"It's dangerous." Sullha felt like she needed to say that. "If you are discovered…"
There was no need to finish that sentence.
Burda offered her a weak smile. "I have lived in this place for sixty-three years, Sullha, and I've been carrying plenty of dangerous things in my head and in my hands during those years. A communication device is just one more thing to hide. I've hidden worse."
"Worse?"
"Stories. Knowledge. Memory. The accumulated record of what this place has done to all of us. I have been keeping that record in my head, and now I would have a way to preserve it somewhere that isn't going to die with me."
"I am glad you are staying, then," Sullha said. "I felt guilty about leaving you behind, and now I don't because you'll be performing a crucial task that can save many lives." Sullha sat down on the stack of mats beside Burda and took the old woman's hand. "But I am still going to miss you."
"I'll miss you too, girl."
19
DROVA
The staging room at Safe Harbor smelled of neoprene, gun oil, and the faint brine that clung to everything on the island no matter how many times the floors were scrubbed. There were other, more pleasant smells, like the laundry detergent scent coming off Brody's uniform and his aftershave.
Drova had met the Guardian a while back during the one time she'd accompanied a team of the Avengers division. She'd been avoiding most of the guys who'd seen her falling apart that day. She just didn't have the stomach for that kind of work, which was really shameful for the badass Kra-ell warrior she was supposed to be.
Brody hadn't been part of the original team that had returned with her to Safe Harbor and had arrived later along with the two Odus and Julian because those in charge had decided that a backup team was a good idea. They also thought that the Odus would make the excavation go much faster and that people might get injured and a doctor would be needed. Broken bones had to be set right away, or they fused wrong, and that was truefor the Kra-ell as well as for the immortals, even though the Kra-ell healed at a much slower rate and it wasn't as urgent to set their broken bones. They were also built stronger, and there was much less chance of them breaking anything. She was much more worried about bullet wounds.
Whatever.
Drova didn't mind the doctor or the Odus, and Brody was a nice guy, but she didn't want to talk to him, so she busied herself by checking her gear one more time even though nothing needed checking. Her rebreather was sealed and tested, the wetsuit was rolled and ready inside her gear pack along with the fins, and her dive knife was sharp.
The other Guardians were going through their preparation rituals, some in silence and others chatting with their friends.
Anandur was sitting on a crate with a sandwich in one hand and a tablet in the other, either reviewing stuff for the mission or just watching something for entertainment.
The guy was a seasoned Guardian, and not much fazed him anymore, or at least not enough to suppress his appetite.
Drova's own stomach was tight with pre-mission jitters, and she regretted filling up on too much blood even though she knew she would need the fuel to last her a while.
It wasn't just the jitters, though.
Pavel was on the other side of the room, crouched over his own gear, his long dark hair pulled back in the low knot he'd started wearing instead of the ponytail. He'd worn it like that at the wedding, too. She'd noticed then, and she was noticing now, and she hated how much of her mental bandwidth he was occupying.She shouldn't be thinking about how handsome he looked with this new hairstyle, or how sinuously he moved, and how her mind imagined him moving like that in a different situation. What she should have been thinking about was the basement and the chests and the two prior collapses that meant the ceiling over their heads might come down a third time while they were under it, but it had been difficult to ignore him before the kiss, and impossible after.
It had been five days since they had sat together on that rock on the beach, since he'd put his mouth on hers, and since her stupid heart had tried to float out of her chest, and in those five days Pavel hadn't said a single word about it. He'd trained with her. He'd passed her in the corridors. He'd sat across from her at the briefing table yesterday and discussed dive timing and the structural assessment of the basement.
Had she hallucinated the entire thing?
Perhaps she'd dreamt that he'd asked permission to kiss her, waited for her to close the distance, and then put his hand against her jaw with the gentlest of touches like she was some fragile human girl.
Maybe she'd also dreamt about how much she'd liked it.
Drova didn't know what to do with it, and that was the worst part.
She was one of the strongest assets on this mission, an unparalleled compeller, an excellent fighter, and she was allowing her stupid hormones to hijack her mental steering wheel.
This was not how the Kra-ell did things.
The Kra-ell were brutally direct.
There was no pining among her people, no five-day silences full of meaning and looks full of longing. A Kra-ell female who wanted a male invited him to her bed, and the male, if he had any sense and any manners, accepted. There were four males for every female, and the invitation was not something any male was stupid enough to squander. To refuse was a grave insult.
That was the tradition.
