I wondered if there was substance beneath the smooth exterior. He was clearly skilled socially, comfortable with people in a way I had never been and had long since stopped trying to be. Some people were built for connection. For reading rooms and navigating complex social dynamics and making others feel at ease.
I was built for other things.
“I believe we’ve documented everything relevant,” Sophie announced, tucking her recording device back into her jacket. “Vash, any final observations?”
Vash grunted something that might have been agreement or might have been indigestion. It was hard to tell with him.
Finally.
“Then we should head back,” Baleck said, moving to take point on the trail. “The weather’s turning. We don’t want to be caught on the ridge if it decides to rain.”
The descent was easier than the climb, at least physically. The cold was another matter. The wind had picked up as the clouds thickened, cutting through my bodysuit with enthusiastic malice. The thermal regulation in the fabric was designed for ship-based operations, not extended exposure to mountain weather. A design flaw I would be noting in my equipment review.
I clenched my jaw against a shiver and kept walking. Mind over matter. I’d endured worse conditions than this. Much worse.
Sophie and Vash had fallen into conversation behind me. Their voices droned in diplomatic jargon. Something about “preliminary assessments” and “tactical holistic integration.” What did that even mean? I tuned them out and focused on the trail, on the placement of my feet, on the rhythm of the descent.
A shiver escaped despite my best efforts. Small. Barely visible. Certainly not visible to anyone walking ahead of me or behind me.
Baleck stopped. Before I could say anything, he shrugged off his heavy coat and held it out to me. The hide was weathered and well-worn, clearly from the D’tran stores.
I stared at it. Then at him. His back had been to me. There were no eyes nestled in the back of his head that I could see, so how had he known I was cold?
“I run warm,” he said, as if that explained anything. His skin had shifted to something deeper, almost bronze. “Destran physiology. The cold doesn’t bother me as much.”
That was probably true. I’d read about their temperature regulation. But that wasn’t why I hesitated.
I didn’t accept help. I didn’t need help. I was capable of managing a little cold.
He didn’t wait for me to take the coat. He simply draped it over my shoulders, gave me a small nod, and continued down the trail ahead of me.
I stood there for a moment, processing.
The coat was warm from his body and this time when I shivered, it was with relief. I began walking again so I didn’t hold up the diplomats, and maneuvered my arms through the sleeves. The coat was lined with a soft fabric that held heat remarkably well. It smelled like pine, woodsmoke, and warm spice. His scent, I realized. The coat smelled like him.
It shouldn’t have been pleasant. It was simply biological data, pheromones and environmental markers, nothing meaningful.
I pulled the coat snugly around me. It was way too big, but the warmth was immediate and welcome. I didn’t care for how welcome it was.
Baleck had moved ahead on the trail, navigating the series of switchbacks that wound down the steeper section of the ridge.From this angle, I had an unobstructed view of his body. Well-used muscles flexed beneath a woven tunic and snug pants. He had a very fine ass.
Irrelevant, I told myself firmly. Completely irrelevant to the mission parameters.
But I kept watching as we descended. Why not? It was right there, after all. I noted the way he moved, the sureness of his footing on the loose stone. He glanced back to check on the group’s progress, caught my eye, and smiled.
I didn’t smile back. I never smiled. But something in my chest did something odd. A flutter, almost. Like a system coming online after a long dormancy.
I ignored it.
The metallic object on the distant ridge was the priority. That was what mattered. Tomorrow morning, Baleck and I would investigate. We would determine what it was and whether it posed a threat. That was the mission. Clear objectives. Defined outcomes.
Everything else was unimportant.
And yet.
I had spent years building walls. Constructing the careful blankness that kept others at a distance, that made me effective at what I did. I showed nothing because showing anything was a vulnerability. I said little because words could be used against you. I kept myself contained, controlled, separate.
Of course, there was more to me than the mask I wore. I had opinions and reactions and yes, even emotions. All of them churning beneath my surface. I simply chose not to display them.
