Page 3

Chapter three

First Day Jitters

R owen pressed her forehead against the transport window, watching Dalat's violet-tinted landscape sweep past below. Her heart was doing its best to burst out of her chest with excitement, and she fought a losing battle to keep her anticipation in check, her fingers tapping an impatient rhythm against her thigh.

Casti . She was actually going to work on Casti.

The landing pad came into view, its polished surface gleaming in the late afternoon light. The twin suns of Dalat cast long purple shadows across the landing area, where construction drones buzzed in the distance, continuing the colony's perpetual expansion.

She caught her first glimpse of her new boss for the next few months. Even from this distance, he was the image of a perfect Verit male. Tall and strong, with a bearing that screamed authority. She studied him until he disappeared from view, the bulk of the flyer obscuring him.

“Remember what we discussed,” Broken-De rumbled beside her, his massive frame making the transport seat look comically small. “He's one of my best former students, but he can be prickly until you get to know him.”

Rowen shot him a quick grin. “Don't worry, I'll be on my best behavior.”

Fila, sitting on the other side of Broken, snickered. Broken huffed, not believing Rowen for a second. She grinned at him, smart male .

As they descended the ramp, she got her first proper look at Petre-De. Holy shit and the Goddess be praised!

He was stunning. He really was tall, even for a Verit, with the characteristic feline grace of his people and long lean muscle that his black uniform jumpsuit did nothing to hide. Shining silver hair was caught in a sleek knot at the nape of his neck, and piercing blue eyes that shone with intelligence sat in a face cut from marble.

In another male, his regal demeanor and beauty might have come across as effeminate, but there was a darkness, an edge in his expression and the way he held himself. She could absolutely picture him playing the evil genius in some holodrama. With some ridiculously dangerous pet sat on his lap.

But as arresting as he looked, it was the simmering anger that stood out.

Petre-De, engineer and her new boss, was royally pissed.

She couldn’t quite read his emotional resonance. It was oddly muted. But she didn’t have to use her mad-empath superpowers to sense his disapproval, as he looked her up and down.

His formal bow was textbook perfect, but his jaw was clenched so tight she suspected she would hear it creak if she got close enough. Ookay. What crawled up his butt and died? She adjusted her headscarf self-consciously, trying her best to tame the stubborn curls that had escaped during the flight. She wasn’t great at prim and proper, didn’t look anything like the Verit ideal of elegance, but she was present and correct. Besides, she was there as an engineer, not a fashion model.

“Lady Fila, Broken. Good to see you both.” When Petre spoke, she was surprised that his words didn’t emerge coated in frost, they were so stilted.

He turned to Rowen to introduce himself, “I am Petre-De, Senior Colony Planner for Infrastructure.”

“Rowen May,” she replied brightly, layering her voice with honeyed warmth. She nearly laughed out loud when his brow furrowed in surprise at her tone. Ha! “Specialist in Agricultural Engineering, Horticultural Design and Environmental Systems.” Oh, this was going to be fun.

During the short transport ride to Casti, she couldn't help studying him when he wasn't looking. He was nothing like she'd expected from Broken's descriptions of his star pupil.

Ok, the intelligence was obvious; she could see it in the way his eyes tracked every detail of their surroundings, cataloging and analyzing. But Broken had spoken fondly of him as a protégé. Prickly was one thing, but in person, he was kind of a dick. She hadn’t even done anything that would make him prickle yet. He could at least let her screw up before he decided he hated her.

She caught him watching her in return and decided to break the silence. “Have you been to Casti before?”

His perfect lips thinned, and for a second she thought he might just ignore her, but his ingrained Verit manners won. “No, My Lady. This will be my first visit.”

The formal title made her want to roll her eyes.

Working on Casti was an opportunity of a lifetime. There was no way she would let some male’s asinine behavior ruin it for her. She’d been giddy with joy for the past few weeks, ever since she’d learned that she had been successful in her application.

She pressed her fists against her legs to keep from gesturing wildly. “I can't believe I got this project. Every engineer at the Falosian Central University wanted this gig.”

She leaned in conspiratorially to whisper, “I think it was Broken's recommendation that swung it for me.”

Petre seemed to have a permanent frown. “Um, yes. Broken's reference was very complimentary.”

She glanced at Broken's broad back, then back to Petre with a mischievous smile. “He's such a softie once you get to know him.”

Petre barked a surprised laugh. He shot a quick glance at Broken. “My lady, I think we’re not discussing the same male. Broken is a legendary menace. Never in my life have I heard him referred to as a ‘softie.’”

Broken peered at them suspiciously, and they both smiled politely, the picture of innocence. Broken huffed, “Never take to the stage. You’re terrible, both of you.”

Rowen winked at him. “But we’re keeping you young in your old age.”

“She’s right, you know, Broken. You act all like a Dathalka with a sore head, but we know the real you!” Fila poked him in his chest and snickered at the appalled look on his face.

There was no more time for chat, as the bulk of Casti came into sight from the viewport. The giant ancient alien ship hung half a scree in the air, motionless. Large avians flew around it and roosted in its crenelations, the matte black surface seeming to absorb the light.

And it was massive, several times bigger than the colony ship. It was eerie, seeing something so massive, completely stationary, in the air.

Its construction material defied classification, neither metal nor stone, but something else entirely, with gentle striations that reminded her of bark.

“Incredible,” she breathed, not caring if she sounded like an awestruck ingen. “I've read everything about it, watched the holo-simulations, but nothing really prepares you. It's like a floating town!”

The airlock recognized their approach, flowing open in a manner that was decidedly alien. No human-descended engineer would design an airlock that looked quite so much like an…organic orifice.

It made her gorge rise, as did the high-intensity scanner they went through as they passed into the ship, its green beam a shimmering shaft that felt like someone had brushed the hairs all over her body the wrong way. She glanced at Petre as the beam passed over them and he snarled slightly, clearly disliking the sensation as much as her.

When the flyer eventually landed, she took a shuddering breath. “Is it always like that?”

Fila shook her head as they disembarked in an ordinary-looking landing bay, another flyer parked in the bay next to them. “No, only the first time. It’s an extra security measure for the project.”

Rowen examined the landing bay. Everything was made of the same smooth, striated black material, a little like marble. From where Rowen stood, she couldn’t see a single seam or individual deck plate. “Funny, it's not what I expected.”

“What did you expect?” Petre asked.

“I'm not sure, just not this.” She shrugged, studying the walls. “I guess, more alien?”

She reached out to touch the surface, and Petre barked at her. “Be careful!”

She couldn't help rolling her eyes at that. “It's a landing bay. I think they probably keep the poisons and weapons somewhere else, yes?”

The rush of wonder as lines of light followed her touch was worth his concern. She laughed in delight, feeling the ship's subtle awareness brush against her consciousness. “See? The ship is alive,” she explained, patting the wall affectionately. “It's welcomed us here and offered to share its tech. It will not harm us unless we harm it.”

They followed the corridor, low lights guiding them at each turn until it opened up into a circular chamber, an incredible research lab set up, waiting for them.

The interfaces came alive at her approach. She rushed over to one. “Hey, um—,” She turned to him. “I'm sorry, what should I call you?”

He paused for a moment. “You may call me Petre, Lady. Or Petre-De, if you feel it’s too familiar.”

She offered a tentative smile. Whatever his issue was, they had to work together. “Alright, but only if you call me Rowen. No need to be formal.” As soon as she said it, she wondered if she had crossed some unspoken Verit social rule, so she added, “Unless you prefer it. I don't want to make you uncomfortable.”

She felt his hesitancy before he said, “I would be honored, Rowen.”

Well, then. Perhaps there’s hope for Mr. Stick Up His Ass after all.

Rowen spun in a slow circle, taking in the lab and the control stations that had responded to her. “Casti?” she called. “Are you here, listening to us?”

A gentle voice sounded from all around them. “Of course, Rowen.”

Holy shit! Rowen did a little dance. “I just talked to an alien AI!” She moved to the terminal. “And how should we address you, Casti? It feels rude just to speak to the air.”

“It does not matter to me, but I thank you for your consideration. Just speak aloud or call my name, as you just did.”

Rowen was shocked to hear amusement in the AI’s voice. In fact…she let her senses extend. She could swear that she actually felt amusement. That was impossible. Wasn’t it?

Petre wandered up to one of the terminals and examined it. He prodded experimentally at a couple of displays. “I think the interfaces adapt to each user.”

Broken nodded and joined him. “Casti configures them based on your expertise and access level.” He tapped in a couple of commands. “Though final authorization runs through the bonded navigators.”

“Oh, the navigators. I heard about that. It’s Zera and Odran, right?”

Broken nodded. “It’s fascinating how the AI can telepathically interface with them. None of our existing technologies can come close to replicating a true psychic interface. The best we have is nerve sheath induction.”

Casti spoke again. “I have connected you all to the neural psychic link at the surface level, to determine your basic requirements. You will need to vocalize questions or request a deeper bond through Zera if you would like a more responsive interface.”

Rowen studied the shifting display. “The neural interface pathways must be incredibly sophisticated to allow for that level of customization. Is it purely reactive, or is there a predictive element?”

Petre blinked in surprise, impressed at her question. “Both, actually. The ship learns from each interaction.” Petre examined the console. “What measures has Casti taken to secure the project?”

Broken's expression darkened. “We've implemented additional safeguards. Most of the ship has been designated as a secure area, and Casti is authorized to take aggressive action to repel unwelcome visitors. Any unauthorized access attempts trigger countermeasures.”

“Excellent,” he murmured, “and these measures extend to all research data?”

“Everything is protected,” Broken confirmed. “Though authorized users have significant access within their clearance levels.” He fixed Petre with a questioning look. “Your concerns about project security are noted, but unnecessary. Just focus on the work itself.”

“Of course. If we’re done with the tour, let’s start reviewing the project specifications.” He brought up the project schematics on the main display. “These are the preliminary plans for the new expansion. We are planning for an interconnected network of bio domes and open-air cultivation areas. We want to grow edibles of all varieties year round, as well as medicinal plants. We haven’t determined the site location yet, so there is some flexibility dependent on site-specific conditions. We also need to select the bio-dome technology. We’re still waiting on Casti’s specifications.”

Petre walked Rowen through the preliminary plans for each bio-dome and the concept for the different planting areas. “The first task for us is to review the list of requested produce and confirm what we think is in and out of scope for the project.”

She smiled slightly. “The Garden.”

“What?”

“The project needs a name. We should call it The Garden.”

He smiled back at her, his first genuine smile since she had arrived. “I like that. Very well, The Garden.”

She held out her hand for a datapad. “Leave it with me. I’ll have a reviewed scope of works within a few days.”

***

Petre's quarters felt oppressively quiet after the excitement of being on Casti. They were in one of the newer colony buildings, a Malurien pre-fabricated structure.

It was sleek and elegant, a far cry from his original tiny colony quarters. The only thing that broke the perfect décor was a garish orange and pink climbing frame in the corner, complete with a small blue furred creature snoring peacefully in a little hammock.

He stood at the window, watching the sky deepen into purple darkness, the stars pinpricks in the blanket of night. The psychic block at the base of his skull throbbed dully, a constant reminder of the absolute shitshow his life had become in just a couple of days. He gripped the edge of the window, fighting not to just claw the damn thing out of his head.

When he spotted his brother, he took one look at him and headed for the small cabinet where Petre kept the good alcohol. Kina awoke from her hammock, and chittered a greeting at Luken, running over to clamber up his brother’s leg.

“That bad?” Luken asked, pouring them both a measure of the amber liquid, fending off Kina’s friendly pats.

“Actually, no.” Petre accepted the glass, letting the familiar ritual settle his nerves. “The project itself is fascinating.” He took a sip. “If I wasn’t about to commit industrial espionage, I would be enjoying myself immensely.”

“Did you learn anything about the security on the ship?”

Petre dragged his hands over his chin, scratching at the stubble. “Only that it’s locked up tight. Most of the ship is classified as secure. I’ll have to try using my engineering clearance and see how far it gets me.”

Luken frowned at him. “That's not much of a plan, Brother.”

Petre resisted the urge to snap at him. “It's our only plan right now.” He took a sip of the drink, holding the alcohol in his mouth, feeling the nip before it slid down his throat.

Luken slumped into one of the chairs, Kina settling against his chest. “I might have a plan. An idea of a plan, anyway.”

“What is it?”

“Have you heard rumors of the Verit resistance?” Luken asked.

Petre fixed him with a flat stare as he took the other seat. “That’s your plan? A made-up story to comfort young in the night? That’s foolhardy, even on your normal scale.”

Luken wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I have reason to believe they aren’t made up.”

Petre lunged forward and gripped his brother’s wrist, dislodging Kina, who ran back to her perch, chittering and scolding. “What did you do?”

Luken pulled his arm away with deliberation. “Nothing, yet. I have a contact.” He paused. “I might have a contact… that might lead us to the resistance.”

Petre looked at him, unblinking, before he huffed a laugh. “You might have a contact that might lead to the resistance? That’s the shittiest plan I’ve ever heard.”

“Like you said, it's our only idea right now. Do you have a better one?”

Petre ground his teeth. “No. Not right now. But I’m sure we can come up with something, anything better than that. If you get caught with the resistance… IF they exist, you won’t be facing arrest, it’ll be execution.”

Luken took a deep swig of his drink. “Well, let me know when you have a better idea. Right now, I’m going to pull this thread.”

Petre felt like screaming in frustration, but a lifetime together had taught him that changing his brother’s mind once it was set was like trying to steer an asteroid. They had that in common. He sank back into his own chair. “We might have another problem. My new staff engineer is a Falosian.”

Luken cocked an eyebrow at him. “And? What's she like? Is she going to be a problem?”

Petre kept his gaze on the glass, studying the way the viscous liquid pooled on the edge of the glass. “Capable. Intelligent. Funny.” Luken waited, and Petre met his gaze reluctantly. “She might be a problem.”

Problems had to be dealt with, and he had no doubt that if he told his twin that the Falosian presented one, she would not be at work tomorrow. Or ever again. His mind flashed a brief image of Rowen’s smart, gold eyes, red hair curling from her hair scarf, and felt a pang of guilt.

He felt Luken's attention sharpen. “What?”

“Nothing.” Luken's innocent expression wouldn't have fooled a blind elder. “Just noticed you didn't mention that she's pretty.”

“I hadn't noticed.” The lie felt clumsy on his tongue. Who was he kidding? His twin knew him better than he knew himself, and he certainly knew his type. The instant he’d seen his new engineer, everything in him had perked up in interest. She was flat out gorgeous. Small, curvy, smart, and sassy. He’d held himself in an iron grip to stop himself from pressing his face into her nape and scenting her when she leaned over to whisper to him in the flyer.

Another thought occurred, “Wait, you knew they’d assigned me a Falosian engineer?”

Luken's eyes sparkled with amusement. “I noticed. I saw her before she boarded the flyer with Broken.”

“Luke.” The warning in Petre's voice was clear.

“What? I'm just making conversation about your new colleague.” His brother's grin widened. “Though I also notice you're not denying my observations.”

Petre set his glass down harder than necessary, anger and guilt churning. “It doesn't matter what I notice or don't. She's Falosian.”

“And?”

“And you know exactly what that means.” Petre began pacing, his composure fraying. “They're empaths, Luke. We can never be sure how much they sense, what they might pick up without even meaning to. If she senses what’s going on with me…”

Luken shrugged. “I don’t think it's that much of a problem. You’ve got the psychic block, after all.”

Petre stretched his neck, feeling the tendrils of the neural block tighten. “I have no idea if this thing will even hold up against her. Or Casti’s neural link.”

Luken watched him. “What are you going to do about it?

“I had thought to have her reassigned, or just freeze her out, but she’s Broken’s protégé. He gave her a personal recommendation.” Luken grimaced. Neither of them wanted to go against Broken. “No one would believe an incompetence excuse.” Petre took a deeper sip of his drink. “If I can’t get rid of her, I’ll just have to keep my distance. Try not to let her get close enough to sense anything.”

“Do you think it’ll work?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, but it’s the best I’ve got just now. You chase your ghosts. I’ll keep my distance and find a way to buy us time.” Petre moved back to the window, watching the first stars emerge. “Besides, the engineer seems…bright. Happy. I won't be the one to cast shadows on that.”

“You like her!” accused Luken.

“I don’t know her, and right now, I can’t afford to. She’s a complication and a distraction.” Petre gave Luken a withering glance. “Seriously, I’m trying to protect your life here!”

“You know,” Luken said, “for someone so brilliant, you can be remarkably stupid sometimes.”

Despite everything, Petre felt his lips twitch. “It's a gift.”

“A curse, more like.” Luken stood, crossing to rest a hand on his brother's shoulder. “Try to get some sleep. Tomorrow's another day of not noticing your pretty engineer.”

“She's not my anything.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Brother.” Luken's grin returned as he headed for the door.

“I do not—” Petre protested, but Luken was already gone, his laughter echoing down the corridor.

Alone again, Petre felt the pain pulse again from the psychic block. He thought of Rowen's bright smile, the way her enthusiasm lit up the lab, how her mind seemed to race ahead of everyone else's.

Distance . The only safe option is distance.