Chapter 4: It is true the simple things in life have been lost
AN Warning: Contains a lemon right at the beginning. If that is not to your tastes, use ctrl f and search "The mornings never came fast enough." It doesn't entirely avoid the above scene, but... the best I can think of.
"I had a home. A life. Like all our kind, yeah; I wasn't anything special. Not then. Maybe not even now. Well, someone took that from me. Those who used to care about the me from before... they saddled me up in the back of a gunship, dropped me off on Earth right in the middle of contested Devils territory and promptly forgot about me. Good things don't happen to nice people. That's why I got mean - quick."
- Titan Norovoi Farso confessing to the murder of Merez-7
Her back hit the door. Norovoi slapped a hand against the terminal, tried to key in the passcode - but then Azirim leaned down and kissed her neck, and fervently at that. All her efforts were summarily ruined when he nipped at her, her body responding to the stimuli and her fingers dragging across the illuminated screen. She gasped; this was... this was gooooood.
"Wait, I gotta..." she breathed huskily. Azirim's eyes flickered. A smile spread across his face, amused, at least from what she could tell with his lips still against her neck, oh so close to her throat and jugular. The door slid open behind her, suddenly, and Norovoi almost fell through - but Azirim's hands were there, catching her by her waist and pulling her close. He was strong. Stronger than even his Awoken form boasted.
Norovoi laughed breathlessly, one leg raising up, grazing his hip, but then they were moving into her room - him pushing her inside, almost carrying her. The doors snapped shut behind him. Azirim's eyes, half-lidded, twinkled with anticipation.
"I bet you're loving this," Norovoi accused, voice flush with desire. "All this lust. All this need."
He chuckled, mouth trailing up just under her ear. "Does this not please you as well... o lover mine?"
Norovoi didn't answer. She grabbed his face and kissed him, full on the lips, almost hard enough to bruise. There was nothing sweet about what they were doing - just sensation and passion, spirit and want. He kissed back - first sensually, with his lips, then trying to catch her with teeth. Most of it was the same, was what she expected of the neohuman form, but his canines - his fangs - were longer, sharper, and so, so draconic. He bit her, not enough to draw blood but enough to remind her of the danger he posed.
Just spiced things up, really. What was a little death threat to the until-recently immortal, if not the old familiar she'd only left behind?
But he was dangerous and that struck a chord in her. Norovoi pulled back - with some degree of regret, he was an excellent kisser and tasted faintly sweet to boot - and furrowed her brow. "I don't know if it does."
Azirim paused, smile fading away into thoughtful consideration. "I will not do anything you do not wish me to," he quietly promised her. "Your desire drives this - no other's. Not even my own. Your desire... is my desire."
"Riddles."
"No riddle. No trick. Array your mirrors, o beautiful one mine, for you will find no refraction in the light I cast."
"Sweet-talker," Norovoi murmured. She traced a finger up the side of his face, along his jaw - his skin and hers rippling in tandem with rays of cosmic power, with reflections of Light and Dark both. His was false, a mask, a temporary form - but hers was the real thing. "Why me?"
Azirim sobered. Or - at least she thought he did. Him being a trickster-beast didn't much help matters. "You sate your desires," he informed her, "or you are lost entirely."
"Is that a promise?"
"A warning - made with good intentions."
"You'll kill me?" Norovoi gave him a puzzled look. Lethal he may have been, particularly at this distance... but she was no helpless damsel. Her own sword had laid low his own kin in ages past. It was in the same room as they, even, sheathed and leaning against the far corner, within reach - if she even wanted to make a grab for it. Her priorities were all muddled up.
"No," Azirim solemnly denied. "You will."
Norovoi froze - and her disbelief gave way to a bitter, bitter laugh. "Yeah. I'm just dying slow," she chuckled ruefully. "'Spose I'm taking the scenic route."
Azirim blinked, then leaned close. His forehead met hers. "Shall we take a detour?"
"For how long?"
"Forever, wise lady. Forever..."
She thought on it. Actually considered it. And eventually decided, "... Deal."
Azirim kissed her again, hard, his fangs dancing over her lips. His hands slid up her back, up to her shoulders, fingers interlocking where her spine met neck. Norovoi's own hands framed his face, her own fingers running through his soft dark hair. He stepped forward; she stepped back. Further and further they went - until the back of her knees hit the edge of her bed and she fell onto it, voluntarily. Azirim followed her, hands planting on either side of her head, elbows bending to lean down and capture her mouth again. His tongue flickered out, human-ish but thinner, slightly forked, prehensile in all the right ways. It met her own; they pushed and intertwined, moved to and fro to explore one another, to feel.
Norovoi raised herself up, hands grasping at his jacket. Azirim pulled it off effortlessly, tossing it aside and kissing her again - and again and again. She kneaded at the biosuit left beneath, black and magenta as was the norm among Corsairs, and it infuriatingly remained in place. Norovoi reached around him, up to his neck, and as quickly as she could manage undid the straps and clasps and lock holding it together, and pulled at it relentlessly. Azirim chuckled - and it was then she realized he'd done the same to her, that her own biosuit had untightened and hung loose over her shoulders.
She forced his suit to roll down, to explore more of him, and he only just managed to convince her to let him do the same with a series of kisses trailing downwards, down her neck, down towards her first exposed shoulder and then to her collarbone. Norovoi groaned gratefully, each caress leaving a heated mark, skin tingling deliciously. His fingers tucked beneath the thin, smooth insulative material of her biosuit and peeled it down, making way for his lips and tongue and teeth. He brought her arms out to free them from the sleeves, then her chest, his mouth passing between her breasts, onto her ribs, over her toned stomach and down down down. He made more detours, brushing over her hips and then her thighs as each part of her was revealed, as he freed her from the biosuit's confines - and finally pulled it over her feet and tossed it aside, away, his gentle ministrations driving her mad with the best kind of frustration. His lips had only just managed to reach just over her knee when Norovoi grabbed his hair to drag him back, drag him closer - and then he struck, fast a serpent, the sudden beautiful sensation running like fire up her nervous system and taking her by surprise, so much so that she was left gasping.
Azirim kissed and licked and mouthed and more, hitting all the right places, as if he knew exactly where they were and exactly how to work them. His tongue flicked out and pushed- Norovoi closed her eyes and inhaled sharply as the muscle dragged through her core, slowly, methodically, almost lazily. Azirim was smiling; she could feel it, against her skin, against her centre. One of his hands held tight to her thigh, his fingers softly pressing against her skin, against the muscle packed beneath, and he pulled the limb over his shoulder. His other hand grasped the calf of the opposite limb, keeping where it was by his side, keeping her from tightening her legs together around the spark of pleasure burning at the apex between.
His tongue drifted deeper, longer than she expected, waving and lolling against her confines as no human organ could. This was different; this was exotic, perverse, alien, and Norovoi didn't give a damn.
"I..." she tried to say, but a ragged gasp stole away her words. He was getting close, getting close, getting- "There, there there, keep doing that. Ye-es..."
Azirim did. He was grinning, laughing against her, soft little giggles, the bastard was probably feasting on her desires, little actual effort being expended, nothing at all paracausal about this, no need to invoke his bloody Anthem Anathema, but she didn't care, didn't care didn't cARE!
Her veins burned, her body caught alight, everything- EVERYTHING felt it, felt the pleasure striking out from her centre, forcing her toes to curl, her fingers to tighten around Azirim's hair, even her legs to tighten around his head - held back only by his own inhuman strength. Her body shook with the force of the climax, her mind drew blank with the totality of the delicious sensation., Norovoi released a breathy cry, her back curving, rising up from the bed and hands forcing Azirim closer, closer, closer!
She reached the height of it all, the height of pleasure, and hung there - floating on pure feeling, for a moment without grief or anger or anything, simply... contentment, absolute in scale. Then... she dropped down, back against the sheets, chest heaving and eyes wide, bodily shuddering as the aftershocks routinely hit her without even a sliver of mercy. Sweat beaded on her skin, ice-cold against the pure heat of her body. Azirim slowly pulled away, her core tingling with every brush of his retreating touch.
For a moment, a long moment, there was only her... and then it started again, Azirim kissing, first against her most sensitive place and then, gradually, up, against the bottom of her taut stomach, over the soft rises of hard muscle, lips and tongue tracing over her shaking body, soft soft soft against her skin. Norovoi glowed, she exulted in it all, and looked down - he'd done away with his own biosuit too, finally, fi-nally. Azirim brushed against her breasts, his breath ghosted over each of them, worshipped his way past- She pulled him up, captured him for another kiss and made it count. His waist gradually pushed apart her legs and she let him, allowed him to sneak up on her, to hover closer and closer, his fingers drawing up her sides, against her ribs, against her chest and-
He slotted against her and pushed.
Norovoi groaned into the kiss, turning her head aside to drink in air and the sight of them, to bask in the pure feeling of him, drawing closer and closer until they both filled out, incapable of going any further. Azirim stopped in place, stilling, and waited as she rode out the renewed waves of living bliss.
Right up until she whispered, right into his ear, "Go."
He went - slow at first, with care, all for her benefit. And, oh, by all the Ascendant Gods did Norovoi benefit. She gasped as he pushed, sighed as he retreated, moaned as his teeth nibbled against her lips, her jaw, her earlobe, and finally against the hollow where her neck met her shoulder. His thrusts gained traction, picking up in speed and force - driving into her with purpose, with intent borne of a synchronic duality of sensuality and determination. Norovoi swore she could hear some sort of song nearby, the steady staccato of hearts beating and magic humming - her skin and his, pressed together, sensations shared, punctuated with gasps and groans woven through with delighted satisfaction.
At a whim, one fueled by feeling, Norovoi hooked a leg around Azirim and twisted the two of them around. He paused and gave into the momentum, offered no resistance, enabling her in every fashion, gasping himself as she seated herself on his lap, on his legs. Norovoi moved, chasing the same spark from before, the spark of physical paradise, and swayed over him, danced, hovered and so much more. She drove herself onwards, with purpose, single-mindedly chasing the fantastic sensation from earlier. His hands traveled up her abdomen to her chest, caressing teasingly. Norovoi retaliated with a savage fall of her waist, grounding herself against him, and his hands fell against her hips to squeeze encouragingly. She did it again, and again, and again, until it became the new norm of their waltz, almost threatening to bruise.
They were nearing completion. Azirim sat up, kissing her neck and throat and under her jaw, pulling her close. Norovoi carried on, struggling against this grip and loving every moment of it, right up until she drew her legs around his waist, pushing down hard and-
There. Electricity ran up her spine, through her body, forced her to press against him and hold him close like he was doing to her. Her heart beat fast and her lungs couldn't get enough air, but it... was... glorious. Azirim grunted and exhaled against her collarbone, into her shoulder as he reached his own end with her, within her, encouraging her own rippling pleasure to all new heights.
When the fog swept away, when Azirim's grip slackened - Norovoi gave herself only a moment to enjoy the revitalized waves of gradually fading gratification, the pure momentary rapture left as memory in her flesh as well as mind. She felt... fulfilled, even as she separated and dropped down onto the bed beside him, panting, trying in vain to assuage her racing heart - no, no, let it race, let it go on, that- "That was..."
Norovoi didn't finish. Didn't know how to. It had been wonderful, but words... honesty... they didn't come to her so easily.
Azirim turned his head to look at her, a small smile affixed to his beautiful face, and with just a look told her that he knew, that he understood. Because of course he did; she knew what he was.
And she'd still invited him into her room. Into her bed.
"What does it say about me," Norovoi whispered with some effort, still trembling in all the best ways, "that I don't care?"
"It says..." Azirim replied, "that you are brave."
She scoffed - weakly, because her frazzled body couldn't handle otherwise. "Compliments won't win you anything."
"Not even your affections?"
"I've lived my life around awful people with hollow words. Pretty speech falls short with me. You know this already."
Even if I don't believe you actually knew me.
"Actions speak louder than words," Azirim affirmed. He leaned closer, kissed her on the lips. She did not reciprocate; she had a point to prove. "Are my actions not enough?"
His arms slid around her, tugged her closer - cradling her against him. Norovoi allowed it. He wasn't a danger. He wasn't going to kill her. Where was the point in that? She was already at the cliff's edge, more liable than not to toss herself over. There was nothing tethering her down, nothing barricading her from the fall. Not even him.
Not anyone.
"You will not fall," Azirim promised her.
"I thought your kind didn't care," she accused half-heartedly.
"You mistake me; that was not comfort. That was foreknowledge."
"And to what do I deserve this prophetic assurance?" Norovoi drawled. She allowed him to run his hand up and down her back, up and down her sides, slowly, to draw her into a comfort she'd only ever gleaned from half-dead dreams. She allowed it all. The illusion was delightful, despite knowing it for what it truly was.
No one ever truly cared that much. Not like he pretended to.
"To ensure continuation," Azirim said, flippantly.
"We'll see about that." Norovoi dropped her head against the pillow, enjoying the feeling of closeness a bit too much - but what was one night?
Azirim pressed his mouth against her brow, kissing even softer than before, not with erotic intention but with... something else. A detached sort of fondness. "Your desires," he whispered, "are delectable."
His words echoed through her mind - right up until sleep finally took her, dragging her focus from the arms of the Ahamkara bound around her to something else. Something so much different - and nowhere near as satisfying.
The mornings never came fast enough. Not for her. Norovoi blinked her eyes open as her room's lights intensified - still low where illumination was concerned, but glaringly bright to her sleep-heavy eyes. Thrice she'd woken up in the night, the last time being what felt like only a few minutes ago. Despite her apparent restlessness, Azirim had kept hold of her, adjusting his grip as she moved. For a few minutes longer she basked in the sensation and heat - then sat up and unlaced his arms from around her waist. Norovoi swung over to the edge of the mattress and stood up, stretching out her arms, moving her neck until she heard a satisfying creak.
She breathed in and out, closed her eyes, and made her way towards the shower on automatic. Norovoi stepped into the stall - blessedly similar to the layout of the ones used by humans - and twisted the dials until water sprayed over her, piping hot and kicking up steam.
Azirim joined her a few minutes later, slinking in after her with a lazy sort of hunger. She saw him - in full, not hidden in the half-light of the night, and he was beautiful, truly. His form was that typical of the Reefborn Awoken; lithe, strong, his skin a healthy deep blue and the rays of light dancing across his skin moving at an ample pace. His face was sharp, vaguely effeminate, and his eyes were a bright, piercing sort of yellow - almost bestial, with serpent's irises, not the ash-pit shark eyes of days prior. His hair was black and swept back, tipped with stray shades of deep green. He embraced her almost immediately; a persuasion, of sorts.
One she gave into willingly.
Norovoi dressed sparingly; biosuit, a loose shirt, jeans that had miraculously survived the arduous journey to the Kaliks-Fel with a few stylish rips and tears, and some military boots to top it off. She pulled on fingerless gloves and strapped a holster for her cannon at her hip - but beyond that, it was all pretty light. Her hair, cold grey and blue deeper than her skin, she pulled back into a simple and quick bun. Azirim dressed differently - with the immaculate peacetime uniform of a Reefborn officer, scrubbed clean of all Vestian Dynasty sigils.
Probably no love lost there. Or maybe the opposite was true - no way to tell with an Ahamkara. Did he even care that the Awoken orchestrated the deaths of most of his kind?
Did it bother him at all?
He glanced at the bed, pointedly, and it took Norovoi a moment to realize he was searching for what she'd tucked underneath the mattress. "You have Him."
"What remains of Him," she replied, trying to impart a flippant, inconsequential air. "Was He a cousin?"
"No." Azirim offered her a sly grin. "No, not at all, wise lady. Know that this... satisfies me."
"I don't want to know," Norovoi quietly complained. "I don't... I don't care."
"... As you wish."
Azirim separated from her as they left the room, slunk off to who-knew-where for who-knew-what, and Norovoi wasn't pushed to actually care. At least with him, the not-caring felt real enough. She just made her way down to the observatory-canteen, noticed a platter of round-ish fruit with yellow-orange skin, swiped one on instinct and bit in.
Grayris, one of the few others to be there so early, watched her from behind a cup of ether and warned her, too late, "That is yaviirsi."
Norovoi froze as the flavour imprinted itself on her tongue. It was so, so weird. And not in a positive way either; the taste was as alien as she could have ever imagined, some part sweet and some part sour with a huge part something else. Something tangy, in a coppery way. Like the smell of old coins and taste of blood, ground down into a sticky juice permeating through the soft, crunchy flesh of the fruit.
She preferred the iiarsk. At least that had been... comprehendible to her taste buds. She chewed and swallowed, and gave the yaviirsi a perplexed, wounded look. "Eugh."
Grayris chuckled and went back to sipping ether. She had a datapad propped up in front of her, probably written in Eliksni script. Then, inexplicably, Grayris looked back at her - gaze just as intense as it was the day before. Her mandibles shivered, her tongue flicked out to taste the air - and her inner pair of eyes narrowed. Norovoi was suddenly under the impression that the Baroness was in a state of shock.
"You didn't..." Grayris rumbled.
Norovoi ignored her. She sat down at the table, opened a ration pack and turned the kettle on. The yaviirsi was left on the table, a single bite taken out. One of the other Eliksni would take it, she was sure. Or maybe Gaelin would; the Exo had a stomach lined with iron. Literally.
Grayris stood up, pushing away from the wall and towering over her. The Baroness hunkered down, head too close, and just when Norovoi gave in to the temptation to swat her away, Grayris grabbed her hand with one of her own - claws curling around her wrist, massive and powerful. The Eliksni leaned close and breathed in, deeply.
Norovoi pulled her cannon out. Didn't aim it, but left it in plain view. "Let. Go."
Grayris growled, but acquiesced all the same. She didn't move, though. Stood there, daunting, menacing, all sorts of intimidating. "You did..."
Norovoi pursed her lips. "I'm not a morning person, Gray. Leave it."
"You are endangering yourself-"
"What I do is my business," Norovoi snapped. "I'm not putting anyone else in harm's way, am I?"
Grayris wordlessly snarled, fanged mandibles shaking with fury. She hissed gutturally, more beast than person in that moment, and it took all Norovoi's resolve to remain still - remain in place as a Fallen raged at her.
This was not the turn she'd imagined her life taking. It... rankled with her.
"Stop."
Grayris fumed. "Nama. This is... this is foolishness! A dragon-"
"Leave her be."
Norovoi tried not to flinch when Gaelin sat down beside her, dropping onto the bench beside her with an exhausted huff. Castus was right behind too, Clip by where his ear would have been on a baseline human.
Grayris chittered and chirped unhappily. "She-"
"Is playing with fire, I know." Gaelin held out the bar-like object Therin had given him the day prior, giving Norovoi his best frown. "You know this is a tracker, right?"
Norovoi rolled one shoulder and filled a bowl with more gruel. She thought about cutting the yaviirsi up and dropping it in to give the stuff some flavour, but... hmm, maybe not. "So?"
No one said anything for a long time. Eventually, Gaelin turned in to make his own breakfast, muttering, "Yeah, I don't want to know anyways. Don't want to know..."
Grayris huffed and retreated to her perch by the wall, near the massive viewport so she could look out - if she wanted to. Not right then; all she was presently doing was half-heartedly staring daggers at Norovoi - who attempted to take it in stride.
Indifference had been her goal. Not... this. Not from all of them. Norovoi pushed her bowl away and made to stand up, but then Gaelin had to say, "We've got, uh... something to talk about."
"No we don't," Norovoi grunted.
"Didn't mean you," the Exo quickly alleviated. He glanced at Grayris. "Dunraven's picked something up on the long-range sensors. A distress call."
Grayris stood up, so quickly even Norovoi felt dizzy. "How old?!"
"A couple of weeks," Gaelin said. He didn't sound confident. "Transponder's bearing Dead Orbit credentials. One of their rearguard, maybe. Last of their exodus ships."
"When did you-?"
"Couple of hours ago."
Grayris swept her arms out. "And you didn't tell me earlier?!"
Gaelin offered her a lazy shrug. "Dunraven and I were busy. We had to triangulate it's position first. Ahead of us, somewhere near Arrokoth. It'll be a few micro-jumps to get there."
"You could have called," Grayris fumed.
"Didn't want to work everyone up into a frenzy in case... in case the signal turned out to be a stray echo. You know how it is."
"You could have contacted me privately!"
Gaelin held up a finger. "Yes, I could have, but, you see, I didn't think about that. I'm not an especially bright man."
"Clearly," Grayris growled. She stomped past, muttering darkly about humans, and entered the elevator. The doors snapped shut.
Norovoi slowly turned around to face Gaelin. "What... the hell?"
He shrugged. "What?"
"She's right!"
"About the signal? Or you?"
Norovoi shut up real quick. Gaelin afforded her a look of pure exasperation.
"Nevermind. I really, really don't want to know. Your personal life is your personal life," Gaelin said firmly. "I don't care to know all the details, and I'm not about to get on your case for this, but... we are a crew together, y'know? You've not been making friends lately. Or... the wrong ones, anyways. Gray is stressed out. Give her a break."
"That why you didn't tell anyone about the signal 'til now?"
"I was busy."
"So was I."
Gaelin grimaced and held up his hands. "Nor, buddy, I really don't want to know."
"Then let's forget about it," Norovoi tiredly decided. "As you said - my life is my life. Let's leave it at that." Then a thought struck her, and she sighed. "Wait... tracker?"
"Yes." Gaelin dropped the bar onto the table.
"How's it-"
"Armlet."
"I... didn't see any."
"Don't want to kn-"
"Seriously," Norovoi said with a roll of her eyes. "I didn't."
"Glamour, maybe. It's still working anyways."
"Where-"
"Kellsdeck. No idea why." Gaelin exhaled fitfully. "This is getting freaky, for real. Therin's all about having dragon-magic on our side, and then you-"
"Let's quit there," Norovoi grumbled.
"Eh… yeah. Let's."
Grayris called an emergency meeting. Everyone - or almost everyone - filed into the bridge. None of the other Eliksni shot her odd looks - was it because of Grayris's size? Was that why her senses were so sharp? - so Norovoi reckoned she was in the clear. It didn't look like Gaelin, Clip or Gray were going to tell anyways; there was a reason they were her favourites. They understood the importance of privacy.
Not that there was much competition, of course.
"A distress signal?" Therin echoed. "We have to help. If there's others out there, we-"
"Trap," Ueru'uxo rumbled sonorously. He frowned at the holographic display Dunraven-9 had thrown up before the frontal viewport. "Common wartime tactic."
"We're not at war," Therin argued. "We're running. Anyone with a shred of sense is running."
"But to the Hive," Grayris breathed out, her tone one of forlorn bitterness, "everything is war. I've known them to use this very tactic. They would empty out Ketches and wait for Eliksni or Awoken to try to lay claim to the drifting vessels. Many Winter- and Wolfships were lost that way."
"But they could have supplies," Gaelin argued. "Or - hell, even other survivors. People. We can't just... pass that by."
Norovoi shifted uncomfortably, leaning against one of the many inactive terminals dotting the bridge. They really needed more hands - and capable ones at that. She crossed her arms. "What if it turns out like Vesta? Taken Ground-Zero, whole asteroid haunted to oblivion?"
"We should at least look," Therin pressed. "I'm not saying we should seize a ship or anything - just scout things out. Supplies, refugees - we can't leave those behind. And hey, what if they have star-maps? Or blackboxes to help us avoid Hive patrol-routes? Just... think about that. What's the wo-"
"Don't jinx us," Clip quickly interrupted, alarmed. Therin had the decency to look sheepish.
"The Lightbearer is right," Otzot cut in. Unexpectedly too. Grayris looked at her sharply, and Ueru'uxo paused for a moment before bowing his head. "We are short on raw materials, yes? In need of parts? Eliksni scrapworking is famed throughout this galactic sector - but not even your people can create something from nothing."
Flatterer, Norovoi mused.
Grayris hummed. "Eia. But at the expense of our lives? That is not a price I am willing to pay."
"Good thing some of us have lives to spare," Therin offered. "Gaelin and I can fly ahead in the Bandwagon, and if there's..." anyone left, he had been about to say, "anyone there, then they'll probably be looking for a friendly face. A human face."
"Call a vote?" Smudge offered. The Ghost turned around to face everyone. "All in favour of investigating?"
A number of hands raised, some more cautiously than others; Therin, Gaelin, Smudge with his uppermost fin, Otzot, Ueru'uxo (because he'd never do anything to contradict the Senator), Vynriis and Klyfiks.
"All in favour of continuing on?"
Grayris, Clip, Nivviks and Dunraven. Norovoi avoided raising her hand either way, avoided swaying the debate one way or another. It wouldn't have felt right. Not when she hadn't decided whether she was going to stick around or not.
"Guess we're outvoted," Dunraven-9 groaned, only a touch dramatically. He sighed. "Right. I'll set course for the, uh... Persephone IX. Any objections?"
Grayris grumbled something under her breath, in her native tongue.
"Cool then."
"I'll prep the Bandwagon," Therin pointedly announced. He left, Gaelin heading out after him. The rest gradually trickled away, a sense of urgency in the air. Norovoi remained. Otzot did too. Dunraven-9 dutifully ignored both of them as he keyed in the coordinates and guided the Kaliks-Fel into one of many short jumps.
There was a reason the Kuiper Belt as a place was so unexplored, beyond its distance from the inner system. Navigating through the mess of comets and asteroids was plain hell.
AN: Thanks to Nomad Blue for proofreading and editing!
