"Faster," Inlan whispered. Clementine quickened her pace.

But the strain from riots, thievery, and abuse by said thieves had finally taken its toll on the 80-year-old cello case. The handle snapped off on one side, and the heavy end slapped hard against the metal floor.

"Up ahead!" someone yelled. "I heard something."

Luckily the buckles held, so the cello itself was still secure inside. Clementine bent over to pick it up.

"Leave it," Inlan said.

"No," she whispered harshly. She'd gotten into this whole mess because she'd been unwilling to leave Daisy behind. She wasn't about to give up on her now.

The echoing footsteps made it sound like the men were already in the same hallway, and Clementine's heart railed against her chest. But their nearness did come with its advantages. Their flashlights were bright enough for her to see, and she quickly hefted Daisy onto her back, wrapping one arm around the case like it was a toddler, and extending the other one towards Inlan. He took it and started running.

It wasn't easy running hunched over with such an awkward burden, so Clementine didn't see the men when they finally moved into their corridor. She did, however, know the instant the men saw them.

"The alien! Over here!" a man cried. A flashlight shone on Clementine. "He's got the girl!"

Inlan swung to the side and bolted down a different hall, dragging her behind him. Her legs and arms were growing heavy already. Perhaps it was because she'd only gotten a few hours' sleep, or maybe she'd used up too much energy trying to get away from Cody and Rhett. Either way, her hold on the cello weakened, and it tilted dangerously to the side. She jerked her hand out of Inlan's to right the instrument.

"Leave it and let me carry you," he said, stopping beside her. "We'll be faster."

"Stop telling me to do that," she said, sticking out her hand for him. "I'm not leaving her."

She couldn't see his face, but she sensed his disapproval. He didn't argue though, taking her hand and racing ahead. The men from Humans Right chased after them, their flashlights shining angrily on her and Inlan. The crack of gunfire echoed in the enclosed space right as Inlan pulled them down another hall.

"Don't fire!" someone yelled. "Gretta wants her alive."

That's good to know.

Someone else said something that was too quiet to understand, but the reply was clear enough.

"Kill him if you can."

Clementine's illusion of safety withered.

Inlan was running almost too fast for her to keep up, but she could tell from the way his speed wavered that he was holding back. Daisy was slipping again. If those men caught up...

"Wait," she said, pulling her hand free.

"They're getting closer," said Inlan. "We can't --"

"I know." Panting, she slid Daisy off her back and laid it carefully on its side against the wall, praying that the men would run past without tripping on it or damaging it somehow. She pressed her hand against the wooden case, grief and guilt preventing her from letting go. It felt like a betrayal, like she was leaving Nana Marion herself there in the hall, alone, defenseless.

"Are you sure?" asked Inlan. He wasn't out of breath.

No.

The men rounded the corner. "Here!" one of them shouted.

"Yes." She turned to Inlan. He switched on the flashlight and handed it to her, then turned his back on her and hunched down, extending his arms backwards.

Now it's my turn to be the toddler, she thought, wrapping her arms around his neck and hopping on.

She'd been right about him holding back. He burst forward like an Olympic sprinter, quickly leaving the mob behind. His muscles flexed and strained beneath her, and Clementine couldn't help but wonder if anyone else had ever been this close to him. From what Tierney had told her about Relican pairing, it was an awful, almost medical procedure. They wore cloaks so neither partner could see the other's naked body, and a doctor stood there the whole time, making sure no one enjoyed themselves too much -- or at all. The woman basically couldn't move, while the guy drilled into her doggie style, finishing as fast as possible.

Knowing that Relicans didn't touch skin to skin made her hyper aware of all the places she and Inlan were currently breaking that rule: her arms clinging tightly around his broad shoulders, his hands firmly gripping the inside of her knees. Her cheek rested on the back of his neck, making every breath full of his faint, coppery scent.

"We're almost there," he said, panting slightly. "Less than a train left."

His chest vibrated beneath hers with the resonance of his low voice, and her legs tightened around him reflexively. His breath grew heavier.

"A train?" she asked, grateful for the distraction from his firm, smooth flesh. When they kissed, she'd been too overwhelmed by desire to notice how much harder than a human's it was, yet it wasn't so rigid that it felt mechanical. No, the body she was clinging to, the body rubbing and bouncing between her spread legs, was very much alive.

"I'm not sure what the conversion is," he said. "It's the average length of the old mining trains -- several carts linked together."

He took one last turn, and soon slowed to a stop in front of a closed door.

"For future reference," she said, sliding off of him, "I'd say that was maybe a hundred feet?" Her legs were quivering more than she expected from her stimulating ride, and she grabbed his arm for balance.

He started at the sudden touch, but his surprise quickly changed to concern. "Are you okay?"

Why did he have to be so sweet? She'd done a decent job of convincing herself she was done with him, and then he swoops in knight-in-shining-armor-that's-really-his-actual-skin style, making her laugh, literally sweeping her off her feet, getting her all hot and bothered with his rock hard body. She didn't want to like him so much.

"I don't know," she said with a sigh. Shining the flashlight on the door, she asked, "Where are we?"

"This is the storage room for excess transport pods." He opened the hatch and once they'd taken a few steps into the dark room, the lights came on to reveal a long row of transports. It looked like a train station, with the pods lined up on the right, each with a corresponding open doorway in front of it.

"Why don't the lights come on out in the hallways?" she asked, following him to the nearest transport.

"They were deactivated by the Squad after we started searching for the Vice President. We didn't want to alert anyone of our approach." He frowned at the pod door.

"What's the matter?" she asked, trying not to stare at his impressive body. Even though the mechasuit was basically a second skin, seeing his actual skin and muscles, all shimmery and chiseled, was enough to revive the pulses of desire that had started to ebb since they entered the room.

"Without my mechasuit, I need to figure out how to open the doors manually." He found a panel on the outside of the pod just like the ones in the transport station and pressed a button to activate it. He stared at the symbols with narrow eyes.

"You don't know how to open it?"

She hadn't meant it as a criticism, but his eyes flickered her way and his cheeks darkened. "My specialty is assembling Culture Reports and helping design the cart dwellings, but as a member of Planetary I also catalog and study potential relocation planets."

"So, that's a no."

He tapped a series of buttons, then another. The doors remained closed.

"That's a no," he agreed with a sigh, then turned to study the doorways.

"Can't we go out through those?"

"Those are nanzas." He used the Relican word, but she recognized it as the same one he'd used for the weird light/glass window the Relicans had installed at her house. "We can't go through without the right counter-wave."

Clementine looked back at the transport. "Do you know how to open the panel?" At his raised eyebrow, she said, "Humor me."

With a hint of a smile, he tapped some buttons, then pressed both of his hands to the panel. It popped out, like the one in the auditorium had been, and she saw the gold strand of light at the top.

"Do you have anything metal?" she asked, patting her own pockets.

The buttons on my shorts... Maybe the underwire in my bra?

He didn't reply, and she looked up to see him holding up his hands.

"Oh, right," she said. "If you interrupt that gold light, the door should open."

Inlan grimaced. "That wouldn't go over well. Getting..." He frowned, clearly struggling to find the right English word.

"Electrocuted?" she suggested.

"That means being the victim of a waveshock?" he asked, walking behind the pod and over to the wall.

"If by waveshock you mean electricity, then yes, it does."

He pressed on a panel with the same symbol that had been on the vacuum in his room on the Irral, and it slid open. "Yes," he said, rifling through the contents of the drawer. "Getting electrocuted is only marginally better than, say, being dropped in Jovi's Mouth."

"Are you going to tell me what that is?" she asked after he was silent for a few moments.

Pulling out a handful of tools, he began sorting through them, tossing one after another back into the drawer.

"It's a giant lake in the Softlands," he said, "named after Jovi, the greatest warrior Relica has ever seen. There are many different stories, but the most popular one is that he had defeated every fighter on Relica, and wanted to challenge the Great Metalsmith. He bargained with Vor -- your version of the devil -- for the knowledge of how to make a serum that would make him even stronger and live forever. Vor gave him the oil, but only if Jovi swore he would never share it with another. Aha!"

He held up what looked like a small version of a crow bar, but with a rubber handle. Closing the drawer, he continued his story as he walked over. "Jovi battled the Great Metalsmith and won, but also accidentally wounded his mate, who had joined the spectators. To save her from death, Jovi gave her a drop of the oil. She lived, but Vor appeared, and dragged Jovi under the rock and into Pit, creating the lake."

"Pit is like hell?" asked Clementine.

"Yeah," he said absently, frowning at the grid of lights.

"That is a surprisingly romantic story," she said with a smile.

"It's said that soon afterwards Relica devolved into chaos because of his absence. The story is intended to be a parable, warning against the dangers of choosing one life over another."

Clementine's smile drooped into a scowl. "Of course it is."

He turned his gaze on her. "You're sure about this?" he asked, gesturing to the transport panel. "If it's the wrong one, we could trigger the transport mode and get very squished very fast."

She stifled her smile. Squished was such a... human word for him to say.

"If these work the same way as the transport doors in the auditorium, then yes, I'm sure."

Inlan glanced back at the nanzas, then frowned at the panel again. "Okay. You stand over there, though," he said, pointing by the main door.

Clementine did as he said, although now she was beginning to doubt herself. She didn't know anything about Relican technology. What if he did get... squished, and it was all her fault?

He raised the tool towards the grid of lights.

"Inlan," she began. He turned his honey colored eyes on her.

The door handle behind her started turning. Clementine jumped away.

"Now!" she cried.

Inlan winced and poked the tool into the gold beam of light. The doors opened.

So did the door to the transport bay. It wasn't the whole group -- they must have split up to search for them -- but even those four men were more than Clementine wanted to see. She jumped into the pod.

"How do we get it to move?" she asked, but Inlan was still outside, pressing buttons on the panel.

Duh.

She leaned back out. Two of the men stood at the door, raising their guns at Inlan, while the other two rushed for the pod.

"Inlan!" she shouted. "Get in!"

"The destination can only be entered from out here," he said, his voice surprisingly calm. "Step back."

"What?" Her heart iced over as she understood what he meant to do. "No!"

A bullet struck the pod, and she ducked reflexively. A firm hand shoved her back, and she fell into the transport.

"Inlan!" she shouted, but before she could get back up, the pod doors closed, sealing her in.

"No!" she screamed, slamming her hands on the door. "Inlan!"

Without any windows, she couldn't see what was happening. Was he okay? Had he been shot?

Two more gunshots sounded. One of the bullets struck the side of the pod, and someone in front of the transport yelped in pain.

"Inlan!" Clementine shouted, certain he'd been hit.

Something crashed onto the roof right as the screen above switched on, telling her the pod was moving. She'd never been so furious to see a blue sky.

"Inlan!" she screamed. "What did you do?!"

A hard pounding hammered on the roof. Clementine backed against the wall. Did one of Gretta's men climb on?

The digital display flickered as the pounding continued behind it. Clementine looked around the pod for something to use as a weapon. Going for the stack of spare seats, she pulled off the top one just as the ceiling came crashing down, with a man right behind it. Without the bright display the transport was now only lit by a single string of lights around the perimeter of the ceiling, but it was enough for her to recognize who had joined her.

"Inlan!" she cried.

He looked up at her and gave a pained smile. "Why are you always trying to hit me with chairs?"

Clementine laughed and tossed the seat aside. Rushing over to him, she threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him.

Inlan's shoulder seared from the projectile lodged in it, but the balm of Clementine's kiss made him forget his pain. Her scalding tongue prodded between his lips, massaging his own. He dug his hands into her hair, relishing its silky strands on his bare skin. The need that had consumed him earlier when she was on his back returned in a crushing wave at her touch.

She gripped his neck, locking him in place, while her body curved to match his. He slid his hands down her back, pushing her even tighter against him. He felt bare skin beneath his fingers, and discovered that he was beneath her shirt, holding her smooth, narrow waist. Her hands mirrored his, sliding down his sides and beneath his mechasuit, pinching his hips.

His hunger for her raged, devouring him. He lowered his hands even farther, squeezing her soft but firm rear. Her clothes were so thin. He could rip them off of her effortlessly, even without his mechasuit strength. Getting out of his own ridiculous outfit would be easy. The knots had been loosening even before the Earthans barged into the transport bay. His organ throbbed angrily, desperate to be free of the many layers of material between it and Clementine. He slid his hand into her shorts and tightened his fist around the flimsy fabric.

Leaping back, he ripped himself away from her. Without him to support her, she almost toppled forward. He didn't reach forward to steady her, but she regained her footing before falling.

"What is it?" she asked, looking around the pod in fear.

He couldn't answer. His brain had stopped working. His desire to touch her was maddening, but equally as powerful was the certainty that he shouldn't. He couldn't.

"Inlan?"

The vulnerability in her voice, in her face, the way she wrapped her arms around herself, made him want to jump out of the pod and start running.

Her eyes moved to his shoulder.

"You're bleeding. Why didn't you tell me? Did I hurt you?"

The side of her shirt was dark with his blood. A confession of his crime, for all the world to see.

She looked around the pod, then directed her attention to her shirt. "Well," she said with a smirk, "it's ruined anyway." She started to take it off.

"Don't!" he cried.

She ignored him, pulling it over her head. "You've been shot. You need to stop the bleeding." The sight of her breasts, and the shimmering purple undergarment that seemed to push them up more than it covered them, made his organ stretch even farther forward, sending a crippling pulse of desire through his body.

"Clementine," he moaned.

She smirked and moved towards him. "We'll be shirtless twins."

Spinning to the side, he punched the thin wall of the pod. The transports were designed to be light and fast, and his hand went straight through. The pain in his hand overwhelmed his lust, but not entirely. Pulling his fist back, he punched another hole, right above it. The darkness from the transport range seeped into the already dim space.

"Umm, what was that?"

Clementine stood with her shirt in her hands, staring at him with fear and shock. Good. She should be as scared of him as he was. He'd never lost control like this. Never. Sure, he'd lost his temper a lot when he was a kid, and he'd definitely fantasized about girls during his frenzy, but nothing even came close to the way he wanted her.

"I can't do this," he whispered, turning away from her. "I can't be what you want me to be."

He slowly flexed his fingers, waiting for her reply. He was pretty sure he hadn't broken anything -- the pain was already receding -- but his hand was swelling. He'd have a nasty orange bruise tomorrow.

She still hadn't said anything, so he risked a glance back at her.

"I don't want you to be anything," she said, walking over to him. She started wrapping the shirt around his shoulder, but he moved away.

"You don't have to --"

"Just be quiet, please," she snapped, staying with him. She tied the shirt so the knot was on top of the source of the bleeding. The pressure hurt, but not as much as her anger. When she finished, she spun around and stood at the far end of the transport. Inlan sat down and pressed his head in his hands.

What did he expect to happen? He had been playing with molten ore this whole time -- daydreaming about her, fantasizing about them stealing time together -- all the while vowing that he'd never follow through, telling himself that he cared more about Relica and the Squad than he did about his own petty needs. But he couldn't deny who he was. He was a bronze. A bronze who only cared about one thing.

"Where are we going?"

Clementine's question -- her voice -- drifted into his consciousness. He looked up and saw her sitting opposite him across the pod.

"Cart control," he said, clearing his throat.

She stared up at the hole in the ceiling.

"Everything here is fake, you know?" she said. "The grass, the houses, the food. Every day is too perfect to be real -- sunny 70 degrees, with a light breeze and white puffy clouds. Even the metal and the wood. It's all almost what it's supposed to be, but none of it is exactly right."

Inlan didn't know what to say. His job was to make everything on the cart as true to the relocation species' environment as possible. He'd adjusted the temperatures across the cart depending on which zone of Earth a particular population was from, designed dwellings according to the popular custom of the region, and even taken into account the dietary preferences of different Earthan cultures. And she was saying it wasn't enough?

She ran her hand over the seat beside her before continuing. "Even Zack --" Her calm voice faltered, breaking on his name. She took a breath, leaning back. "He turned out to be fake too."

His indignation disappeared as he began to understand. Counting this one, he'd participated in eight relocations since joining the Squad. Eight planets had been destroyed, and eight populations had been saved from decimation. Other than the Earthans, every species they rescued had been effusive with their praise and gratitude for the Relican Squad. Inlan had taken their happiness at face value, thinking that being saved and given an equitable planet was enough. He hadn't ever given much thought to the likelihood that these people might not be entirely satisfied, and probably never would be.

"You're one of the few things that felt real."

Her words, flat and empty, struck him deep, more painful than punching through the wall. He'd toyed with her as much as he'd toyed with himself, and now he wasn't the only one struggling with the consequences.

The transport doors opened. Standing on the other side was a group of men, wearing all black, pointing guns into the pod.

Ah, yes. Coming up with a clever plan for retaking cart control probably would have been a better use of their time.

He let out a sigh of defeat and said, "We're here."