He shrugs and rubs his shoulder. Pretending I’ve wounded him. Even with a good windup, I’m not sure I could.
“I was going somewhere with this,” he says. “I was thinking this morning that this aleyet we’re looking at, I guess ‘view’ is the closest word in Fédération, if we truly groya it, I guess ‘understand’ is the closest to that—” He starts to chew his lip, clearly frustrated at Fédération vocabulary. It suddenly strikes me as unfair that we speak Fédération all the time. That’s just the language the Cusk Corporation always uses. What other unfairnesses might I not have considered until now?
“We might not have any better words for it,” I risk interrupting. “That would be very typical Fédération, not to have words for quiet things. Anyway, I’m familiar with ‘aleyet’ and ‘groya.’”
His eyebrows knit. Now I’ve irritated him again. He’s a minefield, my Kodiak.
He presses on. “Thisunderstandingof ourviewtakes some of the sting out of our situation. Plenty of organisms live for a season, in order for those who come next to have a chance. Mayflies, daffodils, the octopus. We can accept that?”
“Well, we’re hardwired not to accept our own demise. Daffodils are a lot more chill about it.”
“Okay, but we can be like daffodils together.”
I squeeze the back of his neck. “That’s sweet.”
“Don’t tease me.”
“I wasn’t, actually. I adore daffodils.”Because they were Minerva’s favorite, I silently add, tapping the image of Earth on the “window.”
His voice lowers. “I know what I did thousands of years ago. The offline pilot station and the course change. I don’t think I’d do that sort of thing now.”
“We don’t know how many copies of us are left. The next of us could be the last for all we know.”
“It can be whatever we need it to be.”
Kodiak doesn’t say any more. He draws his arm around me and pulls me close to his chest, crushing me against the heat of him. Then he shakes his head. I’m too far down his body to feel it directly but sense the shift in the muscles of his chest.
I’m used to him enough now that he doesn’t need to speak, doesn’t need to put clearer words to what he has in mind. I think I know what he’s proposing from his heart rate, the altered life coursing through his veins, the words that he’s said and the words that he’s not allowing himself to say. There’s a sort of magnitude humming off him.
I pull my head back from his chest, look up into his tan eyes. “I think I understand what you want us to do,” I whisper.
“I think you do,” he whispers back.
He turns his head so his eyes can look right into mine. The dappled light plays on his cheek, his throat, and then his chest as he unzips the top of his jumpsuit. It catches halfway down his torso, and I help him peel it down to the waist. Hesitantly at first, my hands play over his skin, learning the shape of the muscles beneath. “Oh. That’s not what I thought you meant. I don’t mind, though.”
His fingers tug down the zipper of my jumpsuit, then they’re on my body. They snake below the waistband before they pause. “I’m glad you’re here with me,” I say.
“Yes, me too,” he says between kisses. His breath is hot against my cheek.
“Do you think we should take it slow?” I ask.
His hand travels deeper beneath my waistband, disappearing up to the wrist. “I don’t feel a particular need to take it slow,” he sighs as he watches my face.
“Good. Me neither.”
_-* Tasks Remaining: 3010 *-_
After, he holds me tight against him, my backside slick against his belly. He nuzzles his lips close to my ear. “Was that your first time?”
I playfully slap him. “What, did itseemlike my first time?”
“Well . . .”
“Actually,” I say, “I guess it was my first time. Officially. But it wasn’t Ambrose’s.”
He pulls me in closer. “We have lots of time to practice.”
I think for a second. “Wait, did you mean my first time at all, or my first time welcoming?”
