Chapter Thirteen

Five days later, Annie appeared at the dock of the Rose according to plan.

From the enormous glass hall of the waiting room, she could see the passenger ship docked at Cerulean Star. The Rose was predominantly white, with its belly painted a deep rose pink, marked with the insignia of the Free Alliance and Celestial Technologies. The hull bore the port numbers of the departure and destination planets in five languages.

Returning from the snowy mountains to District Eight brought such a drastic change in temperature that the pampered merfolk struggled to adapt. Lin had already begun running a fever the night before. He wore a protective mask as he accompanied Annie, reaching out to tug up the hood of her athletic jacket and drape it over her head.

“Mm,” Annie’s head was poked. “What are you doing?”

“You’re too conspicuous,” Lin said. “At least eight out of ten people on Cerulean Star would recognize you. Keep a low profile. Here.” He handed her a mask.

Annie tore open the package; this mask was nothing like the cheap ones she’d seen before—the wrapper alone was edged in gold. Its price as trash could feed someone in the slums for a week. Having grown up poor, even now she stuffed the wrapper into her pocket, looking up. “Thank you.”

“Thank you?” Lin repeated, his temper recently more volatile than ever, his irritation showing with a faint, bitter laugh. “Get lost. Meeting you is bad luck for me.”

Annie took him at his word, nodded, and was about to put on the mask and head toward the embarkation checkpoint when her wrist was suddenly seized. She turned, and her teacher’s deep blue eyes locked onto her, his palm burning hot.

He was feverish, badly so—his eyes were reddened by the heat. Annie’s expression shifted, but before she could ask, Lin read the “why” in her face. He let go, then cupped her cheeks and pulled away her mask.

He kissed her swiftly, as if he resented her, as if he meant to pass on the torment of his illness, yet the hate wasn’t complete. Annie felt only the dry, burning touch of his lips, as light as a brush of water, then he tried to retreat.

She reached up and gripped Lin’s collar, twining her fingers in his long hair.

Annie kissed him back fiercely, forcing his resentment into surprise. She was always overflowing, passionate, deciding intimacy and the fate of relationships when others least expected it. The merfolk’s sharp teeth grazed her tongue, almost biting down hard, but ultimately refrained. Lin matched the intensity of this farewell, gently pressing her shoulder.

When their lips parted, Annie’s face was flushed. Her eyes shone as she donned her mask under her teacher’s gaze. “I’m off now… goodbye, teacher.”

This hardly looked like someone heading to a blood-soaked hunting ground—it was more like a date. Before leaving, she even seemed to seek the blessing of her ex, her teacher.

Lin exhaled deeply, muttering to himself, “Why didn’t I just slap you?” He shook his head, first saying, “Get out of here.” Then, after a pause, added, “…Goodbye.”

He watched the lively girl wave and run toward the embarkation checkpoint, weaving through the crowd of travelers.

Lin turned and left.

Before Annie departed, she’d suggested removing the chips from his body and watch. He refused, saying it was unnecessary. With her gone, there was no reason for her to threaten him anymore. Lin had already arranged a new job at a museum; the director was human and cared only for his expertise, not his reputation. He wouldn’t have to show his face.

It seemed that, with Annie gone, he could return to a quiet and steady life.

But could he really?

As he left the dock, his communicator chimed again. The caller used guardian privileges to forcibly connect, opening with, “She’s gone?” Then a cold laugh, “Humans are such callous creatures. How long will a high-valued star warrior play house with a useless wretch like you? Once that human warrior wins a few matches in the hunting ground, even I’ll have to treat her respectfully. The strong are only drawn to the stronger, and you…”

“I’m hanging up,” Lin said, ending the call.

The floating screen displayed, “You do not have permission.” He curled his lips, forced to endure this lecture.

“So many days have passed—have you checked on me even once? Do you care about the family’s reputation? Your brother is also a star warrior, entering dangerous competitions. You have such talent, yet you’re so cowardly you won’t even compete with Liu! The merfolk haven’t produced a dragon-transformer comparable to cosmic star beasts in centuries; the entire status of the sea clans is at stake…”

“I’ve said it many times,” Lin interrupted calmly, “Dragon transformation is a scam. No matter how many gene evolution drugs you get, you’ll never truly transform…” His voice faltered, then he echoed, “Comparable to… what?”

His father, lost in his own world, coldly declared, “Liu no longer bothers competing with you; the elders think you need external stimulation. So I’ll strip you of your heir’s title, expel you from the family. If you still want to keep your noble status and have any shred of fighting spirit, come see me before tonight. I’ll arrange for you to go to the war zone, to temper your—”

Lin didn’t listen to the rest.

His mind was consumed by another thought, swelling to fill every corner, leaving no room for anything else. He wondered—if he became a dragon, would he be worthy of you?

Annie.

–

Stepping onto the Rose, the variety of passengers increased. Beyond the cyborgs with prosthetic bodies, there were also beast-featured and uniquely patterned races.

Ahead to Annie’s left sat an insectoid, likely a spider-type, his body covered entirely by clothes. He wore a floor-length robe, long gloves, a mask revealing only his eyes, elaborate head ornaments, a black silk ribbon covering his neck, even his black hair bound by a dark veil.

This was spiderfolk tradition. Annie had read that only male spiders and mantises were so concerned about exposing their skin. They wouldn’t let any female but their wife or kin touch them; spiders’ limbs were extremely sensitive, able to perceive changes in each other, and their females were famously savage, often devouring unfaithful mates alive.

It was also custom—protected by insectoid law.

Annie was curious about other races. She knew insectoids were even more xenophobic than the merfolk, yet couldn’t resist observing. Her gaze was discreet, but she underestimated the spider male’s sensitivity. He lowered his head, nervously twisting his robe with gloved fingers, whispering something to his companion.

Soon, a woman stood up.

She was a spiderfolk female, about a head taller than the man, wearing a battered combat vest and torn shorts, her deep brown skin and sturdy thighs stepping forward. She knocked on Annie’s armrest, “Could you please stop staring at my brother? He’s frightened.”

Annie admitted it honestly and apologized, “Sorry.”

The woman’s expression softened. She had several tiny scars at the corners of her eyes. Annie looked closer and realized they weren’t scars, but unopened eyes.

Annie’s easygoing nature made the woman want to chat. “Most of the star systems this ship passes through are human-majority. Many have never seen insectoids. My brother’s shy, easily startled, and people don’t understand why I warn them—they think I’m provoking.”

Annie replied, “I understand. Overly frightened insectoids can’t control their transformations. You’re famous as combat machines—a berserk insectoid warrior is terrifying. And, for any reason, berserk insectoids are classified as dangerous under Article Six of Accord 79A, slated for immediate elimination.”

The book had called them “notorious combat machines.” Before Accord 79A was signed, humans and insectoids had fought devastating wars across several star systems.

“You know so much!” The woman happily patted Annie’s shoulder. “I’m An Fei, that’s my brother Mo Wan. He’s here to accompany me… If he weren’t so easily scared, I’d love to chat more.”

She didn’t say much more, soon returning to her seat. The pair exchanged words, and the spider male gradually calmed. He glanced at Annie, met her eyes, then shrank back, gripping his black robe tightly.

Annie touched her own face.

Had she simulated a threatening look?

She kept her promise and stopped observing. Rising quietly, she pretended to head to the restroom, giving them space to settle their nerves.

The restroom was cramped, with a mirror.

Annie turned on the faucet and washed her hands, drying them while reviewing the hunting requirements sent by the cosmic livestream committee. She had just finished when an amused chuckle sounded behind her.

Annie froze, every muscle tensing instantly. The person behind approached; the barrel of a gun pressed to her lower back. As she calculated the shortest distance for a killing strike, the barrel shifted upward, pressing to the back of her head.

“You’d better think carefully before acting,” came a familiar voice. “Even if you were king of the universe, one shot and you’d be dust.”

His chest pressed up against hers, heartbeat pounding against her back. He seemed barely clothed; the outline of his chest muscles was firm yet yielding.

In the mirror, Annie saw his face, a red gleam from his artificial eye.

“Zero-One-Three,” Annie looked at the reflection, “Since when can a notorious star pirate and fugitive ride a passenger ship?”

He laughed in her ear, as wild and arrogant as ever—like a stray dog forgetting past beatings. “You think you’re not a fugitive? Humanity’s Security Bureau and the Gene Evolution Institute both posted high-bounty warrants for you. They think you’re a mutant. You’re worth a fortune, Annie.”

“And—” his voice curved slyly, “I’ve gone straight.”

“This is your idea of ‘going straight?’” Annie tapped the gun visible in the mirror. It was clearly an illegal laser weapon—caliber, model, manufacture, even custom modifications, not a single part was standard.

“Mhm.” He tapped the tip of Annie’s casually-tied braid with the barrel. “Joining the hunting ground counts as going straight. Star warrior, aren’t you?”

He pressed closer, chest tight against her back, one hand snaking around to grip her waist. Zero-One-Three’s body was strong and scorching, pinning her so firmly it seemed he might take her right there.

“How did you put it last time?” Annie recalled, “You said, if you saw me again, you’d figure out what I really am, then cut me to pieces?”

“Too bad I still haven’t figured out what kind of monster you are.” Zero-One-Three’s tone betrayed puzzlement, but soon, anticipation and delicious fantasy colored his voice. “But I’m here to cut you—to pieces—bit by bit—”

His excitement made the gun tremble; he drew a small knife from his belt, slicing Annie’s side, the blade slipping into her skin with a hiss, tracing a bloodied trail.

The knife wasn’t lethal, just enough to hurt. Annie’s tendril slipped out through the slit he’d made, its pale pink tip curling up to hook Zero-One-Three’s chin.

She gazed into the mirror at the man. “You miss me? Is it that you want to kill me, or do you want to fuck me?”

Zero-One-Three arched a brow, grinned wickedly, leaned down to lick the blood from her tendril’s tip. His artificial eye flickered with erratic red light. “Both.”