R-339’s face was exactly as she remembered it. The left side was completely human, but the right side was covered in silver skin, like some kind of mask. But both his eyes were grey and human. Almost.
“Ms. Kour. This is unexpected.”
“R-339.” She kept her voice level. “I need your help.”
A pause. In a human, it would have indicated surprise. In R-339, it was probably complex probability calculations. “You have never requested assistance before. In five years of operation within my territory.”
“Things change.”
“Indeed they do.” Those grey eyes studied her through the screen. “I received an alert from GenCon several hours ago. They claim to be conducting a geological survey in your territory. They also stated that you fled your claim and destroyed company property.”
“They’re lying.”
“I assumed as much. GenCon’s relationship with truth has always been… flexible.” R-339 tilted his head in a strangely human gesture. “But their interest in you is genuine. They’ve allocated significant resources to your retrieval. Far more than a simple geological survey would warrant.”
“I have something they want.”
“Evidently. Would you care to elaborate?”
She hesitated.
“Not over a channel that GenCon might be monitoring,” she said finally. “Can you come to the station? Alone?”
Another pause. “You’re asking me to trust you.”
“I’m asking you to give me the same consideration you’d give any citizen in your territory. The right to explain before being judged.”
R-339’s expression didn’t change, but something in his posture shifted. “The supply depot at coordinates 47-North?”
“Yes.”
“I can be there in eight hours. Alone, as you requested.” Those grey eyes seemed to bore through the screen. “But Ms. Kour, I should warn you—if this is a trap, or a waste of my time, there will be consequences.”
“It’s neither. You have my word.”
“Your word.” Again, that slight tilt of the head. “In my experience, human words are unreliable currency. But your actions over the past five years have been… consistent, so I will extend you the benefit of the doubt.”
The connection terminated.
She slumped against the communication console, suddenly aware of how tensely she’d been holding herself.Eight hours.They had eight hours to figure out how to explain the impossible.
“He agreed.” Adjar’s voice came from the shadows.
“He agreed to come. That’s not the same as agreeing to help.” She turned to find him watching her. “But it’s a start.”
“You handled that well. The conversation.”
“I handled it desperately. But thank you.”
He crossed the room in three strides, pulling her into his arms with an urgency that took her breath away. His wings curved around them both, creating a cocoon of warmth and darkness.
“Eight hours,” he murmured against her hair. “What should we do with eight hours?”
“Sleep, probably. Eat something. Check our supplies.”
“All practical suggestions.”
“I’m a practical person.”
