Republic Archives returned a null report. He wasn't surprised by that; it was an obvious piece of alien tech, and the universe was vast, containing civilizations millennia older than the race of Humans.
He debated his next step. The device he held could be nothing more than some sort of projector, a music player maybe. Diligence was what made him cue the picture behind the thousands of other queries in the IGL, the Intergalactic Library.
Humanity, low as it was on the Alliance totem pole, was allowed only a single search slot. That meant that a single computer in the inner sanctum of the Oniwabanshu headquarters was connected to the IGL, and it could search one term, one phrase, or one piece of tech at a time. Upon installation of the computer, the First Exiles asked the Prehson why that was the case. The alien technicians gave a complicated excuse that amounted to nothing more than "bandwidth issues."
He expected, therefore, that it would be months or years before his query was returned. Corwin created a file in the Oniwabanshu's Artifact Archives and routed the return information to that file; he'd turn in the device to that same organization as soon as he could.
Corwin shivered. The cold that pervaded the hard plasteel walls and floor had seeped into his skin. He stood and stretched, fatigued limbs protesting.
As he worked sore muscles, his attention turned towards the two brothers now locked in the city's jail, and his body and mind sputtered like a preinvasion motor vehicle. A few of the emotions from the day's dark activities spilled over the edge of the barrier that kept them from Corwin's conscious mind. It was a sledgehammer blow.
Despite the cold, Corwin leaned back against the wall. The chaos and wreckage of the settlement: torn bodies and blood splashed against the walls, on the grass; the fear of the Grunts, fear for his own life, fear for his Voidmates'. Then the assault on the Quisling caravan and the dead children caught in the crossfire and the realization that he didn't much care to spare them. Worse was his flippant near-execution of the surviving Quisling kids.
He held his hand to his head, pressing it back hard against the wall; the pain somehow brought clarity to his whirling thoughts. He gripped on tight and fought them back into the recesses of his mind, back to where they belonged and were most comfortable.
He'd regained his composure by the time that Phae, arm held in a sling, walked through the door. "The Medics are ready to see you."
"Fine," Corwin said through the glower that had retaken its customary place. He knelt to gather his things, slipping the orb back into his pack.
Phae's well-formed legs stepped into his peripheral vision. "What's that?"
Corwin focused on the bag. On the orb in the bag. Of the weight of it in his hands — anything to keep from looking at Phae. "I have no idea," he said, standing as he slung the pack around one shoulder. "I cued an imaged of it into the research slot of the IGL, but…" he finished the sentence with a shrug.
"Let me see it," Phae said as she reached around Corwin to grab the bag.
Surprised, Corwin shifted to keep the bag out of reach, a movement that brought their bare bodies into contact. Corwin tensed and backed up, oblivious to the wall behind.
He hit his head, hard, and in that moment of stunned surprise, Phae was on him, one hand wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling their lips together in a kiss. The heat would have burned the sun. Phae pressed her body in close, her muscled Tercio physique still somehow lissome and feminine. They lingered there a moment. A moment longer. Corwin pushed her back. He didn't push her far, just enough to get some breathing room.
He didn't want to let go.
"What are you doing?" Corwin asked. His voice hoarse, throaty.
Phae answered in kind. "I want you." She grabbed him again. Corwin gave in to the kiss.
Corwin pulled himself free and placed a hand onto Phae's breastbone. The action wasn't meant
He debated his next step. The device he held could be nothing more than some sort of projector, a music player maybe. Diligence was what made him cue the picture behind the thousands of other queries in the IGL, the Intergalactic Library.
Humanity, low as it was on the Alliance totem pole, was allowed only a single search slot. That meant that a single computer in the inner sanctum of the Oniwabanshu headquarters was connected to the IGL, and it could search one term, one phrase, or one piece of tech at a time. Upon installation of the computer, the First Exiles asked the Prehson why that was the case. The alien technicians gave a complicated excuse that amounted to nothing more than "bandwidth issues."
He expected, therefore, that it would be months or years before his query was returned. Corwin created a file in the Oniwabanshu's Artifact Archives and routed the return information to that file; he'd turn in the device to that same organization as soon as he could.
Corwin shivered. The cold that pervaded the hard plasteel walls and floor had seeped into his skin. He stood and stretched, fatigued limbs protesting.
As he worked sore muscles, his attention turned towards the two brothers now locked in the city's jail, and his body and mind sputtered like a preinvasion motor vehicle. A few of the emotions from the day's dark activities spilled over the edge of the barrier that kept them from Corwin's conscious mind. It was a sledgehammer blow.
Despite the cold, Corwin leaned back against the wall. The chaos and wreckage of the settlement: torn bodies and blood splashed against the walls, on the grass; the fear of the Grunts, fear for his own life, fear for his Voidmates'. Then the assault on the Quisling caravan and the dead children caught in the crossfire and the realization that he didn't much care to spare them. Worse was his flippant near-execution of the surviving Quisling kids.
He held his hand to his head, pressing it back hard against the wall; the pain somehow brought clarity to his whirling thoughts. He gripped on tight and fought them back into the recesses of his mind, back to where they belonged and were most comfortable.
He'd regained his composure by the time that Phae, arm held in a sling, walked through the door. "The Medics are ready to see you."
"Fine," Corwin said through the glower that had retaken its customary place. He knelt to gather his things, slipping the orb back into his pack.
Phae's well-formed legs stepped into his peripheral vision. "What's that?"
Corwin focused on the bag. On the orb in the bag. Of the weight of it in his hands — anything to keep from looking at Phae. "I have no idea," he said, standing as he slung the pack around one shoulder. "I cued an imaged of it into the research slot of the IGL, but…" he finished the sentence with a shrug.
"Let me see it," Phae said as she reached around Corwin to grab the bag.
Surprised, Corwin shifted to keep the bag out of reach, a movement that brought their bare bodies into contact. Corwin tensed and backed up, oblivious to the wall behind.
He hit his head, hard, and in that moment of stunned surprise, Phae was on him, one hand wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling their lips together in a kiss. The heat would have burned the sun. Phae pressed her body in close, her muscled Tercio physique still somehow lissome and feminine. They lingered there a moment. A moment longer. Corwin pushed her back. He didn't push her far, just enough to get some breathing room.
He didn't want to let go.
"What are you doing?" Corwin asked. His voice hoarse, throaty.
Phae answered in kind. "I want you." She grabbed him again. Corwin gave in to the kiss.
Corwin pulled himself free and placed a hand onto Phae's breastbone. The action wasn't meant
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