Chapter 22

Chapter 22

After Herman left, Yor packed up his stuff and headed out too.

There was still a bunch of junk left in the escape pod—nothing major, except the sleep pod.

After getting used to those cocoon-style sleep pods on starships, going back to Vorna's hard bunk felt like sleeping on a rock. His whole body ached down to the bone, and Yor figured the hard bed was at least half the reason for his nightmares.

Plus, the sleep pod could track his vitals. He... needed to know what the hell was going on with his body.

The public maglev was crammed with miners, all squeezed together in gray-blue work uniforms, the air thick with dust and the sharp stench of ore and gunpowder.

Yor wedged himself into the last row by the window, one hand pressed against his lower back. He'd squeezed out one drop of honey that morning, and now his back ached so bad he could barely stand up straight. The discomfort had left a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead.

He turned to watch the yellow sand blur past the window, but even the weird scenery couldn't do much to distract him.

His lower belly... had this weird dragging feeling—not painful, just heavy. Yor glanced down at his still-flat stomach, not wanting to think about it too much, and felt like cursing someone out.

Damn those bugs.

Those motherless, fatherless bugs—they were the real problem.

Once he got the sleep pod back, he'd run a check.

Yor silently made his plans. What else could he do? He'd combed the forums over and over—not one post about failed Broodmother experiments ever mentioned pregnancy. Which made sense, honestly. If they could get pregnant, they wouldn't be failures, and they wouldn't have gotten out.

Besides, even if someone else had slipped through the cracks, they'd probably be just like him—hiding, skulking, walking on eggshells.

And anyway... even without a test, it was his own body. How could Yor not have a clue?

He was mad enough to bite someone, but he had zero options.

The bug race had no medical need for birth control, let alone abortion... He couldn't find any meds for it.

The maglev was quick. Once he hit the spaceport, Yor found the escape pod fast.

He grabbed some odds and ends, pulled out the sleep pod, and turned the rest of the hull over to the port for recycling. Only after all that was done did he call a cargo hauler to take him back.

His wallet had gotten thinner again.

On the other side of the port, Herman was looking around for the mission's broker—also his old friend of many years—Lima.

The port was quieter than usual. Lima stood by his old starship, an unlit cigarette held between his fingers. When he saw Herman coming, he tucked the cigarette back into the pack. "Mission's delayed. We're not going out today."

Herman stopped short. "Why?"

"The Purification Clan pulled some shady crap again—shelled out a ton of mechanical limbs. Even retired war bugs like us out in this backwater warzone got a piece, and a lot of folks got the slots." Lima jerked his chin toward the port. "Everyone's rushing to get their front and back limbs swapped out. Nobody's thinking about missions right now."

Herman went quiet for a second.

It wasn't that he wanted a slot. His prosthetic's issue wasn't old versus new—it was the psychic link.

But with the mission delayed and no stall goods on him, he wasn't sure what to do with himself today.

Another retired war bug came over and bumped Herman's shoulder. "Why the long face? The mission pays well, but we might run into the Serian clan. With our wrecked psychic abilities, we'd basically be throwing our lives away."

He chuckled. "One more day before we go die—shouldn't you be happy?"

Another bug overheard and cut him off. "Escort missions for domain clan hatchlings pay well and are easy. Chances of running into Serians are low. Missions like this are rare—Lima only calls us for these. What the hell are you saying?"

The joking bug finally realized his screw-up. "Haha, this mouth of mine..."

Lima shook his head with a good-natured smile and lazily pointed a finger at the bug who'd misspoken, not bothered at all.

He leaned closer to Herman. "Your psychic energy looks a little better?"

Herman grunted vaguely. "...Came across some medicine by chance."

That clearly meant he didn't want to get into it.

Lima tactfully dropped it, just bringing the unlit cigarette to his nose and sniffing it.

High-end medicine—that stuff was rare. Made sense Herman didn't want to talk about it. Lima had known him for over ten years and knew how tight-lipped this bug could be, so he didn't push it.

With no mission to run, they shot the shit for a while before splitting up.

Herman took a few steps, then stopped and glanced back at Lima.

Lima caught on right away. "Something on your mind?"

"About who gets my death benefits," Herman said, looking a little embarrassed. "I want to change it."

He sent Yor's name and address over to Lima's terminal.

Lima was genuinely surprised. He stared down at the address—Herman's neighbor?

A newbie?

This bug... he wasn't getting played, was he...

Lima turned off the screen, stuck the cigarette in his mouth, and lit it.

But in the end, Lima kept his mouth shut. Through the swirling smoke, he helped Herman finish the beneficiary change.

When Yor got back to the hillside, Herman was standing at the yard gate.

Before he could even say hi, the war bug silently walked over, hoisted the sleep pod, and carried it into the yard.

Looking at those perfectly fitted mechanical limbs—his psychic energy had recovered?

Yor raised an eyebrow but didn't stop him.

He'd eaten Yor's honey, so helping carry some stuff was only fair.

Though...

"...Weren't you supposed to be on a mission?" Yor followed behind Herman, carrying the smaller stuff.

"Delayed." Herman set the sleep pod down at the bedroom door, then went inside and quickly took apart the hard bunk to make room. "Leaving tomorrow. Thanks for the medicine."

He didn't bring up the death benefits—after all, he wasn't dead yet.

The sleep pod needed to be assembled and calibrated.

Herman was quiet but worked fast. Yor had gotten used to his silence, but watching the bug help out, he felt like he had to say something.

What came out, though, was: "Those medals... the ones you sell at your stall—got any more?"

Herman checked the base of the sleep pod. "Yeah. You want one?"

"Yeah." Yor said, "Set one aside for me."

Why was he asking a bug for things again...

Yor rubbed his brow. "I'll cook dinner tonight. I picked up some groceries on the way out."

His cooking was passable.

Herman remained silent, but nodded.

Herman was a reliable bug. After dinner, he even moved the hard board bed to the shed in the backyard, properly stored it away before leaving.

That night, Yor lay in the sleep pod. The snug fit was indeed comfortable, but he couldn't fall asleep.

The test results were out, the screen displaying a bunch of red data. As for the part Yor cared most about... there was only a vague conclusion: "Abnormal signal detected in the abdominal region. No similar records found. It is recommended to seek further examination at a medical facility."

Yor stared at those words repeatedly, then finally shut off the screen.

Stupid bug-built AI.

The soreness in his lower back had already spread across the whole area, and the dragging weight in his lower abdomen grew heavier.

He pulled out the palliative agent. Today's dose was already a third above the recommended amount, but it only lasted two hours. Now the dull, aching fullness was creeping back.

He was running low on the palliative. He needed to find a solution.

And besides... his pheromones made it clear that what he needed wasn't a palliative.

His body needed a male bug's pheromones.

Even just contact. Even just being near.

In the dead of night, when the body ached, the mind was especially prone to wandering.

Yor took a few ragged breaths, his gaze landed on the medal Herman had just brought. He knew he shouldn't, but he reached out anyway and closed his palm around it.

The metallic chill pressed into his palm, then wound its way downward, soothing the ache. He let out a muffled groan, forehead pressed against the sleep pod's wall, breathing heavily, but deep down he only felt emptier, a quiet resentment rising.

After a long while, he let go, set the medal back beside the pillow, and sat up.

He threw on his coat, walked down the narrow path, half-buried in yellow sand, between the two houses, and knocked on Herman's door.

Herman opened the door quickly, as if he already knew who it was. Seeing Yor late at night, he didn't seem surprised.

Yor opened his mouth, but no words came out.

His face was pale, his lips trembling, his body hollow—he couldn't bring himself to say "I need you."

Herman looked at him, silent for a few seconds. He gave a subtle sniff, a barely noticeable twitch of his nostrils.

He didn't ask. He didn't say anything extra. He simply stepped aside, making room in the doorway.

The lights were off inside. In the darkness, Yor couldn't see much, only felt a warm hand reach out and take his.

Herman didn't take him to the bedroom. He just sat down on the old sofa in the living room.

The sofa was small. Yor could sit upright at first, but at some point, he found himself in the male bug's arms.

Like an adult holding a child.

The male bug's calm pheromone scent reached his nose—not strong, not sharp, nothing like the overwhelming pheromones on the starship before. Instead... it was like an old quilt that had been left out in the winter sun all day.

Yor's body stopped trembling. The restless heat surging from within slowly faded.

He slept dreamlessly.

When dawn broke, Yor felt the hand holding his was stiff as a board. He glanced at Herman.

The male bug remained in the same position, completely still, even his breathing deliberately soft.

Yor gave him a gentle nudge. "You... aren't you going to ask me anything?"

Herman was silent for a long moment, but Yor knew he was choosing his words. Sure enough, he finally spoke: "You... weren't in control of yourself."

Yor tugged at the corner of his mouth, but his nose prickled.

Suppressing the emotions that had been so easily triggered lately, Yor murmured, "Thank you."

Herman remained taciturn as ever, only adding one line as he watched Yor go: "I have to head out for the mission. It might take many days."

Yor nodded vaguely. Then fled.

This mission required getting familiar with the team first, so they gathered at Lima's bar.

When Lima saw Herman, his pupils constricted sharply.

If Herman's mental state had been merely stable before, clearly improved, then today... Herman looked like he'd been soaked in that "premium agent" all night. The chaos, the agitation, the constantly churning foreign elements around his mental sea—all of it had gone still.

Lima's gaze lingered on his face for a long moment, his voice low: "What did you do last night?"

Herman didn't answer, just flipped through the mission briefing. "How long will the mission take? Can we start as soon as possible?"

The mission had already been delayed a day, so it was urgent. Lima frowned and saw the group off.

......

But once the mission ship left port, Lima hesitated, then pulled up that address on his terminal and headed out.

Yor was basking in the sun in the yard.

===========

He was still in rough shape, but better than yesterday—at least he'd slept.

It was still early. The morning sunlight on Vorna was mild, not scorching, baking into him like it was slowly drawing out the chill that had settled in his bones overnight.

Yor lounged in the recliner, eyes half-closed, enjoying a rare moment of not wanting to move.

Footsteps approached from outside the yard—light, steady.

Yor opened his eyes.

A male bug, one size smaller than Herman, stood outside the gate. Worn gray-blue coat, broad shoulders but not exaggerated like a war bug's. His face lacked the rough coarseness common among local bugs, but the faint lines on his skin showed his age.

The male bug was staring fixedly at him.

Those eyes, though curious, held no sharpness—like... like a slow, gentle stream.

Yor frowned at the visitor.

He should be wary. A stranger bug standing at his gate for no reason, staring at him—that was hardly normal by any measure.

But Yor found he couldn't muster much hostility, and even his wariness was only a fleeting flicker.

The visitor was, of course, Lima. Before Yor could get up, he spoke.

"Herman said he came across a premium agent by accident," he paused, "but what I see is a Broodmother."