“It will be fine, Sarah,” Rosalind sighs, rubbing her temples, resting her elbows on the desk in front of her.

“But he has control of the water, the implications are far reaching!” I exclaim.

“Yes,” Rosalind agrees, shrugging.

“He played me!” I yell, jumping to my feet and throwing my hands in the air.

Rosalind watches without speaking. I pace back and forth in front of her desk long enough that my irritation lowers and I take my seat again.

“Better?”

“No,” I grouse.

“Sometimes we lose,” she says. “It’s a fact, it happens. How we deal with it is what defines us.”

Nodding, I close my eyes and count to five. She’s right. I can’t change the past. “Okay,” I say, exhaling a long slow breath. “So he’s got ahead of us but he hasn’t won the war, right?”

“Exactly,” she says. “What we have to do is plan for our next move. Tell me everything you observed.”

I launch into a full debriefing. Rosalind stops me at random moments and asks probing questions. The things she asks about teaches me more than any lesson ever could. I’m about to wrap up when someone knocks on the door, then it opens before she says anything.

“Rosalind!” Mei says, running in, her blond hair billowing out around her, making an almost pure white halo.

“Yes?” Rosalind asks, arching an eyebrow.

“They’re here!” Mei pants.

Rosalind and I exchange a glance. Mei is bent with hands on knees, gasping. It’s obvious she ran up all the flights of stairs. Rosalind glances at the water she keeps at the corner of her desk. I pour a small glass and offer it to Mei who takes it and downs it in a single gulp. Rising, she thanks me, handing the glass back. Composing herself, she pulls her shirt straight.

“Who is here?” Rosalind asks.

“The Tribe,” Mei answers.

Shit, that was unexpected.

“Where?” Rosalind asks.

“They’re outside the airlock. There are six of them asking to speak to you.”

Rosalind nods like it isn’t a surprise at all. Judging by her reaction you’d think this was a planned visit and all perfectly routine. Jealousy at her composure stabs deep in my chest.

“Then let’s see what they want,” Rosalind says, rising to her feet.

Mei comes with us as we head for the airlock. When we arrive, a crowd has formed even at the late hour, though surprisingly I don’t see Gershom. It’s not like him to avoid being the center of attention.

The crowd parts, letting Rosalind through, and she punches the code in to open the airlock. She steps in as the door opens and I start to walk with her, but she gives me a quick, subtle glance and I remember that I’m not supposed to be seen as working directly with her.

Stopping myself, I step back into the crowd, blending in. I’ve already exposed my position more than I should have.

The door cycles shut behind her and she enters the code to open the outer door. She steps outside and a Zmaj walks forward. He carries a wooden staff and wears a cloak with a hood that he pulls back as he comes to a stop in front of Rosalind.

The two exchange words and I wish desperately that I could hear what’s said but the dome prevents that. So I study those that came with him.

The first Zmaj that catches my attention is huge. Huge as in he must be close to twice the size of any other Zmaj I’ve seen. Hulking, broad shouldered, and intimidating. He stands with arms crossed over his massive chest, glaring at everyone around. His massive tail shifts side to side in slow, even strokes. I remember seeing him when the Tribe arrived originally. He’s the kind of guy that could never blend into a crowd. He dominates the scene by his physical presence alone.

Two other Zmaj are with him that I don’t recognize but the third is Astarot. He stands next to Lana, watching.

Rosalind and the apparent leader of the Tribe exchange words as the crowd of survivors murmur. Generally, they want to know what is happening and what to expect next. Someone brings up Gershom and my stomach sinks. Someone else mentions the fountain having water and how wonderful it is. Another person wonders aloud if somehow the Tribe knows we have a new water supply since they showed up right after it started flowing.

An impossibility but people latch onto the strangest ideas in times of uncertainty.

Rosalind turns away from the delegation and opens the outer door. After it swishes open she motions the delegation inside then follows. She works her way across and opens the inner door, letting them all into the city proper.

Gasps go around the crowd as they realize the Tribe is entering the city.

“Gershom is going to shit,” someone says.

I try to spot the source but I can’t pick them out of the crowd in the near darkness. Damn it that would be useful to know. He’s got supporters everywhere.

“Traitor!” someone screams from deep in the crowd as Rosalind and the Tribe members walk out of the inner door.

Again I can’t spot the source. Nor am I sure if they’re talking about Rosalind or Astarot and Lana. The crowd doesn’t know yet how desperate our food situation is so I’m guessing they’re yelling at Rosalind. Which would point to a Gershom supporter.

“The Tribe are here as our guests,” Rosalind says, pitching her voice to carry. “There is much we need to discuss. I will make sure the results of our discussion are known, but for now, please return to your sleeping quarters.”

Tension rises among the gathered survivors. My skin tingles and the hair on back of my neck rises. Anticipation makes my mouth dry.

“We don’t need them!” someone yells and the crowd murmurs support.

Rosalind turns towards the voice. “We’re all survivors,” she replies evenly. “We all need each other. The Tribe has as much to offer us as we do them.”

Nothing phases her. She’s facing down a potential mob and I can’t even see a bead of sweat on her forehead. If she’s having even the slightest touch of nerves you can’t see it. She turns a slow circle, letting her gaze fall on each person. As she does, they disperse, as if by magic. One look from her is all it takes.

As the tension drains away I take a deep, shaky breath.

“Come with me, please,” Rosalind says to the Tribe leader.

“It would be my pleasure,” he responds in low hiss.

I trail along behind, unasked but not stopped so why not? My greatest skill is that people don’t pay attention to me.

Rosalind leads the way to the boardroom in the main building and everyone takes a seat at the table, the Lady-General at the head. The Tribe’s leader sits at the opposite end of the table, so in a way he is also at the head of the table. I tuck myself away in a corner to watch without intruding.

“It is in our best interest to work together,” Rosalind says.

“That is our feelings as well,” the Tribe leader responds.

“No member of the Tribe wishes harm on anyone living in the city,” Astarot inserts. “Visidion would like to negotiate open trade between our two groups.”

“Trade?” Rosalind asks.

“Yes,” Visidion, the Tribe leader, says. His voice is deeper than any other Zmaj I’ve heard, and the way he draws out the ‘sss’ sounds is more pronounced. It’s damn near hypnotic.

“There is more than trade to be discussed,” Rosalind says. “Some of which will have to take precedence.”

“What is this?” Visidion hisses.

“Hunting rights, for one,” Rosalind says. “It seems we are straining our resources.”

Visidion nods, thoughtful. “Who leads your Hunters?”

“Ladon,” Rosalind answers immediately.

Visidion purses his lips, shaking his head. “He is not open to discussions, he refuses the Edicts.”

“I believe I can talk with him,” Astarot offers.

Visidion looks down the table at Rosalind. She contemplates for a moment then nods.

“Go Astarot, take Bashir and Melchior with you, speak with my authority,” Visidion says, pointing to the two other Zmaj that I don’t know.

“I will,” Astarot says, rising.

“I’m going with you,” Lana says. “Can I check in on Calista and Jolie?” She aims the question at Rosalind.

“Of course,” the Lady-General answers.

“Thanks.” Lana smiles and the group leaves the room.

The really big Zmaj is leaning against the wall, watching Visidion and Rosalind. I’m hiding in a corner too, so who am I to judge?

“Might I come closer? This distance makes discussions cold,” Visidion says.

“Please do,” Rosalind says.

There’s something in her voice, a softness I’ve never heard before. Visidion rises and walks the length of the table then takes the chair next to her. In a display of utter gall he moves it even closer to Rosalind but she doesn’t object.

“We have things to trade,” Visidion says.

“Such as?”

The two of them fall into a deep discussion and it become obvious that the big guy and I are all but forgotten. As their talk continues, at one point Visidion reaches out and touches Rosalind’s hand on the table. It’s a brief moment and if I wasn’t watching, I would have missed it completely.

Her eyes dart to the touch, alight with sparkling interest, it’s in the smile that plays at the corner of her lips. After that I watch closer, looking for more. The way he leans into his words, listening with a telling attentiveness.

He’s flirting with her!

And she likes it!

How absolutely, adorably romantic. If anyone deserves someone to love, it’s Rosalind. She’s so strong, holding herself aloof from all of us, not out of any sense of entitlement, but because she has to. She’s the rock on which we all depend. If she could have someone of her own to love and cherish, that would make me happy.

Glancing over at my Zmaj counter-part, I wonder if he sees what I do. His face is entirely too stoic to reveal anything if he does. Stoic, yet nice. I like the line of his jaw. It’s strong, square in that classic good-looking man way. The scales that cover his face are muted in color, tans and deeper tones. The bulge of his biceps is incredible. His arms are like the trunks of trees crossing his massive, bulging chest. I wonder what his scales feels like to touch?

Are they warm? Cool? Are they rough?

His horns curl out from his forehead, rising forward before curling back and around his ears. He has tan, sandy colored hair that blends in with his scales. His wings rest against his back, folded tight but every so often they rustle like he’s restless. His large head turns towards me.

My pulse throbs between my lges under his gaze. Could I?

No. I couldn’t.

He’s Tribe, I’m City.

I work for Rosalind, he works for Visidion.

We’re on opposite sides of a very real wall represented by the dome over the city.

But what if…

No.

Don’t go there. Just don’t.

I don’t want to know what his lips taste like… but damn it I do.

What would it be like to have him hovering over me, so big, so strong, so incredibly male…

Breaking my eyes away is like tearing myself off of something I’m stuck to. Breathing in short, ragged gasps, I swallow hard and try find my composure. The moisture in my panties an uncomfortable reminder of the thoughts I’m trying not to have.

A knock at the door has never been more welcome, pulling my attention away from what I can’t seem to stop thinking about.

Rosalind and Visidion look up as one, both leaning back in their chairs and putting a more proper distance between them. There’s a heaviness to the air, like we’ve all just been caught in a taboo situation despite the fact nothing untoward was going on.

“Enter,” Rosalind orders.

“Hey,” Inga says. Walking in she stops and looks around like she’s lost, her nose crinkling.

“Yes?” Rosalind says, her voice sharp.

“Uh, yeah, sorry to, uh, interrupt,” Inga says, looking around sheepishly.

My cheeks flush hot and I can’t meet her gaze when she looks at me. Gah, I’m worse than a school girl with a crush. One I can’t have.

“It’s fine, what is it?” Rosalind asks, never letting her composure slip. Oh what I would give to be more like her!

“Amara, she had the baby,” Inga says, flashing a smile.

“A baby?” Visidion asks with interest.

“Yeah, it’s the cutest thing too, he might be cuter than the other two,” Inga says, laughing. “He has these tiny little horns already.”

“Might I impose?” Visidion asks, looking at Rosalind.

Rosalind frowns, thinking through any ramifications before she replies. “Of course,” she replies at last.

Elation rises and I’m walking on air as we head to see the baby. The big Zmaj falls in next to me and my heart pitter-patters. I keep glancing over at him but he doesn’t seem to be paying any attention to me. Except when I adjust my direction he matches me and is keeping pace with my much shorter legs. Is he?

No…

Can’t be…

Shaking my head and focusing, we enter the birthing area. Amara is lying on the bed, hair plastered to her head and pale but there’s a beautiful glow to her face that I’ve only ever seen on a new mother. It’s unique, special, and something I might never experience.

Lying on her chest, suckling at her breast, is the baby.

He already has dark hair, thin but covering his entire head. His scales are green and yellow tinted as he lays curled on his mother.

“Everything is fine,” Calista says to Amara, looking at a read out on a monitor.

The equipment we salvaged from the ship is still functioning well, making the birthing process much easier. I don’t care that we’re biologically designed to give birth without all the bells and whistles. I don’t think biology took into consideration the cross breeding of the much larger Zmaj males and our smaller human female frames.

The baby on Amara’s chest, for all he looks small now, must still be over twelve pounds. A huge baby by human standards, though I’m sure the Zmaj think he’s ridiculously tiny.

Shidan leans over Amara, kissing her forehead and stroking her hair. His scales are tinged with a deep green, a shade and color I’ve never seen on a Zmaj before. Somehow it makes me think of pride.

“Thanks,” Amara says, in an uncharacteristic moment of kindness.

The baby breaks away from her breast, turns his small head and looks around. Rosalind walks over to Amara and Visidion follows. An expansive sensation makes my chest feel like it might explode. The huge Zmaj moves closer to me so I look up. He’s staring at the baby and looks so sad. Somehow that makes him even more desirable.

Great, not what I need.

“May I?” Rosalind asks.

“Sure,” Amara says, raising the baby.

Rosalind cuddles the newborn in her arms, cooing to him. She’s glowing too and now tears are welling in my eyes. Blinking hard I push them aside but I can’t stop the tingling sensation through my limbs.

Hope.

Life here on Tajss may be hard but there’s still hope. Hope of a brighter future for everyone.

* * *