“perhaps you would like to see it.”
His heart rate increased. He had been trying to win over Kira, but apparently the butler liked him well enough to show him around. Or maybe politeness was programmed into him.
“Kira wouldn’t mind?”
“I am sure the young master would be delighted to have company.”
Iguru finally put away his weapon. There was no use for it here.
“If you’re sure.”
“Quite. This way, please.”
The butler led him into another building. It was less eerie with a guide, but the entire place still looked too pristine. Clean and efficient, as if it was never used, like a museum exhibit.
“Here is the transporter hoop. It will take us to the mansion.”
Its lights suddenly flickered on as the butler powered it up. Like the ship hoop, it was rusted with age and dusty with lack of use. Near the underside was a brand, a name etched into the metal. As the butler was still occupied, Iguru dropped to a knee and memorized the engraving: NIST.
He quickly resumed standing and at the butler’s nod, Iguru stepped through the hoop and his insides jumped and fought against the pull, and then he was in a tiny stone cubicle beside a spiraling stairwell. The butler stepped through not seconds later.
“The hoop is connected to an outpost on Peak Starpier,” the butler explained.
So they weren’t in the mansion proper. Perhaps they weren’t even on the same side of the planet. Without any further ado, the butler began to walk up the stairs. Why the hoop couldn’t connect them to the observatory directly, Iguru couldn’t fathom. The mansion was full of idiosyncrasies, what with the hallways filled with hundreds of locked doors. Kira seemed to value privacy, and it showed in a number of odd ways.
Finally, the staircase ended. The butler didn’t even announce him. He left him at the entryway before silently making an exit. Stars spilled out over the sky, the twinkling points of lights uninhibited by city lights and air pollution. The observatory was high up on a mountain, higher than the clouds which roiled below. The glass gave no reflection or shine; Iguru wouldn’t even be able to tell it was there, had it not blocked the wind and noise of the atmosphere.
“Here, the entire Universe is before me,” Kira said.
His face was tilted towards the stars and his arms were outstretched, as if waiting to fall into a celestial embrace. He was magnificent, framed against the night and starry expanse, and Iguru wondered if this was what it felt like to be falling in love. It had been too many years and his guard was becoming easier and easier to lower. He turned away from the sight and instead studied the carpeted floor, trying valiantly to regain his control. This painful, euphoric emotion had consumed him before; he had been undone – and it had ruined him. Closing his eyes, he let the painful memories flood him in ways he never had.
He had been fooled, tricked, used. His emotions and declarations of love had only earned him betrayal. He had willingly given his heart up, and in return, everything was stolen from him: his work, his sanity, his very identity. It couldn’t happen again, he wouldn’t let it, even if it meant he had to be the betrayer.
Carefully, he slid behind Kira and slipped his arms around him, as if to catch his fall. Kira resisted at first, but then melted back into his embrace. He rested his chin on Kira’s shoulder and delicately placed his mouth against Kira’s ear in a suggestion of a kiss. Kira’s breath hitched.
“You must have been lonely,” Iguru said into his neck, “All alone for so long.”
Kira swallowed, “Lonely, yes, but safe.”
“Are you lonely now?
Kira turned around so that their chests pressed together. Iguru quickly lowered his gaze, blocking the glowing red eye from sight, and pressed his lips against Kira’s. Kira came alive and surged against him, causing Iguru to stagger backwards with the unexpected force. They landed on the carpet, stars slowly spinning above them. It was enough to make Iguru’s breath catch, and it was too similar to the night in the cockpit, when their hands reached for the main engine start together.
He forcibly tore himself from those thoughts. Ananke was waiting, after all.
He pressed his teeth against Kira’s soft throat; if he couldn’t get answers the normal way, perhaps this could enlighten the situation. Kira’s eyes fell shut and he tilted his head back, giving Iguru more room to bite and taste. He tasted of salt, as every human did, space-born or Earth-born. But that meant nothing, of course. Randir had tasted of salt as well, a good imitation to fool humans eager for a lick of skin. Iguru kissed his neck again, ignoring the way Kira gasped. He was using Kira, as surely as Randir had used him. He would open the portal, one way or another.
Their lips met and the deal was sealed.
High above, the heavens burned bright.
Search Request
Database: Terran.Organizations.Companies.
Search results: 211,093. Time: 0.076 seconds.
Top answer: NIST company record.
Current status: unknown.
Previous status: Family owned and operated.
Newfall Institute of Sciences and Technology founder: Edith Newfall.
Known for: early space flight development and advancements in AI technology.
Notable company contributions: Created the propulsion system for Orion Starlines’ Empyreal. Created first hospitality android.
Notable company events: Lieval conspiracy. Research center connected to chemical warfare. Wadsworth Newfall retired and passed company to son, Sylvan Newfall.
Current heir: unknown.
Last heir: Sylvan Newfall.
Their ships hummed with energy, linked together. The Naked Rose powered Ananke, feeding her and giving her what she needed. Kira and Iguru stood side by side, monitoring the process from the hangar balcony. It had been turned into a miniature control center, with computers and consoles running equations and phasing through the code and instructions Ananke had released to them.
Iguru had supplied the deciphered passcode. Kira had supplied the idea to use The Naked Rose as an energy source. A kiss had ensured that Iguru would be there to watch the process, instead of conveniently locked in a room watching a sunset.
Now, here he was, witnessing the final process. The balcony was protected, though Iguru did not know for sure if it would be enough. He suspected that the portal had been made into a ship purely so that it could be tested and used in space, which was safer than potentially destroying buildings and cities with its power.
And now: just one more step.
The reactor fired up, shooting out a first line of electricity. The ship began to break apart, sections of the hull, various panels, and wires reconfiguring themselves like puzzle pieces. Each fragment maneuvered to form a semi-circular structure, controlled simply by programming and mechanics, all of it originating within Ananke. She became the portal.
Heart clenched, Iguru watched years of research and manufacturing and waiting manifest in a portal. For a split second, he allowed himself to feel proud. Then he had to get to work.
Iguru acted then, lashing out and striking Kira across the throat. Kira stumbled, flashes of hurt and shock on his face. But Iguru had steeled himself against such reactions, the gentleness having been burnt out of him long ago by the fire of betrayal.
Kira twitched and then leapt to his feet; he rammed Iguru, grabbing his arm and twisting him around so that he hit the floor hard on his stomach, clipping his chin. The bones in his wrists groaned as Kira snapped his arms back and put a knee in his back. Iguru tried to fumble to his knees, but Kira held fast; he was a dense weight on top of Iguru, far heavier than he expected.
He wrenched on his wrist, turning it just so, so that the coat sleeve slipped up and a sliver of metal fell out from the inside seam. It tumbled down his body and as soon as it hit the floor it exploded with gas. Iguru immediately clamped his mouth shut; underneath his tongue was a tiny plastic packet, thinner than the paper Turobeck wrote on. Using his t
ongue, he maneuvered it so that he could chew on it, and then swallowed the thick substance so that it coated his throat. Above him, Kira’s throat should be closing, laboring his breathing.
He jerked experimentally against the grip, but it held fast. He grunted in surprise and went limp, but Kira was not fooled. A hot mouth pressed against his ear.
“I’m far stronger than you think I am,” Kira said, his breath warm and moist, “You cannot bruise me. You cannot cut me. You cannot break me.”
Kira increased the pressure on Iguru’s back; he squeezed his eyes shut as his spine began to protest.
“You think you fooled me, but it is I who fooled you,” Kira continued.
Iguru twisted, his coat crushed between his body and the floor; he wiggled some more and finally a little canister slid out of his pocket. Rubbing his torso against the floor, he gradually moved the little canister closer and closer to his mouth. Clamping down on the canister with his teeth, the pressure activated the blade, and he swung his head around, lashing out at Kira’s face.
The blade nicked the red eye and scar tissue – it barely cut into the scar tissue, leaving a dent, and it clinked against the red eye. Kira laughed, harsh and weary, but instead of smacking him, he sunk down and captured Iguru’s mouth in a kiss, knife handle and all. Iguru choked, railed against the kiss, and tried to stab the knife into the skin of Kira’s cheek.
Kira’s teeth fought with his and found the blade handle. With a tug, a small gesture with