Act 4.9 - Trust

The three Royal Hands sat in the CIC, on the High Deck of the Haven’s Gate, watching the translated broadcast, the Gate’s processors generating spoken Zakkili voices for the figures on the screen. The only other person present was Kae’rel, standing next to Jalari, hands clasped behind his back.

“The tactics seen here are truly remarkable, something we’ve never seen done before—”

“Of course we haven’t seen them done. Ydani have never fought alongside another race before yesterday.”

“Still, their formations and movements carry much of Captain Tor’laen’s usual command style. Any recent graduate of the Academy could tell you that.”

“And yet, there is an evolution here. This could herald a whole new era of squad-based tactics—”

“That’s only if you consider our current course of ‘joining’ the Zakkili as the correct one. This footage is compelling, but—”

The holoscreen was showing footage of the raid on the civic center, as five Ydani of seemingly notable military rank discussed what they were watching. It was masterfully made, Nalyra could admit — a combination of drone recordings and helmet cam footage, the latter of which the Crown Daughter had graciously surrendered copies of at the Ydani government’s request.

The attitude of the five Ydani discussing the footage ranged from begrudgingly impressed to near-veneration over the operation. It was about all that Nalyra could have hoped for.

The program had been quickly put together overnight, and was now apparently being broadcast across the system, to all four worlds the Ydani had spread to, as well as Ydan itself, of course.

“I must say, Nalyra,” Jalari began, not taking her eyes off of the screen. “I had not truly believed all that Kae had told me about your consort, but he certainly seems to live up to his reputation. This…this is a massive win for the integration efforts. Part of me still can’t believe it. He actually went in there and settled it without a single casualty, on either side.”

A sense of pride settled in Nalyra’s breast at the surprisingly sincere praise for her husband.

“I should have joined,” Kae’rel added wistfully. “To fight alongside Captain Tor’laen…”

“Not a chance.” Jalari turned to glare at the man. “You are a Lieutenant in the naval track. Not a marine.”

“Tor’laen is naval Captain,” Kae’rel returned, grinning. “And yet he fights.”

“The Shield Consort fought in your people’s big damn war. On the frontlines, from what you’ve told me,” she growled. “It’s not the same thing. Not even close.”

“Yes, Jalari.” He turned his attention back to the broadcast, a small smile still on his face.

They watched for another mark or so before Zikara spoke up.

“I find myself in agreement with Jalari. Your husband is to be commended, Lyra.” The other Crown Daughter was leaning on her elbow on the holotable, apparently none too concerned with maintaining appearances in the present company.

Nalyra shot her twin a smirk, magnanimously ignoring her sister shortening her name. Zikara answered it with a knowing grin.

“Just where is brother Tor’laen, anyway?”

“My consort is currently reaping the results of his stubborn heroics by recuperating in the infirmary of the Aegis,” Nalyra replied. “He was rushed into surgery the moment we returned to my Citadel, and spent the night under observation.”

“Is his condition serious?” A small note of concern crept into Zikara’s voice.

“He will make a full recovery.” Nalyra nodded at her twin. “Ydani are almost ridiculously durable, it would seem.”

“I admire your composure, sister. If Quen was wounded that badly, I’d be pulling at my crownthreads with worry.”

“It was…not an enjoyable experience,” Nalyra admitted. “Thankfully, the task of scolding my husband for his recklessness fell to the head doctor on my Citadel.” She smirked slightly, remembering the thunderous expression Doctor Alevi had on when Tor’laen hobbled into the infirmary, supported by Mikka and Nalyra. “I would not be surprised if the woman had strapped him to his bed in the medical wing this time. He was somewhat less than cooperative with her after the incident on Kelran.”

“Stubborn indeed,” Zikara chuckled.

The group watched the broadcast for a few more marks, Nalyra privately marveling at Tor’laen’s proficiency in both combat and command. Interestingly, the program completely omitted the railgun-wielding Ydani, Betharn, and the struggle to take him down. Instead the footage switched to external drone recordings of the hostages being led out of the building.

Nalyra had, of course, gotten a complete debriefing from Mikka, the Lieutenant Commander detailing the entire operation in full. The Crown Daughter had also watched the entire, unedited helmet camera footage from both Mikka and Tor’laen. This was a matter she could not afford to stay uninformed about.

The program had now switched to pure discussion between the commentators, the interesting part of the broadcast seemingly over.

That left just the last unpleasant news that Nalyra had to share.

“There is one more thing that you both need to know as Royal Hands involved in this,” she started. Her gaze drifted to Kae’rel, then back down to Jalari, her unspoken question clear.

“He is trustworthy,” Jalari answered, folding her arms, just a touch of indignation in her tone. “I’d swear it upon the Crown.”

“I understand.” Nalyra nodded solemnly at the woman.

The Crown Daughter quickly and concisely described what she, Tor’laen, and Mikka had discovered the prior day. Starting from her consort’s suspicions about the extremist leader up to Tor’laen volunteering to be their test subject. The only thing she skirted around was just exactly what the test had involved.

A loaded silence met the end of Nalyra’s explanation, all eyes in the room fixed on her.

“…shit.” Jalari was the first to speak. “This is just fucking great.”

Zikara nodded in agreement, a faintly disturbed look on her face.

“Apologies,” Kae’rel said quietly. “What is…‘Taken’?”

“It’s mind control, Kae,” Jalari answered shortly. “Orders, instructions, or impulses, planted directly into someone’s thoughts.”

“I…see.” The man furrowed his brow, clearly thinking over the implications of what he had just learned.

“Who else knows about this, Nalyra?” Zikara leaned forward.

“Other than those present, my consort and my Troop Commander. I’d trust either with my life. They will not spread this,” Nalyra said confidently. She hesitated for a moment. “And, I would imagine whoever Took the terrorist knows as well, or at least suspects as much. Otherwise this would have been an unbelievably foolhardy move.”

“So we have a Zakkili Noble, or someone even stronger, on the loose, trying to sabotage the integration from the shadows,” Jalari scoffed. “Amazing.”

“However, on the other hand, they have inadvertently delivered us a major victory in the realm of public opinion.” Zikara nodded to Nalyra. “At the cost of brother Tor’laen’s health, of course, but still a victory.”

“That is true,” Nalyra conceded. “But I cannot help but worry, moving forward. Must we live in fear that any Ydani could be Taken? A quick-made sleeper agent, just waiting to strike? The thought disturbs me greatly, I will admit.”

“Perhaps.” Jalari leaned back in her chair, her gaze on the Crown Daughter. “Nalyra…just what kind of command did you give your consort when you tested this phenomenon?”

“...I will admit, it was something that he would not object to,” Nalyra said delicately, doing her best not to blush at the memory.

“Bah, then that is no real test,” Jalari scoffed. Her gaze went to the Ydani standing next to her. “Kae, do you trust me?”

“Of course, Jalari,” he replied immediately.

“Do you object to us testing this on you as well?”

The Lieutenant paused for a moment, before answering.

“I do not object,” he said calmly. “If can be tested on Captain Tor’laen, can be tested on me.”

“Good man.” Jalari nodded at him, pride touching her voice. “Go stand at the far end of the holotable.”

The Ydani did as he was told, with just a touch of puzzlement on his face. Jalari turned to look at Nalyra.

“Take him,” she said shortly.

“Me?” Nalyra blinked in surprise.

“I doubt I have the psychic strength necessary to completely Take someone as strong-willed as Kae,” she explained, her voice wry. She spread a hand, placing it on the table, palm down. “Order him to stab my hand.”

Nalyra hesitated, her gaze flicking between Jalari and Kae’rel. The Ydani nodded at her.

“I am ready, Crown Daughter.”

Nalyra resisted the urge to sigh, and for the second time in as many days, reached into a mind and, against her own wishes, Took it. Though she tried to stay completely focused on her task, the Crown Daughter couldn’t help but notice some of the similarities, and differences, between Kae’rel and Tor’laen. Both their minds were seemingly structured around discipline and control, but the Lieutenant’s mind felt…sharper, less welcoming, somehow. Not as settled or comforting as her husband’s thoughts. Tor’laen’s mind was closer to a protected, shadowy haven, while Kae’rel’s reminded her of a bustling fortress, constantly preparing for battle.

The Crown Daughter pushed aside the thoughts, focusing back on the reason she had touched the younger Ydani’s mind. Slipping past his mental defenses, she focused her psychic powers into a single sharp, powerful command, embedding it directly into the man’s thoughts.

Stab Jalari’s outstretched hand.

She immediately pulled out of the Ydani’s mind, watching him closely.

The change was instantly apparent. Kae’rel stumbled forward, toward Jalari, grabbing the table for support. One of his eyelids was twitching, and his jaw looked almost painfully clenched. With a single, trembling hand, he reached inside his uniform, his motions jerky and uneven. He continued to stagger closer to Jalari, pulling a dagger out of his clothing, not dissimilar to the one Nalyra wore on her belt, though notably less ornamented.

Kae’rel drew close to his Royal Hand, hesitantly raising the weapon. A vein on his forehead was bulging, as he ground his teeth.

“Enough!” Nalyra cried, jumping from her seat and undoing the Taking with a single thought.

The Ydani stumbled, collapsing to one knee, holding onto the holotable for support. The dagger clattered to the floor, falling from his grip, and he held his free hand to his face, breathing heavily.

“It would appear that Ydani do indeed show signs of being Taken,” Zikara said quietly. “At least when the order runs counter to their intrinsic desires.”

“So somehow Ydani are both the least recognizable and most recognizable victims of Taking. Great,” sighed Jalari, as she moved to Kae’rel’s side, helping the man upright. “Then all we have to watch for are angry, radicalized Ydani getting Taken. Maker knows there’s a shortage of those on Ydan right now.” Sarcasm dripped from her voice.

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“Still, it is a comfort to know that someone aligned with our cause cannot be completely turned against us with no sign or consequence,” Zikara said, tapping a finger against her chin. “We may need to reconsider some security measures, however.”

“Oh, that will be a big fucking hit,” scoffed Jalari. She pushed Kae’rel into a seat, and glared at the man when he looked like he would protest. “Let’s just go down there and tell all the Ydani that we have to check their minds because some of them might get psychically turned into puppets at any moment.”

“Sarcasm aside,” Nalyra shot the woman a look, and received a smirk in return. “This must be handled carefully. As Zikara said, we know now that a trustworthy ally cannot be Taken without any signs. We should start by confirming our contacts on Ydan. Then move to finding more of those who support the integration and the Monarchy.”

“Kae has plenty of contacts in the Academy and the navy,” Jalari said with a nod towards the recovering Ydani. “I’ll work from there, I guess.”

“Tor’laen was Outrunner Captain for over twenty years, from what he has told me,” Nalyra added. “Once he recovers, that will be a fine place to start for us.”

“I have no readymade Ydani contacts.” Zikara shook her head. “I had thought to send Quen down to see what he can do as a non-Zakkili, but after this revelation, that seems unwise. High Matron Avena seems to have built up a decent network of contacts already — perhaps I will confer with her.”

“Then we have our paths laid out before us,” Nalyra said, satisfied. “Let us reconvene in half a span, and share what we have accomplished.”

Tor’laen sat, leaning back against the pile of pillows that lay at the head of his and Nalyra’s bed. He was still wearing the simple clothes he had been wearing when he was discharged from the infirmary. A wry grin flitted across his face at the memory. The head doctor, Alevi, had clearly been unhappy with releasing him, glaring at him dourly through almost the entire process. He privately suspected that, given the opportunity, she would have kept him in the infirmary for an entire span.

However, much to her obvious displeasure, Tor’laen’s scans had come back clean for internal bleeding after the successful microsurgery and round of medications he had been pumped full of overnight. Even now, the faintest hint of painkillers lingered in his system, the throbbing, messy pain from the previous day seeming almost like a bad dream now.

Relaxing a little more into the pile of soft pillows, Tor’laen softly hummed the fragments of a catchy tune he had heard in one of the restaurants of the Under Deck. He was in a fantastic mood as he read through a new novel on his tablet. This one was a thriller, featuring a group of Zakkili Armswomen and engineers struggling to survive on a derelict vessel.

On top of that, now that he was no longer in tremendous pain, looking back at the results of the hostage rescue operation filled him with a measure of joy and tentative hope. For the first time in over a decade, he felt he could see the possibility of a future for his people. One that did not end in either their own cultural death or destroying themselves against the Zakkili.

Even as the thought crossed his mind, the door to the cabin slid open, and the Crown Daughter stalked inside.

“Nalyra,” he said, raising a hand in greeting, aware that he should be moving no more than completely necessary.

She glared at him, narrowing her eyes, and he knew that the “later” he was due to pay for had almost certainly arrived. Saying nothing, she seemed to be pointedly ignoring him, so Tor’laen gave a mental shrug and returned his attention to his novel. Even their Bridge was almost completely still. Either way, he was sure she would get his attention when she wanted it.

A few marks passed, Tor’laen getting completely absorbed into the story he was reading, before he felt the mattress shift slightly. He glanced up to see Nalyra crawling towards him, eyes narrowed, with the grace of a predator stalking its prey. Her hair was down, as was usual in their cabin, and she had changed to a light, pale yellow one-piece dress. It was something more casual than Tor’laen had almost ever seen her in, but he found the simple design of the piece quite charming, accentuating the woman’s natural beauty. It was almost enough to offset the dangerous glint in her purple eyes. Almost.

“So,” her voice was quiet, deadly, as she drew close to him. “The wounded hero returns from the infirmary.”

“I have.” He nodded, unable to hide a small grin. “I was officially discharged two bells ago.”

“I am aware.”

“Were you meeting with the other Royal Hands?” he asked, slowly placing the tablet down next to him.

“Yes.”

She was almost upon him now, and despite himself, a small shiver made its way up his spine.

“Tor’laen.” Her voice was soft, and he braced himself for the storm of lectures and scolding he was sure was coming, avoiding the Crown Daughter’s gaze.

It was all he could do to not jolt in surprise when he felt his wife straddle his legs, sitting gently on his thighs.

“You are an unbelievable idiot,” she started, glaring at him. “You knew you were injured, you knew your body couldn’t take too much punishment. And what did you do?”

Tor’laen was silent, caught in Nalyra’s gaze.

“You put yourself in harm’s way again and again.” She punctuated each word by softly jabbing a finger into his chest. “I watched your visor’s recording. I saw what you put yourself through. And do you know what the worst part is?”

He could only slightly shake his head.

“There really was no other way that situation could have been resolved cleanly.” She made a sharp tsk noise. “And now I cannot even be properly, rightfully angry at you and your stupid, foolish, stubborn need to throw yourself headfirst into every problem that comes your way.”

“You cannot?” he dared to ask.

“Your actions may have singlehandedly saved the integration efforts on Ydan. May have prevented civil war or worse.” She sighed. “And, of course, no one else could have led that squad.”

“That…is a good thing, is it not?”

“I had plans for tonight, Tor!” she huffed angrily. “Plans for last night, and tonight, and now my stupid, rugged, heroic husband is too injured for them!”

His cheeks flushed with understanding.

“I…I am not so injured that I cannot—”

“Absolutely not,” Nalyra cut him off. “I heard it directly from Doctor Alevi. No sudden movements. No sharp twists or jolts.”

“Then I will not—”

“Your discipline is not something I can deny, husband,” she said delicately. “But I do not believe even you are disciplined enough not to move at all when we are making love. At least, not yet.” She smirked at him.

“Perhaps you are right.” Tor’laen could feel his face fall.

“Although…” An impish smile passed over the Crown Daughter’s face. “Tor’laen, do you trust me?”

“Beyond where even light may reach, Nalyra,” he replied softly, and her eyes widened slightly at the vow.

“Good,” she purred a moment later. Nalyra wiggled slightly closer, and gently touched a single finger to his chest.

Tor’laen’s wife Stilled him.

He blinked at the sudden change, looking down. He could still move his head and neck, but that was it. Even more curiously, his body was still there. He could still feel things — the softness of the pillows behind him, the sensation of fabric on his skin, the warmth of his wife’s rear pressing against his thighs — but that was it. It was like his body was still sending information to him, but receiving nothing his mind sent back.

It was quite the odd feeling, and he was sure it would have been significantly more terrifying if his wife wasn’t currently sitting on his lap.

“I would think this solves the problem, does it not?” She smirked at him.

“It does indeed, but…” he said slowly. “Will you not have to do all the work now, Lyra?”

She leaned forward and gently kissed his cheek.

“I hardly think this qualifies as work, Tor.” She ran a hand slowly down the side of his face, ending in a caress of his neck. “Besides, I believe my heroic husband deserves a reward, does he not?” She pulled herself closer and nibbled at his ear. “Worry not about your wounds. I will be gentle,” she whispered, sending a shiver down his neck.

Carefully, she tugged the band off of his head, over his horns, revealing his damaged eye. Nalyra ran a finger softly along the path of the scar that ran over it.

He leaned his head into her hand.

Nalyra pressed forward, and caught his mouth in a kiss. A slow, deep, gentle thing. Like a promise her body was making to his. Tor’laen’s breath caught in his throat slightly.

While she kissed him, the Crown Daughter’s hands were busy, undoing the ties on his infirmary-issued shirt and pulling it open. Her hands traveled down his now bare chest, her palms hot against his skin. Nalyra hesitated when she reached the renewed patches of sealant. Gingerly, she touched each of them, breaking their kiss and half-glaring at her husband.

“Someday, when you are finally healed, I will no longer have to hold myself back when we lie together,” she murmured, bringing her lips to his neck.

“You were holding back last time?” Tor’laen asked, unable to do more than accept his wife’s kisses.

“Tor, I have lived for over forty years without finding a worthy partner. Without ever allowing anyone close enough to hold me. To touch me.” Her voice dropped to a sultry whisper. “To love me. Now I have my big, sturdy, war-hero Ydani husband. My Tor’laen. And I intend to make the most of that fact.”

He could feel his heart pounding in his throat from her words, her promise. Tor’laen would have been surprised if Nalyra couldn’t feel it as she gently kissed his neck.

She suddenly withdrew, and a tiny echo of emptiness swelled inside of Tor’laen.

Nalyra simply smirked at him, perhaps sensing his longing over their Bridge. She gathered up her dress in her hands and slowly pulled the entire thing over her head, exposing herself to her husband.

She was wearing nothing underneath.

The Crown Daughter was clearly aware of his hungry gaze upon her, and she gave him a small show, stretching luxuriously, openly displaying every part of her body for him. It was like a sort of pleasurable torture for the Ydani, only being able to watch. His mind was screaming at his arms to embrace her. At his hands to touch her. He could not. He could only watch.

A part of his urgency must have reached her, and she shifted, tugging down his pants.

“Oh my, Tor,” she said, looking down and giggling. It felt like an odd sound for the normally dignified Crown Daughter to make, but it brought an involuntary smile to his face. “It appears you are in quite a bit of distress.”

“I do not know if I would call it distress, Lyra.”

“Oh? Then what would the proper term be?”

“Desire. Want. Need,” he said simply. “Any of those.” He could feel his hunger leaking into his voice.

Something shifted in her gaze at the words, and she leaned forward once more, kissing him fiercely. She softly bit at his lip, and squirmed closer to him, pressing her bare chest against his. Tor’laen reveled in the feeling of her breasts squeezing against him. The feeling of her almost impossibly soft skin.

Without breaking the kiss, she slowly maneuvered herself into position and, with only the slightest hesitation, pushed her hips down, uniting them once more. The sensation brought forth an involuntary groan from Tor’laen, as desire and hunger surged throughout him. It was easier this time, and a small pulse of satisfaction went through him at how readily his wife’s body welcomed him now.

Nalyra was clearly affected as well — her breathing grew shallow, and her side of the Bridge went wild, the feelings bouncing back and forth between them.

The Crown Daughter put her hands on his shoulders, steadying herself, and began to move. Slowly, smoothly, she slid up and down, her eyelids fluttering.

“Oh, Tor…” she breathed, closing her eyes.

“Lyra,” he murmured back. He wanted to pull her close, but his body still wouldn’t obey him. “Kiss me,” he managed to mutter, feeling his cheeks flush as he made the request.

The slightest hint of a smirk touched his wife’s face, and she leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She kissed him deeply, still moving her hips. Her tongue slipped inside his mouth, gently prodding his own, looking for affection. He gave it gladly, pressing his tongue against hers.

She continued the kiss for a while, keeping her body pressed against his, her movements more constrained but no less pleasurable. Finally, she broke the kiss, laying her head on his shoulder, her eyes half-closed with lust.

“Tor…” she whispered, her breath hot on his skin. “You are whole. You are here.”

“I am,” he said softly, wishing he could embrace her. “I will always come back to you, Nalyra.”

His wife straightened up, looking him in the eyes. Not shying away from his damaged gaze.

“Do you mean that?” Her voice was oddly formal, even as she continued to slowly ride him. “Truly?”

“I swear it,” he said firmly. “Nothing could kill me during the war. Separatists and assassins couldn’t on Orphila. Mercenaries and drones couldn’t on Grace Eridi Zii. And no extremists or malcontents will here on Ydan. I will always come back to you,” he repeated the words.

There was such an intense surge of emotion over their Bridge that it made his eyes water. His wife’s feelings poured into him, flooding his mind. Trust, worry, need, lust, hope…all of them swirled together as he gazed into the Crown Daughter’s purple eyes. She wrapped her arms around his neck once more, as tightly as she dared, clinging to him. She quickened slightly, still being gentle against his wounded body. Her cheek was pressed firmly into his, her eyes closed tightly.

“Tor…Tor…” she whispered into his ear, in time with the movement of her hips.

“Lyra,” he murmured back, and her arms tightened around him.

She was close now, he could feel it building from her side of their Bridge, now that he knew what to look for. Her movements were becoming slightly erratic, her discipline faltering as pleasure started to overwhelm her.

Once more, her emotions surged through him as she climaxed, almost as disorienting as a flashbang going off inside his mind. Nalyra’s pleasure flooded into him, a fog of warmth and lust and need whirling inside. It was enough to push him over the edge as well, feeling his wife’s climax so intensely, and he released inside her.

He panted and nibbled at her large ear, the sensitive appendage twitching and wiggling as he did so. A weak point, perhaps. Tor’laen noted it in his mind for later.

Finally, they both relaxed, each shivering slightly from the aftermath. It felt like their Bridge was twitching slightly, as if overly sensitive after carrying the flood of their mutual emotions.

With a slightly trembling hand, Nalyra tapped a finger against her husband’s forehead, and the Still bled away, his hands and feet twitching slightly as they started to obey him once more. Moving very carefully, not wanting his wife’s efforts to go to waste, Tor’laen wrapped his arms around her, pulling her gently down onto the bed. He rolled onto his side, still keeping Nalyra close, and pulled a blanket over them.

Nalyra shifted slightly, burying her head into his chest, snuggling as close as she could. Her satisfaction washed over him, the little Zakkili psychically radiating the feeling. Tor’laen opened his mind as much as he could, relaxing his thoughts, and she slipped inside his head, as easily as putting on a comfortable robe or pair of slippers.

He was — they were home.

The thought was intensely comforting, and he could feel it reverberate over their Bridge. Slowly, the pair drifted off to sleep, the swirling clouds of Ydan visible through the wall of their cabin.