THE REFORGED TRILOGY: BOOK 3 — HAMMER OF TIME
Chapter 3: Dishes
“No kingdom is built in a day.”
– Panna Sul (234 PA)
After lunch, Xia was the first to bring up Axis again.
Maeve poked a blob of greenish goo around her plate and made a face. The coreworlds were full of technological marvels: engines that propelled ships between the stars faster than light and the null-inertia fields that made it possible, laser weapons that could fire thousands of shots on a single charge, cloned and — though far less popular — cybernetic replacements for lost limbs and organs, janitorial and medical nanites that eliminated the need to clean dishes or sharpen blades, even the phennomethylln that coated the Blue Phoenix hull that allowed it to fly into a star’s searing corona.
And yet the protein and vitamin paste that made up most meals on the Blue Phoenix felt and tasted like glue. Still, it was far better than nothing… Maeve had been hungry before, starving on the streets of one of Hyzaar’s arcologies. Maeve heaped her spoon and swallowed as quickly as she could. Nutritious was about the best praise she could lavish on her meal, but that was enough.
When they were done eating, Logan helped Maeve collect the dishes and then carry them to the sink. Duaal’s spoon flew toward her with a thought. Gravity was apparently an easy force to manipulate with his new power. In small amounts, at least.
Maeve dodged aside just in time to avoid the spoon dripping on her wing. Logan caught the dirty little missile and dropped it into the soapy water. Maeve rolled up her sleeves and began scrubbing. The sorts of nanites that made it unnecessary to wash dishes may have been amazing pieces of technology, but they were also costly and so it was Maeve’s job to scrub away their congealed dinner remains.
“I believe there is still dessert,” Maeve told him.
Logan smiled and the expression was still strange on his serious face. Clumsy, somehow.
“I’d rather watch you,” he said, and hesitated and before adding: “You’re sweeter than any dessert.”
“You could help me with the dishes.”
Logan raised his left hand. The illonium was as unreflective as a gray shadow. “It’s manufactured to be waterproof, but I’ve cracked the casing too often. Not a good idea to submerge it.”
Maeve went quiet, trying to figure out if Logan Coldhand was making a joke. She decided that she couldn’t be sure and gave him a kiss instead. His lips were slightly cool to the touch, as though the cracked casing of his cybernetic hand had leaked cold metal out into the rest of his body.
“You could dry them,” she suggested.
“I could.”
Logan searched around until he found a threadbare dish towel. Panna had been thumbing through something on a datadex — the same one she had been reading earlier that day, Maeve suspected — but now looked up with a frown.
“Are you… doing dishes?” she asked.
“Sort of,” Maeve admitted. “Logan was distracting me.”
“I bet,” Panna said. But she was still frowning. “You shouldn’t be washing things, princess.”
“Why not?” Maeve asked.
She hoped that Panna didn’t think she was unequal to the task. It was just dishes… But the other Arcadian got up and plucked the sponge from the sideboard.
“You’re a princess,” she said, emphasizing the title. “You’re above this kind of scullery work!”
“But she does it all the time,” Gripper objected. He didn’t look at Panna, but was eyeing Logan as though afraid the Prian might kill him with the towel he held.
“And what else is a princess supposed to do while on a ship?” Maeve asked.
Panna shook her head and didn’t answer that. Gripper fidgeted and Maeve reached for the sponge. Panna was visibly torn between wanting to keep it away and reluctance to fight with her princess. It made Maeve uncomfortable, but she could at least take a moment’s advantage of Panna’s indecision. Logan held out the towel to Panna.
“You can dry them,” he offered.
Panna sighed and took the towel. Maeve squeezed some bright green soap into the water and got to work. Tiny iridescent bubbles sifted up from the sink and landed on her skin, smelling of artificial pine.
“Our landing fees are only paid up through tomorrow night,” Duaal said. He smoothed down thick, curly brown hair. Ever since Prianus, he had stopped bleaching it. “Should I renew them? Or are we going somewhere?”
“What about Axis?” Xia asked. “There’s got to be someone who will listen to us about the Devourers.”
“We can’t go back there,” Duaal answered. “We’re dead to the Axis police. And if we come back to life in their records, we’re criminals, remember? We’ll have to go through a trial and pay fines before we could talk to anyone.”
“You don’t have enough information to make your case about the Devourers,” Logan said. He leaned against the counter next to Maeve as she scrubbed a dented pan. “We need to be able to tell them where to look and what to look for.”
“But we don’t know that,” Gripper objected in a squeaky voice.
No one on the Blue Phoenix had quite adjusted to Logan’s presence, but it was hardest for Gripper. The huge brown alien was still terrified of Coldhand.
“So we need to find out,” Logan answered evenly. “We need to find Xartasia.”
“How, exactly?” Duaal asked.
He leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet onto the table. His leather boots filled the mess with the slightly chemical smell of polish and left black smudges on the tabletop.
“I don’t know yet,” Logan said.
Duaal looked at Maeve, who had paused in washing dishes to listen. “And this is the man who always managed to find you?”
“She was trying to get caught,” Logan pointed out. “The galaxy is vast. Trying to find any one person in it is next to impossible. So I usually find out where my prey likes to be. I go there myself and then wait. Or else I let it be known that I have what they want and they come to me.”
“Can we do that with her?” Gripper asked.
He had no nickname for Xartasia and seemed reluctant to give her one.
“I have no idea what my cousin wants or what she intends to do,” Maeve said.
“But whatever it is, Xartasia must be leaving some kind of trail,” Logan said. “Everyone leaves their marks. We just need to find and then follow it. Gripper, I’ll need you to come into Hanjirrah with me tomorrow.”
“What?” Gripper jumped up and banged his head on the mess ceiling. “Me? Why me?”
“I’ll need mainstream access and there’s no significant signal outside the city,” Logan said. “There’s going to be a lot of information and I need an extra set of eyes. Yours work, right?”
“Yeah,” Gripper answered skeptically, apparently not quite sure about this fact. “I guess…”
“What about me?” Maeve asked, a bit stung that her lover hadn’t asked for her help.
“You don’t like computers,” Logan reminded her.
“Oh… yes,” Maeve agreed sheepishly. “Is there something else that I can do?”
“I was going to go find where the Arcadians live around here,” Panna said. She finished drying the pan and replaced it in a cupboard. She closed and latched the door with a click.
“To find out if they’ve heard anything about Xartasia’s plans?” Xia asked.
“Uh… no,” Panna answered, flushing. “I just wanted to talk to them, actually. Maybe see if any of them have some glass armor from the old kingdom to go with the princess’ spear. But I can find out if they’ve heard anything about Xartasia.”
Panna glanced over at Maeve. “Do you want to come? I’m sure it would mean a lot to see their princess alive. Everyone thought the whole royal family was dead.”
Maeve scrubbed hard at a bowl to conceal her hesitation. She didn’t like to advertise herself. It was Maeve, after all, who had accidentally summoned the Devourers into the White Kingdom, where they decimated her people. Even before that, she had been only a cousin to the royal family, in no danger of ascending to the throne or doing anything important.
Maeve had meant what she told Logan — she was no princess. Not really. Not anymore.
“I will stay,” Maeve told the sink full of soapy water. “I am sure I will be of more use here.”
“Sure,” Duaal said. “There are plenty more dishes to do.”
Maeve darted a look back over her shoulder at the new captain. Was he taunting her again?
No. Maeve saw a teasing twinkle in his dark green eyes, but it didn’t seem malicious. Maybe Duaal even thought he was offering Maeve a legitimate excuse to remain behind.
“Yes,” she answered in an admittedly brittle tone. “I have dishes to do.”
Panna’s face fell, but she nodded.
“How about you, Xia?” she asked.
The silver-skinned Ixthian nodded. “Sure, I would be happy to go with you.”
“What about me?” Duaal asked. “Don’t I get an invitation?”
Panna actually stuck out her tongue at him.
“I’m sure you have plenty of work here on the Phoenix,” she told Duaal. “Overseeing the dish washing and such.”
Anger flashed in Duaal’s eyes and a red ember of fire kindled in his palm. The proud young mage had never liked being teased. But then the flame snuffed out and Duaal laughed.
“I guess I do,” he agreed. “I should put in for supplies in case we figure out where in the three hundred hells we’re going.”
“Want to trade jobs?” Gripper mumbled. He was chewing on one of his thick climbing claws and spoke awkwardly around it. “I can do dishes.”
“I think Maeve and I can manage,” Duaal said with a smirk. “You enjoy your trip with Coldhand.”
Gripper looked at Logan again and whimpered.
Maeve’s voice echoed off the walls of her bunkroom, a rising note of passion and pleasure. Her wings curled around Logan as his touch set her blood afire. Here in his arms, it was easy to forget her fears. Fear for the Arcadians, alone on Alliance worlds and surrounded by aliens who didn’t care if they lived or died. Fear of Xartasia and whatever she intended.
And terror of the Devourers.
But not here, not now… Now there was only the hot-cold presence of Logan within her, the feeling of his sweat-damp skin against hers and the musical sounds of her joy. Logan kissed her, never silencing Maeve, but tasting her song.
Maeve lay in Orthain’s arms. Her eyes were closed and Aes’ golden light caressed her skin with smooth, warm fingers. Birds chirped in the well-tended trees and a nearby stream burbled as cheerfully as a happy child. Orthain stroked Maeve’s long black hair as he sang.
“To you I give my love,
My heart and life,
The heart and life we share.”
Maeve looked up into Orthain’s exquisite golden-green eyes. She lifted her hand and caressed his smooth cheek. Orthain caught her wrist and kissed her fingertips.
“Will you share in my oathsong, enarri?” he asked.
His voice shook. His glass armor could not protect his heart from the woman he loved. Maeve sat up and brushed back Orthain’s hair.
“To you I give my love,” she sang.
“My heart and life,
The heart and life we share.”
Her lover’s eyes lit up. Orthain spread his long wings and vaulted into the air, pulling Maeve with him. He twirled her around above the garden, singing in pure delight.
“I must have missed something lovely,” said a voice from below.
Maeve looked down. Another winged shape stood in the grass, waving and wearing a simple white robe that rippled in the warm breeze. His tightly bound hair was the black of a raven’s wing. Maeve slipped from Orthain’s arms and landed in the garden.
“Caith!” she cried and hugged her brother tightly. “Orthain has asked me to marry him!”
“And what was your answer?”
Orthain landed beside a blooming rose tree. He picked a pink blossom and tucked it into Maeve’s ebony hair. The knight kissed her brow.
“Maeve has agreed,” he said with a grin. “You will be my brother, too. And then you will have to share her with me.”
Maeve woke alone, but the mattress beside her was still warm and full of Logan’s strange, salty human smell. She gathered his pillow to her chest and hummed happily.
There was a knock at the door. Maeve wrapped a sheet around her chest and unlocked the door with a swipe of her fingers across the control panel. Panna stood outside, still dressed very much like a Poes Nor student, like a human woman with her shirt concealing her back, to cover the scars of her wing removal.
To think that any Arcadian would cut off her wings… Panna’s sacrifice made Maeve feel guilty for refusing to go with her today.
“Good morning,” Maeve greeted the younger Arcadian. “Do you need anything?”
Panna had inclined her head and raised it now, blushing a brilliant pink at the sight of Maeve’s undress.
“I’m sorry,” Panna stammered, blinking rapidly. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Logan is not here.”
Panna was still blushing, but a small, sly smirk spread across her face.
“Humans are much larger than Arcadians,” she noted. “That must be a challenge at night.”
Maeve refused to be abashed, but her cheeks went quite hot.
“Logan and I are more or less compatible in the bedroom,” she answered. “And I was a knight of Arcadia. I am not so fragile.”
“I’m sure you can handle any weapon Coldhand carries,” Panna agreed with a giggle. She covered her mouth to stifle the laugh and then cleared her throat self-consciously. “I was hoping you would reconsider coming with me today, Highness.”
Maeve didn’t feel that guilty. She shook her head.
“I am no hero for our people,” she said. Panna at least deserved honesty. “I have no hope to give them.”
Panna stood in the narrow fibersteel corridor, her hands thrust into her pockets and shoulders hunched. She was disappointed, but the blonde girl nodded.
“Alright,” Panna said. “Just Xia and me, I guess. Where’s Coldhand? Did he leave already?”
“Yes. Though not long ago, I think,” Maeve answered.
Panna nodded and turned away.
“Did it… hurt to have your wings removed?” Maeve asked.
Panna turned to face Maeve again and stepped back until she stood pressed against the opposite wall, rubbing her palms over her chocolate-colored pants. She chewed her lip before answering.
“Not much. The anesthetic and pain blockers were very effective. The surgeon did a good job and I healed quickly.”
“But you did it in order to attend an Alliance university,” Maeve said. She loosened the sheet wrapped under her wings. “Which you have left to help me. Do you regret the decision? Would you take it back if you could?”
Panna clasped her hands in front of her.
“No,” she said. “If I had my wings, I would still be on Cyrus. I would never have known Professor Xen or you, princess.”
Maeve didn’t know what to say. Panna bowed to her and before the princess could ask her not to do that, Panna had turned away and retreated down the hall. Maeve sighed and went to find some clothes. Maybe there were actually some dishes to wash.
