At least I like sunsets,” I say, holding Titus’ hand.

We’re in a small village, on the border of what Titus tells me is a large desert. Titus has rented us a room, but we’re outside–away from the houses and buildings. We’re lying on our backs and looking up at the sky.

The dying sun is dim enough that I can see the full brightness and brilliance of the stars even though it’s still well above the horizon. Titus says it will be many “days” until we reach the darkness. There are no days here, of course, but we’ve come to measure days by how I often I sleep.

“What is a sunset?” He asks me.

“You know how I told you on Earth,” I say, pointing up at the red sun, “The sun moves across the sky even if you stay still. So imagine you are lying here, and over the next hour or so the sun starts to fall below the horizon, changing colors as it goes. Usually the sun is so bright you can’t even look at it. It’s usually just a bright disc of light, but as it goes down it starts to look way larger, and it can look almost like any color if the angle or clouds are right. I don’t understand the science behind it, but it doesn’t really matter, it’s just beautiful.”

“It will look kind of like you say,” he says. “As we reach the night, though I’ve never seen our sun so colorful. I’ve seen it look purple or green near the night, but never anything so bright as you describe.”

“Maybe we can just stop there,” I say. “Stop at the sunset. Instead of going all the way into the night, we can just find somewhere where the sun always looks like it’s about to set. It will be just enough light that we won’t stumble around blind during the day, but dark enough that I can sleep at night.”

“We have excellent night vision,” he says. “And I can sleep even under the sun of the capital.”

“I meant for me,” I say, playfully hitting his arm.

He laughs. “I know, I made a joke, but you didn’t laugh, you just hit me.”

I laugh then. “Sorry, sometimes I can’t tell if you’re being dense, or if you’re actually starting to get a sense of humor.”

“Of course I am dense,” he says, “I need to keep myself lean and strong to do my job well.”

I laugh again, but he looks at me with confusion.

“Sorry,” I say, “I thought you were joking again. What is your job now, exactly?”

“Keeping you safe,” he says, pulling me up against his body.

He wraps his hands around me and holds me. I’m wearing much thicker clothes than I was in the capital, to fight against the increasing cold, but still I can feel his warmth and his density pressing into me.

After several long minutes of holding me in silence, he finally points up toward the sky. “That is the spear.” He takes hold of my hand and pulls my arm up, then gently moves my finger out to point at the sky.

I close one eye to try to see where he’s pointing for me, and finally my finger seems to touch one of the stars.

“I see it,” I whisper.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned about this planet, it’s that they like spears here.

He moves my hand up, and the tip of my finger traces a row of stars that goes mostly straight across the purple sky. When I reach the end of the row of stars, he traces my finger around a few stars that make up the point, and then back down a parallel row.

I laugh.

“Constellations are funny to you?” he asks.

He doesn’t sound angry, just curious.

“Sorry,” I say, “I was just wondering if the constellation is supposed to be a spear...or a spear.”

I squeeze his cock throw his loincloth to show him what I mean.

Now he laughs. “It’s been forgotten. We argued about it as children in my tribe.”

“What was the consensus?”

“As children,” he says, “Of course we decided it is a spear between the legs.”

“There are no balls though.”

“Perhaps an eunuch’s spear,” he says.

“Can I see my sun from here?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” he says, shaking his head.

“I don’t even know how far away I am,” I say, frowning. “It makes me feel so hopelessly lost. All I know is that two of my friends might still be on this world. It’s the only thing that makes me feel any hope.”

He frowns at me.

I smile wide and stroke his cheek, running a finger along his high cheekbone. “You give me hope too, Titus. I didn’t mean to take you for granted. You’re a different kind of hope though, hope that I can actually have a life on this world.”

“What is the other hope?” He asks. “The kind your friends give you.”

I realize I haven’t thought about it too much. It’s just something I’ve felt inside myself, something that helped me to keep going, especially back at the palace, before I knew Titus was really going to help me. There were 4 or 5 billion humans on Earth, and even when we were somewhere remote–like the cabin Alice, Amber, and I were going to–I always took it completely for granted that I could never truly be alone. No matter how far I could be from other humans or civilization, so long as I was on Earth, I was never alone. I never would even have considered any situation where I may never see another human being so long as I live.

Then, one abduction and however many light-years later, I have come to realize that I may never see another one of my kind ever again. Knowing that Alice and Amber are likely somewhere on this world is the only thing keeping me from feeling certain I am not alone here.

Titus mentioned off-handedly that he thinks there are maybe only one or two ships left on this whole planet that can make the trip to Earth. Even then, he said only the most highly trained servants of the Emperor can operate the ships. For me, who just got the Magistros killed, that means I’m never leaving this planet.

“Did they take others?” I ask. “Before?”

He strokes my arm as he speaks. “They must have. The Magistros’ staff and those who hired me knew too much about your kind for me to think they’d never encountered you before. You’re worried you’ll never see another human?”

I nod.

“Is there…” he looks at me with a seriousness I didn’t expect, and he furrows his brows. “Do you feel the need to have a man of your own kind?”

I shake my head and grab tight to his wrist. “Of course not.”

I kiss him rather than tell him. He squeezes me back, his hands running up my body.

“I couldn’t ask for more,” I whisper into his ear.

“We will find your friends,” he says, kissing down my neck as I gasp for breath.