It's Rannzar, the local administrator. “Greetings, Naomi Knoll,” he says, dipping his head in a short bow.
So much for my nap. I return his bow. “Greetings, Administrator Rannzar,” I respond. The Zorahns are a weird mix of formal and casual, but one thing I’ve learned is that if someone has a title, they want to be called by it. “What a pleasant surprise. Were you looking for Danek? He’s out doing an inspection today. His rest day isn’t until—”
“Tomorrow. Yes, I know.” He holds out a red envelope to me. “I’m having a small dinner party tonight at my house. Nothing special, just syn-food.” He gives me a warm smile. “Nothing as delicious as curry, from what I hear.”
I’d taken a bowl of my bastardized part-syn, part-natural Thai curry to the last potluck, and evidently, word has spread. “You are too kind,” I murmur, glancing at the envelope. The lettering is in Zor, and I have no idea what it says, but from the context, I’m assuming it’s a written invitation. “Is there a special occasion?”
“No, none at all. I just enjoy meeting people from all around the galaxy. It’s like traveling, but without the discomfort of stasis. It’ll be a small gathering. Just twenty people.” He reels off a string of names, most of who I don’t recognize.
Twenty people. That’s hardly a small party. The wheels begin to turn in my head. Danek isn’t getting anywhere with his search for the prison. Rannzar is the local administrator. If the High Empire is planning to imprison people here, he might know. There might even be something in his office—some document, some piece of information—that would give him away.
Maybe this is the break we’ve been waiting for.
“We’d love to,” I reply brightly. “Thank you.”
I shut the door, set down a wriggling Plague, and do a gleeful dance. I’m about to call Danek to tell him what just happened when…
The klaxons erupt.
Noise. So much noise. It’s probably just an alarm, I tell myself. My heart races. My palms are damp with sweat. I move to the back blindly, almost tripping over one of the floofs. The piercing sound bores into my brain and I stumble, my vision blurring.
Then the world goes dark.
Something wet is licking my nose.
I crack open an eye. Pumpkin wags his three tails in excitement, jumps into my lap, stands on his back feet, and licks my nose again, chittering anxiously.
The klaxons are gone; the house is blessedly quiet. On the floor, Plague and Pestilence run around in anxious circles.
“Where am I?” I groan. My head is throbbing. Classic signs of a stress headache. I could use a cool glass of water and a two-hour nap.
Pestilence jumps up on the ledge. Hang on, am I in the bathtub? I am. Shit. How did I get here? I have no memory of this happening. None at all.
How long have I been out? I get to my feet, wincing as I move. A fresh wave of pain batters my temples. My comm is on the living room floor where I must have dropped it. Don’t remember that either. It’s all a complete blank.
I talked to the administrator. That much I remember. That was just after lunch. He invited us to dinner tonight. The red envelope he handed me is on the floor. I pick that up, along with my comm. I glance at the time. To my relief, I’ve only lost track of ten or fifteen minutes. I definitely blacked out, but not for long.
Is that what you consider progress?
I sink down on the couch. This morning, if you’d asked me how I was doing, I would have sworn that I was fine. That I was doing great. The last ten days have been incident free. I’ve been thriving on Noturn. I’ve been talking to strangers, picnicking in the park, embracing new experiences. Having a boatload of amazing sex. I would have sworn that I had put what the scientists had done behind me.
Reality is one hell of a shock.
The door bursts open, and Danek rushes in, out of breath. “Are you okay?” he gasps, his face etched with fear. “You didn’t answer your comm. Did the klaxons—”
I’ve been fooling myself. I’ve been sleeping with Danek as if I were whole and not a broken, fucked-up mess, and it’s all a lie. And I’m too ashamed to tell him the truth.
“Sorry, I didn’t hear it. I was in the bathroom.”
“Are you okay?” he repeats, his gaze on my face. “When the alarms went off—”
“I was fine,” I lie. “Really. Perfectly fine. You have nothing to be concerned about.” I give him my sunniest smile. “Forget about that. Rannzar invited us to dinner.”
It feels wrong to lie to Danek. But it’s worse to tell him the truth. Because he’s been right from the start.
I’m nothing but a liability.
22
Danek
Naomi is a terrible liar.
The klaxons have obviously affected her. Her face is pale, her hands are trembling, and there’s a nilari-sized bruise on her forehead.
The floofs are on high alert. They're skittering around, their tails quivering, their eyes wild, bursting with frantic energy. Naomi doesn't realize it, but they’ve bonded with her, and they respond to her moods, holding up a mirror to her emotions. When she's happy, they're happy. When she's anxious and stressed, as she is now, they run around in blind circles, almost tripping me in the process.
My heart pounds in my chest, the after-effects of running flat out from the maintenance tunnel to our house. It wasn’t a lengthy run, and I shouldn’t be out of breath. But I am. Sixth warned me about this, and he was right. He usually is.
Not that I care about that right now. I sit next to Naomi, taking her cold hands in mine. What the hell am I doing, sleeping with her? She should be focusing on
