Please, no suits. I'm not that snappy a dresser.
Two chapters in one day? I must love you guys.
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Kiley woke up at her usual time, about an hour before dawn. Her mind struggled to rise out of sleep, and it took her a moment to remember why she was so exhausted. Her mind was trying to protect her, to keep the events of the last night away from conscious thought, but it was defeated by her need to know what had happened. It twisted and turned the paths of rationality away from the events of the past night, but it couldn't save her from herself. A few minutes of muzzy thought later she recalled just why she felt so crappy this morning.
That woke her up quickly. Oh, god, how could she have been so stupid? She berated herself unmercifully, knowing that she had ignored the risks last night, knowing that she would not have been the one to pay for any mistakes she might have made. One stasis field would normally be enough to knock her out, and she had tried four? Her mind quailed at the temerity of it. The stasis field had to be one of the hardest things she had learned, and although she had used it before she had never tried it on more then one person at a time, and never without a great deal more time for preparation. The smallest mistake, the tiniest flaw in execution and she wouldn't have sent that family out of time, but killed them. She had never tried a stasis field until it was the last option for that very reason, and yet for some reason that was the first thing she tried last night. Sure, it had worked out, she had done it right and brought them back, but what on earth possessed her to try in the first place? She must have been more tired then she had realized, and Knives must have pissed her off past her ability to reason.
If she hadn't been sure that Knives was about to bring them in to his insane little world she would never have contemplated the stasis field in the first place. No innocents should be subjected to his brand of torture. She had needed to do something to get his attention off of them and back on to her. It had worked, which was good at the time but was less enjoyable now that she was going to have to deal with him. It was bad enough that he had decided she was a prime candidate for his curiosity, although she couldn't blame him. Dream Dancer couldn't have put her in a worse place on this planet, as far as she was concerned.
She wasn't surprised that she had ended up in this situation. All her life, it seemed, people with power amused themselves at her expense, and it looked like Dream Dancer was no exception. It was a sign of how bad her life had been that she accepted another of her hopes turning to ash so easily. She was used to it, if not resigned to it. She wasn't happy at what she did earlier that morning, though. She had tried something she shouldn't, and although it worked out in the end, she tormented herself with visions of what the result should have been. She had been too proud, too sure of herself. Maybe she was too tired, or too angry at Knives for the whole hostage idea, but she had allowed her pride to overcome her sense and others could have paid for it with their lives.
What she couldn't deny was that it had achieved the desired effect. She carefully turned over on the bed and peered down at the still figure on the floor. She had engaged his curiosity, which was much preferable to his wrath. She wanted to see what her actions last night had gifted her with. Not much light came in through the window, but it provided enough illumination for her to see his unlined brow. He slept like a child, secure in the knowledge that no harm would come to him while he slumbered. His long body took up most of the space on the floor, and she saw some of her clothes against the wall where he had pushed them. Well, she hadn't been expecting company when she went out. He had placed his pack in the corner by the window, the shadows there obscuring everything but its presence. She absently wondered what was in it.
Kiley wanted to shake her head, but held still to keep from making a noise that would wake him. She wished her conscience was clear enough to sleep the sleep of the innocent. Nothing like clarity of purpose to rationalize even the most foul of deeds, and nothing like a noble cause to provide the reasons to kill. She knew that trap, knew how easy it was to fall into, and how hard it was to escape. As soon as you kill someone for a cause, that cause becomes sacrosanct. Otherwise, you killed for nothing, for no reason, and that is a hard thing for anyone to justify. Then you keep killing for the cause, thinking that each successive death helps to validate the first one, when all it does is pull you further and further into its trap.
The worst part for her was that she couldn't blame him for his opinion of humans. Show someone your worst side and they aren't likely to believe you can be better. Being abused as a child, and for no reason he could fathom outside of the cardinal sin of being different, well, that can warp anyone. The bright ones can be twisted farthest, as they are unable to find any simple reason that makes sense. They search for deeper reasons to the hatred and as they search they roam through deeper and darker realms of evil. Looking at those places leaves marks on the soul that not even time can erase.
So she could understand his crusade, could understand why he followed it so assiduously, but it didn't make him any less wrong. He had fallen from the light so far he had forgotten what it was like to just be alive, to just greet each day as a gift from the heavens. Instead each day was another chance to fulfill his mission. That's a cold and lonely way to live. She knew that well, maybe better then anyone else here.
Poor bastard, she thought. Pretty sad that the person who best understands you is me.
Kiley didn't spend very much time wallowing in self-pity or contemplating the sleeping form of the psychopath on the floor. That family from last night was probably going to want a few answers, and she didn't have any she wanted to give them. Her best tactic was to be far, far away when that moment came, a tactic that wasn't going to work if she didn't get her butt out of town soon.
She sat up, and the sound of her slipping out of the sheets woke Knives. She paused, common courtesy telling her that waking someone in the same room from slumber was something to be avoided, but she continued when she remember that it was Knives, someone on whom manners are wasted.
He looked at her with that strange gaze of his. She couldn't read the expression on his face; the room was still too dark, even though false dawn was beginning to lighten the world outside. She pushed the covers off all the way and walked out of the room. Knives' eyes followed her the entire way, but he didn't move. It must be nice to be so sure of yourself, she thought absently. She stepped around his body, prone upon the floor and taking up most of the available space.
Reaching the hall, she rolled her eyes but didn't say anything. Expecting Knives not to act like an asshole was like expecting sunlight to be cold. You could always deceive yourself into thinking whatever you want, but that doesn't change the nature of the beast. She washed up at the washroom down the hall, not lingering over her morning rituals but washing off the dust and grime of last night with practiced motions.
Upon returning to the room, she saw that Knives had made good use of the time she was gone. Everything that had been in her pack had joined the clothes she had left on the floor last night. Knives had turned out every pocket in her pack, and was now checking the seams, making sure she had secreted nothing there.
"It's clean," she said. She looked at the mess on the floor and sighed. She had finally found another pair of pants she liked, but aside from those and a knife she hadn't purchased anything else that traveled with her. Knives glanced up at her but didn't stop his search until he had checked every square inch of canvas. Finished with his inspection, he tossed the bag at her. She caught it handily and proceeded to turn the insides in again.
Knives rose gracefully to his feet and pushed past her to the hallway. She rolled her eyes again, thinking that this was probably her safest response to his lack of manners, and took the place he had vacated, ready to refill her pack. The idea of looking through his pack teased through her mind, but she dismissed the idea as beneath her. Just because Knives had no manners didn't allow her to stoop to his level. Besides, it was probably booby-trapped, and she didn't think she was going to have time to get around them before he came back.
Instead she used the moment of privacy to change out of her soiled clothes. These were wadded in a ball and shoved in the bottom of the pack, followed by her pretty blanket, and topped by the remainder of her clean underwear. She hoped that the next stop would give her time to do her laundry, or things were going to get grubby, fast. She shoved the remainder of the ration bars in one side pocket and her ammunition in the other. She fiddled with the ammo, putting it in the pocket and taking it out until she was satisfied with ease of access. Nothing worse then having ammunition you can't get to.
She was sitting on the bed and lacing up her boots when Knives walked in. He didn't look like he was surviving on four hours sleep, she thought pettily. But then, again, neither did she. Her body was used to the torments she put it through and didn't show as much wear as it used to. She picked up her pack and slung it over one shoulder, then slipped around Knives and back into the hallway. She heard him pick up his pack behind her as she returned to the washroom to refill her canteen. Before she could finish that task he had reappeared behind her, silent as a ghost and twice as spooky.
She left the key to her room on the counter of the bar, along with a neatly printed note apologizing for the mess she had left on the bed. That done, she turned and left the inn.
The town had that eerie, deserted look that most towns have in the early hours of the morning. Not another soul was stirring outside, but a few lights shining out windows were evidence that others were moving about as well. The town wasn't very big, and it was only a matter of minutes before they had left it behind.
As they walked along, Kiley mulled over her new traveling buddy. She couldn't think of anyone on the planet she wouldn't have picked before him, but he can't be entirely bad, right? She struggled to find something positive to say about him, and finally settled on his quiet nature. It was nice to walk with someone who knew the value of silence. It made it easier for her to pretend that he wasn't there.
They walked for hours in complete silence, the morning dying before they paused. Knives still hadn't said a word, which both relieved and bothered Kiley in turn. She had no point of reference for his silence, and it made her antsy. Was he being quiet because he had nothing to say, or because he was about to unleash his killing rage? She knew that her entire bargaining position was dependent on his curiosity, and she wasn't sure when his rage would overwhelm his curiosity. So she walked, and she worried, and Knives trailed along after her like an albatross in her shadow.
When he spoke, she jumped, startled, then cursed herself for giving him the satisfaction of seeing her be startled.
"Teach me, now, human," he said, his voice lifeless. She could see the smirk that must be on his face in her mind's eye, but when she turned to look at him his face was carefully blank.
"Well," she said, "your first lesson could be manners." Her voice was flip, her comment was not. Who died and left this asshole god, she wondered. Then she remembered the ships full of people, the butterflies and the spiders, and rolled her eyes at the absurdity of it all.
Knives' face stayed blank, but she knew he was irritated. That was fine by her; she was a bit irritated herself and didn't mind spreading it about. She wondered anew at what god she had offended to end up here. God of horribly obnoxious super creatures? Maybe. God of how much torment can we heap on a soul before we crush it? Could be. God of turnabout is fair play? Likely. She smiled to herself, said nothing more, and kept walking.
Knives was shocked at her audacity. No one could be allowed to get away with such insolent behavior. He dropped his pack and darted in front of her, grabbing her arm and stopping her before it could hit the ground. The muffled thump as it hit the sand was an accent to the surprise she felt at his action. Kiley stared up at him, pain momentarily clear in her eyes. The pain was quickly submerged in a flash of rage. She didn't struggle, didn't try to pull her arm away but glared at him, sending her hate to him in her gaze.
Knives was unfazed. He didn't care what the vermin thought of him, as long as she did what she was told. He squeezed harder, to prove his point, then let her arm go. She let it drop to her side but didn't unlock her eyes from his.
Then she smiled, amusement starting in her eyes and through her body, relaxing her angry pose.
"You are so going to hate your first lesson," she said with a sardonic little smile. She dropped her gaze and looked for a place to sit. Seeing as the world was sand, sand, and more sand she picked a mostly flat spot and dropped to the ground in one smooth motion. She ended up in a lotus position, her shoulders back, spine straight and pointing to the earth. She rolled her head and neck, relaxing the muscles. Knives noted the ease in which she assumed the position, and guessed correctly that this was a common occurrence for her.
"Sit," she commanded, pointing in front of her.
He did, and with almost as much grace as he copied her pose. She stood again and checked his posture. She shifted his lower back to correct his pose, then thumped him on his shoulder as he tensed.
"Relax," she said. "You're the one who wants this."
"I didn't say I wanted you to touch me," he replied frostily. "You are acting much to forward for a mere parasite on the surface of the world."
"Whine, whine, whine. You're acting like I actually want to touch you," she replied as she settled on the sand again.
"Then don't," he said, although it was more of a command then a suggestion.
"Do you want me to pass on what I know?" she asked. At his nod she continued. "I've never. . . taught," she stumbled over the word but continued, "any of these tricks before. You get to learn the way I did, and that involves physical contact."
He looked at her askance. "How much?" he asked cautiously.
"Your virtue is safe; it's mostly just holding hands. That's the first thing you get to learn."
"How to hold hands? If you are trying to con me. . ." Knives started to get angry but Kiley cut him off.
"It's not the holding hands that is important. It's the link."
"Link?" repeated Knives caustically.
"Just give me your damn hand; you'll see," said Kiley.
He hesitated and Kiley stole it out of his lap. "Stop being difficult. You asked me to train you, now quit bitching about how it works. Now close your eyes."
Knives didn't.
"Close your damn eyes!" she shouted, and Knives surprised himself by complying.
"Now, try to empty your mind of thought." He did, not expecting anything to happen, and not surprised. He felt Kiley fumble with his hand, moving it about until their fingertips touched.
Flying. . . pink. . . elephants? What the hell? Knives pulled his hand out of her grasp and stood up. Kiley stayed seated, her eyes still closed.
"That was a link," she said quietly as he paced the sand in front of her. "My mind put thoughts in your mind. If you can't handle that, then forget about learning anything from me."
"You will use words," Knives demanded, grabbing her shoulders and hauling her to her feet.
"Words don't work. The only way to learn this sort of stuff is to do it yourself or have someone do it through you. That's what the link is for. I do something, and if we're linked, you do it at the same time. You remember it, and it's learned. Words are too vague for mental exercises like these." She was angry, angry at being forced to touch his mind at all. And he had the balls to object to her having to touch him? Gah! How did she always attract the psychopaths?
He dropped her and she fell unresisting to the sand.
"Look, I'm no more happy I get to touch that cesspool you call a mind then you are happy I have to. It's the way this sort of thing works. Either accept it or forget about learning. Those are your options."
Knives walked off to the east, but Kiley didn't rejoice. His pack was still on the road behind them, so he was coming back. She pondered watching him pace, but discarded the notion in favor of taking a nap. She was sure Knives wouldn't hesitate to let her know his decision when he finally made one. She was just as sure she wasn't going to like it, whatever it might be.
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She was awoken by a kick in the side. Her first thought was to pretend that it hadn't woken her up. Maybe he would go away if she played dead. Of course, with Knives, that wasn't a smart plan. He might believe she was dead, but he would shoot her in the head just to make sure before he left. Thorough to a fault, he was.
So she groaned and made much of stretching and waking up because she could see that it bugged him. She pushed her luck for a minute but reached her feet before Knives decided she needed another firm push in the ribs, courtesy of his foot. The suns had moved more then a few degrees in their path across the sky. Whatever conclusion Knives had come to, it had taken him at least an hour.
"What are the limits to the link?" asked Knives without preamble.
Kiley opened her mouth to answer and a yawn popped out.
"Sorry," she said when she finished. "Someone rudely woke me up." At Knives' glare she assumed a properly submissive, albeit sarcastic, stance and answered his question.
"It is easier to say what the link can do then what it cannot," she started. "Despite what you may think it is primarily a learning tool, a method of information exchange. It is not a means to access the mind of a link partner. One cannot link with another and then rummage through his thoughts; all one can do is impart information that they already possess. It is a process to share information that has been pared to its bare essentials.
"There is a small amount of unintentional information transfer, mostly emotions or feelings. You may have sensed a bit of loathing interspersed with your flying pink elephants, although I did try to keep the information transfer clean. I would be surprised if you picked up on it before freaking out and running into the desert."
Knives backhanded her across the face. Kiley's eyes lost their focus, but she finished up her recitation.
"The depth of the link depends on the intimacy of contact made. Touching fingertips as we did is as impersonal a touch as has been discovered. Therefore that link is least prone to unintentional emotional contact. Holding hands provides a deeper link, which is more informative, but is harder to keep impersonal. I've heard that having sex while linked can literally blow your mind from the emotional feedback, but that's hearsay. I've never seen or heard of a specific couple who had that problem."
She fell silent and wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth. She had accidentally bit her lip when Knives hit her, but it had been worth it. She needed to know where his boundaries were, where the limits were before he snapped. Accusing him of cowardice was obviously one of them. Even when he was a coward.
After enough blinking her eyes finally agreed to focus again. Knives was still standing in front of her, looking at her oddly. He stepped close, close enough that her eyes were having a bit of trouble focusing on his face. His breath was warm on her skin, his eyes were clear and blue, right in front of hers. He reached down and grasped her hand, pulling it up to her lips.
She wondered what he was doing but assumed that he was going to try a link. She marshaled inner defenses, bulwarks that he didn't know could exist, let alone counter as the moment stretched on. She stared into his eyes, not having much else she could do. Defiance in the face of overwhelming strength was her preferred method of idiocy.
Knives lifted her hand to his lips, then licked her blood off her fingers. He made the motions sensual and slow, enjoying the perversion. She tried to pull her hand away but he held her wrist firmly in a grip of iron. His tongue was moist against her skin, but as soon as he was finished her hand was dry.
"You taste sweet," he said, looking into her eyes, looking for her reaction. She didn't know what he saw, but whatever it was, he smiled and stepped away. He was walking back to pick up his discarded pack, and she entertained the hope that they might make a town before sunset. She stared after him, wondering what was going on in that strange blonde head. She was hungry and wanted a nice filling dinner, but had a feeling that her wants were going to be ignored yet again.
Knives, however, was feeling pleased with himself. That same pause he had witnessed in the ship had appeared in her eyes again. She seemed to know what would piss him off, and took great joy in applying that knowledge. That she didn't know everything came as a relief.
He wondered if he could trust her dissertation on the limits of a link, but also wondered if he had much choice. He had decided that what she might teach him was worth the aggravation she caused, or at least for now. If it turned out that most of her tricks were like this link thing she would not live much longer.
He did wonder at why she was willing to push him to his limits. Either she was incredibly sure of herself or she had a death wish. Knives couldn't decide which was the case, but allowed that it could be both. She might be very sure of herself, but careless of finding out if she were wrong. If that were the case, he would have to be careful of his anger for a while. It would be a shame to break such a fun toy before he got to play with it for awhile.
The taste of her blood still lingered on his tongue, and he smiled. He hadn't lied; she was sweet. He wondered what it would be like to bathe in such sweet blood, and resolved to someday find out.