Chapter 3

Min-Ji

I would never tell Corin, but my back ached, and I'd scraped both my elbows and knees coming through that narrow crawlspace. It was lucky that I wasn't particularly tall, but it was a tight fit, which made it all the more miraculous that Corin had managed to squeeze his huge Naga body through. I guess he could wind and flatten himself to fit through spaces in ways I couldn't. He was mostly made up of vertebrae.

If not for the open vent panel, I wouldn't have been able to find him either. I thought he'd been sloppy, leaving it open like that, but now that I spotted the scrappy little cleaning bot at his side, I had a feeling I wasn't the only one who had followed him down here against his wishes.

I was pretty sure this bot came from a pile of things that Zsekhet and his dragon had recovered from Zeidon's cave. Ever since Corin had gotten his hands on it, it had followed him like a lost puppy. Kind of like I was… Nope, not going there. Sure, it was a little sad to be carrying a torch for a guy who wanted to run from the room as soon as you showed up. But I had good reason.

Did I, though? I wondered, not for the first time, if my memories of our first meeting were clouded by the traumatic brain injury I'd been recovering from. What if I hadn't been able to understand him at all? What if my brain had filled in the blanks afterward? Those were thoughts that usually only plagued me in the dead of night, but today, I couldn't shake them.

Everyone knew what it meant if a female could understand a Naga male by touching him. The silver glow of his scales was even more telling. But what if I'd dreamed all that? Cosima and Reid hadn't recalled seeing a silver glow on Corin when he carried me right after the crash.

With nobody there except Corin, I didn't feel the need to maintain my facade of cheerfulness and helpfulness. He didn't care what I said or did; heck, he'd probably prefer it if I stayed quiet. I should focus on other things, like the mission I was certain he was here to execute: rescuing the trapped warriors.

My heart skipped a beat when I thought about achieving that. Naomi would be so relieved when Krashe came back, and Haven would be much safer with all its warriors returned to the fold. I knew we all missed Kalani and her brutish, often silent male, Iave. A little voice at the back of my brain helpfully pointed out that rescuing them would cement my position as a good guy.

We were traveling in gloomy darkness, lit only by dirty crystals embedded in the ceiling. Some of them were broken, courtesy of the massive crack that ran along the side of the tunnel wall. When the crack disappeared, the crystals seemed a little brighter, but it still felt like we were traversing a maze. Crossroads and tunnels split off and diverged, but Corin confidently led the way. If I lost sight of him, I'd be as trapped down here as the warriors we came to save.

The silvery-blue scales of my companion were a beacon in the dark; they would be hard to lose sight of. He was holding a scrap of lavender-colored leather with black scribbles—I hoped it was a map. Corin usually knew what he was doing. Out of all the Naga here, he seemed to know the most about the ancient technology that remained. Well, maybe the Shaman knew more, but Corin was fascinated and completely unafraid of anything new or foreign.

"You're quiet," Corin said, tilting his head as he glanced over his shoulder at me. His half-long hair slid over his scales, the deep, dark blue locks shimmering like midnight in the faded crystal light. His eyes were the brightest silvery blue, swirling like quicksilver. That stare hit me like a punch to the gut, and I was certain he could see right through me, to my core. Nothing would remain secret if he kept looking at me like that—I'd spill my deepest desires, my greatest fears to him.

So I looked away first, even though it was usually me who pushed and prodded. "Why are you quiet?" he asked again, but I felt his gaze slip away. A rustling sound made me think he was focusing on his map again, but I didn't raise my eyes from my feet to check. "You always talk, why aren't you acting like yourself? I said stay close, not stay quiet."

Though I felt called out, vulnerable because of that stare earlier, I also felt a flush of warmth. That didn't sound like he hated it when I endlessly chattered his ear off. He sounded like he missed my talking. Dare I say, he even sounded a little worried. That had to mean something, but did it mean what I hoped it meant? Or was it just another part of his caring nature, the nature he tried to hide behind his silence and distance?

I rolled a shoulder, not that he could see it. When I lifted my eyes from the steel toes of my combat boots, I was startled to find that Corin had turned around and was now blocking the tunnel with his big, looming presence. The rubber soles of my boots squeaked on the stone floor as I came to an abrupt stop. If I had kept walking, I might have run into him, might have actually touched him. But I knew he wouldn't have let it get that far; Corin avoided my touch at all costs. It was the main reason I still held on to this stupid crush.

I thought you'd prefer the silence," I said, balling my hands into fists at my sides to stop myself from reaching out to him. He'd reject me, move away, and I didn't want to end this moment, whatever it was. He was close enough that I could feel his warmth in this cool, slightly damp tunnel. If I breathed deeply, his scent filled my lungs: sweet, spicy, and with a typical male musk that I found intriguing.

His mercury eyes gleamed, and I fought the urge to look away again. He was right, I wasn't acting like my usual self. It felt different down here in the tunnels, and for once, he wasn't avoiding me like the plague. He hadn't even told me I couldn't stay. It brought me back to the basics, to the things I really felt and thought. No facade, I'd been thinking earlier, I didn't need it with him. But maybe it would be safer if I did.

"Look," I said when his stare started to become too much for me. "I try not to be a burden in Haven because I haven't forgotten that I wasn't in one of the stasis pods. I was the pilot. Everyone else seems to have forgotten that, but I haven't." I shrugged a little helplessly when he kept staring, and I shuffled my feet.

"Pilot?" he demanded in the awkward silence. Ah, I kept forgetting which words were unfamiliar to the Naga, especially with Corin, because he knew so much about the technology they still had. He was the one who had helped lobby for the translator implants for the aspirants, so they could talk to us and understand us. If not for Corin, I wouldn't have understood a single word any of the Naga said.

"Yeah, pilot," I replied with a nod. "I trained to fly the skyships." I gestured vaguely toward the ceiling, but I knew he'd understand; the interested gleam spreading in his volatile eyes said it all. Corin was always craving more information, more knowledge of how things worked, especially the skyships and the machines that could be found all over the planet. I had a feeling that, for once, I wouldn't be the one leading the charge in a stilted conversation.

"You can fly a skyship?" he clarified, slithering a little closer, a small miracle all on its own. My nipples perked beneath my shirt, and I wrapped my arms around myself to hide the evidence.

"Yes, it means I was the one that caused all of us to crash on Serant. It was my fault. And not just that, but it means everyone thinks I played a willing part in getting them here. You know they were all supposed to be executed for a crime, right?" Vera, Reid, all the other girls. On Earth, they had been condemned for a crime, big or small, false or true. They thought they were dead, only to discover the UAR had put them in stasis and shipped them off to god knows where for some nefarious reason.

Thinking about it made my stomach twist painfully, and any excitement over Corin's interest in talking instantly vanished. Even his warmth didn't soothe the chill that filled me now. I was no slaver. I didn't agree with any of it, but I couldn't deny that I'd played a part in their fate. A big part. It was wrong, and I had to make up for it. My survival meant I depended on their willingness to forget who I was, a UAR soldier who'd followed their orders with blind loyalty, right until we'd crashed on this planet.

"Willing?" Corin said, latching onto that one word with alacrity. Of course he did, he was the smartest person I knew. He could read between the lines. I opened my mouth, which had gone dry as a bone, struggling to find the right words to answer his question. I wanted to brush it off, deny it, so he couldn't strain my relationship with the others at Haven. Except a bigger part of me was suddenly convinced that he would never do that, say anything that could harm my safety. It had to be wishful thinking once again.

I was saved by the bot. The little cleaning machine whirred as it suddenly rolled around my legs and positioned itself solidly between the two of us. It beeped twice, and several yellow and green lights flickered across the dome-shaped upper portion. "What does he want?" Corin asked, his low voice taking on a sharp edge of annoyance; a tone I knew well.

"He?" I asked, a smile suddenly finding its way onto my face. I didn't think I could smile so soon after that conversation, but the admission of something other than dislike for his recently acquired shadow was too much. "You're calling it a he? Did you name it too?"

The guilty look on his face made me think that yes, maybe he had named it. Though maybe that look was more about being caught assigning something more to what was supposed to be a thoughtless machine. Taking hold of this timely distraction with both hands, I said, "What is it? Not Mrs. Mop since you decided this bot is a guy… Bolts? Circuit? Oh, Robbie maybe?"

He bared his teeth, displaying the frighteningly sharp fangs that protruded from his upper jaw. The hiss that rattled from his chest was dark, primordial, and threatening. It was a sound that should have sent me running in the other direction, and certainly, a small part of my brain took note. A very small part, mostly I just thought it was hot.

Then he turned his bared fangs on the still happily beeping little bot, and that threatening display turned into something far more akin to disgust. "I did not name the stupid bot." He spun around, his hands flying into his dark hair in what was clearly frustration. He gave those silky-looking strands such a rough yank that I winced in sympathy.

I opened my mouth to lob a few more suggestions. It was easy to fall into the familiar groove, where I did my very best to get a reaction out of him. His quick departure made talking all but impossible. I had to jog to keep up with him, and the little cleaning bot whirred next to me, keeping pace on its rapidly spinning bottom section.

"Chip? Sparky?" I yelled after him.