A Shadow on Snow (Spencer/Brendon, NC-17) part 2 of 2
Title: A Shadow on Snow
Band(s): PATD
Pairing: Spencer/Brendon
Word Count: 17373
Rating/Warnings: NC-17 (sex, genderswapping)
Summary: Spencer Smith is an emissary from the human galaxy to Winter, a lost, stray world. His mission is to bring the planet back into the fold of an evolving galactic civilization, but to do so he must bridge the gulf between his own culture and prejudices and those that he encounters. On a planet where people are of no gender--or both--this is a broad gulf indeed. (Based on the 1969 sci-fi classic "The Left Hand of Darkness" by Ursula K. LeGuin)
Notes: Beta by tuesdaysgone and vampyreranger.
Mix by sodamnquirky
And a SECOND Mix, A Musical Guide to Exploring the Galaxy by technolustt
part 1
We continued on our way, light in spirit. The weather was good, and the ice was clear, so we made good time. It was bitterly cold, though, particularly after our extended stay in the warmth of the tent. Brendon had gotten us ice goggles, these slatted contraptions that helped prevent ice-blindness but did little to block the wind. I had to be especially vigilant not to expose any skin to the wind because of the danger of frostbite. I was pretty good at it, wrapping up so that only the barest slivers of my eyes showed.
But my left eye froze shut one day. It was one of those bitter cold days where even breathing is difficult. Not only is it painful to draw in the frigid air, but your nostrils repeatedly freeze shut. I hated it, and was fussing about that to the exclusion of pretty much everything else. My discomfort amused Brendon, and it irritated me that he found humor in my situation. My eyes regularly watered in the wind, frozen tears sticking to my cheeks, so I was initially unconcerned. When I couldn't open my eye, though, I started to panic.
Brendon rushed around the sledge and grasped me by the arms, quickly assessing the situation. He pulled off my ice goggles and took my face in his hands, leaning in to look closely at my eye. I shook uncontrollably, afraid that I had lost the use of it and not nearly rational enough to see a solution. Brendon, however, took the classical approach to thawing: apply heat. Brendon pulled me to the leeward side of the sledge and down onto the ice. He tugged at me until I half sat in his lap and then he breathed hotly on my frozen skin. Brendon's breath superficially cleared the ice, but my eye remained frozen shut. He pressed his cheek to my temple for a moment as he collected his thoughts. Then, suddenly, he cradled my cheek and licked a long stripe across the seam of my eyelids. I tried to jerk away, but Brendon held me fast and did it again, and again until I could feel the warmth seeping through. After a moment I sat blinking on the snow while Brendon stroked my cheek with his thumb. I could see; everything was going to be fine.
***
Brendon had estimated that we would spend about fifty days on the Gobrin ice sheet. Six or seven weeks into our journey (I still wasn't counting,) we were halfway in time, but falling short in distance. We had a finite amount of supplies, and I grew anxious.
"It will be easier, Spencer," Brendon reassured me. "The sledge is lighter every day."
"That is not entirely reassuring, you know," I mumbled sullenly.
"Or maybe you are getting used to the effort?" he said slyly. I nudged his thigh with my knee and he grinned at me. It was clear that between the two of us, I was the stronger physically. I was bigger, had more leverage and muscle mass. But Brendon had superior survival skills. I had asked him about it one night, and he told me about his youth with the Handdara.
The Handdara were, for lack of a better word, a religious group. They operated on something of an informal system of privation and simplicity. There were communities of foretellers, which interested me, but Brendon assured me that it was nothing like mindspeech, and they weren't merely plucking the desired answer out of the questioner's mind.
Brendon had been taught to starve as a child, to reinforce the principles of the Handdara. The harshness of life was, in part, why he was no longer a part of it. Knowing how useless it was to know the answer to the wrong question was another reason. Brendon had fled to the city, but he had retained his wilderness skills. And for that, I was thankful.
I was particularly thankful for Brendon's childhood training when we found ourselves caught in a blizzard. The storm seemed to come out of nowhere, blowing up around us in a flurry of blinding white. We stopped in our tracks--for indeed we had no choice--and struggled to set up camp. The tent twisted and bucked in our hands, and we very nearly lost it in the wind, but somehow we managed to tack it down and fumble inside. We threw in our things as quickly as we could, but the sudden, bitter wind made my fingers thick and took my breath away. I imagined Brendon cursing me as he methodically performed our routine, and I struggled to continue. I couldn't leave Brendon to do all the work; we were in this together.
We did manage to get everything settled in the tent in our usual fashion, even if I couldn't see beyond the length of my arm, and that arm was half frozen. We fell to our sleeping bags, energy spent. Brendon stripped down to his pants and lay down with a sigh. Even in a blizzard, inside the tent he was too warm.
I looked at Brendon from across the tent and wondered if I had been on Gethen too long. I was becoming very much like them. There he was, striking even in somer, and I merely lay in my bag and looked. After our long days of kemmering, I thought I would respond differently to him.
"--we can share?"
I popped out of my reverie with a start.
"What?" I squawked. Brendon had caught me looking at him, and returned my stare with his usual cool look of subtle disdain, but this time it was tinged with a hint of humor glimmering out of his dark eyes. I had learned that he generally thought I was hilarious, but that was not something that was indicated in polite society. He had been a politician for long enough that the real Brendon was buried deep inside. He--well, she, in my case--emerged during kemmer. And that was something that very few people got to see. Brendon was a politician, after all. He had a reputation to maintain. Well, he had a reputation to maintain. Not that he did any more.
"If you are still cold, Spencer, we can share," Brendon repeated with a grin. I flopped onto my back and squirmed inwardly.
"Sure," I said, and started to move my things. Brendon spread out his sleeping bag on the floor of the tent and we used mine as a blanket. It was indeed much warmer to lie together, joining our body heat. "Thank you," I sent to him after I had settled in again. Brendon grew very still. "Are you ok?" I asked aloud. He nodded jerkily.
"It's just--"
"What's the matter? Are you uncomfortable?" I prodded.
"I'm fine. It's no matter," he tried to wave it off but I stared at him sort of incredulously until he continued. "Your voice. The voice I hear inside my head is that of my first kemmerer," he said sheepishly. "It's kind of disturbing."
"Oh," I said flatly. That kind of possibly explained a lot. I wanted to sulk, but I didn't want to let him see that he had hurt me either.
"He's dead. Ryan's been dead for many years," Brendon said softly. "I loved him, and he's dead, but now I hear him in my head when you bespeak me. It's--confusing."
"I'm sorry," I said, softening. I felt bad for my reaction to his confession, whether there was truth to my suspicion or not. It didn't matter.
I was nearly asleep, snug and warm in a nest of furs and Brendon when he spoke again.
"That's not why I wanted you during kemmer," he said softly.
"I know," I replied, burying my head in the furs, ashamed.
"You awakened me," Brendon continued. He drew one finger along the length of my arm and I shuddered. "I felt like my body had been asleep for so long. Trapped in somer, even though I hadn't..." He paused, and I watched as he stared off into space, biting his lip harshly. "You know I can't--in somer, I can't--"
I grasped his hand under the covers to still him.
"I know," I said again. I hesitated to say anything more, afraid that I would offend him. So instead I hoped. I hoped that he understood that I didn't need him the way he had needed me. Even in my head it sounded heartless. Of course I did. But I could wait. I would wait.
In that way we rode out the blizzard. It was similar to our days kemmering in that we rarely set foot outside of the tent, but we were far less vigorously occupied. For the most part, Brendon slept. I prodded him frequently to beg him to eat, and sometimes he would, but only a little. He always pushed the rest at me and told me to eat it myself, that I needed it more. It was true, given the differences in our metabolisms, but it was hard for me to take it and leave Brendon with nothing.
After three days we had to dig ourselves out before we could resume our journey. It was nice to be moving again.
***
We travelled steadily east for another ten days or so. I found myself once more strangely cheerful in this dismal place. Brendon kept shaking his head at me and rolling his eyes, but he smiled when he did it, so I wasn't bothered in the least.
When we stopped for the night, Brendon started explaining to me the complex diplomatic game in action on Gethen. He had sent word to the king before he left Mishnory that I had been sent to Pulefen Farm. I was astonished that he would have taken such a chance. Any number of people in Orgoreyn could have intercepted the message and sold him out. That number doubled in Karhide. It was incredibly dangerous for him, and it succeeded in underscoring his sincerity in wishing for success in my mission.
"With luck, we shall make it," he stated confidently.
"Are you foretelling now, Brendon?" I laughed.
"No. I'm just lucky," he replied with a glint in his eye. I flicked the blanket in his face and he batted me away, feigning irritation. We had gone a long way today, and I was cold even in the tent, but I knew that Brendon felt some of the lightness that I did. He even let me snuggle up a little closer in the furs, so he couldn't have actually been mad.
I woke in the early morning light to find my arm slung across Brendon's waist and my cheek pressed against his shoulderblade. I smiled to myself and let my fingers skim over his back as I drew away. He was firm and lightly muscled, and I liked the way my hands looked against the color of his skin.
I only let myself think like that in the few silent moments before he woke. It always left me feeling like a creepy stalker, so I didn't indulge very often. This time, though, when I looked up, Brendon was looking back at me. And he was different.
Brendon had gone into kemmer again.
I was shocked. I really needed to start counting the days, because Brendon hadn't let on at all. I wasn't adept in reading the subtle signals and tiny changes indicating a phase change. I realized my mouth was hanging open and snapped it shut. Brendon grinned impishly at me. I didn't know what to say, and his smile faded the longer I remained quiet.
"What's the matter?" he asked, hitching himself up onto his elbow. His voice rolled through me, deliciously deep and sleep-rumbly and pinging off all my nerve endings. Brendon startled, looking down at himself cursorily only to react so comically that it threw me out of my stupor. "Huh."
"Yeah," I sat back and scrubbed a hand through my hair. Brendon laughed and once again climbed into my lap, the very mirror of his actions several weeks before.
"I think you need to tell me something, Spencer," he said teasingly, tugging gently on a wayward lock of hair.
"Um," I was useless. Brendon made himself more comfortable in my lap and waited patiently, his head cocked. He was adorable. "I'm bisexual?"
"There we go," Brendon sighed. He snaked his arms around my neck. "I've never had this happen before," he admitted.
"Would you rather not?" I asked, trying not to sound hopeful.
"Oh, no!" Brendon practically shouted. "I just wondered why my body would think this would work. But you explained it: it's for you." Brendon made a low growly sound in the back of his throat and I found myself unable to breathe. "Oh, it's for me too."
Brendon kissed me hard and I surged up to meet him. I toppled us over onto the furs, landing on Brendon with a grunt. He wasted no time getting our trousers off, first mine, then his. I couldn't get enough of him. I wanted to touch him everywhere, learn this new shape just as well as the other. But this Brendon was pushier. I ended up on my back with my cock in his mouth and Brendon shouldering my legs apart.
"I thought you'd never done this before!" I gasped. He flicked his eyes up to me and sucked hard, hollowing his cheeks and twirling his tongue until I shuddered and he pulled back abruptly.
"You know I've done this before, Spencer," he teased. His voice was low and thick and it made my damp, shining cock twitch against my belly. Brendon laughed before licking one last, long stripe up the shaft and diving down between my thighs to lap at my hole. I jerked, pulling his hair harshly. I could feel the puffs of his breath on my skin as he laughed. Kemmer definitely brought out Brendon's spontaneity.
I tried to lie still as Brendon worked his fingers inside me, but I couldn't. It had been so long, and I twitched and writhed and nearly kicked him in the head several times. It took me several attempts to say anything that wasn't mindless babble.
"Brendon, please!" I finally managed. "I've never--we have to find--we don't have anything that's--" I gasped when Brendon pulled his fingers out and looked at me, confused.
"What?" He was so utterly clueless, but I was charmed. His forehead crinkled as he drew his brows together, and his mouth, that same, full, luscious, beautiful mouth I had seen on the girl, was pursed. There was an intensity, a brightness to Brendon in kemmer, and I was captivated. He shook his head impatiently, waiting for me to elaborate. I felt like a fool.
"We need..." I dropped my eyes, hating having to explain the logistics of sex literally in the middle of the act. I flailed my hands around a little. "Something to ease the way." I felt my cheeks burning. "Something slick."
Brendon's eyebrows shot up into his hairline and I would have laughed at him if I hadn't already felt like an idiot.
"Oh! Of course!" he agreed cheerily. Then he frowned, his shoulders drooping. Again, I found myself admiring him. Brendon was gorgeous. It should have come as no surprise, considering I thought the same thing when I saw him in kemmer as female. It seemed every face he made, every face he presented to me, was engaging. It kind of disturbed me, though, how I could see an idea forming in his head with the smirk that emerged.
"What?" I asked, squinting at him suspiciously. Brendon raised one eyebrow and licked his lips lasciviously.
"Oh, I have an idea," he leered, and sucked me down again. I gasped and shuddered, feeling the back of his throat and wanting to push further. He was so good at that. I let my hips buck, and Brendon took it. He was so pretty. I pushed up on my elbows so I could watch him better; look down my body and see my cock sliding past his lips. That, probably, was a mistake. My hips bucked up again, and Brendon eased back, his eyebrow twitching. He was just changing position, anchoring himself on his hands on either side of my hips before he leaned down and took me into his mouth again. But he didn't move. He just sat there for a moment, and then looked up at me. "Go ahead, Spencer" he thought to me. It sent shivers down my spine, and my hips lifted off the fur on their own. Brendon's eyes slipped shut and he hummed around his mouthful. I made some sort of high, gurgly sound, to which Brendon replied with a snort. He could laugh at me all he wanted, with a mouth like that. All I wanted to do was fuck it. My hips surged up again and again, but it was hard work and I tired, pushing Brendon away.
"Hold on," I told him as I shifted out from under him. I got to my knees, first bending down to kiss Brendon soundly, then straightening and pulling him toward me again, down as he was on all fours. Brendon sat back on his haunches as his mouth opened over me once more. This way I could touch him, stroke his face, his hair, whatever I could reach, whatever I wanted. Brendon let me fuck his mouth; deeper this way, and harder. I tangled my hands in his hair, black around my fingers, and getting shaggy. I couldn't last long this way, and Brendon knew it. My thrusts grew jerky, my breaths shallow, and Brendon took back his control. His hands suddenly on my thighs prevented me from coming down his throat, but instead I filled his mouth, and he caught it all, neatly, before spitting it out into his palm.
"Back," Brendon rumbled, and I scrambled to comply, my legs rubbery and uncooperative. I sprawled out on the furs and Brendon smirked at me. He used my own come to slick himself up, his head falling back while he stroked. He was such a beautiful creature, my body ached for him to touch me. Momentarily, he did. Brendon eased his way between my spread thighs and used his come-slick hand to open me again, faster, easier, hotter, wetter, harder, faster, faster, faster. I didn't think I could stand it anymore when Brendon withdrew his fingers and filled me up with one smooth thrust. I lay shaking and gasping beneath him, my cock already trying to harden again, not caring to pace for five long days of kemmering. The look on Brendon's face was that of wonder. I had forgotten, in my orgasmic haze, that Brendon had never done this. Had never been buried balls-deep in a man. I urged him to move, and he looked almost surprised for a moment before his hips started to rock.
"This is only the half of it, Brendon," I panted breathlessly. He looked into my eyes and I felt my body tingle as he effortlessly, instinctively, found my prostate and rubbed over it mercilessly. "Imagine. What it'll be like. When we switch." I arched up, and he slid impossibly deeper, coming inside me with little jerks and a cry that made my blood hot.
"I'm sorry," he apologized as he slumped down, slipping out of me. "It was so fast."
I drew his hand down between my legs, to where I was hard again, ready.
"I told you," I said with a smile. "This was only the half of it." I rolled him off me and onto his belly on the fur. He groaned, and I slapped him on the ass. To my surprise, he lifted into the blow. So I did it again. Brendon had a fantastic ass, and it begged for my hands. Soon, he was groaning in pleasure, whining and crying out for more. I spanked him until he was red, then leaned down and licked from his balls to his hole in one long, wet stripe. His whole body shuddered, and I could see that he was hard again, hot and red as his ass, hanging thick and heavy between his thighs. I ignored it, instead sucking his balls into my mouth. Brendon keened, and when I let his balls slip out of my mouth, his cock bobbed, so hard, and straining away from his body. I only smirked into his skin. Then I stuck my tongue inside him and Brendon howled. I laughed and couldn't keep it up.
"Spencer, please!"
"What?" I asked, leisurely drawing a finger down the taut skin between his cheeks. He squirmed.
"I want to come," he gasped. "I need to--"
"Oh, no," I told him. "Not until I say so." That kind of surprised both of us. I was enjoying touching him, teasing him, but suddenly I had to be inside him. I scrambled to my knees. "I don't want you to come until I'm inside you. Do you hear?" I slapped his ass again and he yelped, but nodded vigorously. "Good," I said, skimming my hand down his smooth flank. "This is probably the dirtiest thing I've ever done," I mumbled, mostly to myself, because Brendon couldn't see as I reached behind myself and thrust two fingers in my own ass. I was still loose and wet, so wet that I could feel Brendon's come dripping down my thighs around my fingers as I swept them around. I palmed Brendon's cheek with my other hand--partly for balance and partly to keep him engaged. I couldn't lose him as I gathered as much of his come from inside me as I could get, and then I reached back around and stuck those same fingers into him.
Brendon went still, silent. I was terrified that I had hurt him, but he soon let out a low moan, his head hanging down between his shoulders. I could see the muscles in his back tensing and releasing as he fought not to try to expel me. I moved slowly, carefully, and soon, ever so much sooner than I expected, I felt he was ready. I spit into my palm and slicked myself quickly, then did it again for good measure. Sliding into him this way was so different. It almost made me wish I had fucked Brendon up the ass when he was a girl, but honestly, it had never even occurred to me. Female Brendon was so creative in her own right that I hadn't had the time to consider anything she might not have done. But this Brendon, the male Brendon, I knew that he had never done any of this, and it sent a shiver through my whole body. I was his first, and he would never forget. I had better be fan-fucking-tastic.
I continued to go slowly. Brendon trembled and gasped and began rocking with me, markedly increasing the force of my thrusts. I let him control it, to some extent, let him say how fast, how hard, how deep. He surprised me again with how quickly he increased the intensity. His hips snapped up, and he leaned back as far as he could and still be on his hands and knees, until I grasped him around the waist and pulled him up. Brendon's head lolled back onto my shoulder and he caught at my hands, drawing one down between his legs. I nipped at his ear, his jaw, while I fucked up into him and just barely, barely teased his cock with my hand. He was rock hard and silky smooth, and I let my fingers skim and slip and slide gently, lightly over him. He tossed his head and whined, pushing up for my hand and pushing back onto my cock and not knowing where he would get his release. I dipped down and rolled his balls between my fingers, tugging gently. Brendon twitched, and I thought I had overdone it, but he didn't come without me, so I decided to let him go.
"Go on, Brendon," I hissed in his ear. "Go on, come. I want you to. I want to see it. I want to see it all over you. All over my hand. I want to feel it on my skin. I want to feel it from inside." I kept fucking into him, harder now at this angle, and circled his cock with my fingers, stroking in time with my thrusts. Brendon clutched at my arm, my thigh, whining and gasping and straining to meet me. "Come on, Brendon. I want you to come all over me. I want you to come on my chest, in my mouth, on my face, so all I can taste, all I can smell is you--" Brendon broke with a guttural cry, coming hot over my hand and onto his belly and thighs. I cried out with him, pulling him tight to me, thrusting in as deeply as I could and coming harder than I thought possible, so soon after the first time today. We shook together, falling to the furs in a heap. I pulled out gingerly, knowing he would be sore, and wincing as he hissed anyway. I gathered him into my arms, pulling the blanket over top of us, and urged him to rest.
As he dozed, I looked for differences in this version of Brendon, compared to the other. He fucked harder, but that could have been familiarity, knowing that I would let him this time around. There was the same sense of urgency, of ferocious enthusiasm, boundless energy and simple joy in the act of joining together. I loved him. Whether he was male, or whether he was female, I loved him. I found that it didn't matter to me what side of Brendon emerged, that I wanted it all. I wanted all of him, whatever he had to give. I loved him. And I hoped that it was enough. With the onset of another kemmer, we would fall behind in our journey. Our rations grew low, and Brendon's prospects weren't good in either Orgoreyn or Karhide. I knew that Brendon counted on the king's good nature for his safety, once Orgoreyn was caught out lying about what they had done to me. I also knew that the king couldn't be trusted. He had sentenced Brendon to death. There was no reason he shouldn't carry it out. None other than the fact that he returned with me--his prize. I held little faith in my ability to keep Brendon safe, less in the ability of the king to change his mind.
I needed to take my sleep when I could. Having survived one session of kemmering with Brendon had taught me that. We still had a long way to go.
***
The last leg of our journey consisted of rapidly diminishing supplies, rising temperatures and thawing ice, and politics. Brendon could think of nothing else. His distraction made navigating the glacier difficult, to say the least. We took to harnessing ourselves to the sledge for fear of falling, something we never did even in the depth of winter when the snow flew so thick we couldn't see our own hands.
It was good that we did. Brendon fell. One moment he was ahead of me, pulling the sledge while I pushed, then he was simply gone. There was no sound for warning--no rushing snow, no crashing ice. Brendon just... disappeared.
I jammed the brakes on the sledge and frantically staked it in before rushing forward. Brendon dangled from his tether in a wide crevasse. The ice around him was an eerie shade of white-blue, irridescent and ghostly. He looked up at me with wide, frightened eyes, but it only took me a moment to drag him to safety. I held him at arm's length, examining him, ensuring that he was unhurt before I pulled Brendon against my chest and clutched him until the shaking stopped. My hands shook as if I had been the one to plunge into nothingness. Brendon was indeed unhurt, only shaken. That I understood.
We continued on our way much more cautiously.
***
Every night Brendon explained more about Karhide and Orgoreyn, the king and his cousin, and us. Brendon was a brilliant strategist. He called it luck, but it was so incredible that I had to wonder if he didn't have something of the foreteller in him. He had been an excellent advisor, only the king's paranoia had worked against him. That, and his cousin.
The way Brendon figured, the king would have seen his chance to embarass Orgoreyn with the arrival of his message. The king's cousin, however, would advise against it, the classical Gethenian response to conflict: avoidance. But the king would have been getting tired of his ambitious cousin by this point and ignored him. Brendon had seen it happen time and again. It had happened to him, in a way.
As my first point of contact, it would not have been unexpected for Karhide to inquire about my status in Orgoreyn. The Thirty-Three in Mishnory of course knew that I had been sent away to Pulefen Farm, but they couldn't admit to something that could ultimately spawn not only an international incident, but an interplanetary one. So they would present a plausible, but regrettable, scenario: I was dead. Of something perfectly reasonable, like a fever. They would lie.
Karhide would counter. Hadn't their own embassy informed them that the Envoy had been sent to a voluntary farm? Luckily, Orgoreyn could readily admit that I was not being held in a voluntary farm (for the Thirty-Three must also know that I had escaped) and offer to open their doors for Karhide to take a look, if they so chose. There would be no need, of course.
A few weeks later, I would appear in Karhide. Orgoreyn would be caught lying, and I would once more be a treasure to the king. I would have to send for the ship as soon as possible before the king had a chance to change his mind about my worth. Brendon and I both knew how likely that was to happen, and how quickly.
The key to our success was getting me back to Karhide. And that was where I was concerned. Brendon was not welcome in Karhide. Brendon was not welcome in Karhide under penalty of death. But I couldn't leave him in Orgoreyn either.
"I will have nothing to do with you," he finally said one night. "At first, at first." It made my insides cold in a way that had nothing to do with the climate, but I knew he was right.
We were near to our goal. The edge of the glacier was in sight. We merely had to climb down onto solid ground and make our way into Karhide. This close to the ice there was very little in the way of civilization. It had been true in Orgoreyn, and it followed in Karhide. We merely scrambled down the ice and found ourselves in Karhide.
Our supplies had gotten so low that we abandoned the sledge on the glacier. We were able to carry what remained in our backpacks, but it was strange to leave the sledge behind. This tangible evidence of a time limit really brought a sense of urgency to our journey. Not only did I have to find my way to Ehrenrang, but I had to find a radio tower, and I had to hide Brendon. Hiding Brendon was the hard part.
In the end, we decided that it was best to have Brendon stay in Karhide's wilderness, much like the beginning. As the former Prime Minister, his face was too recognizable, even in the remotest villages in Karhide. We walked far enough into Karhide to pass the tree line, and there we set up camp. Brendon would keep the tent and as much of our rations as I could get him to keep. We argued about the stove. I was leaving him alone in the middle of nowhere. I would find a town and be safe. Brendon would need the stove to keep warm until I came back for him.
Brendon was stone-faced and resolute the next morning as he pointed out the direction he thought was best. There was nothing particular in that direction that indicated to me the proximity of a town, but the same was true in any direction. Brendon knew the details of his country intimately. He had gotten us across the Gobrin ice sheet with little more than a hastily drawn map, a compass, and a mile meter. I trusted that he could get me to civilization.
I watched Brendon's face as he explained how far he thought I had to go. I imagined I could see a brightness in his eyes, an intensity, that if I lingered for a few more days he wouldn't let me leave. I had decided, after the second cycle, that I deliberately would not count the days. I didn't know how long we had been travelling--oh, I could estimate, probably--and I didn't know if I waited another day or another week that Brendon would indeed go into kemmer. It wasn't time I had to waste. I really made a terrible First Mobile.
Brendon clasped both my hands in his as we stood outside the tent. I was ready to go, but hesitant to leave him. I stared at my boots until Brendon threw his arms around me and squeezed. I barked out a startled laugh, and Brendon pulled back, smiling sheepishly. He pressed his lips to mine, ever so gently, and then he stepped away.
"You will go," he said softly. "Do your job, Envoy."
I turned away in the direction he had pointed, and I didn't look back.
***
I walked as fast as I dared. Too fast and I would sweat, a deadly thing in the cold. But I couldn't keep to a leisurely pace. I was anxious--frightened, really. If I failed, Brendon would die.
I shouldn't have been surprised that the town was as close as it was. Brendon had an uncanny knack for spatial reasoning, and his directions had been spot on. It almost made me afraid that he wasn't far enough out and would be discovered. But Brendon knew how to take care of himself; I just needed to trust that he would.
I found people in the tavern. The instant I came through the door, their hospitality overwhelmed me. I spun a tale of a wrecked caravan while they fed me and discussed where I was to stay. I inquired as unobtrusively as I could as to the whereabouts of the nearest radio tower. Every town on Gethen big enough to earn that name had a radio tower. They were understanding of my need; of course I would have to signal for help. Of course. It wasn't a problem.
The tavern owner let me stay in one of the small rooms on the second floor of his establishment. It was sparse, but there was a bed, with a blanket, and those were things I hadn't seen in months. I lay down expecting to fall into a deep and dreamless slumber, but I couldn't. I lay awake, staring at the ceiling and thinking of Brendon. He was cold and alone in the wilderness, and here I was, warm and comfortable and on my way back to the capitol city. I wouldn't be content until I allowed my hand to slip down my body and let my mind wander back to how Brendon's hands felt on my skin, his mouth. When I came, shuddering silently under the blanket, I felt sure that I had sent my thoughts to Brendon. It was too large a distance by far for him to have actually heard me, but it felt like the connection was still there, and that I could feel his voice tickling around the edges of my mind before I fell asleep.
***
The next morning I was taken to the town's radio tower. I easily recalled the signal to awaken the ship, and the message was sent within a minute. The occupants of the ship, the other representatives of the Ekumen, would just now begin to awaken and steer the ship on a course to Gethen. Of course, depending on where it was in its orbit, this could take up to two weeks. I hoped it was less. Much less.
I needed to get to Ehrenrang. The quickest way, it appeared, was to signal the guard. This, too, was done in short order, and by lunch of that second day since I had left Brendon, I was packed into a guard landboat and headed toward the city. The trip was to take the remainder of the day and half of the next. It was so fast, compared to how Brendon and I had inched our way out of Orgoreyn, but also excruciatingly slow. I would arrive in Ehrenrang a day before the ship could possibly arrive. I had scant opportunity to assure of their welcome.
We stopped overnight in some other town of no consequence. We slept in a guard station, but I was still alone. Again I thought of Brendon as I lay in bed. It was torture, yet I couldn't bring myself to stop. I could practically hear him, imagined him watching as I touched myself and what he would say, begging me to touch him and bring him similar release. I'm sure the guards thought I was a pervert indeed, if they could hear. I didn't care.
I returned to Ehrenrang very much like how I had arrived the first time: very little fanfare. It was simply the way of the people of Karhide not to make a fuss over much of anything. This time, however, I had an almost immediate audience with the king. I was anxious, knowing how much rested on the whim of a madman.
I was taken to the palace, and I waited. The king emerged leisurely and took me in.
"I see that Urie's message was not amiss," he said slyly. "You are indeed come again to Karhide."
"I am," I agreed. "I know it is not your way, but I need to be direct with you." The king scowled at me, but waved for me to continue. I breathed a sigh of relief. He could just as easily have sent me away. I laid it all out for him. "I feel that my life has been put in danger--"
"Orgoreyn," he interrupted. I didn't protest. He was the king.
"Yes, Orgoreyn. I have signalled my ship." I paused while he digested that information. "It is now your decision, my lord, whether you shall ever see us again. Will you have Gethen--led by Karhide--join the Ekumen? Or am I merely to go, leaving you with an opportunity for diplomatic gain left untouched?"
The king paced, muttering to himself. I caught snatches of it. "Lose face" and "forcing my hand" among them. I couldn't tell which direction he was leaning.
"We shall join your Ekumen, Mr. Smith," the king said suddenly. I froze, afraid to break the spell. "Karhide shall be the first, and Orgoreyn must follow our example. As will Sith, and Perunter, and the Archipelago."
"Congratulations, my lord," I said simply. "When the ship is in orbit around the planet, they will contact me via my ansible communicator. Do your scientists still retain it in the laboratory?"
"Your communicator and your ship are both still in the laboratory, as you well know, Mr. Smith," the king grinned. "They are returned to you as a matter of course."
All at once, my mission had succeeded. I was dismissed, and the king's attendants showed me to my quarters, where I would remain until the Ekumen ship arrived. I was able to visit the laboratory and retrieve my ansible communicator from the scientists. My ship was moved outside. I could hardly keep myself still. So much of our laboring, so much of our journey would have been rendered nonexistent if I had but retained hold of my ship. I did not think how that would also have affected my relationship with Brendon.
He had been alone for three days.
***
The ansible chirped merrily on day five. I practically leaped on the thing.
"Morning, Mr. Smith!"
"Shut up, Jon!" I hissed into the communicator. "You need to get down here now!"
"We can touch ground in an hour," Commander Walker replied calmly. Nothing ever ruffled that guy; he made an excellent NAFAL pilot. "Are you in danger?"
"Not anymore," I mumbled. I could hear the half-muffled snort on the other end.
"Sitrep." I told Jon the gist of what had happened here. That I had been successful, at least.
"I need to get out of here before I create an international incident. I'm not part of the treaty team anyway."
"Alright," Jon said. "See you in forty-five."
I practically ran to my little ship to get to the meeting place. It was a large desolate area, about 30 miles north of Ehrenrang. It was perfect. The big ship came down in a roar of steam and mud. When she settled, I walked over and waited for the entry to descend.
The first out of the ship was Victoria. She was a shock. Of course she looked exactly as she did as I had last seen her, nearly three years ago. She and the remainder of the crew had been in stasis. In her eyes I could see that she did not recognize me.
"Vicky T," I chided softly, and she jerked, startled.
"Spencer! I hardly recognized you!" she said gleefully, flinging herself the rest of the way down the entry ramp to hurl herself into my arms. I received her with a grunt and thumped her companionably on the back. She was startlingly beautiful, as she ever was, and so much more female that I had grown accustomed to. I hardly wanted to touch her for fear that I would offend. "So. You need to get out of sight?" she suggested.
"I do."
"Do I even want to know what you did?" she teased.
"Probably not." I grinned at her as I raced up the ramp. I needed supplies. "I'm taking vacation!" I yelled to no one in particular as I ran through the ship. I could hear the activity of the others around me. My berth on the ship was dusty, untouched. I scanned it quickly, realizing as I did so that I had been on Gethen for three years without needing anything from that little room, so I could probably continue in that fashion. I moved on to the galley.
I filled a backpack with as much portable goods as I could. As I stood there, stuffing things into my pack, Ian and Jon found me.
"Vacation?" Ian wondered with a smirk. "I don't think you're coming back." I ignored him.
"I didn't think you were long for this service," Jon added. I looked up then. "You did a good job, Spence." I just stood there as Jon wrapped me up in a hug. We had been friends, before this mission. "Where can I take you?"
***
Jon landed the little ship within fifty feet of the tent. It had been five days since I had left it, but there was hardly a sign that anyone had been outside. In fact, we had missed the camp completely on our first pass over. The tent was almost completely buried in snow.
I leaped from the ship when Jon opened the hatch, and I could hear him laughing at me as I floundered in the deep snow.
"I hope she's worth it, Smith!" he yelled. I stopped and turned back to look at him. He didn't know. Of course he didn't. Jon's laughter went on as I moved toward the tent.
The fastening was stiff and frozen and a chill ran through me so hard that I had to hunch over until it subsided. I managed eventually to get in the tent, and inside, it was cold, the stove was set to its lowest mark, and Brendon lay unmoving in his sleeping bag. I fell to the floor beside him and could see that Brendon was pale and cold and he was barely breathing. I choked back a sob as I gathered him up into my arms.
I carried Brendon back to the ship, terrified. He felt like he weighed hardly anything, and he was limp. Jon gaped at me when I emerged from the tent and hopped out to help me get Brendon through the hatch. His eyes were huge as I tucked Brendon down where he couldn't fall as we flew.
"Holy shit, Spencer!" Jon whispered harshly. "Who is that?"
"Brendon Urie rem ir Estraven," I told him.
"The Prime Minister of Karhide?" he asked. My eyes snapped up to meet his. I hadn't known that Jon knew anything at all about the diplomatic mission. He was the pilot. It's not like we operated on a "Need to Know" basis in the Ekumen, but Jon hadn't needed to know anything, just how to get there. It shouldn't have come as a suprise. Jon was a good listener.
"The former Prime Minister," I corrected. "Exiled for helping me, and Gethen, above Karhide. He has a death sentence, Jon, I have to get him out of here."
"Where to?"
I couldn't help it. I leaned over and hugged Jon as hard as I could. He grinned and smacked at me, but I hung on.
"You're a good friend, Jon."
"The best," he said flippantly, closing the hatch and preparing once more for takeoff. He flopped into his seat and looked up at me. "Well?"
"I'd take him offworld with us if I thought I could get away with it," I mused, looking down at Brendon's still form. "The next best thing... is the other side."
Jon started punching up maps and navigational charts that I didn't even know existed. He flicked several away quickly, narrowing it down to a few. One caught my eye, and I jabbed at it with the point of my finger.
"There?" Jon sounded unsure. I nodded.
"It's as close to desert island as we're going to get on this planet," I said, smiling ruefully. Jon rolled his eyes. "Besides, I hear the Archipelago is nice. It thaws for a couple months."
"It's on the other side of the planet, and it's practically uninhabited. Sit down and shut up, Smith, or you'll wake up your international incident." It seemed a bit harsh, but Jon smiled as he spoke.
"Let's go," I said as I buckled myself in.
***
Brendon slept the entire way to the Archipelago; I don't think he even moved. It frightened me, because he was so unnaturally pale and cool to the touch. But his breathing was stronger, so I latched onto that as a good sign.
Jon was a laid-back flyer. The ship practically flew itself, but Jon didn't press me for conversation. I was grateful. I didn't know what I would say to him.
We could see the islands of the Archipelago as we approached. Only the largest were populated, which meant that there were many available from which to choose. Jon punched up a set of maps again, and peered down at the screen to study them. They were incredibly detailed, down to the roads and buildings. I half expected to see people moving in them.
Jon bounced in his seat and yelped, poking at the computer with a satisfied flourish.
"Found you one! Looks abandoned, but near enough to one of the larger islands that you'll be able to get over there for supplies," he chortled, obviously pleased with himself. "But far enough that they'll probably leave you alone." He winked. I was horrified, burying my face in my hands as he snickered.
"You're very clever," I deadpanned.
"I know," he grinned, showing all his teeth.
"You're a pig."
"No, I think that's you." Jon waggled his eyebrows at me before glancing at Brendon. "He's a hotass, Smith."
"He saved my life," I said softly.
"Ah. Obligation. I get it."
"It's not like that," I replied.
"What's it like then?" Jon wondered. I gazed at Brendon while I tried to figure out how to explain it. Something must have crossed my face, because Jon reached over and patted my knee, squeezing gently before he straightened up in his seat. He understood. He was risking everything to fly Brendon out of Karhide; of course he understood.
***
The island Jon chose for us was tiny, barely more than a rock with an old abandoned house and a small barn. We left Brendon in the ship while we investigated. The house was in surprisingly good condition. It was solid, with thick walls and doors and windows that still sealed. The state of the barn didn't matter, as we didn't have animals or gear to put in there, but Jon insisted we check it out anyway. It, too, was sturdy, if a bit shabby. Gethenians built things to last.
Ian had taken it upon himself to practically bankrupt the storeroom in the large ship. I was embarassed, but grateful. Not only was there a plentiful supply of food, but cookware and dishes as well. There were several changes of clothes, bedding, and an ansible.
"Do you want the ship?" Jon asked me as I stared at the ansible. I shook my head. We had Brendon's skis and snowshoes. If we wanted to remain unobtrusive on Gethen, we couldn't keep the ship. "I can have Ian come get me. He's safe; I taught him everything he knows."
"I bet that took a couple minutes, even," I said with a snort. Jon punched me in the arm.
"Are you sure?" Jon pressed. "I don't want to leave you here with nothing."
I looked around the little house. It was warming up. The fireplace worked, and there was a sizeable store of fuel in the barn. It seemed like the previous occupants had just picked up and left. Practically everything we could need remained, or had been rammed into the ship by an overzealous First Officer.
"I could probably use a copy of those maps," I suggested. Jon snapped his fingers and ambled off to the ship. He came flying back in a moment later.
"You need to--" he gasped.
I was running out the door before the words were even out of his mouth. I leaped through the hatch, expecting to find Brendon dead, but he was stirring. I slid the rest of the way across the floor and was at his side when he opened his eyes.
"Spencer," he said, the tiniest smile curving his lips. I stroked his cheek, and his eyes slipped shut again. He was still so cold. I glanced back at the hatch, and Jon's head poked through.
"I'm taking him back to the house," I told him, and gathered Brendon up.
***
Brendon slept for eighteen hours. Jon refused to leave until we were sure he was actually going to wake up. I guess he didn't plan on leaving me on Gethen alone. I appreciated it and resented it at the same time. I had been alone on Gethen for three years. I didn't need a babysitter now.
Brendon slowly came up out of his sleep. His color improved, his temperature rose, and he even began moving slightly. When he finally opened his eyes for real, I practically cried with relief.
"It was like you were in stasis. Or hibernating," I told him. Brendon frowned and shook his head; he didn't understand. "I can explain later."
"It was something we were taught when we were young, by the Handdara, to conserve our energy in times of emergency." Again I found myself thankful for his harsh upbringing. It had saved us both on the ice. It had saved Brendon again in this last push to survive Karhide.
"Could you not do it again?"
"I'll do my best," he said, glancing down at his hands twisted in the blanket. His lashes were in stark contrast to his skin. When he looked up, it was not at me, but beyond. I turned to see Jon in the doorway. I introduced them, and endured a spirited round of greetings. Jon was not a diplomat. Then again, none of us were, anymore.
Jon bade me to accompany him back to the ship. Once outside I noticed that she was prepared for takeoff, and so too was Jon. He sidled up to me and insinuated his way into a hug, slapping me on the back heartily.
"I hereby relieve you of your duties," said Jon with a little bow and a dip of the head.
"You can't do that!" I squawked.
"I just did."
"But what will the Ekumen--" Jon put up his hand to stop me.
"Let me take care of them," he said confidently, his eyes sparkling. I kind of didn't want to know what he was going to tell them. "Stay here. At least until the treaty has been forged and the alliance is assured."
"That could take years," I put in.
"You're right," Jon agreed, bobbing his head. "You have an ansible. We have an ansible. If you ever need anything, you can let us know. And then, when the diplomatic team is happy with the treaty, we can decide what to do with you."
"'We'?" I asked suspiciously.
"Well, you might decide to die of a fever," he teased.
"Heard that?"
"Oh yeah," Jon laughed. "Or we may need another ambassador. You never know." His gaze strayed back to the house, and I followed it to see Brendon standing at the door, wrapped head to toe in a blanket. Jon smiled at him, and sort of half saluted before he turned back to me. "Now you have some time to decide."
"Thanks, Jon."
I hugged him again before he climbed into the ship. Then I joined Brendon at the door and we watched as the ship rose up smoothly and disappeared beyond the horizon.
"Are you sure?" Brendon asked. His voice cracked, and his brow was creased with concern as he stared at the sky. "It's not too late. You don't have to stay here with me in exile."
"I have been in exile for a long time," I said, suddenly tired. "Even if I returned to Hain when this mission was completed, everyone I knew, everything I had there would be gone."
"You haven't been away so very long..."
"We timejump, Brendon," I reminded him. I saw it click. "I was born almost 127 years ago."
"Wow, you look good," he smirked. I kicked halfheartedly at his foot. Brendon pushed me through the door and slammed it shut behind us. "Did I mention," he began, as he let the blanket slide from his shoulders, "that I can only fall into torpor right before I go into kemmer? It's a way to put it off..."
"No," I said, breathless. "I think I would have remembered that." Brendon grinned, backing me up to the wall and pressing himself up against me, rolling his hips so I could feel his erection trapped between us.
"The side benefit is that I can stay under for days and need practically nothing," he said with his mouth pressed to the soft spot under my jaw. "But then when I wake up, kemmer is almost instantaneous."
"I see that," I said agreeably. Brendon laughed and pushed me again, toward the tiny bedroom.
"You are mine now, Mr. Smith," he teased, his voice low, and his hands insistent.
"Oh, was that the plan all along?"
"Well, it is now."
Band(s): PATD
Pairing: Spencer/Brendon
Word Count: 17373
Rating/Warnings: NC-17 (sex, genderswapping)
Summary: Spencer Smith is an emissary from the human galaxy to Winter, a lost, stray world. His mission is to bring the planet back into the fold of an evolving galactic civilization, but to do so he must bridge the gulf between his own culture and prejudices and those that he encounters. On a planet where people are of no gender--or both--this is a broad gulf indeed. (Based on the 1969 sci-fi classic "The Left Hand of Darkness" by Ursula K. LeGuin)
Notes: Beta by tuesdaysgone and vampyreranger.
Mix by sodamnquirky
And a SECOND Mix, A Musical Guide to Exploring the Galaxy by technolustt
part 1
We continued on our way, light in spirit. The weather was good, and the ice was clear, so we made good time. It was bitterly cold, though, particularly after our extended stay in the warmth of the tent. Brendon had gotten us ice goggles, these slatted contraptions that helped prevent ice-blindness but did little to block the wind. I had to be especially vigilant not to expose any skin to the wind because of the danger of frostbite. I was pretty good at it, wrapping up so that only the barest slivers of my eyes showed.
But my left eye froze shut one day. It was one of those bitter cold days where even breathing is difficult. Not only is it painful to draw in the frigid air, but your nostrils repeatedly freeze shut. I hated it, and was fussing about that to the exclusion of pretty much everything else. My discomfort amused Brendon, and it irritated me that he found humor in my situation. My eyes regularly watered in the wind, frozen tears sticking to my cheeks, so I was initially unconcerned. When I couldn't open my eye, though, I started to panic.
Brendon rushed around the sledge and grasped me by the arms, quickly assessing the situation. He pulled off my ice goggles and took my face in his hands, leaning in to look closely at my eye. I shook uncontrollably, afraid that I had lost the use of it and not nearly rational enough to see a solution. Brendon, however, took the classical approach to thawing: apply heat. Brendon pulled me to the leeward side of the sledge and down onto the ice. He tugged at me until I half sat in his lap and then he breathed hotly on my frozen skin. Brendon's breath superficially cleared the ice, but my eye remained frozen shut. He pressed his cheek to my temple for a moment as he collected his thoughts. Then, suddenly, he cradled my cheek and licked a long stripe across the seam of my eyelids. I tried to jerk away, but Brendon held me fast and did it again, and again until I could feel the warmth seeping through. After a moment I sat blinking on the snow while Brendon stroked my cheek with his thumb. I could see; everything was going to be fine.
***
Brendon had estimated that we would spend about fifty days on the Gobrin ice sheet. Six or seven weeks into our journey (I still wasn't counting,) we were halfway in time, but falling short in distance. We had a finite amount of supplies, and I grew anxious.
"It will be easier, Spencer," Brendon reassured me. "The sledge is lighter every day."
"That is not entirely reassuring, you know," I mumbled sullenly.
"Or maybe you are getting used to the effort?" he said slyly. I nudged his thigh with my knee and he grinned at me. It was clear that between the two of us, I was the stronger physically. I was bigger, had more leverage and muscle mass. But Brendon had superior survival skills. I had asked him about it one night, and he told me about his youth with the Handdara.
The Handdara were, for lack of a better word, a religious group. They operated on something of an informal system of privation and simplicity. There were communities of foretellers, which interested me, but Brendon assured me that it was nothing like mindspeech, and they weren't merely plucking the desired answer out of the questioner's mind.
Brendon had been taught to starve as a child, to reinforce the principles of the Handdara. The harshness of life was, in part, why he was no longer a part of it. Knowing how useless it was to know the answer to the wrong question was another reason. Brendon had fled to the city, but he had retained his wilderness skills. And for that, I was thankful.
I was particularly thankful for Brendon's childhood training when we found ourselves caught in a blizzard. The storm seemed to come out of nowhere, blowing up around us in a flurry of blinding white. We stopped in our tracks--for indeed we had no choice--and struggled to set up camp. The tent twisted and bucked in our hands, and we very nearly lost it in the wind, but somehow we managed to tack it down and fumble inside. We threw in our things as quickly as we could, but the sudden, bitter wind made my fingers thick and took my breath away. I imagined Brendon cursing me as he methodically performed our routine, and I struggled to continue. I couldn't leave Brendon to do all the work; we were in this together.
We did manage to get everything settled in the tent in our usual fashion, even if I couldn't see beyond the length of my arm, and that arm was half frozen. We fell to our sleeping bags, energy spent. Brendon stripped down to his pants and lay down with a sigh. Even in a blizzard, inside the tent he was too warm.
I looked at Brendon from across the tent and wondered if I had been on Gethen too long. I was becoming very much like them. There he was, striking even in somer, and I merely lay in my bag and looked. After our long days of kemmering, I thought I would respond differently to him.
"--we can share?"
I popped out of my reverie with a start.
"What?" I squawked. Brendon had caught me looking at him, and returned my stare with his usual cool look of subtle disdain, but this time it was tinged with a hint of humor glimmering out of his dark eyes. I had learned that he generally thought I was hilarious, but that was not something that was indicated in polite society. He had been a politician for long enough that the real Brendon was buried deep inside. He--well, she, in my case--emerged during kemmer. And that was something that very few people got to see. Brendon was a politician, after all. He had a reputation to maintain. Well, he had a reputation to maintain. Not that he did any more.
"If you are still cold, Spencer, we can share," Brendon repeated with a grin. I flopped onto my back and squirmed inwardly.
"Sure," I said, and started to move my things. Brendon spread out his sleeping bag on the floor of the tent and we used mine as a blanket. It was indeed much warmer to lie together, joining our body heat. "Thank you," I sent to him after I had settled in again. Brendon grew very still. "Are you ok?" I asked aloud. He nodded jerkily.
"It's just--"
"What's the matter? Are you uncomfortable?" I prodded.
"I'm fine. It's no matter," he tried to wave it off but I stared at him sort of incredulously until he continued. "Your voice. The voice I hear inside my head is that of my first kemmerer," he said sheepishly. "It's kind of disturbing."
"Oh," I said flatly. That kind of possibly explained a lot. I wanted to sulk, but I didn't want to let him see that he had hurt me either.
"He's dead. Ryan's been dead for many years," Brendon said softly. "I loved him, and he's dead, but now I hear him in my head when you bespeak me. It's--confusing."
"I'm sorry," I said, softening. I felt bad for my reaction to his confession, whether there was truth to my suspicion or not. It didn't matter.
I was nearly asleep, snug and warm in a nest of furs and Brendon when he spoke again.
"That's not why I wanted you during kemmer," he said softly.
"I know," I replied, burying my head in the furs, ashamed.
"You awakened me," Brendon continued. He drew one finger along the length of my arm and I shuddered. "I felt like my body had been asleep for so long. Trapped in somer, even though I hadn't..." He paused, and I watched as he stared off into space, biting his lip harshly. "You know I can't--in somer, I can't--"
I grasped his hand under the covers to still him.
"I know," I said again. I hesitated to say anything more, afraid that I would offend him. So instead I hoped. I hoped that he understood that I didn't need him the way he had needed me. Even in my head it sounded heartless. Of course I did. But I could wait. I would wait.
In that way we rode out the blizzard. It was similar to our days kemmering in that we rarely set foot outside of the tent, but we were far less vigorously occupied. For the most part, Brendon slept. I prodded him frequently to beg him to eat, and sometimes he would, but only a little. He always pushed the rest at me and told me to eat it myself, that I needed it more. It was true, given the differences in our metabolisms, but it was hard for me to take it and leave Brendon with nothing.
After three days we had to dig ourselves out before we could resume our journey. It was nice to be moving again.
***
We travelled steadily east for another ten days or so. I found myself once more strangely cheerful in this dismal place. Brendon kept shaking his head at me and rolling his eyes, but he smiled when he did it, so I wasn't bothered in the least.
When we stopped for the night, Brendon started explaining to me the complex diplomatic game in action on Gethen. He had sent word to the king before he left Mishnory that I had been sent to Pulefen Farm. I was astonished that he would have taken such a chance. Any number of people in Orgoreyn could have intercepted the message and sold him out. That number doubled in Karhide. It was incredibly dangerous for him, and it succeeded in underscoring his sincerity in wishing for success in my mission.
"With luck, we shall make it," he stated confidently.
"Are you foretelling now, Brendon?" I laughed.
"No. I'm just lucky," he replied with a glint in his eye. I flicked the blanket in his face and he batted me away, feigning irritation. We had gone a long way today, and I was cold even in the tent, but I knew that Brendon felt some of the lightness that I did. He even let me snuggle up a little closer in the furs, so he couldn't have actually been mad.
I woke in the early morning light to find my arm slung across Brendon's waist and my cheek pressed against his shoulderblade. I smiled to myself and let my fingers skim over his back as I drew away. He was firm and lightly muscled, and I liked the way my hands looked against the color of his skin.
I only let myself think like that in the few silent moments before he woke. It always left me feeling like a creepy stalker, so I didn't indulge very often. This time, though, when I looked up, Brendon was looking back at me. And he was different.
Brendon had gone into kemmer again.
I was shocked. I really needed to start counting the days, because Brendon hadn't let on at all. I wasn't adept in reading the subtle signals and tiny changes indicating a phase change. I realized my mouth was hanging open and snapped it shut. Brendon grinned impishly at me. I didn't know what to say, and his smile faded the longer I remained quiet.
"What's the matter?" he asked, hitching himself up onto his elbow. His voice rolled through me, deliciously deep and sleep-rumbly and pinging off all my nerve endings. Brendon startled, looking down at himself cursorily only to react so comically that it threw me out of my stupor. "Huh."
"Yeah," I sat back and scrubbed a hand through my hair. Brendon laughed and once again climbed into my lap, the very mirror of his actions several weeks before.
"I think you need to tell me something, Spencer," he said teasingly, tugging gently on a wayward lock of hair.
"Um," I was useless. Brendon made himself more comfortable in my lap and waited patiently, his head cocked. He was adorable. "I'm bisexual?"
"There we go," Brendon sighed. He snaked his arms around my neck. "I've never had this happen before," he admitted.
"Would you rather not?" I asked, trying not to sound hopeful.
"Oh, no!" Brendon practically shouted. "I just wondered why my body would think this would work. But you explained it: it's for you." Brendon made a low growly sound in the back of his throat and I found myself unable to breathe. "Oh, it's for me too."
Brendon kissed me hard and I surged up to meet him. I toppled us over onto the furs, landing on Brendon with a grunt. He wasted no time getting our trousers off, first mine, then his. I couldn't get enough of him. I wanted to touch him everywhere, learn this new shape just as well as the other. But this Brendon was pushier. I ended up on my back with my cock in his mouth and Brendon shouldering my legs apart.
"I thought you'd never done this before!" I gasped. He flicked his eyes up to me and sucked hard, hollowing his cheeks and twirling his tongue until I shuddered and he pulled back abruptly.
"You know I've done this before, Spencer," he teased. His voice was low and thick and it made my damp, shining cock twitch against my belly. Brendon laughed before licking one last, long stripe up the shaft and diving down between my thighs to lap at my hole. I jerked, pulling his hair harshly. I could feel the puffs of his breath on my skin as he laughed. Kemmer definitely brought out Brendon's spontaneity.
I tried to lie still as Brendon worked his fingers inside me, but I couldn't. It had been so long, and I twitched and writhed and nearly kicked him in the head several times. It took me several attempts to say anything that wasn't mindless babble.
"Brendon, please!" I finally managed. "I've never--we have to find--we don't have anything that's--" I gasped when Brendon pulled his fingers out and looked at me, confused.
"What?" He was so utterly clueless, but I was charmed. His forehead crinkled as he drew his brows together, and his mouth, that same, full, luscious, beautiful mouth I had seen on the girl, was pursed. There was an intensity, a brightness to Brendon in kemmer, and I was captivated. He shook his head impatiently, waiting for me to elaborate. I felt like a fool.
"We need..." I dropped my eyes, hating having to explain the logistics of sex literally in the middle of the act. I flailed my hands around a little. "Something to ease the way." I felt my cheeks burning. "Something slick."
Brendon's eyebrows shot up into his hairline and I would have laughed at him if I hadn't already felt like an idiot.
"Oh! Of course!" he agreed cheerily. Then he frowned, his shoulders drooping. Again, I found myself admiring him. Brendon was gorgeous. It should have come as no surprise, considering I thought the same thing when I saw him in kemmer as female. It seemed every face he made, every face he presented to me, was engaging. It kind of disturbed me, though, how I could see an idea forming in his head with the smirk that emerged.
"What?" I asked, squinting at him suspiciously. Brendon raised one eyebrow and licked his lips lasciviously.
"Oh, I have an idea," he leered, and sucked me down again. I gasped and shuddered, feeling the back of his throat and wanting to push further. He was so good at that. I let my hips buck, and Brendon took it. He was so pretty. I pushed up on my elbows so I could watch him better; look down my body and see my cock sliding past his lips. That, probably, was a mistake. My hips bucked up again, and Brendon eased back, his eyebrow twitching. He was just changing position, anchoring himself on his hands on either side of my hips before he leaned down and took me into his mouth again. But he didn't move. He just sat there for a moment, and then looked up at me. "Go ahead, Spencer" he thought to me. It sent shivers down my spine, and my hips lifted off the fur on their own. Brendon's eyes slipped shut and he hummed around his mouthful. I made some sort of high, gurgly sound, to which Brendon replied with a snort. He could laugh at me all he wanted, with a mouth like that. All I wanted to do was fuck it. My hips surged up again and again, but it was hard work and I tired, pushing Brendon away.
"Hold on," I told him as I shifted out from under him. I got to my knees, first bending down to kiss Brendon soundly, then straightening and pulling him toward me again, down as he was on all fours. Brendon sat back on his haunches as his mouth opened over me once more. This way I could touch him, stroke his face, his hair, whatever I could reach, whatever I wanted. Brendon let me fuck his mouth; deeper this way, and harder. I tangled my hands in his hair, black around my fingers, and getting shaggy. I couldn't last long this way, and Brendon knew it. My thrusts grew jerky, my breaths shallow, and Brendon took back his control. His hands suddenly on my thighs prevented me from coming down his throat, but instead I filled his mouth, and he caught it all, neatly, before spitting it out into his palm.
"Back," Brendon rumbled, and I scrambled to comply, my legs rubbery and uncooperative. I sprawled out on the furs and Brendon smirked at me. He used my own come to slick himself up, his head falling back while he stroked. He was such a beautiful creature, my body ached for him to touch me. Momentarily, he did. Brendon eased his way between my spread thighs and used his come-slick hand to open me again, faster, easier, hotter, wetter, harder, faster, faster, faster. I didn't think I could stand it anymore when Brendon withdrew his fingers and filled me up with one smooth thrust. I lay shaking and gasping beneath him, my cock already trying to harden again, not caring to pace for five long days of kemmering. The look on Brendon's face was that of wonder. I had forgotten, in my orgasmic haze, that Brendon had never done this. Had never been buried balls-deep in a man. I urged him to move, and he looked almost surprised for a moment before his hips started to rock.
"This is only the half of it, Brendon," I panted breathlessly. He looked into my eyes and I felt my body tingle as he effortlessly, instinctively, found my prostate and rubbed over it mercilessly. "Imagine. What it'll be like. When we switch." I arched up, and he slid impossibly deeper, coming inside me with little jerks and a cry that made my blood hot.
"I'm sorry," he apologized as he slumped down, slipping out of me. "It was so fast."
I drew his hand down between my legs, to where I was hard again, ready.
"I told you," I said with a smile. "This was only the half of it." I rolled him off me and onto his belly on the fur. He groaned, and I slapped him on the ass. To my surprise, he lifted into the blow. So I did it again. Brendon had a fantastic ass, and it begged for my hands. Soon, he was groaning in pleasure, whining and crying out for more. I spanked him until he was red, then leaned down and licked from his balls to his hole in one long, wet stripe. His whole body shuddered, and I could see that he was hard again, hot and red as his ass, hanging thick and heavy between his thighs. I ignored it, instead sucking his balls into my mouth. Brendon keened, and when I let his balls slip out of my mouth, his cock bobbed, so hard, and straining away from his body. I only smirked into his skin. Then I stuck my tongue inside him and Brendon howled. I laughed and couldn't keep it up.
"Spencer, please!"
"What?" I asked, leisurely drawing a finger down the taut skin between his cheeks. He squirmed.
"I want to come," he gasped. "I need to--"
"Oh, no," I told him. "Not until I say so." That kind of surprised both of us. I was enjoying touching him, teasing him, but suddenly I had to be inside him. I scrambled to my knees. "I don't want you to come until I'm inside you. Do you hear?" I slapped his ass again and he yelped, but nodded vigorously. "Good," I said, skimming my hand down his smooth flank. "This is probably the dirtiest thing I've ever done," I mumbled, mostly to myself, because Brendon couldn't see as I reached behind myself and thrust two fingers in my own ass. I was still loose and wet, so wet that I could feel Brendon's come dripping down my thighs around my fingers as I swept them around. I palmed Brendon's cheek with my other hand--partly for balance and partly to keep him engaged. I couldn't lose him as I gathered as much of his come from inside me as I could get, and then I reached back around and stuck those same fingers into him.
Brendon went still, silent. I was terrified that I had hurt him, but he soon let out a low moan, his head hanging down between his shoulders. I could see the muscles in his back tensing and releasing as he fought not to try to expel me. I moved slowly, carefully, and soon, ever so much sooner than I expected, I felt he was ready. I spit into my palm and slicked myself quickly, then did it again for good measure. Sliding into him this way was so different. It almost made me wish I had fucked Brendon up the ass when he was a girl, but honestly, it had never even occurred to me. Female Brendon was so creative in her own right that I hadn't had the time to consider anything she might not have done. But this Brendon, the male Brendon, I knew that he had never done any of this, and it sent a shiver through my whole body. I was his first, and he would never forget. I had better be fan-fucking-tastic.
I continued to go slowly. Brendon trembled and gasped and began rocking with me, markedly increasing the force of my thrusts. I let him control it, to some extent, let him say how fast, how hard, how deep. He surprised me again with how quickly he increased the intensity. His hips snapped up, and he leaned back as far as he could and still be on his hands and knees, until I grasped him around the waist and pulled him up. Brendon's head lolled back onto my shoulder and he caught at my hands, drawing one down between his legs. I nipped at his ear, his jaw, while I fucked up into him and just barely, barely teased his cock with my hand. He was rock hard and silky smooth, and I let my fingers skim and slip and slide gently, lightly over him. He tossed his head and whined, pushing up for my hand and pushing back onto my cock and not knowing where he would get his release. I dipped down and rolled his balls between my fingers, tugging gently. Brendon twitched, and I thought I had overdone it, but he didn't come without me, so I decided to let him go.
"Go on, Brendon," I hissed in his ear. "Go on, come. I want you to. I want to see it. I want to see it all over you. All over my hand. I want to feel it on my skin. I want to feel it from inside." I kept fucking into him, harder now at this angle, and circled his cock with my fingers, stroking in time with my thrusts. Brendon clutched at my arm, my thigh, whining and gasping and straining to meet me. "Come on, Brendon. I want you to come all over me. I want you to come on my chest, in my mouth, on my face, so all I can taste, all I can smell is you--" Brendon broke with a guttural cry, coming hot over my hand and onto his belly and thighs. I cried out with him, pulling him tight to me, thrusting in as deeply as I could and coming harder than I thought possible, so soon after the first time today. We shook together, falling to the furs in a heap. I pulled out gingerly, knowing he would be sore, and wincing as he hissed anyway. I gathered him into my arms, pulling the blanket over top of us, and urged him to rest.
As he dozed, I looked for differences in this version of Brendon, compared to the other. He fucked harder, but that could have been familiarity, knowing that I would let him this time around. There was the same sense of urgency, of ferocious enthusiasm, boundless energy and simple joy in the act of joining together. I loved him. Whether he was male, or whether he was female, I loved him. I found that it didn't matter to me what side of Brendon emerged, that I wanted it all. I wanted all of him, whatever he had to give. I loved him. And I hoped that it was enough. With the onset of another kemmer, we would fall behind in our journey. Our rations grew low, and Brendon's prospects weren't good in either Orgoreyn or Karhide. I knew that Brendon counted on the king's good nature for his safety, once Orgoreyn was caught out lying about what they had done to me. I also knew that the king couldn't be trusted. He had sentenced Brendon to death. There was no reason he shouldn't carry it out. None other than the fact that he returned with me--his prize. I held little faith in my ability to keep Brendon safe, less in the ability of the king to change his mind.
I needed to take my sleep when I could. Having survived one session of kemmering with Brendon had taught me that. We still had a long way to go.
***
The last leg of our journey consisted of rapidly diminishing supplies, rising temperatures and thawing ice, and politics. Brendon could think of nothing else. His distraction made navigating the glacier difficult, to say the least. We took to harnessing ourselves to the sledge for fear of falling, something we never did even in the depth of winter when the snow flew so thick we couldn't see our own hands.
It was good that we did. Brendon fell. One moment he was ahead of me, pulling the sledge while I pushed, then he was simply gone. There was no sound for warning--no rushing snow, no crashing ice. Brendon just... disappeared.
I jammed the brakes on the sledge and frantically staked it in before rushing forward. Brendon dangled from his tether in a wide crevasse. The ice around him was an eerie shade of white-blue, irridescent and ghostly. He looked up at me with wide, frightened eyes, but it only took me a moment to drag him to safety. I held him at arm's length, examining him, ensuring that he was unhurt before I pulled Brendon against my chest and clutched him until the shaking stopped. My hands shook as if I had been the one to plunge into nothingness. Brendon was indeed unhurt, only shaken. That I understood.
We continued on our way much more cautiously.
***
Every night Brendon explained more about Karhide and Orgoreyn, the king and his cousin, and us. Brendon was a brilliant strategist. He called it luck, but it was so incredible that I had to wonder if he didn't have something of the foreteller in him. He had been an excellent advisor, only the king's paranoia had worked against him. That, and his cousin.
The way Brendon figured, the king would have seen his chance to embarass Orgoreyn with the arrival of his message. The king's cousin, however, would advise against it, the classical Gethenian response to conflict: avoidance. But the king would have been getting tired of his ambitious cousin by this point and ignored him. Brendon had seen it happen time and again. It had happened to him, in a way.
As my first point of contact, it would not have been unexpected for Karhide to inquire about my status in Orgoreyn. The Thirty-Three in Mishnory of course knew that I had been sent away to Pulefen Farm, but they couldn't admit to something that could ultimately spawn not only an international incident, but an interplanetary one. So they would present a plausible, but regrettable, scenario: I was dead. Of something perfectly reasonable, like a fever. They would lie.
Karhide would counter. Hadn't their own embassy informed them that the Envoy had been sent to a voluntary farm? Luckily, Orgoreyn could readily admit that I was not being held in a voluntary farm (for the Thirty-Three must also know that I had escaped) and offer to open their doors for Karhide to take a look, if they so chose. There would be no need, of course.
A few weeks later, I would appear in Karhide. Orgoreyn would be caught lying, and I would once more be a treasure to the king. I would have to send for the ship as soon as possible before the king had a chance to change his mind about my worth. Brendon and I both knew how likely that was to happen, and how quickly.
The key to our success was getting me back to Karhide. And that was where I was concerned. Brendon was not welcome in Karhide. Brendon was not welcome in Karhide under penalty of death. But I couldn't leave him in Orgoreyn either.
"I will have nothing to do with you," he finally said one night. "At first, at first." It made my insides cold in a way that had nothing to do with the climate, but I knew he was right.
We were near to our goal. The edge of the glacier was in sight. We merely had to climb down onto solid ground and make our way into Karhide. This close to the ice there was very little in the way of civilization. It had been true in Orgoreyn, and it followed in Karhide. We merely scrambled down the ice and found ourselves in Karhide.
Our supplies had gotten so low that we abandoned the sledge on the glacier. We were able to carry what remained in our backpacks, but it was strange to leave the sledge behind. This tangible evidence of a time limit really brought a sense of urgency to our journey. Not only did I have to find my way to Ehrenrang, but I had to find a radio tower, and I had to hide Brendon. Hiding Brendon was the hard part.
In the end, we decided that it was best to have Brendon stay in Karhide's wilderness, much like the beginning. As the former Prime Minister, his face was too recognizable, even in the remotest villages in Karhide. We walked far enough into Karhide to pass the tree line, and there we set up camp. Brendon would keep the tent and as much of our rations as I could get him to keep. We argued about the stove. I was leaving him alone in the middle of nowhere. I would find a town and be safe. Brendon would need the stove to keep warm until I came back for him.
Brendon was stone-faced and resolute the next morning as he pointed out the direction he thought was best. There was nothing particular in that direction that indicated to me the proximity of a town, but the same was true in any direction. Brendon knew the details of his country intimately. He had gotten us across the Gobrin ice sheet with little more than a hastily drawn map, a compass, and a mile meter. I trusted that he could get me to civilization.
I watched Brendon's face as he explained how far he thought I had to go. I imagined I could see a brightness in his eyes, an intensity, that if I lingered for a few more days he wouldn't let me leave. I had decided, after the second cycle, that I deliberately would not count the days. I didn't know how long we had been travelling--oh, I could estimate, probably--and I didn't know if I waited another day or another week that Brendon would indeed go into kemmer. It wasn't time I had to waste. I really made a terrible First Mobile.
Brendon clasped both my hands in his as we stood outside the tent. I was ready to go, but hesitant to leave him. I stared at my boots until Brendon threw his arms around me and squeezed. I barked out a startled laugh, and Brendon pulled back, smiling sheepishly. He pressed his lips to mine, ever so gently, and then he stepped away.
"You will go," he said softly. "Do your job, Envoy."
I turned away in the direction he had pointed, and I didn't look back.
***
I walked as fast as I dared. Too fast and I would sweat, a deadly thing in the cold. But I couldn't keep to a leisurely pace. I was anxious--frightened, really. If I failed, Brendon would die.
I shouldn't have been surprised that the town was as close as it was. Brendon had an uncanny knack for spatial reasoning, and his directions had been spot on. It almost made me afraid that he wasn't far enough out and would be discovered. But Brendon knew how to take care of himself; I just needed to trust that he would.
I found people in the tavern. The instant I came through the door, their hospitality overwhelmed me. I spun a tale of a wrecked caravan while they fed me and discussed where I was to stay. I inquired as unobtrusively as I could as to the whereabouts of the nearest radio tower. Every town on Gethen big enough to earn that name had a radio tower. They were understanding of my need; of course I would have to signal for help. Of course. It wasn't a problem.
The tavern owner let me stay in one of the small rooms on the second floor of his establishment. It was sparse, but there was a bed, with a blanket, and those were things I hadn't seen in months. I lay down expecting to fall into a deep and dreamless slumber, but I couldn't. I lay awake, staring at the ceiling and thinking of Brendon. He was cold and alone in the wilderness, and here I was, warm and comfortable and on my way back to the capitol city. I wouldn't be content until I allowed my hand to slip down my body and let my mind wander back to how Brendon's hands felt on my skin, his mouth. When I came, shuddering silently under the blanket, I felt sure that I had sent my thoughts to Brendon. It was too large a distance by far for him to have actually heard me, but it felt like the connection was still there, and that I could feel his voice tickling around the edges of my mind before I fell asleep.
***
The next morning I was taken to the town's radio tower. I easily recalled the signal to awaken the ship, and the message was sent within a minute. The occupants of the ship, the other representatives of the Ekumen, would just now begin to awaken and steer the ship on a course to Gethen. Of course, depending on where it was in its orbit, this could take up to two weeks. I hoped it was less. Much less.
I needed to get to Ehrenrang. The quickest way, it appeared, was to signal the guard. This, too, was done in short order, and by lunch of that second day since I had left Brendon, I was packed into a guard landboat and headed toward the city. The trip was to take the remainder of the day and half of the next. It was so fast, compared to how Brendon and I had inched our way out of Orgoreyn, but also excruciatingly slow. I would arrive in Ehrenrang a day before the ship could possibly arrive. I had scant opportunity to assure of their welcome.
We stopped overnight in some other town of no consequence. We slept in a guard station, but I was still alone. Again I thought of Brendon as I lay in bed. It was torture, yet I couldn't bring myself to stop. I could practically hear him, imagined him watching as I touched myself and what he would say, begging me to touch him and bring him similar release. I'm sure the guards thought I was a pervert indeed, if they could hear. I didn't care.
I returned to Ehrenrang very much like how I had arrived the first time: very little fanfare. It was simply the way of the people of Karhide not to make a fuss over much of anything. This time, however, I had an almost immediate audience with the king. I was anxious, knowing how much rested on the whim of a madman.
I was taken to the palace, and I waited. The king emerged leisurely and took me in.
"I see that Urie's message was not amiss," he said slyly. "You are indeed come again to Karhide."
"I am," I agreed. "I know it is not your way, but I need to be direct with you." The king scowled at me, but waved for me to continue. I breathed a sigh of relief. He could just as easily have sent me away. I laid it all out for him. "I feel that my life has been put in danger--"
"Orgoreyn," he interrupted. I didn't protest. He was the king.
"Yes, Orgoreyn. I have signalled my ship." I paused while he digested that information. "It is now your decision, my lord, whether you shall ever see us again. Will you have Gethen--led by Karhide--join the Ekumen? Or am I merely to go, leaving you with an opportunity for diplomatic gain left untouched?"
The king paced, muttering to himself. I caught snatches of it. "Lose face" and "forcing my hand" among them. I couldn't tell which direction he was leaning.
"We shall join your Ekumen, Mr. Smith," the king said suddenly. I froze, afraid to break the spell. "Karhide shall be the first, and Orgoreyn must follow our example. As will Sith, and Perunter, and the Archipelago."
"Congratulations, my lord," I said simply. "When the ship is in orbit around the planet, they will contact me via my ansible communicator. Do your scientists still retain it in the laboratory?"
"Your communicator and your ship are both still in the laboratory, as you well know, Mr. Smith," the king grinned. "They are returned to you as a matter of course."
All at once, my mission had succeeded. I was dismissed, and the king's attendants showed me to my quarters, where I would remain until the Ekumen ship arrived. I was able to visit the laboratory and retrieve my ansible communicator from the scientists. My ship was moved outside. I could hardly keep myself still. So much of our laboring, so much of our journey would have been rendered nonexistent if I had but retained hold of my ship. I did not think how that would also have affected my relationship with Brendon.
He had been alone for three days.
***
The ansible chirped merrily on day five. I practically leaped on the thing.
"Morning, Mr. Smith!"
"Shut up, Jon!" I hissed into the communicator. "You need to get down here now!"
"We can touch ground in an hour," Commander Walker replied calmly. Nothing ever ruffled that guy; he made an excellent NAFAL pilot. "Are you in danger?"
"Not anymore," I mumbled. I could hear the half-muffled snort on the other end.
"Sitrep." I told Jon the gist of what had happened here. That I had been successful, at least.
"I need to get out of here before I create an international incident. I'm not part of the treaty team anyway."
"Alright," Jon said. "See you in forty-five."
I practically ran to my little ship to get to the meeting place. It was a large desolate area, about 30 miles north of Ehrenrang. It was perfect. The big ship came down in a roar of steam and mud. When she settled, I walked over and waited for the entry to descend.
The first out of the ship was Victoria. She was a shock. Of course she looked exactly as she did as I had last seen her, nearly three years ago. She and the remainder of the crew had been in stasis. In her eyes I could see that she did not recognize me.
"Vicky T," I chided softly, and she jerked, startled.
"Spencer! I hardly recognized you!" she said gleefully, flinging herself the rest of the way down the entry ramp to hurl herself into my arms. I received her with a grunt and thumped her companionably on the back. She was startlingly beautiful, as she ever was, and so much more female that I had grown accustomed to. I hardly wanted to touch her for fear that I would offend. "So. You need to get out of sight?" she suggested.
"I do."
"Do I even want to know what you did?" she teased.
"Probably not." I grinned at her as I raced up the ramp. I needed supplies. "I'm taking vacation!" I yelled to no one in particular as I ran through the ship. I could hear the activity of the others around me. My berth on the ship was dusty, untouched. I scanned it quickly, realizing as I did so that I had been on Gethen for three years without needing anything from that little room, so I could probably continue in that fashion. I moved on to the galley.
I filled a backpack with as much portable goods as I could. As I stood there, stuffing things into my pack, Ian and Jon found me.
"Vacation?" Ian wondered with a smirk. "I don't think you're coming back." I ignored him.
"I didn't think you were long for this service," Jon added. I looked up then. "You did a good job, Spence." I just stood there as Jon wrapped me up in a hug. We had been friends, before this mission. "Where can I take you?"
***
Jon landed the little ship within fifty feet of the tent. It had been five days since I had left it, but there was hardly a sign that anyone had been outside. In fact, we had missed the camp completely on our first pass over. The tent was almost completely buried in snow.
I leaped from the ship when Jon opened the hatch, and I could hear him laughing at me as I floundered in the deep snow.
"I hope she's worth it, Smith!" he yelled. I stopped and turned back to look at him. He didn't know. Of course he didn't. Jon's laughter went on as I moved toward the tent.
The fastening was stiff and frozen and a chill ran through me so hard that I had to hunch over until it subsided. I managed eventually to get in the tent, and inside, it was cold, the stove was set to its lowest mark, and Brendon lay unmoving in his sleeping bag. I fell to the floor beside him and could see that Brendon was pale and cold and he was barely breathing. I choked back a sob as I gathered him up into my arms.
I carried Brendon back to the ship, terrified. He felt like he weighed hardly anything, and he was limp. Jon gaped at me when I emerged from the tent and hopped out to help me get Brendon through the hatch. His eyes were huge as I tucked Brendon down where he couldn't fall as we flew.
"Holy shit, Spencer!" Jon whispered harshly. "Who is that?"
"Brendon Urie rem ir Estraven," I told him.
"The Prime Minister of Karhide?" he asked. My eyes snapped up to meet his. I hadn't known that Jon knew anything at all about the diplomatic mission. He was the pilot. It's not like we operated on a "Need to Know" basis in the Ekumen, but Jon hadn't needed to know anything, just how to get there. It shouldn't have come as a suprise. Jon was a good listener.
"The former Prime Minister," I corrected. "Exiled for helping me, and Gethen, above Karhide. He has a death sentence, Jon, I have to get him out of here."
"Where to?"
I couldn't help it. I leaned over and hugged Jon as hard as I could. He grinned and smacked at me, but I hung on.
"You're a good friend, Jon."
"The best," he said flippantly, closing the hatch and preparing once more for takeoff. He flopped into his seat and looked up at me. "Well?"
"I'd take him offworld with us if I thought I could get away with it," I mused, looking down at Brendon's still form. "The next best thing... is the other side."
Jon started punching up maps and navigational charts that I didn't even know existed. He flicked several away quickly, narrowing it down to a few. One caught my eye, and I jabbed at it with the point of my finger.
"There?" Jon sounded unsure. I nodded.
"It's as close to desert island as we're going to get on this planet," I said, smiling ruefully. Jon rolled his eyes. "Besides, I hear the Archipelago is nice. It thaws for a couple months."
"It's on the other side of the planet, and it's practically uninhabited. Sit down and shut up, Smith, or you'll wake up your international incident." It seemed a bit harsh, but Jon smiled as he spoke.
"Let's go," I said as I buckled myself in.
***
Brendon slept the entire way to the Archipelago; I don't think he even moved. It frightened me, because he was so unnaturally pale and cool to the touch. But his breathing was stronger, so I latched onto that as a good sign.
Jon was a laid-back flyer. The ship practically flew itself, but Jon didn't press me for conversation. I was grateful. I didn't know what I would say to him.
We could see the islands of the Archipelago as we approached. Only the largest were populated, which meant that there were many available from which to choose. Jon punched up a set of maps again, and peered down at the screen to study them. They were incredibly detailed, down to the roads and buildings. I half expected to see people moving in them.
Jon bounced in his seat and yelped, poking at the computer with a satisfied flourish.
"Found you one! Looks abandoned, but near enough to one of the larger islands that you'll be able to get over there for supplies," he chortled, obviously pleased with himself. "But far enough that they'll probably leave you alone." He winked. I was horrified, burying my face in my hands as he snickered.
"You're very clever," I deadpanned.
"I know," he grinned, showing all his teeth.
"You're a pig."
"No, I think that's you." Jon waggled his eyebrows at me before glancing at Brendon. "He's a hotass, Smith."
"He saved my life," I said softly.
"Ah. Obligation. I get it."
"It's not like that," I replied.
"What's it like then?" Jon wondered. I gazed at Brendon while I tried to figure out how to explain it. Something must have crossed my face, because Jon reached over and patted my knee, squeezing gently before he straightened up in his seat. He understood. He was risking everything to fly Brendon out of Karhide; of course he understood.
***
The island Jon chose for us was tiny, barely more than a rock with an old abandoned house and a small barn. We left Brendon in the ship while we investigated. The house was in surprisingly good condition. It was solid, with thick walls and doors and windows that still sealed. The state of the barn didn't matter, as we didn't have animals or gear to put in there, but Jon insisted we check it out anyway. It, too, was sturdy, if a bit shabby. Gethenians built things to last.
Ian had taken it upon himself to practically bankrupt the storeroom in the large ship. I was embarassed, but grateful. Not only was there a plentiful supply of food, but cookware and dishes as well. There were several changes of clothes, bedding, and an ansible.
"Do you want the ship?" Jon asked me as I stared at the ansible. I shook my head. We had Brendon's skis and snowshoes. If we wanted to remain unobtrusive on Gethen, we couldn't keep the ship. "I can have Ian come get me. He's safe; I taught him everything he knows."
"I bet that took a couple minutes, even," I said with a snort. Jon punched me in the arm.
"Are you sure?" Jon pressed. "I don't want to leave you here with nothing."
I looked around the little house. It was warming up. The fireplace worked, and there was a sizeable store of fuel in the barn. It seemed like the previous occupants had just picked up and left. Practically everything we could need remained, or had been rammed into the ship by an overzealous First Officer.
"I could probably use a copy of those maps," I suggested. Jon snapped his fingers and ambled off to the ship. He came flying back in a moment later.
"You need to--" he gasped.
I was running out the door before the words were even out of his mouth. I leaped through the hatch, expecting to find Brendon dead, but he was stirring. I slid the rest of the way across the floor and was at his side when he opened his eyes.
"Spencer," he said, the tiniest smile curving his lips. I stroked his cheek, and his eyes slipped shut again. He was still so cold. I glanced back at the hatch, and Jon's head poked through.
"I'm taking him back to the house," I told him, and gathered Brendon up.
***
Brendon slept for eighteen hours. Jon refused to leave until we were sure he was actually going to wake up. I guess he didn't plan on leaving me on Gethen alone. I appreciated it and resented it at the same time. I had been alone on Gethen for three years. I didn't need a babysitter now.
Brendon slowly came up out of his sleep. His color improved, his temperature rose, and he even began moving slightly. When he finally opened his eyes for real, I practically cried with relief.
"It was like you were in stasis. Or hibernating," I told him. Brendon frowned and shook his head; he didn't understand. "I can explain later."
"It was something we were taught when we were young, by the Handdara, to conserve our energy in times of emergency." Again I found myself thankful for his harsh upbringing. It had saved us both on the ice. It had saved Brendon again in this last push to survive Karhide.
"Could you not do it again?"
"I'll do my best," he said, glancing down at his hands twisted in the blanket. His lashes were in stark contrast to his skin. When he looked up, it was not at me, but beyond. I turned to see Jon in the doorway. I introduced them, and endured a spirited round of greetings. Jon was not a diplomat. Then again, none of us were, anymore.
Jon bade me to accompany him back to the ship. Once outside I noticed that she was prepared for takeoff, and so too was Jon. He sidled up to me and insinuated his way into a hug, slapping me on the back heartily.
"I hereby relieve you of your duties," said Jon with a little bow and a dip of the head.
"You can't do that!" I squawked.
"I just did."
"But what will the Ekumen--" Jon put up his hand to stop me.
"Let me take care of them," he said confidently, his eyes sparkling. I kind of didn't want to know what he was going to tell them. "Stay here. At least until the treaty has been forged and the alliance is assured."
"That could take years," I put in.
"You're right," Jon agreed, bobbing his head. "You have an ansible. We have an ansible. If you ever need anything, you can let us know. And then, when the diplomatic team is happy with the treaty, we can decide what to do with you."
"'We'?" I asked suspiciously.
"Well, you might decide to die of a fever," he teased.
"Heard that?"
"Oh yeah," Jon laughed. "Or we may need another ambassador. You never know." His gaze strayed back to the house, and I followed it to see Brendon standing at the door, wrapped head to toe in a blanket. Jon smiled at him, and sort of half saluted before he turned back to me. "Now you have some time to decide."
"Thanks, Jon."
I hugged him again before he climbed into the ship. Then I joined Brendon at the door and we watched as the ship rose up smoothly and disappeared beyond the horizon.
"Are you sure?" Brendon asked. His voice cracked, and his brow was creased with concern as he stared at the sky. "It's not too late. You don't have to stay here with me in exile."
"I have been in exile for a long time," I said, suddenly tired. "Even if I returned to Hain when this mission was completed, everyone I knew, everything I had there would be gone."
"You haven't been away so very long..."
"We timejump, Brendon," I reminded him. I saw it click. "I was born almost 127 years ago."
"Wow, you look good," he smirked. I kicked halfheartedly at his foot. Brendon pushed me through the door and slammed it shut behind us. "Did I mention," he began, as he let the blanket slide from his shoulders, "that I can only fall into torpor right before I go into kemmer? It's a way to put it off..."
"No," I said, breathless. "I think I would have remembered that." Brendon grinned, backing me up to the wall and pressing himself up against me, rolling his hips so I could feel his erection trapped between us.
"The side benefit is that I can stay under for days and need practically nothing," he said with his mouth pressed to the soft spot under my jaw. "But then when I wake up, kemmer is almost instantaneous."
"I see that," I said agreeably. Brendon laughed and pushed me again, toward the tiny bedroom.
"You are mine now, Mr. Smith," he teased, his voice low, and his hands insistent.
"Oh, was that the plan all along?"
"Well, it is now."