’t be anyone else. There weren’t any other ships out there to be talking about.
He frowned as he contemplated the fact that the humans were broadcasting to Ardin and had probably done such for a long time. If the Scribes had access to this broadcast, then they might know about the scout after all. They wouldn’t have needed the visuals of the telescope to know what was happening in space. Though he was looking at Sorcha, he asked both her and the old man, “Are you sure it isn’t a recording.”
Sorcha shook her head. “They mentioned the star date. This is happening now. These people are talking now.” Kynaston turned to the consoles to see if he could see other recordings but the console didn’t have any
place for people to access it. It was all automated.
In a panic he turned to the old man. “Where do you these broadcasts go to?”
The old man pointed into the distance. They all looked to where his finger pointed. Kynaston could just see the curve of the dome of Jing City in the distance.
It was Sorcha that connected the dots. “Plato. The ship we came on. I mean our ancestors. It must go to the ship.”
Kynaston groaned, thinking of where the ship was. Smack dab in the centre of the Scribe sector of the city. Getting into the city would be difficult but walking through the scribe area, where it was highly patrolled, would be impossible.
He would have to take Sorcha as she was the only one of them who could pass as Scribe. He could dye his hair but his eyes were too Rustic from his father’s side of the family. Scribes never mixed with Rustics. Out of all the model humans the Scribes kept the purest and kept the original look the scientists had intended for them.
Sorcha helped the old man to his feet. Kynaston closed his eyes for a moment. They didn’t have time for this but there was no way they could leave him here. He was not in a position to look after himself but Kynaston wasn’t sure what they could do with him. He glanced up to see Sorcha speaking gently to the old man. One thing was sure he would have to help the old man as there was no way Sorcha would be able to leave him behind.
He sighed and asked the man, “Is there anything here that you want to take with you.”
“Take? Why? This is where I live.”
Sorcha spoke softly, “We can take you to a place where others live.”
The man snorted, “Where the models will just kill me. No thank you.”
“We won’t kill you,” Sorcha insisted. Kynaston wasn’t so sure. If the Scribes knew about him, they might take him out in case he passed on any genetic material. Not that he thought the man was thinking of starting a family.
He prevaricated, “We will take you to the Serenities. They are hiding from the Scribes. You will be safe with them.”
“Serenities, you say. Yeah, I think I can stay with them.” He puttered around the room and plucked a few things from the shelves. Kynaston took them from the man and motioned for them both to walk ahead of him. He would have to talk with Wynn and see if he had any ideas of what to do with the man.
Model: Scribe (Model Humans Book 2) Page 8