Free Beyond Varallan by S. L. Viehl Page B

crew finishes digging those graves, they could pull down a few of these building remnants, maybe—” I jammed my fists against my eyes. “ God .”
    “Don’t blame yourself for this.”
    “Don’t waste a perfect opportunity to say I Told You So .” My hands dropped away. I had no tears, not even for myself. “Remember? I brought five Hsktskt into existence. Five future Hsktskt butchers. Mayer was right. I should have killed them, and their parents.”
    “That would make you as callous and indifferent to life as the Faction,” he said.
    “Maybe. Then again, maybe I might be able to look at these kids and not feel like a co-conspirator to this massacre.” I studied my hands. There was a fine, dry residue of powder on them from my gloves. No blood. At least not the kind I could see. “I don’t know how to handle this, Reever.”
    He moved closer. “Call me Duncan.”
    I had no choice. I had to laugh. The sound erupted, raw and wild. I choked it back as soon as I could. It seemed obscene, especially here, among these ruins.
    “Your anger and self-recrimination will not change what has happened here,” Reever said.
    “I’m not angry.” I was a authority on the subject. It didn't feel like this. “You've seen me angry.”
    “Yes.”
    “You had every right to turn me down.” I had put this off long enough. “I was using you.” I stared back at the fragments of stone below my footgear. “I’m sorry about that. You deserve better.”
    I chanced another look at him. He was a block of stone himself, staring back at me. In spite of my black mood, my lips twisted. “This is where you gracefully accept my apology, Reever.”
    “You do not—” He halted, muttered something in an obscure language I couldn’t decipher, then added, “I will never completely understand human females.”
    “I’m not exactly a role model,” I said, and jumped down from the wall. “Want to take a walk? I should stretch my legs before I head back.”
    We picked our way through the vestiges of the thoroughfare. Avoided the broken bodies being stacked for burial. We reached a small clearing where the supplies were being coordinated and sorted for the survivors. The rescue team had everything under control—Jorenian efficiency was phenomenal during times of crisis. I looked over some medical gear as we walked around it.
    “They’re going to need more than medicines and food,” I said. “Most of their adult generation is gone. They won't be able to rebuild—” Reever's hand pulled me to a stop. “What?”
    The mask hadn’t cracked, but something showed through it. “I would like to hold you.”
    Far be it from me to argue. “Sure.”
    We were both dirty, sweaty, and smelly, so we cancelled each other out. The feel of his body soothed me. His scarred hands rubbed in circles over my back. It was a nice feeling. The first I’d had since landing on this devastated world.
    “What are you thinking about?” he asked against the top of my head.
    “All these children, left orphaned. Stranded. Alone.” I heard the hitch in my voice and shuddered against him. “I keep pushing myself past it. And I go right back again. Want to hear something awful? I wish you’d never updated the linguistic core. They keep calling for their parents. Praying. Begging their dead mothers to wake up. And all I can do is repair their bodies.”
    He was inside my mind before I said another word. I expected to find myself paralyzed again, but this time he let me retain control over my limbs. Or maybe he was too tired to make me into a statue. Our thoughts entwined. Reever’s cool, white soul cloaked me against the horrors I'd seen.
    For a moment, I let myself snuggle against him, body and mind. I needed this. I wish I could be like you. Disconnect myself from all these emotions .
    They are part of you . He was remembering when we had been this close, back on the ship.
    Maybe you should let me go. The last time we did this, we nearly started