There was a small explosion behind the boulder, and dust erupted into the air, along with a few dangerous chunks of rock.
“But I love you,” she whined. It was futile. Rychor’s logic, pain, and feelings had been transmitted to her. She knew instantly why he didn’t want to mate with her, Afina’s new plan, and that he refused to share her. Like him, she now knew that this was the best solution from a set of impossible choices.
He was activating her helmet. It sprang to life, covering her head, sealing into the collar. She hit Rychor’s chest with her fists.
“No,” she complained. “No!”
“Do you love me?” Rychor asked her. She had no idea if he had actually spoken, or if his question moved through her like his thoughts, part of her blood now.
She looked at him with pleading eyes. He knew that she did.
And she knew what he was going to say next.
“Then go. Obey me and do as I instructed you. The schematics of the cave are now a memory in your mind. You will have no difficulty.”
She tried to search the dump of information and feelings he had given her, trying to find what would happen to him. When she thought of the caves, she saw them all, knew them as well as she knew the forests of her childhood home.
But when she tried to find his future plans the same way—by thinking about them, as if they were a memory—she couldn’t.
“What will happen to you?!”
Rychor shook his head. “I intend to distract them. Will you go now, please?”
“Tell me—”
“If you love me, you will go now as I asked.”
Another explosion and a rain of sparks. Rychor swept her up in his arms and ran into the water, carrying her. Soon they were far out and near the tunnel of rock that disappeared into semi-darkness.
“Go now!” he said, shoving her into the tunnel on her stomach, floating. A forceful, psychological blow to her mind screamed at her to start swimming. And so she did.
They would follow him, not her. She knew this just as surely as she knew anything. That was why he was sending her away, letting her go. He didn’t want Afina to find her, and he didn’t want to share her with another Ryvokia.
So she swam, crying, the inside of her helmet fogging up so much that she could only see the hazy blue of the water, and the darkness above her. She was ensconced in silence much sooner than she would have expected, but the quiet didn’t terrify her, and neither did the underwater swim. She just went, propelled by a force both outside and inside of her.
It was no surprise when she arrived at the opening—she swam up, up through a tube of rock that she recognized as a long-defunct lava tube. At last, she surfaced in a huge cavern, the ceiling of which she couldn’t see in the blackness above her.
She crawled onto the shore—a black, sandy beach illuminated only by the water. But she knew, without seeing, where the cave ended and began, how it twisted and turned. She felt her neck again. She knew that this was a patch Rychor had designed himself, that it would fade away, that she had been connected to the Ryvokia consciousness through him, so that he could explain in seconds what would have taken years to convey by speaking.
She also knew that he wanted this for her, and he wanted it out of love. Her connection to the Ryvokia would fade after she was collected. She took her helmet off and wriggled out of the suit, looking at the booster he had given her. She marveled that she understood how it functioned, without ever having actually seen one before.
She knew that Rychor wanted her to guard the Ryvokia secret until her memory erased itself, part of the ticking time bomb of nanobiology that Rychor had introduced to her.
And she could feelhim. His concerns for her, his physical exertion, his dread, his sadness—the protective instinct that made him willing to suffer for her.
She set up the beacon and booster without being able to see clearly through the tears in her eyes. Whatever Rychor had done to her brain made it come to her as second nature. Her finger hovered over the switch to turn it on, but she hesitated, torn.
Seconds ticked by, and she felt a cold wind blow through the emptiness of her chest.
She imagined going home. She imagined leaving and never seeing Rychor again, never mentioning him to anyone, knowing that she had finally found someone who loved her possessively and so deeply it hurt him, so deeply he could sacrifice for her.
She would forget, she reminded herself, moving her finger closer to the button. She could forget this whole experience and move on with her life. That was the sensible thing to do. It was what would have happened to her if she hadn’t been so curious. If Rychor hadn’t been the first of the Ryvokia to see her, if he hadn’t decided to capture her.
And it was what would have happened anyway, she reminded herself.
All she needed to do was press the button. Send the signal. Be located by a human crew, and let the vast knowledge that had opened up inside her mind close off. With it, all of her feelings would disappear as well, and it would be like she’d never known Rychor or felt anything for him.
“Okay,” she said, talking to herself. “Okay, you can do this.”
