“I have no idea. Could the ruins be inhabited?”
“They wouldn’t be ruins, then, would they? What we need is some height so we can scout out the lay of the land.”
They commenced searching for a doorway into this building or the next. None presented themselves, and Avery didn’t feel like investigating every structure of the city’s perimeter looking for ingress. He pointed up to what looked like a window on the second or third story, one of many. Thick vines snaked up the wall toward them, thick and knotty. He grabbed one and attempted to shake it, just to be sure. It didn’t budge.
“It’ll do,” Sheridan said.
She began peeling off her armor, and he couldn’t help but watch. She wore very little underneath, save some ungainly pads that prevented rubbing, but these she removed too, as they got in the way of natural movement without the weight of the armor to hold them in place. What little she had left resembled underwear, with a belt cinched around her hips holding a gun and a radio; that was it.
He swallowed, helpless to admire her lithe form. With her hair longer than he had ever seen it before, sweaty and tangled, her face flushed with exertion, her full lips as well, and a spark in her eye, she was a compelling sight, and when she saw his admiration something mischievous entered her face.
“Your turn, Doctor,” she said. “You can’t climb wearing that.”
Suddenly nervous with a tension that had nothing to do with the dangers facing him, he starting removing his armor under her watchful gaze, aware that he was tanned and as muscular as he’d ever been, fit after all of his adventuring. When he was done, he wore more clothing than she did, but with her staring at him he didn’t feel like it.
“After you,” she said, indicating the vine.
He smiled thinly, touching the knife he’d thrust through his belt, a knife too easily reached by someone he couldn’t see.
“No, you,” he said. “I insist.”
Her mouth quirked, but she gamely shimmied up the vines, and he tried not to watch as her buttocks flexed beneath thin panties just inches above him. Her legs were long and shapely.
“Don’t get distracted,” she called down.
He gave her a few seconds and followed, reaching her at the window and sliding in behind her, not too close. It was dark inside the building, but he’d brought the flashlight, and it revealed strangely curved walls in a large, airy space, bigger than humans would likely build outside a church. This was a main hall that wrapped around even larger interior spaces, and it connected to massive stairways that led up even further. Avery and Sheridan had to help each other up the stairs, her standing on his shoulders to reach a lip and then holding a hand down for him. It took more work than he had bargained for, but at last they reached a door that spilled out onto the roof. The building seemed to be composed of some sort of thick ceramic, though a ceramic capable of enduring for countless years, and small cracks ran through the material of the roof, some widened by tree roots. Date trees sprouted up in copses all over, waving in a gentle wind.
Getting down on her hands and knees, then her belly, Sheridan wriggled to the edge of the roof. Avery waited for her to call her findings back to him, but when she didn’t he threw himself prostrate and joined her. Together they stared down into the alien city, their elbows nearly touching.
“Wish I had some binoculars,” she muttered.
They could see figures moving below, going about errands of their own, but no details.
“My gods,” Avery said, “there’s so many ...”
There seemed to be thousands of people here, and not just humans, but Nisaar and other non-human species, too, all residents of the general region. Framed against the colossal buildings, the figures seemed like gnats. The activity was mostly concentrated around a large downtown, what might have been the capitol district of the long-vanished race that had erected this city. There were five grand buildings that seemed to be palaces or the like arrayed at equidistant points, like the points of a star, but they did not seem large, as there was another structure in the center of that star pattern, a massive black dome, the very heart of the city, that dwarfed every other building in town. The dome was also the center of something else.
All the vines terminated there.
“You said your people were following the vines,” Sheridan said. “What exactly did they expect to find at the place where they joined?”
He realized he’d said too much. “How exactly are you going to deal with Layanna?” he said. “Without the knife?”
It was her turn not to answer.
He removed the blade and held it out over the lip of the roof. She watched but didn’t tense or move to stop him.
“What would happen if I dropped it?” he asked.
“That would be foolish on your part. Then you wouldn’t have a weapon to use against others of her kind.” She expressed no fear, only stating facts. Of course, she was an accomplished liar.
He slid the knife back into his waistband. She was right, and it would not avail her against Layanna anyway; Layanna would have fed by now, and he would make sure she saw Sheridan coming.
Sheridan drew away from the roof and rested her back against a date tree. After a moment, he joined her, propping himself up against a neighboring tree. With an elaborate gesture, she yawned, rucking her top against her breasts, outlining her nipples clearly. Her well-toned legs adjusted position.
“I don’t know about you,” she said, “but I’m tired. Think I’ll catch some sleep.”
“Shouldn’t we take shifts or something?”
“What’s the point?”
“How will you reacquire your quarry if you’re asleep?”
“How will I reacquire her if I’m exhausted?” She smiled. “Besides, if she does come, I expect there to be some commotion. I’m sure the screams will wake me.”
He excused himself and threaded through the various copses, coming to the other side of the roof, where he hid the knife, then relieved himself, but as he was shaking himself dry his thoughts strayed to Sheridan wriggling toward the lip of the roof, and, to his great annoyance, his member stiffened, standing as rigid as a flag-pole.
He thought about stroking it to relieve the pressure, but he didn’t want to do it while thinking about Sheridan—Layanna was not right about him—so he willed himself flaccid, which took some doing, before returning to her. She had curled up near the tree, already breathing steadily, but there was a half smile on one side of her lips that made him self-conscious.
He laid down some feet away, wishing he had a blanket or some way of keeping warm. Wind blew cold up here, and the night only made it colder. The stars above seemed distant and remote. His flesh prickled.
Despite himself, his eyelids grew heavy, and before he knew it he slept. Some time later he came awake at some change that had taken place, and realized it was simply that Sheridan had come to stretch beside him. Her heat warmed him, and he went back to sleep.
When next he woke, the sun was up, and her face was to him. Her eyes, still drowsy, were open.
“’morning,” he said, hearing the slur in his voice.
“Morning.”
