FSE

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Being a soldier was not as action-filled or glorious as the recruitment ads made it out to be, especially out here on a frontier colony with a small military base living in the shadow of the space port and old space elevator bringing personnel and goods to and from orbit. The soldiers and support personnel was mixed with humans of different biomods and both men and women as well as the humanoid lizards called reptides. Reptides were not as common out here on Uruk-Tar, but not unheard of and their physical size, strength and resilience made them good soldiers. The were only disliked by the quartermasters based on their special needs for lizard-friendly clothes, armor and weapons.

Despite all that, there was something about the new soldier. A transfer from a core world, dull brown-green scales with lighter front and dark stripes on his back wrapping around his sides. He looked like he was in excellent shape with broad shoulders and visible abs and battle scars over his chest and arm. Another scar ran along the bridge of his nose. His upper body bare with only his military pants and tactical belt on, leaving his clawed feet bare on the tiled floor. Clear yellow eyes looked back with an raised eye-ridge and made it apparent the new arrival had noticed.

I had stared at him, he had noticed.

"You the new guy, from..." I opened, speaking casually. "How do you like Uruk-Tar?"

His expression remained neutral when he replied, the voice was raspy and had a distinct accent that confirmed he was not from this end of the galaxy. "First impression, good. Lots of space, star makes things blue but they say it gets better. "

He shrugged and I could tell his eyes were gauging my reaction. The way he spoke made him sound simple, maybe a bit dull but there was something in his eyes. Something... predatory. His nostrils flared slightly, as if tasting the air, and he added, "Apologies for lack of uniform. Saw you noticed. Quartermaster said fabrication was needed. Not many of my kind here?"

His words made my eyes wander back over his body again. Impressive muscles, toned abs and impressive upper body strength. Reptides are known for their physical prowess but this soldier was something else. He was not as tall as some of his kind and with his natural posture on digitigrade legs and using his tail as counterweight made him just barely taller than me. I realized his statement was a question.

"Not here in Ziggurat Plaza," I replied, "Most reptides are in the north, along the Penny river. The first colony ships were only humans. Still, I'm surprised they didn't have a fitting uniform, I know we have at least a few here on base."

"Been here few hours, give time before angry. Not quartermaster fault Siko is short" he shrugged again and smiled at me, his reptilian snout getting closer and showed a row of sharp teeth that made some humans feel uneasy. I wondered if he felt insecure about his height, to me he was tall and handsome and his hand felt large and heavy when he grabbed my shoulder. "Are you ok? You don't smell fear, but something wrong?"

He smelled me, but we both knew it wasn't fear and he gave me a convenient excuse. If he really thought I was afraid would he have touched me? It was a bold move, a test. I put my own hand on top of his scaly forearm and met his yellow eyes. "I'm fine, Siko. Welcome to Uruk-Tar. I am..." I paused for a moment. "...I am glad you're here."

The rough, warm texture of his scales under my palm sent a jolt through me. He didn't flinch or pull away. Instead, his grin widened, a flash of white against the green and black of his scales. The predatory gleam in his yellow eyes softened, replaced by something... different. Curiosity, maybe. He held my gaze for a beat longer, his head tilted slightly.

"Good," he rumbled, the word a low vibration I felt more than heard. "Siko glad too." He gave my shoulder a final, firm squeeze before letting go. The sudden absence of his touch was jarring. "Now, Siko must find bunk. Get uniform. Maybe get food. Blue light makes stomach rumble."

He turned, giving me a full view of the dark stripes that rippled over the powerful muscles of his back as he walked away, his thick tail swaying gently for balance. The hard concrete floor echoed with the soft _clack, clack, clac_k of his claws.

---

Next time I saw Siko was breakfast. I sat with Corporal Loreen and her keep brown eyes noticed me glancing over in the reptide's direction when he arrived. He looked tired and shuffled to the queue to get food. His eyes focused on the people ahead of him, observing what everyone else was doing so he could blend in.

"I thought you weren't interested in the sexy hunks" Loreen smirked at me. "Is this your new project? Going to tame the lizard?"

I almost choked on my nutrient paste. "He's new. I was the one who showed him the way to the barracks yesterday."

"Sure," she said, her smile widening. "Whatever you say." Her eyes flicked toward Siko again. "He's a looker, I'll give you that. Not my type, all scales and teeth. Too much like a shark with legs."

A soft growl reached our table. I didn't need to look. Siko had gotten his food and was walking past, his tray held steady in his large hands. The growl wasn't aggressive, not really. More like a low, warning purr. His yellow eyes met Loreen's for a split second, a flash of cold light in the cold blue morning of the mess hall, before he continued to an empty table in the corner.

Loreen's smirk vanished. "Alright, maybe a little bite to him," she muttered, focusing intently on her own breakfast.

I watched him sit alone, hunched over his tray. He ate with a focused efficiency, methodical and precise. No wasted movement. He was a soldier, through and through. But there was a vulnerability in that solitude, in the way he chose the furthest corner, an exile by choice. The base's blue light filtered through the reinforced windows, catching the edges of his scales, making the green seem almost grey.

"He probably heard you," I said quietly, pushing my own tray away.

"Good. Maybe he'll learn to keep his growls to himself," Loreen shot back, a hint of defensiveness in her tone. "He's the new guy. He should be keeping his head down, not acting like he owns the place."

"He's just trying to find his footing," I countered, a surprising spike of irritation in my chest. "Give him a break."

Loreen studied my face, her own expression softening slightly. "You're defending him. Wow. You really do like this one." She sighed, tapping her spoon against the side of her bowl. "Look, I'm just saying, be careful. Reptides can be... intense. And he's got that look. The one that says he's seen things that would make us cry for our mothers. Core world transfer usually means one of two things: he's a screw-up they pawned off on us, or he's so good they sent him here for a specific reason we don't know about. Either way, he's not a puppy."

"I know," I said, though I wasn't sure I did. His scars told me had probably seen real combat, I wondered what his story was.

Loreen scraped the bottom of her bowl with the spoon and slammed it down on her tray. "That cute rep from Enlil Dynamics and thought you'd be more into guys since you declined joining us at the bar last week but this..." She gestured vaguely at Siko with her spoon, a drop of paste flinging off to land on the table. "This is next level." She leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "So, what's the plan? You going to go sit with the big scary lizard and pet him until he purrs?"

My face felt hot. "I'm going to finish my breakfast and then go on duty," I said primly. "Unlike some people, I don't make 'plans' for every person who catches my eye."

"Sure you don't," Loreen grinned, completely unrepentant. She stood, grabbing her tray. "Well, my shift's starting. Don't have too much fun staring at our new friend from across the room. Try not to drool." She gave me a final wink and sauntered off, leaving me alone with my cooling nutrient paste and the silent, eating reptide in the corner.

I stared at the grey mush in my bowl. I wasn't hungry anymore. My eyes drifted back to Siko. He had finished eating and was now just sitting there, perfectly still, looking out the window at the distant, pale-blue star that gave this planet its blue daylight. His posture was relaxed, but alert. A soldier at rest. He was so different from the humans around him, not just in his scales and claws, but in the way he inhabited space. He took up more of it, coiled and ready, even when he was doing nothing at all. A thought struck me, sharp and undeniable. He was lonely. And he was hiding.

I made a decision. I stood, picked up my tray, and walked over to the disposal slot. The clatter of the tray barely audible in the half-full mess hall. Then I turned and walked toward Siko's table. His head swiveled toward me, the movement smooth and silent, like a predator's. His yellow eyes watched my approach, unreadable.

"Mind if I join you?" I asked, my voice sounding more confident than I felt.

He blinked slowly, a gesture I was beginning to recognize as more than simple reptilian response. It was consideration. He gestured to the empty seat opposite him with a clawed hand, the gesture economical. "Sit."

I sat. The hard plastic chair felt cold against my uniform. Siko had a cotton shirt that he couldn't button all the way, it still had the lines from being brand new and it looked surprisingly good on him. The sleeves were rolled up it fit snugly over his shoulders. He wore the same pants from yesterday but without the tactical belt and gadgets. "Did you find a good bunk?" I asked.

The reptide was just stifling a yawn. "Yes, bed good but Siko forgot Uruk-Tar short. 2000 too late for bed." he smiled, the planet's rapid rotation was the reason we had a space elevator but it meant the days were several hours shorter.

"Oh, right" I replied. "We get that a lot from visitors. Short days, blinding light and ash storms from the volcanoes. I bet we'd be a core world by now if it wasn't for the short work day jokes."

Siko looked at me and I could see the flicker of curiosity in his yellow eyes. "Short day jokes?"

"Yeah," I said, leaning forward a little, the empty space between us feeling charged. "The Elemin Federation has this running gag about frontier planets, especially Uruk-Tar. 'What do you call a full workday on Uruk-Tar? A good start.' Or, 'Why did the Uruk-Taran quit their job? They wanted a half-day off.' Stuff like that."

He was quiet for a moment, processing the humor. Then, a low rumble started in his chest, not a growl this time, but a deep, resonant chuckle that I felt more than heard. The corner of his mouth twitched, revealing a hint of those sharp teeth. "Funny," he rumbled. "Humans like to make small talk with jokes. Reptides not so much."

"So I've noticed," I smiled, relieved to have broken through a little of that stoic facade. "You're not like most reptides I've met."

Siko's amusement faded, replaced by that unreadable stillness again. He leaned back, the chair creaking under his solid frame. His tail, which had been resting on the floor, gave a slow, deliberate flick. "You said we rare here."

I remembered telling him that, and now I just spoke as if I had met many of his kind. "On the base, yes, but you guys are everywhere in the Federation. When you are off duty next I'll show you around, the Oasis has some decent places and a secret restaurant that serves kurminian food. We are not that backwards out here, I promise."

Siko rose from his chair, the plastic groaning in protest. He gathered his tray with an economy of movement, his clawed fingers wrapping around the edges. For a moment, he just stood there, his yellow eyes fixed on me, unblinking.

"Okay," he said, his voice that familiar low rumble. He turned to leave, then paused, his head tilted slightly. "A date then?" The words were spoken without inflection, a flat statement rather than a question, but I caught the flicker of something in his eyes. Amusement? Challenge?

Before I could form a response, he was already walking away, his thick tail swaying gently for balance. The soft clicks of his claws on the hard floor was the only sound he left behind. I sat there, suddenly alone, my heart hammering against my ribs. A date. He hadn't asked, he'd stated it. As if it were a foregone conclusion. And the worst part? A part of me wanted to believe it was.

---

I changed outfit three times, going from something sexy, to casual to what would pass as military civilian. I settled on the white shirt with green jacket and army canvas pants, a wide brimmed hat and I stuck a pair of dark sunglasses to hang in the front of my shirt. Spending any length of time in the intense UV rays of the Uruk-Tar sun was never a good idea. The good biomod eyes that protected against the intense sunlight were expensive and I kept telling myself I wouldn't need them when I got deployed.

Siko came out from the barracks wearing a thick jacket over a zip up vest that hugged his chest tightly, some of his scars on his chest peeked out. He looked at me and the bright sun made his pupils turn into narrow slits. I could tell he tried to focus on me but his nictating membranes itched to cover his eyes to reduce the glare.

"You need a hat, and glasses," I told him.

He raised his hand to shade his eyes and the thick eye ridges squeezed down to try get the glaring sunlight away from his eyes. "Siko know. Today first free day. Orbital station prices scam."

The way he talked was simple and to the point and why did I find it so endearing? I grabbed my hat and offered to him. "It might not fit well, but the chin strap should keep in in place. I guess we go lizard shopping on the way." I smiled and gestured towards the monorail station. "The station is that way."

Siko took the hat, the wide brim looking comically small against his broad, scaly head. He fastened the strap with a surprisingly delicate touch of his clawed fingers. It perched there, a tiny speck of civility against the wildness of him. "Lizard shopping," he repeated, the words a low rumble of amusement. "Is what they call it?"

"Only when the lizard in question forgot to pack properly," I shot back, falling into step beside him as we headed for the monorail. The station was a bustling hub of activity, a river of people in various uniforms and civilian clothes flowing toward the sleek, silent trains that connected the base to the colony capital, Ziggurat Plaza. The air thrummed with the low hum of the maglev system and the cacophony of a hundred conversations.

It was only a few stops to the city centre, the mighty pillar of the space elevator in the centre with the base built in steps giving the name sake ziggurat shape. As the monorail glided silently along its magnetic track, I watched Siko's reflection in the window beside us. His yellow eyes, now hidden behind my hat's brim, darted about, taking in every detail of the passing landscape. The city unfolded before us like a blueprint brought to life, with angular structures jutting from the rocky terrain. Siko's clawed fingers tapped silently against his thigh, a nervous habit I hadn't noticed before. His posture remained coiled, even in the cramped confines of the train car, as if ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. The distant roar of the space elevator's ascent grew louder as we approached, a constant reminder of Uruk-Tar's place in the Elemin Federation's vast network of colonies. The blue light of the distant star cast long shadows across the settlement, making the ziggurat's stepped structure even more pronounced against the sky.

We got off in the Oasis district, a hub of entertainment, hotels and plenty of greenery, sports arenas and the de facto recreational mecca on the planet. I ignored most of the ads, their presence was constant and big part of the commercial success of the Federation.

Siko adjusted my hat as soon as we stepped off the train, the sun was getting lower and the Oasis offered relieving shade. His gaze was drawn to the vibrant greenery surrounding us. "Much life here. Not like on base."

"The Oasis is the jewel of Uruk-Tar," I explained, "They say the founders wanted to create a pocket of home in this harsh environment. Most of the plants are genetically modified to thrive in the blue light."

He nodded slowly, his squinted eyes scanning the lush foliage. "Good. Makes Uruk-Tar less... grey." He paused, his gaze landing on a boutique with a display of tailored reptide clothing in the window. "There. Lizard shopping."

"You intend to keep calling it that, aren't you?" I replied and gestured towards the store. "Alright, let's get you set up."

Inside, the air was cool and smelled of treated leather and synthetic fabrics. The proprietor, a small, wiry human with cybernetic implants glittering in his temples, looked up from his datapad. His eyes widened slightly when he saw Siko.

"Ah, a customer! A fine specimen, if I may say so myself. We don't get many of your size and build here. What can I do for you?"

"We need glasses. And a hat. For him," I said, stepping forward. "Something that fits, and offers good UV protection."

The proprietor, whose name tag read 'Jax', scurried over to a display rack. "Of course, of course. We have a full line of reptide-rated optics. Polarized, light-adaptive, even a few military-grade models, if you're interested." He held up a pair of sleek, wraparound sunglasses with dark lenses. "These are our most popular model. The frames are a flexible polymer, designed to conform to the unique cranial structure of your people."

Siko took the glasses and examined them, his large clawed fingers handling them with surprising gentleness. He slid them on. I looked at how they fit and they gave a modern, sleek look but the rainbow reflections in the lenses looked out of place for a rugged soldier.

"Maybe something less sporty?" I offered. I wanted to ask for something that would let me see Siko's eyes when wearing them. I already had a hard time reading him and reflective glasses would make it near impossible. "Got some of those adaptive ones, maybe military green to fit his scales?"

Jax grabbed Siko's snout to pull his gaze down to look at him from different angles. His grip looked rough and deliberate as if inspecting an obedient dog at a dog show, not a soldier that could snap him in half. "These give the best UV protection, we got them in corrective strengths too if you want him to see further," he said and pulled the wraparound glasses off Siko's head and replaced them with a similar pair with yellow tinted lenses. "Color correction, photo-chromatic," he turned towards me, "that means light-adaptive. This pair will get really dark outside and lighten up inside. These are military grade, got the same tech as the infantry but with a fashionable frame." He gave a confident smile and Siko let out a faint growl. The sound was so low I almost missed it.

I shot Siko a look. His jaw was clenched, the muscles in his neck taut. He was letting it slide, but just barely. Jax seemed oblivious, or more likely, he just didn't care. The way he talked about Siko, like he wasn't even in the room, made my own anger rise. I realized I was to blame. I had spoken in Siko's place and acted as if he was my slave and not a friend I was helping out.

"These will do," I said, my voice tight. "And we need a hat. Something durable. Maybe a wide-brimmed boonie style, but large enough for him."

"Right away," Jax chirped, bustling over to another section of the store. He returned with a dark green boonie hat, slightly larger than the human standard. He plopped it on Siko's head, adjusting the chin strap with the same proprietary air. "Perfect fit, if I do say so myself."

Siko stood there, a mannequin being dressed. He didn't protest, but the tension in his shoulders was palpable. The growl had subsided, but the air around him felt thick with unspoken words. I felt a tightness in my chest. We Eleminians were proud about our diverse culture and open society, this was not us. Apart from the slavery thing, we still did that in the Federation. "Okay, we might consider it but if you give us the full military discount you got a sale," I said and glanced at the price tag. We should get at least 20% for being military and I tried to do the math in my head. One hundred and eighty, divide by five and then remove that and it should be twenty plus sixteen, no wait, minus.

Siko stepped in front of me and held out his digital id to the jittery man and while I was distracted he had already paid.

"I figured you'd be a tourist," Jax said in the same cheerful tone when the off-worlder status popped up under Siko's name. "Enjoy the Oasis and if you tag us on the Superconductor you get a coupon code for next time."

"Not tourist," Siko corrected him, "Live here now, recent transfer."

"Welcome to Uruk-Tar then, soldier," Jax said and gave a sloppy salute.

The small talk was over, and we were back outside with Siko wearing the boonie hat, and the new yellow-tinted glasses that did not hide his yellow irises completely. He moved the hat, adjusted the glasses and even turned to look at the reflection in the storefront. He looked like a proper soldier, a professional. His demeanor changed from being out of place to a calm confidence.

"You didn't have to do that," I said. "I was going to help you out."

"Siko has funds," he said, and a slow smile spread across his face, the boonie hat casting a shadow over his features. He lowered the already darkened glasses and looked at me, the yellow of his irises bright in the fading blue light. "You helped. Found the place."

It wasn't a rebuttal, it was an explanation. A simple statement of fact. And yet, it felt like more. He had paid, but he was acknowledging my role, my help. He was creating a balance between us. I didn't know what to say to that, so I just smiled. "Let's find that restaurant."

The restaurant wasn't far, tucked away in the basement of an apartment complex that mostly housed workers from the nearby amenities. Siko's eyes, now shielded by the adaptive glasses, kept darting around, taking in everything with a new kind of curiosity I hadn't seen before. His head tilted toward the flashing neon sign of the Heartbreak Hotel, its bright colors a stark contrast against the grey-blue of the evening. Street food vendors lined our path, their smells mingling in the cool air with all kinds of spicy, greasy and unfamiliar. A large holo-display outside a theater was advertising a live-action show, some famous play from the Meran Empire, the name in a language I couldn't read but recognized as a cultural import. Siko watched it all, his posture still coiled but now with a hint of... interest, maybe. The tension in his shoulders had eased since we left the shop, the simple act of acquiring proper gear for this planet seeming to ground him in a way I hadn't expected. His gaze flickered from the holo-play to the people passing us, a silent assessment, a cataloging of this new world he'd been thrown into. I found myself wanting to explain everything, to be his guide to this strange, blue-lit corner of the Federation.

When we got to the apartment complex he slowed down for a moment, "What kind?", he asked and I struggled to understand what he meant. "Restaurant, we already pass many place with good smell." He had made a curious rumble when we passed a street vendor a couple hundred meters back. The two meter kebab roll challenge or something of that nature.

"It is a secret place. No ads, no sign, just a really nice place with amazing food. Have you had kurmin food before?" I asked and he looked at me while thinking. It looked like he was searching through his memories as if answering truthfully was important to him and he wanted to make sure he didn't lie to me. "No," he finally said, "only met one kurminian, lost money on game. He smart."

A smile touched my lips. "I think you'll like it. The food is excellent, and we won't lose any money this time."

Siko's head tilted, the new glasses hiding the narrowing of his pupils. The question was blunt, as his questions always were. "Free food?"

I couldn't hold back a chuckle, "No, I mean... yes it'll be free food for you but I'll have to pay. It is what I should do on the first date, right?" I smiled while looking intensely at his reaction, judging every detail I could see in his reptilian face.

He didn't react for a long while, but I saw a small shiver run over him. He took a deep breath and let it out as a long, slow sigh before he looked up at me again. The corner of his mouth quirked in what might have been a smile, but it was a guarded expression. "Okay," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Siko pays next time." He didn't say "if" there was a next time. He said "next time," as if it were a certainty.

I led him down a short flight of stairs, into the cool, dimly lit basement. The air grew heavy with the scent of roasting spices, savory meat, and something sweet, like burnt honey. The small restaurant was a world away from the bright, sterile corridors of the base or the flashy commercialism of the Oasis. It was a warren of small, intimate booths separated by heavy, dark wood screens. The lighting was low, casting a warm, golden glow over everything and it was surprisingly empty and quiet.

The host stand was unmanned when we arrived and I took off my hat while waiting. Siko mimicked my movements and held the hat close to his chest, possessive and deliberate. A lanky teenager, dark skinned and not ethnic kurmian sauntered over to the host stand and looked at me with a confused look.

"Did you have a booked table? I didn't see anyone on the list." He explained and I felt a chill run down my spine. I hadn't booked a table in advance, I didn't even know how. The few times I had been here was with my Uncle and he always just walked inside and sat down. I glanced over at Siko but his expression remained neutral. I felt like an idiot, this was my grand plan to get something special for the new soldier and I hadn't even looked up how to book a table.

"Two meter food also good," Siko offered and I felt his large hand on my shoulder. I couldn't let him down, I considered my options, I could try and bluff my way in but was that the impression I wanted to give him?

"I'm sorry, we didn't book ahead," truthful, own my mistakes I decided. "I've been here with my Uncle before, he never booked. Can we book a table for later or do you have a slot?" I let the question hang in the air. The teenager looked me up and down.

"First time here," Siko added, his clawed hand slid over to my other shoulder and he pulled me closer and I felt my heartbeat race. "First date," he smiled wide at the host. I felt a sense of dread, cross species relations wasn't common out here and kurminians' religion was not as tolerant as the mainstream culture even on a frontier world like Uruk-Tar.

To my surprise the teen's face cracked up in a warm smile and he told us he'd check with the boss and he hurried in behind the bar. I wanted to lean in on Siko and feel his strong arms around me but he must have sensed my discomfort and immediately let go. "Sorry for touch, thought he help."

I wanted to hit myself, I felt like I had rejected him. I had to explain, "It was a great idea, Siko, but I'm not sure the owners agree."

He glanced around the room, his nostrils flaring and his reptilian tongue darted out to taste the air. "Is kurmin new year, celebrate friendship and love." He stated, like it was a fact.

"Wait, what? Today?" I looked at him and he nodded. "How do you know that?"

"Lost money to kurmin, remember." he explained, his gaze fixed on me. "Smell the air. Cinnamon, myrrh. Celebration."

I tried to identify the smell he described but couldn't make out any specific smells, it was just a warm, inviting mix of scents. It smelled good and I realized I knew very little about the culture, religion or customs apart from liking their food, a lot. I wondered what made Siko learn about the culture, for revenge? Or was he just curious? I wanted to know but it felt like a terrible dinner conversation topic.

A man appeared behind the bar, his dark hair beautifully styled and his narrow angular face was easy to remember. He looked like a pure bred man but spoke Elemin Standard without a hint of accent. "Good afternoon, kiddo." He smiled and looked at us both without a hint of disapproval. He must have remembered me, only my uncle calls me 'kiddo'. "I got a table for two, I hope this booth is okay, it is the tail friendly option, if you can squeeze in." he showed us to the small booth with an U-shaped sofa and table fixed to the floor.

Siko slid into the booth while the owner fetched a menu. I joined him and realized that the only options for Siko's tail was either behind me on my half of the booth or out the other side and get tripped on by servers and guests. Siko looked at me, we both must have thought the same thing. The small booth was not built for a reptide. He solved the problem by pushing it against the back of the booth behind me and then it curled slightly around my hips.

"Siko sorry," he murmured, the words a low vibration I felt through my back. "Booth small." The apology was a stark contrast to the bold, possessive move of the tail itself. He wasn't sorry for touching me, he was sorry for the cramped space. The distinction was important. I found myself leaning into the contact, the rough texture of his scales against my uniform a grounding presence in the dim light of the restaurant.

"Apologies for the lack of space," the owner handed us a worn menu, the synthetic leather was falling apart and it looked nothing like the menu I remembered. "It is the new year celebration, so most of the regular items are not available." he smiled. "We have a special plate for two that might fit the occasion. I'll even give you a good deal, kiddo" he smiled at me. It felt so wrong the way he used the nickname my uncle used when it comes from a relative stranger. I realized I didn't remember the man's name. My uncle must have used it, P something, Pet... Peter? No, it was longer, a little backwards.

"Sounds tasty," Siko replied and added "Siko not handle super soy well, but only preference, not demand. Thank you for table, Mr...?" It was as if Siko knew I was struggling. Could he smell my confusion and decided to help or was it just his natural instincts to get food that told him what to do to increase our chances? His scaly tail was smoother than I expected and the tip curled under my fingers when I caressed along its length.

The owner snorted and shook his head "Super-soy? Oh heavens fury, no, that garbage has no purpose in anyone's belly. We source locally what we can and import freeze dried real ingredients," he said proudly and placed his hand on his chest. "I am Periteriana, that is peri-teri-ana" he repeated slowly, "No nickname." he turned around and walked away before I had a chance to react.

"Periteriana," I tried to repeat in my head.

Siko's yellow eyes met mine over the small table, "Uncle good friend of Periteriana? Give food when closed big favor," he stated and his eyes drifted down. "Siko tail like warm human." he stated and I realized my hand was rested on his tail, caressing it like a pet. I snatched my hand back.

Before I could stammer out an excuse, the owner, Periteriana, returned with a bottle of deep amber liquid and two small, clay cups. He placed them on the table with a soft clink. "A Kurminaian tradition for the new year," he explained. "Spiced Kurmian mead. To friendship and new beginnings." He poured a small amount into each cup, the sweet, boozy aroma filling the space between us. "The special plate will be out shortly."

After he left, an awkward silence descended. The dim light and the heady scent of the mead seemed to magnify the proximity of Siko's body, the warmth of his tail still a phantom sensation against my back. I took a small sip of the mead. It was potent, sweet with a complex blend of spices that burned a pleasant path down my throat. Siko picked up his cup, the clay looking fragile in his large, clawed hand. He sniffed it cautiously, then took a tentative sip. His reaction was immediate. He grimaced, his scaly nose wrinkling in distaste, but he swallowed.

"Strong," he rumbled, placing the cup back on the table with exaggerated care.

It did not look like he liked it, his nose exhaled in a stifled cough and he took several slow deep breaths to recover from the lingering burning sensation. I did not find it that strong, the burning was pleasant in a way but it seemed my scaly had a weakness after all. Periteriana had already returned to the kitchen when I remembered his question about my uncle and I realized I did not know him that well. He was a foreman turned manager at the big mining company that tore up the landscape all around the colony, most notably in their giant mining complex just north of Ziggurat Plaza. That did not explain the preferential treatment in a secret restaurant in the entertainment district.

"My uncle... he's a manager at the mining company," I said, finally breaking the silence. I looked up to catch Siko's reaction but he seemed unfazed by the confession. "Periteriana seemed to know him. Maybe he supplies the restaurant with local minerals? Not exactly food," I added and tried to make a joke.

Siko's yellow eyes, now adjusted to the dim light, held an unreadable gleam. "Many ways to pay. Not all with credits," he rumbled. His gaze drifted to the kitchen door. "Periteriana has good reputation. Knows people. Helps people. Your uncle... help him too?" It wasn't an accusation, just a question, asked with a disarming, simple curiosity. He was piecing things together, observing, filing away data. I was struck again by the disconnect between his speech and the sharp intelligence I could see lurking in his yellow eyes. He wasn't just a soldier, he was an operator.

"Maybe," I conceded, swirling the last of the mead in my cup. The amber liquid caught the low light, a small, golden galaxy. "My family has been on Uruk-Tar for three generations. We have a... complicated history here."

Siko leaned forward slightly, the movement drawing my attention to the powerful muscles of his chest and shoulders, visible even in the loose-fitting vest. "Complicated how?" His tail gave a gentle, almost imperceptible twitch against my back, a silent prompt. He was asking, but not pushing. Giving me space to share, or not.

Before I could answer, Periteriana reappeared, carrying a large, heavy platter. He set it down in the center of the table with a flourish. The aroma that rose from it was intoxicating, a complex cloud of roasted meat, fragrant rice, and something sweet and spicy that made my mouth water. The special plate for two was a feast. There were skewers of glistening, dark-red meat, a bowl of vibrant green vegetables in a creamy sauce, and small, golden-brown pastries that smelled of honey and cardamom.

I felt a wave of worries hit me, meat out here was expensive and if imported it means it is even more expensive. I never saw any prices on the menu and uncle paid the few times I had been here. Thinking about it I couldn't even remember if he paid while I was there. What kind of business did my uncle have to warrant special treatment like this. Was my uncle a criminal gangster with the manager title at the mine as just a front? Siko didn't notice my worries, his eyes were wide open and looked at the feast like a predator looking at a helpless morsel.

"Looks good," Siko rumbled, the gravel in his voice deeper than usual. He picked up one of the skewers, the meat sizzling faintly. He sniffed it, then took a bite. His eyes closed for a fraction of a second, a look of pure, unadulterated bliss on his face. "Very good."

He chewed slowly, deliberately, savoring the flavor. When he opened his eyes, they met mine. "Eat."

It wasn't a command, but it was close. It was a nudge, a way of pulling me out of my own head. I picked up a skewer, the metal warm against my fingers. The meat was tender, juicy, with a smoky flavor that melted in my mouth. I let out a small sigh of contentment. Siko watched me eat, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Good," he rumbled again.

We ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, the only sounds the clinking of our cutlery and the soft murmur of the other diners. Siko ate with an intensity that was almost feral, but with a surprising delicacy. He didn't wolf down his food, but he didn't waste any motion either. The worry about the costs melted away, I had some credits saved and this was so much better than I remembered. The previous meals had been less fancy, more local and not juicy meat that felt like angels caressing my tongue with flavor and texture.

My mind drifted back to the question. Maybe it wasn't that complicated. Three generations of miners, genetically enhanced to fit the role, strong lungs and resistance to toxic gas and heavy metals. Uncle was still in the business and loyal to Marduk Mining, but my father had been a rebel, he refused to enter the mines and wanted to be an artist. He wasn't very good, he lived off my grandparents until mom took pity on him. Not sure why, she still loves him of course but she blames him for poisoning my mind and letting me join the army. I looked up at Siko, maybe it wasn't complicated. Everyone's lives were complicated, out here on the frontier just as much as in the sprawling core worlds. Uruk-Tar was barely a frontier colony to begin with. We had monorail, space elevator and produced almost everything we need. The exact age of the colony is lost to the information cataclysm 70 years ago but it has to be at least 150 years old, enough to have a culture, a history of our own. Some call the Eleminians who live here "Uruk-tarrans" as if we were a different ethnic group.

I looked up at Siko, he had a piece of flatbread in one hand and a small bowl in the other, scooping up the creamy green vegetables with an intensity that was both primal and refined. His focus was absolute, a predator honed in on its prey, but the prey in this case was a bowl of vegetables. There was a simplicity to him that I found both disarming and deeply attractive. He was just... here. Eating. Enjoying the food. Not worrying about the cost, or the history, or the intricate relationships. He was just existing in this moment, and for a second, I wished I could do the same.

"Complicated maybe isn't the best word. My family are mostly miners, I'm the black sheep in the army. Mom is not very happy about that," I replied.

Siko paused, the flatbread halfway to his mouth. He looked at me, his eyes seemingly softer in the warm light of the restaurant. "Army good. You strong. Mom sees?" He took another bite, chewed slowly, then swallowed. "Mothers worry. All mothers. They want safety. Want grandkids."

"What about you, Siko? Core worlds are more flexible, right? Did you choose to be a soldier?" I asked and looked at the mostly empty plate between us. I felt like I had eaten too much already and the reptide had eaten nearly twice as much and there was still some scraps left, mostly vegetables. I noticed that Siko had left some of the spicy bits on my half of the plate.

His long tongue darted out and slid over the base of the bowl of sauce, collecting every last drop in one swift motion. "No," his reply short and I looked at him to see if he wanted to elaborate and he did, "Siko runt of family, small. Wanted to be pilot, fly like dragon. Tried hard. Short is good but Siko not smart enough for pilot." He paused, his gaze distant, seeing a different sky, a different life. "Army took. Siko good at fighting. Not smart, but fast. Fast is good. Strong. Good enough."

I found myself shaking my head before he even finished. "That's not true. You're not 'just' fast and strong. You noticed the Kurminaian New Year. You smelled it. You understood the social situation at the clothing store. You're smart, Siko. You just... talk like you're not."

He looked away from me, towards the dark wood screen separating our booth from the rest of the restaurant. A long silence stretched between us, filled only by the distant sounds of the kitchen and the soft murmur of the holo display behind the bar. The food was forgotten. His tail, which had been resting lightly against my back, went completely still. When he finally spoke, his voice was lower, more guarded than before.

"Talking is dangerous," he rumbled, the words almost too quiet to hear. "Words get you in trouble. Words make people think. Sometimes... better to be seen and not heard." His voice returned to a more cheerful tone, "Thank you for food, best Siko tasted, ever," he smiled, a warm soft smile and his tail curled tighter, pulling me towards him, I didn't resist and leaned in until I was resting against his warm scaly side.

The solid wall of muscle beside me was a different kind of comfort, a silent promise of safety. I could feel the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing, the subtle rise and fall of his chest. The spicy scent of the food was still in the air, but now it was mixed with something else, a clean, earthy smell that was uniquely him. I felt a sense of peace I hadn't realized I was missing. The complicated history of my family, the pressure from my mother, the endless gray days on base, it all seemed to fade away, replaced by the simple, undeniable reality of the reptide beside me. I closed my eyes, letting the feeling wash over me, a brief, stolen moment of quiet in a life that was anything but.

"You okay?" he asked, and I realized my hand was on his chest and I leaned my head on the warm hard scales.

I could have just nodded, but I didn't. "Yeah," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "I'm okay." I looked up at him, my face only inches from his. His yellow eyes were soft, the pupils wide in the dim light. His gaze held a question, a gentle inquiry. I answered it without words, by closing the small distance between us.

His tongue darted out and dragged briefly over my cheek before pulling back just as fast as it had appeared. "You had sauce. Shame to waste on napkin." he grinned, teasing and playful in a burst of expression showing on his normally neutral face. My heartbeat raced in my chest, he must have known what he was doing, how close I was to grabbing him. Or was it just a normal reptide thing? What if I had try to kiss him and he'd be weirded out?

"I... I see," I stammered, pulling back slightly, the sudden heat in my cheeks feeling like a beacon in the dimly lit restaurant. I tried to laugh it off, but the sound came out thin and uncertain. "I'll be more careful next time."

He watched me, his expression unreadable again, but the warmth in his yellow eyes hadn't vanished.

Periteriana chose that exact moment to reappear at our table, clearing his throat with a soft, polite sound. "I hope everything was to your liking," he said, his gaze lingering on the near-empty platter. "It seems you enjoyed it."

"It was incredible," I said, my voice a little too loud in the quiet booth. "The best meal I've had in a long time." I could feel the blush still burning on my cheeks and I hoped the dim light was enough to hide it.

Siko gave a low rumble of agreement, leaning back slightly, which subtly shifted his tail away from my back. The sudden absence of its warmth made me feel oddly exposed. "Siko agrees. Best. Ever."

Periteriana smiled, a genuine, warm expression that crinkled the corners of his dark eyes. "I'm glad to hear that." He placed a small, flat datapad on the table. "Now, about the bill. As I said, a good deal for a friend of my old friend's nephew." He winked at me, then tapped a few commands into the datapad. A number flashed on the screen. I saw the discount, but it still came out to nearly two weeks of wages but I didn't care. It was probably the best meal I've had. I idly raised my hand and touched the spot where Siko's tongue touched my face, the skin was still moist with reptide saliva. Transaction went through, happy green beep and a silly smiley face on the datapad confirmed it. I felt vindicated from the fiasco at the hat and sunglasses shop.

He had licked my face, and I wouldn't have to pay for the next date. I called that a win.

The monorail ride back to the base was a stark contrast to our journey into the Oasis. The boisterous energy of the entertainment district had been replaced by the quiet weariness of soldiers and support staff returning from their brief respites. I sat alone, watching the blue-lit landscape streak past the window. Siko opted to stand by the doors, looking out. The hat, now a little stretched, rested in my lap. The booth, the warm light, the scent of spices, the weight of Siko's tail against my back, the shocking warmth of his tongue; it all replayed in my mind, a silent movie on a loop. My cheek still felt different, a phantom sensation of moisture and heat. More than a handful of the other passengers on the monorail were soldiers, I noticed more than a few were quite drunk. The military police were not out in force and if they were they didn't bother with a few drunken soldiers heading back to base. Some were shouting, other sang, a couple made out in the corner, ignoring everyone else. I wondered if Siko stood alone to make it less awkward for me. Did he know a part of me just wanted to lean on his chest while the landscape passed outside the monorail window?

The barracks were quiet when I arrived, the rhythmic hum of the base's life support system the only sound. I moved through the familiar corridors on autopilot, my boots squeaking softly on the polished floor. My room was a small, functional box, just like every other. A bunk, a small desk with a built-in dataport, a locker, and a single window looking out onto the base's perpetually illuminated training grounds. It was home. Or at least, it was supposed to be.

I had my own place, I did not miss the communal barracks I shared during basic training. I was a professional soldier, an employee in the Federation's armed forces. The individual rooms on the base were cheap but functional, pay was crap but with barely any expenses I could splurge on a fancy dinner every now and then, that is how I motivated the new angry red line on my credit app. I could feel my mother's stern lecture in my head, "You can't keep burning through your pay like that, you will never get a promotion if you can't show you are a responsible person." It was the same lecture I had heard over and over again for years, her disappointment a constant, heavy blanket. But as I got ready for bed, the lecture felt distant, muffled. The memory of Siko's quiet intensity was louder. The way he'd noticed the Kurminaian celebration, the way he'd handled the situation at the clothing store, the way he'd paid for the glasses without a word. He was a puzzle, a beautiful, dangerous, fascinating puzzle. And I wanted to solve it.

The next morning, my datapad chimed with the day's duty roster. 0700 hours. Weapons calibration and systems diagnostics. A mind-numbingly dull but necessary task. I grabbed a nutrient bar from my locker, the bland, chalky taste a grim reminder of the reality of military life, a universe away from Siko's "best ever" meal. I had opted for 20 minutes of extra sleep over the breakfast in the on-base cafeteria.

The armory was a sterile, temperature-controlled cavern of steel and concrete. The air smelled of gun oil and recycled air. I spent the next four hours disassembling, cleaning, and reassembling my service rifle, running diagnostic checks on the targeting system, and recalibrating the power pack.

Five live rounds at the firing range, decent hits and a passing score. I would have left it at that but I thought about it. Was a passing grade good enough? I was a pretty good average soldier, the competition was low here. The big three were always hiring and the military offered standardized pay was not very competitive for the high cost of living on a smaller colony. I felt an urge to be more than average. I added another hour of practice to my day, filling up the rest of the morning.

Lunch was a solitary affair, a bland protein paste in a crowded mess hall. I sat alone, my back to the wall, my eyes scanning the room. I saw Loreen at a nearby table, laughing with a group of her friends. She caught my eye and gave me a questioning look, gesturing with her chin towards the empty seat beside her. I shook my head with a small smile. I wasn't in the mood for her teasing today. I wanted to be alone with my thoughts. With my thoughts.

My thoughts, as it turned out, were all about a certain reptide. I replayed every moment of our date, analyzing every word, every glance, every gesture. His simple speech, a shield I was now certain of. His quiet observation, a tool he used with expert precision. I thought back on what he had said about flying. Did he want to be a pilot? Reptide pilots were exceptionally rare here in the Federation but not completely unheard of. Their large size made them bad for surface fighter pilots or troop transport roles but a deep space star ship had no lack of space on the bridge.

Me, I'd never even left Uruk-Tar's gravity well. My only cockpit experience was the VR trainer and the tourist simulator at the Space Elevator park, back when I was a kid. That wasn't counting the troop dropships, of course, the ones that rattled our bones during exercises out on the desolate edges of this overgrown space rock we called home. I was born here, bred in the thin atmosphere and blue light. My mother would probably prefer it if I died here too. Unless I did something about it. But Siko... he was from a core world. He'd seen actual combat. He'd traveled through folded space to get here. I wondered what that felt like, the silent rush of stars bending around you, the nothingness between worlds. It was a universe away from my own cramped existence, a life lived in the shadow of the space elevator, watching others come and go.

The recruiters never mentioned Space Fever in their glossy ads. Out here, the only ones who spent long stretches in the void were the deep-space haulers and the naval crews on the big carriers. Most of us, humans and reptides both, needed the pull of a real planet under our feet. Artificial gravity could keep your muscles from wasting away, but it couldn't replace the subtle, grounding pressure of a real sky above you. They called it Space Fever, a sickness of the soul as much as the body. The stories were endless, whispered in mess halls and written in the casualty reports: otherwise healthy soldiers spiraling into violent paranoia, experienced pilots suddenly forgetting how to fly, others succumbing to a nausea so profound it turned their insides out. And the deaths. The ones where the medics just shrugged and logged "unexplained cardiac arrest" because what else could you call it when a perfectly healthy soldier's heart just decided to stop beating in the silent dark between stars? It was why a frontier colony like Uruk-Tar, with its harsh blue light and too-short days, was still preferable to the endless, empty black for most of us.

True spacers, those that could live for extended periods in space habitats or onboard ships were seen with level of suspicion. Everyone else had extended 'shore leave' and never spent more than a couple months out in the endless void at a time.

The afternoon was spent in a debriefing on a recent simulated skirmish with some pretend ecoterrorists that the simulation coordinator had set up close to the mining operations north of the base. The commander, a stern-faced woman with cybernetic eyes that glowed a faint blue, droned on about tactical positioning and engagement protocols. I tried to pay attention, I really did. But my mind kept wandering. I wondered where Siko was. What was he doing? Was he thinking about me? The thought sent a strange, warm flutter through my chest.

As the debriefing dragged on, I found myself doodling in the margins of my datapad. Not abstract shapes or random patterns, but scales. Intricate, interlocking scales, like the ones on Siko's chest. I drew the scar that ran across his nose, the dark stripes on his back. I sketched the way the light had caught the curve of his jaw, the intense focus in his yellow eyes.

I woke up from my reveries when the commander brought up next week's rerun of the training. Full gear combat simulation and we'd be in a new area, some derelict mining area at an undisclosed location. We'd be assigned teams as defender or assault and take turns. The teams with the most points got a full week off. A full week off-duty, with no assigned tasks. The promise of seven straight days of freedom was a powerful motivator. The usual grumbling and chatter that filled the room after a briefing was replaced by a low, excited buzz. A whole week. I could leave Ziggurat Plaza. Maybe take a transport to the Penny River, see the settlements in the north. Or... I could spend it here. With Siko. The thought was so sudden, so vivid, that it caught me off guard. I wanted to see him again. Soon. My gaze drifted back to the doodle of his scar on my datapad. A full week off would be more than enough to get to know him better.

I was the last to leave the briefing room, the commander's words still echoing in my head. I packed my datapad and made my way back to my quarters, the base's blue light painting the corridors in shades of twilight. The long day was catching up to me, a deep weariness settling into my bones. I needed sleep.

Corporal Loreen caught up with me, ambushed me before I reached the sanctuary of my room. She leaned on my door and her brown eyes were darker than usual. She wore a white tank top under the uniform jacket and she had picked a too small size on purpose to show not just her physique but also her assets. She never did that on base, I remember her ranting and raving about 'sluts' that did and yet here she was.

I stopped, my hand hovering over the keypad to my door. Loreen's posture was a deliberate challenge, her arms crossed over her chest, pushing her chest up in a way that was hard to ignore. She'd never dressed like this on base before. The change was unsettling.

"Rough day?" she asked, her voice a little too casual, a little too loud in the quiet corridor.

"Just the usual," I replied, trying to keep my own tone neutral. I keyed in the code and my door hissed open. I stepped inside, leaving the door open as an invitation, a courtesy. I rather let her in on my terms. Besides, I considered the rough female soldier a friend. She followed me in, the door sliding shut behind her with a soft thud, sealing us in the small, sterile space of my quarters.

She didn't waste any time. "So," she began, perching on the edge of my bunk, the vinyl creaking under her weight. "Your big date. How was it? Did the big scary lizard behave himself?" She was trying to sound teasing, but there was an undercurrent of something else in her voice. Something sharp.

"It was fine, Loreen. We had dinner." I moved to my small desk, pretending to organize some loose datachips, needing something to do with my hands. "I didn't think you were into reptides," I grumbled, trying to hide the hint of doubt I had. It made no sense that I spent so much thought on a soldier that wasn't even my species.

"What did you find out about him?", her question directly to the point. Shew anted something, but I had no idea what. Had she been into me all this time and I didn't notice it? I thought our friendship worked because we didn't have a sexual attraction. The sudden change in her style, her body language, it all clicked into place. Somehow she was jealous. I could feel her gaze on my back, "He's from a core world, right? That's a long way to come for a demotion."

I froze, my back to her. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb," she snapped, her playful tone vanishing completely. "I have my sources. I pulled his file."

My blood ran cold. "You what?"

"I needed to know who my friend is fraternizing with," she said, her voice hard. "And the story doesn't add up." She stepped closer, her presence suddenly oppressive. "Sikohkan. Age thirty-three. Demoted to Corporal. Active duty for two years. But get this," she leaned in closer, her voice a conspiratorial whisper, "he has a combat wound listed in his medical record from four years ago. A plasma burn that left that nasty scar on his chest. So tell me, how does a soldier who's only been active for two years get a four-year-old combat wound?"

I turned to face her, my heart pounding in my chest. The question hung in the air between us, heavy and accusatory. "Maybe he got discharged and decided to rejoin?" I offered, but the words sounded weak, even to me.

Loreen shook her head, a cynical smile playing on her lips. "The file doesn't say. There's a two-year gap in his service record. A complete black hole. Then, poof, he shows up here, a veteran from a core world with a story that doesn't make sense." She paused, her eyes boring into mine. "He's hiding something. And I want you to stay safe."

"He's not hiding anything," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "He's just... private."

"Private? Or a criminal?" she shot back. "The Federation doesn't just lose soldiers for two years and then welcome them back with open arms and a demotion. You know what gets you a black hole in your file? A 'special assignment'. You know what that usually means? Black ops. Or," she leaned in even closer, her breath warm on my ear, "it means they were serving a sentence. A slave contract. He did something bad enough to get a collar, then they bought him out and sent him here."

My mind was racing. A slave contract? It wasn't unheard of, the ancient tradition lived on as an alternative to prison after all. But Siko? The idea seemed so foreign, so wrong. He was a soldier, a warrior. "He wouldn't do that. He's a good man," I protested.

Loreen sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. The hard edges of her accusation softened, replaced by a genuine concern that was somehow more unsettling. "Look, I'm not saying he's a monster. But he's not who he says he is. This is a frontier posting, a dumping ground for people they don't know what to do with. The screwed-up, the washed-up, and the useful-but-unwanted." She reached out and placed a hand on my arm, her grip surprisingly gentle. "I'm just worried about you. You see a handsome lizard with a tragic backstory. I see a potential threat. Be careful, okay? Please?"

I didn't answer. I just stood there, her words echoing in my head. Corporal Loreen gave me a hug, surprisingly warm and genuine and left me to my devices.

---

The next morning, the base was electric with a different kind of energy. The low hum of the life support was overlaid with the clang of lockers, the snap of fastenings, and the excited, aggressive chatter of soldiers getting ready to play war. Loreen's words from the night before echoed in the silence of my own thoughts, a discordant note against the rising symphony of preparation. A slave contract. A two-year gap. The scar from a battle he hadn't officially been in. I tried to push it away, to focus on the task at hand, but the thoughts clung to me like a persistent static.

I strapped on the hardened chestplate, the composite material cool against my skin. Next came the leg armor, the articulated greaves locking into place with a series of satisfying clicks. The boots were last, their magnetic soles designed to grip the metallic surfaces of the derelict mining facility we'd be fighting in. But the most important, and dreaded, part of the ensemble was the training harness. A series of flat, adhesive pads were stuck to key points on my body—my chest, my back, my arms, my thighs. They were connected by a web of thin wires to a small, ruggedized control unit on my belt. The Electroshock Injury Simulation System. The military loved its acronyms. We just called it the 'Zapper'. Getting hit by a training round didn't just leave a smear of colored paint. It sent a jolt of electricity through your body, a searing, paralyzing shock designed to simulate the incapacitating pain of a real wound. It made the games… intense. It also made the bullies more inventive.

The main screen in the staging area flickered to life, displaying the roster. A wave of murmurs and groans rippled through the assembled soldiers. I scanned the list, my eyes searching for my name. There it was. Team Alpha. Defense force. I scanned the Alpha roster but no sign of Siko.

A heavy thud on my back nearly sent me sprawling. I caught myself against a weapons rack, turning to see a hulking human soldier named Roric grinning down at me. Roric was a walking slab of genetically engineered muscle, with a jaw that looked like it could chew through steel and an ego to match. His file said he too was from a core world, but he acted like he was raised by wolves in a junkyard. "You are on defense with us, need you sharp. What is your marksman score?"

I grinned wide, I knew how to dodge bullies. I learned that the hard way during basic. The extra session had raised my score over three points. "It's shit, what did you expect? Had to stay back yesterday to keep it at a sweet 69"

Roric's grin faltered, the numbers clearly not what he'd expected to hear. "Shit is right," he grumbled, giving me a final, dismissive look before turning to harass another member of our team. I had successfully dodged the bullet, but the encounter left a sour taste in my mouth. This was the reality of the army. The constant posturing, the casual cruelty, the relentless pressure to be the best, or at least to appear that way.

My eyes drifted back to the screen, searching the lists again. Team Beta. Assault force. And there it was. Sikohkan. His name, stark and short, nestled among the assault team's roster. He was on the other side. A pang of disappointment hit me, sharp and unexpected. I'd wanted him on my team. I'd wanted to fight beside him, to see how he moved, how he handled himself under pressure. Instead, I'd be hunting him. Or he'd be hunting me.

The base commander stepped in and the room turned silent. "You already heard about the prize, seven days of leave for the winning team. The stakes are higher this week. We have high-ranked brass from the core world Tyr 2 on visit, and they expect a good show." Her cybernetic eyes scanned the room, her gaze a physical weight. "I expect a good show. This is your chance to prove yourselves, to show the visitors what the soldiers on Uruk-Tar are made of. Dismissed."

The dropship was a brutal, noisy box, the rattling of its frame and the roar of its engines a familiar, bone-jarring symphony. We sat in silence, the pre-battle jitters a tangible presence in the cramped space.

The dropship landed with a bone-shaking thud, the ramp hissing open to reveal a landscape of rust and decay. We were in the guts of a derelict processing plant, a labyrinth of corroded catwalks, massive, silent machinery, and cavernous chambers half-filled with stagnant water. The air was thick with the smell of damp metal and something vaguely chemical, a ghost of the industry that had died here. We had two hours. Two hours to prepare before they let the assault team loose on us like rabid dogs.

"Alright, listen up!" The voice cut through the gloom, calm and steady. It was Rook, our squad leader. He was a compact man, dark-skinned, with a face that seemed to be carved from a single piece of cast iron. His eyes, sharp and intelligent, missed nothing. "I know we all want to just go out here and pad our kill scores but I have a better idea. I took some drone footage yesterday and I found something."

Drone footage? I started wondering if that counted as cheating or if it was clever use of 'military intelligence'.

Rook pointed a gloved finger at a schematic of the plant projected from his datapad. "The main ore-crushing chamber. It's a multi-level kill box, but the power's been out for decades. It's dark in there. Pitch black." His eyes landed on me, a flicker of calculation in their depths. "You. You are the miner turned soldier, right? What's your biomod profile?"

I knew what he was asking. "I got the Marduk Mining package. Low-light vision, enhanced pulmonary resistance, heavy metal filtration."

Roric scoffed from beside me. "Great. So we get a nightlight. What's the point? They'll just toss a few flash-bangs in there and it's over."

"The point, Roric," Rook said, his voice dropping a few degrees in temperature, "is that we control the engagement. We set up kill zones. We use the darkness as a weapon. When they light up the place they give their positions away." He turned back to me. "You are team shadow, Roric you'll lead team bright. You hold the corridor, heavy cover, make noise. You are the anvil. The rest of us are the hammers. Any questions?"

Roric muttered something under his breath about glorified canaries, but he didn't argue. Rook had that effect. He didn't shout or intimidate; he laid out a plan so clear, so logical, that to argue against it felt like admitting you were a fool. He showed locations for alarm traps and had a whole plan for using decoys and where to build a fake headquarter with fake data trails and everything. I got the feeling that Rook was in it for more than a week of vacation. He was gunning for promotion to the marines.

We moved out, a silent, spectre-like formation through the decaying guts of the plant. The crushing chamber was exactly as Rook had described: a vast, multi-tiered cavern of silent machinery, a cathedral of rust and shadow. The only light came from the faint, blue-tinted glow filtering through grimy skylights high above, creating a cathedral-like ambience that seemed almost sacred. To me, the gloom was no hindrance. The world simply… flattened, losing its colors but not its shapes. I could see the details of the machinery, the cracks in the catwalks, the deep pools of stagnant water below, all with a clarity that felt as natural as breathing. Rook had given me an opportunity to be in my natural element. I realized he was the kind of leader that set us up for success instead of failure. He had given me an opportunity and I intended to take it.

---

The sound of distant gunshots told me we had already been engaged. We ran our TacNet on silent and operated in radio, digital and physical darkness. Rook had found out that the assault team had a techno and that they would use our digital presence as a way to find us. Roric's team were live and meant to be found. Dummy datapads lay in the decoy headquarters

My designated position was high up on a corroded gantry, overlooking a chokepoint where Roric's team was making a lot of noise. I lay flat on my stomach, the cool metal of the gantry pressing against my armor. My rifle was nestled in the crook of my arm, the scope's targeting reticle a faint green glow against the darkness. Below me, Roric and his team were doing their job, laying down a barrage of covering fire that echoed through the cavern, their figures illuminated by the sharp, staccato flashes of their weapons. They were a distraction, a lure. And I was the trap.

The waiting was the hardest part. Every creak of settling metal, every drip of water, sounded like an approaching enemy. I scanned the darkness, my enhanced eyes picking out the subtle shifts in shadow that would betray an incoming target. And then I saw them.

Four figures, moving with a fluid grace that was unnerving in the gloom. They were using the shadows, slipping from one piece of cover to the next, a silent, deadly wave preparing to crash against Roric's noisy position. And one of them was bigger than the others, a familiar, powerful shape that made my breath catch in my throat. Siko.

I did not have a good line of fire to them, but I sent four rapid clicks on the radio, no context and too short for them to triangulate me from. Rook and the others knew what it meant. I could feel my pulse racing. The muscular reptide moved with grace, he was wearing a dark ballistic vest and open helmet. His arms were bare and his black stripes and dull dark colors made him well camouflaged.

I lined up the shot, my breathing slowing to match the steady rhythm of the machines around me. The crosshairs drifted over the lead figure, a human soldier with a clumsy, heavy weapon. Too easy. I shifted my aim, the reticle settling on the soldier beside him, a lanky reptide with lighter-colored scales. He was moving a little too fast, a little too confident. The perfect target.

My finger tightened on the trigger. The rifle bucked against my shoulder, the sound of the shot a muffled thwump in the vast, echoing chamber. The training round, a harmless pellet of biodegradable polymer, struck true, hitting the reptide square in the back. The Zapper did its work. A convulsive shudder wracked his body. He let out a choked, guttural cry as the electricity seized his muscles, sending him into a paralyzing spasm of pain. He collapsed onto the grated catwalk, limbs flailing, a helpless, thrashing marionette. I watched with morbid curiosity how he stumbled and pulled himself to safety.

The remaining three spread out and I fired again, a burst of training rounds whizzed when they bounced of the metal railing and walls. I didn't hear the telltale high-pitched whine from the zapper. I had missed and given my position away. The three of them had taken cover behind a large, rusted-out conduit and were now scanning the darkness, trying to pinpoint my location. I had to move.

I rolled away from the edge of the gantry, my armor scraping against the metal. I crawled backwards, staying low, my heart pounding in my chest. I needed a new position, fast. I scanned the darkness, my enhanced eyes searching for a vantage point. A narrow maintenance ladder, leading down to a lower level, caught my eye. It was a risk, but it was better than staying put.

As I scrambled down the maintenance ladder, the whole area lit up with a blinding flare that seared through my enhanced low-light vision. I instinctively squeezed my eyes shut, my specialized pupils contracting uselessly against the sudden onslaught. The ladder felt alarmingly rickety beneath my armored boots, and I could hear the sickening creak of corroded metal under my weight. One of the rungs crumbled into rust-colored dust under my foot, then another. I lost my grip, my gauntlets scraping uselessly against the decaying metal. Then I fell, crashing down onto the lower floor with a bone-jarring impact.

I stumbled to my feet and felt a searing pain radiate from my left foot. I didn't think it was outright broken but putting weight on it rewarded me with intense pain. I grabbed the railing and squinted my eyes as they slowly adjusted. I was in the shadows, safe for now but I had to move.

I heard Roric triumphant roar below me as team light charged in, against Rooks plan to act like real soldiers. We agreed to not charge in head first to pad our kill stats but Roric saw the opportunity and I could sense his gleeful grin all the way to my position.

"One kill, double kill, t-t-triple kill!" he roared out with joy. "Roric is dominating!" He shouted like a sports announcer rather than a soldier. The loud, metallic clang of rounds hitting their armor filled the room as they advanced. They had pinned down the two remaining assault team members and I could now see Roric and two of his team advance on the pinned down soldiers, not giving them any chance.

This was my cue, I tried to remember the layout on Rook's map and gripped the railing hard and stumbled along the gantry towards the next fall-back point Rook had given me in our briefing. I took a deep breath to ignore the pain and pressed on. The adrenaline in my system helped but it didn't do much for the searing pain. I had to take a detour, a catwalk leading to the other side of the chamber where a smaller building or control room was attached. My best chance to get there was to cross a narrow pipe bridge, but my wounded foot made every step a risky one.

I took one deep breath and went for it, I threw myself down and crawled on all fours towards the door. My foot sent a jolt of pain through my body and I had to bite my lip to not scream out and give my new position. The narrow bridge swayed dangerously as I made my way across. I could feel the rust flaking off beneath my gauntlets, the whole structure groaning in protest. I was a sitting duck out here, exposed. The sounds of Roric's celebration echoed through the cavern, a grim soundtrack to my precarious journey. I had to trust Rook's plan, had to trust that he would see what was happening.

I finally reached the relative safety of the control room, a small, enclosed space with shattered windows overlooking the main chamber. I collapsed against a wall, my leg screaming in protest. This was more serious than a sprained ankle, I was starting to get worried.

It felt like my leg was swelling inside my armored boot and I put my hand on my shoulder to tap the radio to call for help. That is when I realized I must have dropped it in the fall. I didn't think, tears started to blur my vision, or was it from me getting blinded earlier? I couldn't tell. I did what I had told myself not to; I called for help. "I think I'm hurt, help! Rook, are you there?"

I heard movements from the other side, I called out again and heard someone moving through the small room. The flare had gone out and the control room was once more shrouded in darkness. Gun mounted flashlights cast the occasional beam of light through the windows. I blinked to get the tears away from my eyes when a sudden light shone right in my face, blinding me instantly.

"Shhh, stop yelling," came Rook's hushed voice. The light moved away from my face and I heard him rush towards me. "What happened? And sorry for blinding you, I thought you were one of them trying to fool me. If you get injured you need to call the simulation team."

"I broke my foot when I fell," I whimpered, "and lost the radio, I think." My leg was throbbing, a deep, pulsating pain that was making it hard to think.

"Shit," he cursed under his breath. "Okay, let me see." He knelt down, his movements quick and efficient. He gently probed my foot through the armor. "That is not good, definitely broken. How far did you fall?"

My eyes were still recovering but I noticed a shadow move behind him and a clawed hand tapped Rook's shoulder. "Tap, you dead," came Siko's raspy voice and then he saw me. His yellow eyes barely visible from the reflected light from Rook's gun-mounted flashlight. The pupils were dilated, open wide like a cat ready to pounce but then his demeanor changed. "Shit, Siko sorry, what happened?"

Rook took the interruption with professional calmness, "He fell and broke his foot, real injury. We need a medic. And I guess I'm dead now so congratulations," he added but Siko looked at me with worry in his eyes.

"No, not fair use injury to win. Siko carry?" he asked hooked his weapon over his shoulder to get both hands free. He looked like he was about to grab me and I was not sure if he would be able to carry me with my armor on. His sentence didn't have any subject or object, it was just raw intent. "I carry you."

Rook held up a hand, stopping him. "Hold on, Sikohkan. This is a simulation. There are protocols. We don't move the injured. We call for a medical extraction. It's rule a reason."

"Real combat different," Siko rumbled, his gaze fixed on me, his nostrils flaring as if he could smell the pain radiating from my leg. "Siko carry faster. Medic far."

"He's right," I grunted, the words coming out through clenched teeth. "Rook, it hurts. Just let him help me." I didn't want to wait for the simulation medics, I wanted the pain to stop. I wanted to be out of my armor, out of this place. And a small, selfish part of me wanted Siko's arms around me, the solid, reassuring strength of him.

Rook hesitated, his gaze shifting from Siko's determined face to my pain-contorted one. He was a good soldier, a by-the-book guy. But he was also a good leader. He let out a long, slow sigh. "Fine. I might as well help out since I'm taken out too." He tapped a few commands into his datapad, his movements sharp and precise. "Medical emergency. Non-simulated injury. Coordinates are in the control room, east side, lower gantry. He's being evacuated by a friendly. Out." He turned back to us, his expression unreadable.

Siko crouched down and slipped one hand behind my back for support and the other under my lower legs to lift me up. He turned briefly to Rook. "Rook can stay, guard orb."

Rook shook his head and picked up my dropped weapon, "You killed me, if anything you should still be in the game, soldier," he turned the flashlight towards the exit to illuminate the path for us. Rook wanted to win, but he was not using Siko's kindness to get us free points. We were in the control room with the orb, all Siko had to do was grab it and disappear and they would have won. By carrying me he gave away the victory. Why?

The reptide moved with a surprising economy of motion. He lifted me as if I weighed nothing, my armored body cradled against his chest like a child. I felt the hard, cool ballistic vest against my arm, the solid wall of muscle beneath. His breath was warm on my neck, the familiar, earthy scent of him a strange comfort in the midst of the pain and chaos.

"Hold tight," he rumbled, the words a low vibration against my ear.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, my fingers digging into the tough fabric of his vest. He moved with a confidence that was both reassuring and slightly terrifying. He navigated the treacherous terrain with an easy grace, his clawed feet finding purchase on the rusted metal where I had stumbled and fallen. The pipe bridge that had swayed so precariously under my weight felt solid and stable under his. The journey back to the extraction point was a blur of pain and motion.

Roric and his team were waiting for us, their triumphant expressions turning to confusion when they saw us. "What the hell is this?" Roric demanded, his brow furrowed.

"Real injury," Rook said, his voice flat. "He's out. So am I."

Siko's arms held me steady, his left hand gave my hip a friendly squeeze that I felt through my armor. The non-newtonian fluid based protection stopped bullets with minimal impact on mobility but a firm squeeze from a strong reptide I could still feel. He didn't even look at Roric, his eyes fixed on the path ahead. We saw the medic van moving through the gates and Rook waved at them.

"So, what happened? Is the orb safe?" Roric asked and glared at Siko "And why is the enemy with you?"

Rook took a deep breath, "We're dead, soldier, we can't talk." The slow realization spread over Roric's face when it finally dawned on him. We were in the control room, with the orb and he was here, arguing with ghosts instead of defending.

"Fuck Rook, why didn't you tell us sooner?" he yelled "You could have said we needed to..."

Rook held up his hand and just repeated "We're dead, Roric, we can't talk," and he turned back to me. He valued the rules.

The medic team, two humans in bright white armor with red crosses, rushed towards us. "What have we got here?" the lead medic asked, her voice a calm, professional alto. "Left tibial fracture, by the looks of it. How'd it happen?"

"Fell from the gantry," I grunted, the pain starting to become a dull, throbbing ache now that I was being handled by professionals. "During the flare."

The medics worked with a practiced efficiency, their movements a well-choreographed dance. They cut away my armor boot with a buzzing vibro-saw, the composite material groaning in protest. The relief was immediate, a wave of cool air washing over my swollen, bruised foot. They injected a painkiller into my arm, the cool liquid a welcome balm against the fire in my veins. As they were loading me onto a floating gurney, I saw Siko standing by the dropship, watching me. His face was a mask of indifference, but his yellow eyes were fixed on mine, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths. He gave a slow, deliberate nod, then turned and disappeared into the belly of the ship with the other soldiers. The simulation was over.

---

The infirmary on base was a pristine, white space that smelled of antiseptic and recycled air. The painkillers made everything seem a little fuzzy and unpleasant. The doctor, a stern woman with a face like a hawk and a brusque bedside manner, confirmed my self-diagnosis. "A clean break, no displacement. You're lucky," she said, her words a stark contrast to the reality of the throbbing pain in my foot. "You'll be in a regen-cast for a few days, then a mobility boot. You'll be on light duty for at least two weeks after that."

Two weeks. Two weeks of not being a soldier, of being a liability. The thought was a bitter pill to swallow. I'd finally had a chance to prove myself, to show Rook, to show myself, that I was more than just a miner with a rifle. And I'd blown it. I tried to visualize the events in my head; my first shot hit but then the rest missed wide. I had let my focus falter and had lingered on the way my first target had stumbled in pain instead of going for the next kill. The doctor said something more but I was too caught up in my reveries to notice.

I got placed in the far end of the infirmary, laying on the uncomfortable bed, staring at the ceiling, when the door slid open. It was Siko. He was out of his combat gear, dressed in a basic black t-shirt and fatigue pants. The simple outfit drew my attention to his thick arms and the way his black stripes wrapped around from his back. Despite his physique the t-shirt looked a size too big on him. "Oh look, the enemy is here to check on his prey" I said, trying to make a joke but my voice was raspy and weak.

Siko ignored my joke, he didn't even look at me at first. He just walked over to the small, empty table beside my bed and placed a small, wrapped object on it. "Here," he said, his voice a low rumble. "For you."

I looked at the object, it was a small, smooth, black stone, polished to a high gloss. It was cool to the touch, and it seemed to absorb the light of the room, a tiny piece of the void held in my hand. "It's beautiful," I whispered. "What is it?"

"River stone. From Siko's home," he said, his gaze finally meeting mine. "Siko finds. Makes smooth. Stone last longer than flower."

I turned the stone over in my hand, feeling its weight, its perfect, cool smoothness. It was a strange, intimate gift, a piece of another world, another life. It was more personal than anything anyone had ever given me. I could feel the heat rise in my cheeks, the sudden, overwhelming rush of emotion. I didn't know what to say, so I just held the stone, my fingers tracing its smooth, perfect surface.

"You could have won," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

"We did," came his reply. "Corporal Loreen took orb. Roric upset, blame you." He paused, his tail, which had been still, gave a slow, lazy flick. "Siko not blame you. Rook not blame you. Rook good leader. Roric... is Roric." He let the statement hang in the air, a simple, self-evident truth.

The words hung in the sterile air, heavy with the weight of our defeat. I blinked, trying to process what Siko was saying. We lost? But... Rook had been with us, and you... I felt a knot form in my stomach, the realization hitting me like a physical blow. While Siko had been helping me, while Rook had been calling for a medic, Corporal Loreen had seized her chance. Roric, too busy celebrating his fake kills and arguing with ghosts, had left the objective wide open. We hadn't just lost the simulation; we'd lost because of me. Because I'd fallen, because Siko had carried me, because Rook had chosen compassion over victory.

My fingers tightened around the smooth, cool surface of the river stone. The weight of it in my palm suddenly felt heavier, a tiny, perfect embodiment of my failure. I had to know more, had to understand the man who had cost us the win to save me.

"Loreen told me she looked you up," I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. I regretted it instantly, the question felt like a betrayal. But I had to know. "She said there's a gap in your file. Two years."

His entire posture changed. The easy, open way he held himself vanished, replaced by a rigid, coiled tension. His eyes, which had been soft, became hard, unreadable chips of yellow agate. "Loreen should mind own business," he rumbled, the words a low, dangerous growl. "Files are lies."

He stood up, his movements stiff, abrupt. "Siko has to go. Rest," he said, his voice a flat, emotionless command. He turned and walked towards the door, his broad back a wall of muscle and scales.

"Siko, wait!" I called out, my voice cracking with desperation. "I didn't mean... I'm sorry."

He stopped at the door, his hand hovering over the control panel. He didn't turn around. "Everyone has secrets," he said, his voice so low I could barely hear it. "Some secrets heavy. Best to not pick them up." The door slid open, and he was gone, leaving me alone with the sterile silence of the infirmary and the heavy weight of a small, black stone in my hand.

"I'm the biggest fucking idiot on the stupid planet!" I cursed out, a wave of frustration and self-loathing washing over me. I had him. I had him right there, open and vulnerable, and I had driven him away with my stupid questions. I was no better than Loreen, digging into his past, looking for dirt where there was only... pain. I could feel the hot tears welling up in my eyes, a bitter mix of pain, regret, and the throbbing ache in my foot.

Morning light was spilling through the window and bird song chirped from outside. It felt like warm spring and the clouds looked like cotton candy. I held the smooth river rock Siko gave me in my hand and it felt warm. Something was not right, something was pulling on my arm. It felt like strands of smoke was oozing from underneath me and pulling. My fingers weak and more smoky tendrils surrounded me like shadowy tentacles. They were taking the rock from me, trying to steal Siko's gift. I couldn't speak and I could not move my arms or legs and the more the smoky tendrils pulled the more I realized that the chirping bird song was not a real bird. The sounds from the base intercom. I tried to resist, to hold onto the rock, but my fingers were numb, my grip slackening. The tendrils tightened, their touch cold and invasive. A sense of panic washed over me, a primal fear of losing something precious, something real. I tried to scream, to call out for Siko, but my throat was constricted, the sound caught in a silent, desperate gasp.

A gentle, persistent pressure on my fingers pulled me from the depths of the nightmare. My eyes fluttered open, the harsh, sterile light of the infirmary a stark contrast to the warm, dreamlike glow. A face hovered over mine, a stranger with kind, tired eyes and a neat, military-issue haircut. Her hand was on mine, her fingers trying to gently pry the smooth river stone from my grip.

"Easy there, soldier," she said, her voice a calm, soothing balm against the lingering terror. "Just need to get your vitals. You don't need to hold on to a rock." Her hand felt cool against my forehead, "You got a fever, it sometimes happens with the regen casts, nothing to worry about."

My heart was still pounding, a frantic drum against my ribs. I looked down at my hand, my fingers still clutching the stone, the last remnant of the dream clinging to my waking reality. The smoke tendrils were gone, but the fear remained. I relaxed my grip, allowing her to take the stone from me. She placed it on the table, a small, dark island in a sea of white.

"Sorry," I mumbled, my throat dry and scratchy.

She smiled, a tired, practiced expression, "I'll give you a few minutes to wake up, you have a visitor."

A visitor? I felt a tightness in my chest, was this my chance to make things right with Siko, or was it Loreen that wanted to check up on me? Neither made sense, they were on the winning team and were granted a full week of off-duty vacation. I pictured her going out to party, maybe take the space elevator to find some 'hot dudes or dudettes' in orbit.

It felt like it had to be Siko, and I felt like a sweaty mess. I asked the nurse for some cleaning towels and started wiping. The wet side was pleasant and cool and replaced the worst of my fever sweat with unscented soapy smell.

Someone was running. Rapid footsteps approached and the privacy curtain got pulled aside without hesitation, revealing not my Siko but the surprised face beloinging to Rook. He was a bit winded, he must have sprinted here from, somewhere.

He was still catching his breath, a fine sheen of sweat on his brow. "You okay?" he asked, his eyes flicking from my face to the cast on my foot. I must have looked like an idiot, my stupid face still frozen in a half-smile, the hopeful look meant for Siko now plastered on for Rook to see. My expression fell so fast it felt like my cheeks had been slapped. I tried to wipe the disappointment from my face, smoothing my features into something resembling neutral. The effort felt clumsy, obvious.

"I could ask you the same, Rook. Why the hurry?"

Rook took a few seconds to catch his breath and his expression softened, "Did you notice anything unusual during the combat? You reported at least four enemies before you fell back to the control room, right?" His voice was concerned, digging. It was not like Rook, it sounded more like Roric, trying to find some technicality to disqualify the assault team or something. He had not questioned Siko's 'kill' on him, despite being distracted by my injury. Another wave of shame hit me like a slap on the face.

"Look, Rook, I'm sorry I'm such a klutz. I fell back alright, hard... I shot one of them but they put up the flare."

His expression turned into a soft smile, "Not your fault, soldier. You got them to overextend just like we planned. Roric got the remaining three and then some. He racked up eight kills, I got one and another two from the traps. You two... see where I'm going?"

"Wait, two kills? I only shot one, the other three dodged out of my way." I protested, my brow furrowed in confusion. The memory of the fight was a chaotic blur of light and shadow, but I could only recall one hit, the follow up burst was late and sloppy.

"Your second was a 'technical'," Rook explained, leaning in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Sikohkan. But, that's not important. He was trying to get to you, it was a heat-of-the-moment thing, we can disregard it." He waved a dismissive hand, as if Siko's action was a minor footnote, a tactical footnote. "The important thing is the math."

He started counting on his fingers, his movements precise and deliberate. "You, me, Roric, the rest, well excess of the nine members on the assault team. We wiped out the entire assault team nearly twice over." He paused, letting the numbers sink in. "Except... they still had enough soldiers left to take the orb. Loreen's report says she had two others with her when she made the final push, took the orb and left."

His words hung in the sterile air, a cold, hard logic that sent a shiver down my spine. It didn't make sense. The simulation was supposed to be a closed system. A game with clear rules and a finite number of players. "But... the roster," I stammered, my mind struggling to keep up. "We had nine. They had nine."

"That's what I'm saying," Rook said, his gaze intense. He turned his head tot he side, listening and hearing something, "I need to go, the strategist is on his way and if you can find out something let me know." He turned to leave.

"Wait, what do you mean, Siko was a technical kill?" I asked, the question stopping him in his tracks.

Rook sighed, a flicker of impatience in his eyes. "He tagged himself out. Logged the hit as your shot after he killed me." He looked at me, a curious expression on his face. "Didn't you know? He's got a soft spot for you, soldier."

Soft spot. The words echoed in my head, a strange, warm feeling spreading through my chest despite the chill of the infirmary. Siko had sacrificed himself, had willingly logged a 'kill' that wasn't, just to be able to help me. He had chosen me over the win, over his own team's success. It was a foolish, reckless, intensely romantic gesture. And it made my heart ache. I remembered my words, my stupid, probing questions about his past. I had repaid his kindness with suspicion.

"He didn't tell me," I said, my voice barely a whisper. Rook was already gone. His timing impeccable as always, the curtains had barely stopped swaying when they got pushed aside for the third time this morning.

The man who stepped in was not a soldier. He wore a perfectly tailored officer's uniform, but it was the man himself who commanded attention. He had unusually light brown eyes, almost amber, and a well-groomed haircut that wouldn't have looked out of place on a trid newscaster. He was handsome in a polished, core-world way, a stark contrast to the rugged, weathered faces I was used to. He held a datapad in one hand, but his attention was entirely on me.

"Apologies for the intrusion," he said, his voice a smooth, cultured baritone. "I am Strategist Brac, from the Elemin Federation command on Udin 4. I was observing the simulation yesterday."

I felt a surge of anxiety. This wasn't just some officer. This was one of the visiting brass, the very people Rook had been trying to impress. I was suddenly acutely aware of my sweaty face, my rumpled infirmary gown, the heavy, awkward cast on my foot.

"Sir," I said, trying to sit up straighter, a jolt of pain from my foot making me wince.

He smiled, a disarmingly warm expression that didn't quite reach his amber eyes. "I came here to congratulate you on your valiant defense and great adherence to tactics. Not many have such perfect marksmanship in the dark."

The compliment, while meant to be kind, felt like a lead weight in my stomach. He was talking about the shot that had started the whole disaster. "It was a team effort, sir. Rook's strategy..."

"Was brilliant," Brac finished for me, his gaze still fixed on mine. "A masterful use of the environment and your unique biomod. A textbook example of asymmetrical warfare." He paused, studying me with an unnerving intensity. "But that's not why I'm here. I'm here because there are... inconsistencies in the official report."

He took a seat in the chair beside my bed, his movements fluid and economical.

"I need your honest account, soldier. Off the record. From the moment you engaged the enemy, to the moment you fell. Leave nothing out. No detail is too small." His tone was gentle, but the unspoken command was clear. Tell me everything.

My mind raced, a chaotic storm of memories. The darkness, the flare, the fall, Siko's worried face, the river stone. "Just to make sure, Sir," I stammered, "We had a training scenario, I was on the defender side and we lost."

Brac slowly shook his head and adjusted his position, he spread his knees slightly, lowered his shoulders and looked less formal. "You are not in any kind of trouble, I do not suspect any foul play or breach of rules nor protocol, soldier. I am a strategist and my job is to evaluate combat parameters, new tactics and potential weak spots in our training. What I need from you is your account of what your part was and what happened so I can add that to my file" He gave a patient smile.

My uncle said a good story wasn't about facts, but angles. He'd turn a story about a busted coolant line in the mine into a three-day rescue operation with high stakes and close calls. He'd gesture with his synth-ale, and you'd almost believe it. I never had that gift.

Brac's amber eyes were on me, a chance to shine, a chance to angle my own story. I could be the lone defender, the silent hunter in the dark, the one who broke their advance single-handedly. I could weave a tale of my own heroism, a narrative that would make even my uncle proud. But then I'd see Rook's face, calm and calculating as he laid out his plan. I'd feel the phantom weight of the river stone in my hand, a reminder of Siko. I took a deep breath, the scent of antiseptic filling my lungs. I barely knew what happened there in the dark, I didn't even remember who was on the team I fired at. I remembered something uncle said to me once, 'when you lie, don't lie about things they can audit'. I'd just have to tell it straight. I didn't have the talent to make it sound any better than it was.

I explained my position up on the gantry, the shots and the misses and how I fell back like we planned and how it had saved me from getting exposed when they fired the flare. I told him about my fall, about the shattering rung and the searing pain in my foot. Brac listened patiently, his amber eyes never leaving mine, a silent, unnerving intensity that made me feel like I was under a microscope. I didn't mention Roric's charge, it would only make him look bad.

"A fall from the gantry," Brac repeated, his pen scratching on the datapad. "That would explain the non-simulated injury. And you were alone when you fell?"

I nodded. "Yes, sir. I was trying to get to the fallback point Rook had designated. The control room."

"And after you fell? What happened then?"

I hesitated for a fraction of a second, a flash of memory. Siko's worried face, the firm, gentle way he lifted me. The easy, confident way he'd navigated the treacherous terrain. I couldn't tell him that. I couldn't tell him about the enemy soldier who had abandoned the objective to help a wounded defender.

"I was in a lot of pain, sir," I said, my voice a little too tight. "I... I think I blacked out for a second. The next thing I knew, Rook was there. And then the medics."

Brac made a few notes on his datapad while listening, "Just before the fall, did you notice any unusual movements? Shadows shifting, anything like that?" He looked up from his datapad again, he didn't seem interested in finding out what Siko had done in the control room. "Shadows of large cables, smoky tendrils..."

It felt oddly familiar, I could not put my finger on it. My eyes left him and glanced over at my side table, the smooth rock still there, calm and solid. It felt dependable. In my nightmare someone tried to take it from me, something that felt awfully similar to what the strategist was asking about.

"Not during the engagement, Sir," I replied, "I had some fever dreams that might fit, but that was probably just the nurse taking my river rock," I laughed, trying to lighten the mood and point out the absurd nature of the question. My eyes turned back to meet Brac's and his pupils widened like a cat ready to pounce. They narrowed back again almost as quickly and a fake smile spread on his face. It looked eerily natural with his perfect haircut and clean shaved chin.

"Better keep an eye on it then or she might take it from you. Thank you for letting me interview you, I wish you a speedy recovery," he said and stood up and pushed the chair back to its place. "You did a lot better than expected out there, Soldier. I'll add a little something for your trouble. The federation needs more soldiers like you." He gave me a firm nod and walked out. I felt the tension in my shoulders release. He was gone. I was alone again with my thoughts and the slowly returning pain in my foot.

I looked at the smooth, black stone on the table. It seemed to absorb the light, a tiny piece of the void. I picked it up, the cool, smooth surface a comforting weight in my palm. Brac's question about the smoke tendrils echoed in my mind, a strange, dissonant note in the sterile quiet of the infirmary. He had seen something in my reaction, I was sure of it. The flicker in his eyes, the sudden, predatory stillness. He knew something. And now, I knew he knew.

The door slid open again, and this time, it was her. Loreen. She was wearing civilian clothes, a tight-fitting jumpsuit that accentuated her athletic frame. She had a smug, triumphant look on her face, a look that said she'd won, and she knew it. She held a bottle of something expensive and fizzy in one hand, a victory trophy.

"So, I heard you took a dive," she said, her voice a mix of mock sympathy and genuine glee.

"Congratulations, well played" I replied, I felt strangely calm, we had fought well and lost with a small margin. "Came here to gloat?"

She laughed and produced two glasses from behind her back and started pouring the drink, "A little, you have to give me that, we crushed it!" she paused and looked at me, her expression softening slightly. "But I also came to see if you were okay. I heard you broke your foot. That's a nasty way to lose a game."

"I'm fine," I said, the lie coming easily. "Just a little broken. Nothing a few days in a regen-cast can't fix."

She handed me one of the glasses, the golden liquid fizzing gently. "Well, here's to your broken foot," she said, raising her own glass. "And the assault team's victory."

I clinked my glass against hers, the fragile crystal feeling small and delicate in my hand. The sweet, bubbly liquid was a welcome distraction, a temporary balm against the pain and the confusion. We drank in silence for a few minutes, the only sounds the soft fizz of the champagne and the distant hum of the base's life support.

"Roric is furious," Loreen said, breaking the silence. "He's been complaining all morning. Says you cost him the win."

"He's not entirely wrong," I conceded, my gaze drifting to the cast on my foot.

"Don't be so hard on yourself," Loreen said, her tone surprisingly gentle. "You played your part. You got them to overextend, just like Rook planned. Roric got the kills, you got the attention. It was a team effort." She paused, her eyes fixing on mine. "Speaking of team effort... I saw your new friend after the simulation. He was... concerned."

I felt a warmth spread through my chest, a confusing mix of pleasure and guilt. "He was just being a good soldier," I said, the words sounding hollow even to my own ears.

"Is that what you call it?" Loreen asked, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. "Look, I'm not blind. I saw the way he looked at you. And I saw the way you looked at him." She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. I felt dread wash over me, not for being caught having a crush on a reptide but the way I had upset him when he visited me here at the hospital last night. I wanted to apologize but I was not sure he even wanted to talk to me again after tried dig at his past. Loreen's teasing was just a small distraction from the real pain.

"Loreen... I messed up." I confessed. "He came to see me, last night, and I... I said something stupid. About his past. About the gap in his file. I drove him away."

Loreen's playful expression vanished, replaced by a look of genuine concern. "You what?" she asked, her voice a low, incredulous whisper. "Do you know what you said to make him upset?"

"I don't know," I said, my voice cracking with frustration. "It just... came out. I was curious, I guess. And I... I regret it. I regret it so much. I feel like the biggest idiot on the planet."

Loreen was quiet for a long moment, her gaze thoughtful. "Well, that sucks" she said, her tone a strange mix of scolding and sympathy. "But you're not the only one being an idiot. I... I may have overstepped too. I was just trying to look out for you, you know? But I see now... I was just being nosy. And a little bit jealous, maybe."

Jealous. The word hung in the air between us, a raw, unfiltered truth. I had suspected it, but hearing her say it out loud made it real. There was a time when I was attracted to Loreen, sure. But she made it very clear that she was a friend, nothing more and over the past two years we have been just friends. She had rejected me, more than once but now when I got the attention from a sexy lizard she was jealous? I did not want her to be jealous, I wanted her to be my friend.

"I'm sorry," I said, the words a quiet admission. "I didn't realize."

"Yeah, well, life's complicated," Loreen said with a shrug, her gaze drifting towards the window. "But that's not the point. The point is, we both messed up. And now we have to fix it."

"How?"

"You're going to apologize," Loreen said, her voice firm, decisive. "You're going to find him, and you're going to tell him you're sorry. And you're going to mean it."

"And you?" I asked, a small smile touching my lips.

"And me? I'll make sure Roric keeps his damn mouth shut about the exercise," she said, her voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial tone. "I'll distract him with some war stories, maybe buy him a round or two to keep him occupied. He can be a handful, but he's all bark." She leaned back, a wry smile on her face. "Someone's got to run interference for their friends, right? To fixing our screw-ups."

I clinked my glass against hers, the fragile crystal feeling a little less fragile now. "To fixing our mistakes," I echoed. The bubbly liquid was a welcome distraction, but the knot in my stomach remained.

"And, if you ever want back on boobs, let me know." She smiled, her voice a teasing purr that made me blush despite the seriousness of the conversation.

"I'll keep that in mind," I replied, my smile widening despite the ache in my foot and the turmoil in my heart. It felt good to have Loreen on my side, a shared burden made lighter.

"Now, where would your scaly friend be?" she asked, her tone shifting from playful to practical. "It's your week off, starting now. He won. He's probably blowing off steam somewhere. The Heartbreak Hotel bar, maybe? Or the gym, lifting something impossibly heavy."

"The gym," I said, the answer coming to me with a sudden, certain clarity. It was the kind of place Siko would be. Not for socializing, but for himself. For the discipline of it, the solitary focus. The punishing repetition of weights and reps, a way to drive out the ghosts, to quiet the noise in his head. I knew the feeling.

"Good," Loreen said, finishing her glass in a single, decisive swallow. "Then that's where you'll go. As soon as you can walk."

"Can you get me a wheelchair?" I asked, a wave of self-consciousness washing over me. "I can't exactly hobble across the base in this thing."

Loreen grinned, a mischievous glint in her brown eyes. "A wheelchair? Where's the romance in that? You need to make an entrance." She winked. "I'll get you a crutch. A single crutch. It's got a certain... dramatic flair."

---

The crutch was a standard-issue piece of medical equipment, a simple, functional aluminum shaft with a molded plastic cuff for my forearm. It was ugly and uncomfortable, but Loreen was right. It had a certain dramatic flair. Leaning on it, I hobbled through the corridors of the base, the thump-thump of my good foot and the *tap-tap-tap* of the crutch a strange, syncopated rhythm against the sterile quiet.

The base gym was a cavernous space filled with the clang of weights and the grunts of exertion. The air was thick with the smell of sweat and disinfectant. I scanned the room, my eyes searching for a familiar, scaly form. And then I saw him.

He was in the far corner, away from the main weight racks, in the designated 'heavy lifting' area. He was shirtless, a sheen of cooling water glistening on his dull green scales, making the black stripes on his back seem even darker, more pronounced. Reptides didn't sweat, so he had a spray bottle and wet towel to do it for him.

I stopped my hobbled walk to admire the way his muscles moved under his scaly hide. Each lift was a testament to raw power, the bar groaning in protest, his whole body a coiled spring of controlled force. The sheer discipline of it, the solitary focus, was mesmerizing. I saw the scars crisscrossing his back and arms again, the faint silver lines that told stories I couldn't begin to imagine. I clutched the smooth river stone in my pocket, the coolness of it a small, solid comfort against my trembling fingers.

He finished his set, lowering the weights to the floor with a controlled *thud* that made the floorboards vibrate. He turned, his yellow eyes scanning the room, and they locked on mine. He didn't smile. He didn't wave. He just watched, his expression unreadable.

I took a deep breath and started to make my way towards him, the crutch tapping a nervous rhythm on the polished concrete floor. The few other soldiers in the gym stopped to stare, their whispers a low, curious hum in the vast space. I ignored them, my focus entirely on the reptide in the corner. He was a mountain, an immovable force, and I was about to throw myself at him, to lay my apology at his feet like a sacrificial offering.

"Siko," I said, my voice a little too loud in the sudden quiet of the gym.

"Already done, you can have spot," came his reply, his voice unsteady and he offered a toothy smile while still winded from the exercise. He took a clumsy step aside and slumped down on the gym bench. I felt worried. Something was not right.

"You know that is not why I'm here," I said, my voice a little softer now. I took another step closer, the crutch feeling less like a support and more like a barrier between us. I sat down on the bench next to him, leaving a respectable gap between us.

He shrugged, a gesture that seemed to take more effort than it should. "You here to talk," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Talk is what you do."

"Because I was stupid," I blurted out, the words tumbling out in a rush of regret. "I was an idiot. I'm sorry. About what I said. About your past. It was none of my business."

He was quiet for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the barbell in front of him. He traced the scars on his chest with a clawed finger, a slow, deliberate movement. "No, not idiot," came his reply. "Siko apologize. Bad emotion not your fault. They say stress bad, not excuse." his hand reached towards me, but he hesitated and drew back before he touched me.

"It's okay," I said, my heart aching with a strange, warm sadness. "I'm sorry I pried."

"Siko not good with words. You push, Siko breaks. Is lizard nature," he said, a small, sad smile playing on his lips. "Siko also push, you break. We match."

His clawed foot gripped the floor and he pushed himself a little closer to me on the bench.

"Siko is sorry for being a weirdo," he said, and the self-deprecating humor, so out of character for the stoic reptide, made my heart ache.

"You're not a weirdo," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "You're... you're just you." I wanted to reach out and touch him, to feel the rough, warm texture of his scales, to close the small distance that remained between us. But I was afraid. Afraid of pushing too hard, of breaking the fragile peace we had found. He felt hot, feverishly so. He must have worked out hard to get this warm.

"You're burning up," I said, my concern overriding my hesitation. I reached out and placed the back of my hand against his arm, the scales hot to the touch. He flinched at the contact, but didn't pull away.

He just shrugged, a gesture that seemed to take more effort than it should. "Siko is fine."

"You're not fine," I said, my voice firm, a sudden surge of protectiveness washing over me. "You're pushing yourself too hard. You're going to burn out."

He looked at me, his yellow eyes unreadable. "Siko has to be strong. Has to be ready. Can't be weak."

"Why not?" I asked, my voice softening. "Who cares if you're weak? We're all weak sometimes." I forced a smile, but the words tasted bitter. "You're off duty for a week, anyway. Thanks to winning the combat exercise. A full weeks vacation and a payout too, right? I saw Loreen with her bottle of champagne. What are you going to do with your share?"

He didn't answer. He just looked at me, a long, searching look that seemed to pierce right through me. I could see the conflict in his eyes, the war between the disciplined soldier and the vulnerable man beneath. I had a sudden, overwhelming urge to take care of him, to shield him from whatever demons were chasing him. But I didn't know how. I didn't have the words.

The silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken questions. The few other soldiers in the gym had gone back to their own workouts, the rhythmic clang of weights a strange, discordant backdrop to our quiet intensity.

His tail curled up, his steady breathing calmed down and I could still feel his body heat radiating from his bare upper body. The large scar on his chest from a plasma burn, the thing that started this whole thing was in plain view, a jagged, silver-pink map of pain. I fought the urge to trace it with my finger, a foolish, sentimental impulse that I knew I had to resist.

"Hot," he finally grunted, as if my stare made him uncomfortable. He rose and went over to the spray bottle.

I watched him walk away, the heavy, deliberate thud of his bare feet on the gym floor. He sprayed himself down, the fine mist of water catching the blue light of the gym, making his scales shimmer. I took the opportunity to study him, to really *see* him. The powerful muscles of his back, the way the black stripes on his skin seemed to shift and change with the light, the raw, primal energy that coiled in his every movement. He was a force of nature, a creature of instinct and impulse, and I was drawn to him with an intensity that scared me.

He came back, not sitting as close as before but not far away either. A careful distance.

"Payout," he said, the word a low rumble that broke the silence. He was answering my question from before, the one about the prize money. "Siko send home."

My heart sank a little. Of course. He was sending it home. To... who? Family? The runt who wanted to fly? Or to pay off a debt? The questions were back, a swarm of buzzing bees in my head. I pushed them down, forcing myself to respect the boundary he had so clearly drawn.

"That's... noble of you," I said, the words feeling inadequate. "Your family must be proud."

I realized that my presence was a distraction for him, an intrusion into the solitary world of pain and discipline he had built for himself. I was interrupting his penance.

"I should let you get back to it," I said, pushing myself up with the crutch, the movement awkward and clumsy. "I'll see you around, I guess."

"Wait," he rumbled, the words low and urgent. He moved to block my path, a wall of muscle and scales. His yellow eyes fixed on mine, a storm swirling in their depths. He was fighting something, and I was caught in the middle of it.

"Tonight," he said, his voice a low, gravelly whisper. "You and Siko. Go somewhere. Not restaurant. Not base. Just... us."

The proposal was so simple, so direct, it took my breath away. It wasn't a date. It was a demand, a statement of intent. A plea, hidden beneath a layer of stoic, reptide stoicism. And I wanted to say yes. I wanted to say yes more than anything. But I was still on crutches. Still broken.

"Siko, I can't," I said, my voice a mixture of regret and frustration. "I'm stuck with this thing." I tapped the crutch against the floor, the hollow *thump* a punctuation mark on my sentence. The words tasted stale, like putrid butter mixed with expired nutri-paste. What was I doing? He offered me an out and I was rejecting it like the idiot I was.

"Siko carry," he said, a slow smile spreading across his face, a flash of white against the green and black of his scales. He had stated it like a fact, he would simply pick me up and take me away. The thought was both terrifying and intoxicating. It felt like I was given the choice between a week of feeling sorry for myself in my room or a week with a hot scaly lizard. The choice was obvious.

"Okay," I said, the word a soft, almost inaudible whisper. "Yes."

Siko's smile widened, a genuine, unguarded expression of pure, unadulterated joy. It transformed his face, softening the hard lines of his jaw, making the predatory gleam in his yellow eyes seem less dangerous and more... playful. Without a word, he moved forward, his movements fluid and sure. In one smooth, surprisingly gentle motion, he swept me up into his arms, my crutch clattering to the floor. The world tilted, my stomach lurching with a thrilling mix of fear and exhilaration. His arm was a solid band around my back, the other supporting my legs, my injured foot carefully cradled. My body was pressed against his chest, the hard, cool scales against my skin, the steady beat of his heart a powerful, reassuring rhythm against my own. I was weightless, completely at his mercy.

"Tonight," he repeated, the word a low, contented rumble. "Siko will come."

A chuckle escaped my lips. I was going to help him make that happen.