Heart of the Sun Ch. 01

"I'm sorry I made you stay in there for so long," the Anorian apologized. "I was not expecting them to stay to eat."

"Was it the authorities?" Bakur ventured.

Nilim twisted her hand twice in a chopping motion. "It was Tab and Yima. Yima has a child now, so I will find her name soon. She has to recover first; Gerona is a remarkably large baby."

"So how long will I be here hiding, then? We need to have some sort of system in place unless you want me to just bide my time in the pavilion. I'd rather not do that if we can avoid it."

Nilim started rice in a covered container and checked the meat. "They usually tell me when they're coming. I had forgotten about Tab and Yima today because I was busy having my conversation with you." She quickly added. "That doesn't mean I didn't enjoy it. You take a great deal of interest in me that most others don't. I'm usually the one asking questions and listening."

"Well, you did say you're a virgin on a sex resort world. Hard not to ask what that's all about."

She chuckled. "Would you like to ask anything else about me?"

"How'd you get to be the only tataion here?"

"Our tribe is known for being very traditional. Most other tataion enter competitions with other tribes and recruit other tribe members to learn. But we feel this is not a skill, but a gift from Mother Sun, so aspirants to be tataioni must come to me. I have only two currently."

"And they're not ready to reveal any names yet, I take it," the mercenary followed, watching Nilim flip the rice container and check the meat again.

"One of them is coming tomorrow. Malinka. She's very enjoyable company."

"How long until they're ready to start doing it on their own?" Bakur looked around for a glass to fill and Nilim handed him one. "Thanks. But really though, you won't have this problem forever, right?"

"I enjoy their company, but sometimes I doubt if I can help them realize their gifts."

"Well, do they have their story written all over them like you do?" he asked, pointing to the scars on her hands. She followed his attention and touched the old wounds on her side and the bright pink streaks running from the back of her neck to her collar bone. Her face darkened with color.

"These were accidents."

"They look like they say 'Nilim' to me." Bakur picked a piece of meat off the heating element and playfully stuck it in his mouth, grinning as he let himself salivate excessively. He enjoyed the look of embarrassment on the Anorian's face. She seemed so innocent despite being a few centimeters taller than him and quite muscular.

"Thank you," she said quietly. Her eyes turned to something over Bakur's shoulder.

"Are you with the authorities?"

That wasn't Nilim.

Bakur froze mid-chew as a second Anorian stepped into his periphery, eyeing him curiously. Nilim's expression swam with a flurry of different emotions. She held Bakur's gaze for what felt like a microsecond before finding the determination to act. The tataion returned to cooking, pulling the rice from its place over the heating element and opening its lid.

"Malinka, bring me three bowls. And eggs." The casual command of her voice managed to get the newcomer in motion. She did as ordered and Nilim cracked an egg into each of the bowls, following it with rice. She stirred them together and topped each with grilled meat.

"Normally the authorities come during the day. Is something wrong?"

Nilim slid a bowl to the newcomer, Malinka, and the latter nearly let it slide off the countertop. "He's a guest," she said, pressing the momentum of surprise against her tribesman.

"He's not one of the authorities?" Malinka asked with some confusion, looking back and forth between them.

"No," Nilim said firmly. "He's my guest."

"But aren't visitors not allowed this far from the great qu-"

"Guest, Malinka."

The younger Anorion furrowed her brow, bowl still in both hands. "But-"

"But what? He isn't a visitor."

At that, Malinka searched Bakur for answers, looking him over indiscreetly for a sign as to why he, an outsider, could possibly be inside Nilim's home at night. She eventually settled on the most obvious conclusion, probably given his state of undress. "Is he...he's given you his gift?"

"There hasn't been time; Tab and Yima just left."

The younger Anorian's face looked apologetic. "Ah. Do you want me to leave then? If you want time with your vis- guest. Your guest. I can-"

"He is a guest, not a visitor, Malinka. There is a difference. A very distinct difference. I wouldn't dare bring a visitor all the way here and hide him from the authorities. That would be in bad faith of the tribe." Nilim started to lay it on thick, making Bakur grin slightly. "And it would bring me great personal shame if anyone made it seem as if I had acted in bad faith of the tribe, as it's only tataion. If someone did do that, then I could never trust them enough to tell me their story. I could never reveal their name."

"Alright," Malinka relented. "He isn't here. I underst-"

"He is here. As my guest."

After being corrected and interrupted enough to wear her patience down, the Anorian finally relented. She had no more questions about the matter, it appeared, only simple acquiescence to Nilim's version of the truth. "Your guest. Right."

"Good," came the satisfied response. The tataion slid two spoons to their users and dug into her rice with one of her own. "Eat and we'll get started. I have some things to show you before tomorrow."

"Will your guest be joining us?" asked Malinka with a mix of genuine curiosity and hard-won obedience.

Nilim shrugged. "If he wants." She looked at him, brow raised. "Would you like to join us?"

He pretended to roll the idea around for a few seconds before answering, as if it wasn't the only thing to do in the villa besides lounge somewhere waiting for them to finish their business. "Sure, sounds interesting."

They ate and chatted idly, long enough for Malinka's guard to fall when she looked at the mercenary. It felt like she'd finally come to accept that even if he wasn't supposed to be there, that she had no place in revealing the intrusion. Apparently, Nilim's status was far enough above hers in the tribe to keep her in check for the moment.

After dinner, Nilim took them to a room looking out toward the village. On the opposite wall, a panoramic window bowed away from the center of the room, flanked by two columns carved to resemble women reaching out toward the village with longing. Somehow, that seemed comically backwards with the amount of visitors apparently coming and going with enough regularity to pin Nilim here daily for seven years.

Against the low wall sat a drawing table nearly two meters across, a photocell perched above it and directional lights beside, waiting to be maneuvered into place. On the table were dozens of sketches depicting a series of similar tattoos with notes written all around the borders. Two sheets had what appeared to be finalized designs of the tattoos, now placed on a woman hand-drawn from head to toe.

Nilim stepped into the room and the faux torches lit up. This time, they beamed a solid color instead of flickering to mimic firelight. This must be Nilim's room.

"Tab is after Yima. Have you spoken with her yet?"

Malinka entered hesitantly, head down. "No, tataion," came the sheepish answer.

"Why? Do you have unsettled matters with her?"

"No!" Her tone was defensive. "I just...I don't want to make a mistake. Can't you listen to her? See her name and tell me how to reveal it?"

The tataion shook her head. "Her name is her name. When the tozian touches her skin, you'll know how to reveal it. That's how it happens." She waved a hand to the sketches on her drawing table. "These are just to steady my hand once I begin."

"Isn't this...but that doesn't make sense. I'll know when I start, but I'll know before then too?"

Nilim smiled gently. "If one does not know to which port they're sailing, then no wind is favorable."

To Bakur's great surprise, the bit of esoteric advice seemed to have hit something deep, given the woman's thoughtful expression.

"You have to listen to Tab and learn her story. That will let you determine where to start. Your first mark is always at the heart of her being; the rest will follow from it."

"But you do it so well! The names you give are perfect! They're beautiful!"

"No name is perfect," the tataion corrected. "But they are all true. That's why I ask so much of you, to learn and practice on paper so much. You have to be sure of what you see in the Nakator beneath your hand."

Malinka bit her lip. "I don't think I know Tab well enough to be sure, though."

"Then learn." The tone was casual, as if this conversation wasn't going to decide if someone's body would bear a work of genius or an eyesore. "She'll tell you; they never lie. They love to talk about themselves."

"I don't know if I can learn everything I need in one day, Nilim." The Anorian sat down and looked at Nilim's cleaned up designs. She shook her head in wonder at what she believed to be the depiction of someone's entire personal history, accurate to a pen stroke.

"She'll be here with Yima tomorrow; talk to her then. Take two days if you need to."

"Okay."

"Malinka." The younger woman looked up as a hand came to rest on her shoulder reassuringly. "You will do fine. Tab is happy to have you reveal her name; she wants to be your first. She trusts you."

"Alright."

Apparently, there wasn't enough confidence in her voice, so Nilim pressed, "Say it."

"I will do fine."

Still not good enough.

"And?"

"I will find her name. When the time comes, I will reveal it to her. To everyone."

The tataion gave a accepting nod. "Good. Now practice here with what you know of her. I've drawn her on two sheets; they have her name on them. Think about where to start and then draw. You know already what fits Tab, what style to use, what to blend. You'll surprise yourself."

"I'm scared," Malinka admitted.

"You'll be more confident once you listen to Tab. Remember to consider how you would depict feelings. How does a tozian's mark reflect emotion?"

"This is making me less confident." The shame of self-doubt had crept into the woman's features enough to make Nilim's lips purse with thinning patience. She turned her head to look at Bakur, but he just Voidsigned that he didn't know either. Regardless if she understood him, her eyes went back to Malinka hanging her head to avoid meeting anyone's judgment.

"Am I Tab?"

"No."

Nilim let out a determined, impatient breath. "Then I'll have to show you. I'll be back soon."

She left without anything more to add and left Bakur alone with the apprentice tataion. A few seconds passed before Malinka looked up at him. Embarrassed, she decided that Nilim's drawings and practice pieces were the less judgmental of the two points of interest available to her and turned her eyes to them instead.

Bakur slid one over and studied it with Malinka, trying to understand the delicacies with which each set of tattoos was drawn. It was odd to try and understand the abstraction of thought required to listen to an event and then depict it would actually depicting any recognizable part of it. After a few minutes of silence, he turned his sheet to Malinka, drawing her attention.

"Do you see a pattern?"

She gave him a wary look. "No."

"Who's back is this, anyway?"

"Yima's. She has narrow hips, but large thighs; she wrestles often." Malinka traced the curve of Yima's thigh with her fingers to accentuate her point.

"I don't understand any of this. It's like trying to decode a secret language."

"It would help to know Yima as well as Nilim does," the apprentice offered.

"Probably," Bakur agreed. He spent a few more quiet minutes with her, marveling at the intricacy of several designs, with geometric loops fading into each other, like waves rolling across Yima's body. Bakur thought once or twice that he could see a depiction of trees or a grove of some kind, but he wasn't sure. It all looked so close to things he had actually seen, but just off enough to make him doubt it.

Nilim returned with a jug of liquid in one hand and two multicolored pills in the other. Without explanation, she popped one into her mouth and chased it with a swallow from the jug. The other, she held out to him with a hardened expression.

"Here, take this and we'll begin."

Bakur's brow furrowed. "Begin what?"

"You telling me your name. Tell me the story of you, your life. I'll learn your name from it. Malinka can watch how it's done."

"Okay," the mercenary replied skeptically as he took the pill from her. "But what is this?"

"It's something to let you be true to yourself." Her tone was flat and unamused.

Bakur gave the pill an unsure look. I've seen you somewhere before, I know it. Where? Nilim drew his attention with a grunt. He spoke up. "Look, it's not like I'm going to lie; I have no reason to do that."

"Everyone lies. Intentionally, by accident, merely by overlooking something in themselves. That-" She pointed to the pill in his hand. "-will allow you to let me see your name in its entirety."

Bakur threw a hand up in exasperation. "I'm gonna eat it regardless! Just tell me what it is!"

"Tinbenk."

Bakur blinked twice and lost his immediate train of thought. Then, he laughed. "What, evershine? You're about to shine me like a kid at his first strober?"

"It will let you tell me the truth. The full truth. Everything." She seemed to be aiming at convincing him that it was a legitimate strategy. Tinbenk, while reducing inhibitions to practically nonexistent levels, also gave a decent body high and a fair amount ohttps://www.yates.co.nz/garden-club/public/162169

f tactile reception intensity. Good feelings felt great. Great feelings made your eyes cross. Eye-crossing feelings felt like the Void was draining you into a jacknet paradise and letting your biggest fantasy run its dopamine-coated tongue all over you. The highest-quality Tinbenk got people across that last threshold.

And from the looks of it, this was at about the highest molecular purity tinbenk he'd seen to date.

Bakur rolled his eyes with amusement. "There's no need to sell me on it, Nilim; I'm game to pop a rainbow. Just so you know, I haven't been shined out in like five years. I'm probably gonna puke at some point, third or fourth wave. I never make it all the way."

"That's what this is for," Nilim answered, holding up the jug. She continued at the behest of his arched brow. "Tocham juice. It has anti-nausea properties."

"Fine with me." He flicked the tinkbenk into his mouth and took the jug in both hands, swallowing down a few mouthfuls to really get it churning by the time he needed to vomit. Hopefully, he wouldn't be leaning out the window pondering the feeling of a semi-solid slurry making its way up his esophagus.

He wiped his mouth and gave a little chuckle. "I hope you're ready because this is gonna get ugly and weird at some parts."

Nilim shorted. "I've heard that more times than I can count."

Bakur made a face that signaled that he could cede the point if he really wanted to. But... "That may be, but I doubt your other ones started off with a pregnant shootout in an orbital lifter."

The tataion bit her bottom lip in thought before giving Malinka a sideways glance. "Remember: listen well and only ask questions to get deeper understanding of an event; they're all important. You should speak once for every ten times they do."

"I understand."

"Continue, Bakur."

He grinned. "Well, that's about where I come into my own story. In that lifter. Mom goes into labor right as the shooting starts and then has me right after it ends. Right under Bakur Station and over Mishiveshek, far enough out of the well to be called Voidborn, I -- Bakur Tinwe -- am born."

He could feel the tinbenk starting to take effect by the time he got around to describing his first memories of watching ships disappear across a Mass Bridge. He saw it all with such clarity. The bottlenecking of light into a hole, like looking into a refractory dimensional drain that was going to spray matter out the other side with no apparent reason other than someone wanted it to happen.

On from there, he told Nilim about his early childhood, how much of a handful his mother was, despite her ever-present doting and loving nature. She died after his seventh birthday from complications getting pneumonia in a zero-g environment. After she died, his father took him to raise wherever his jobs with Balthasar & Co. wanted them to go. Learning the merc'ing trade was a hard path to take, but at least his father had been there every step of the way with a professional and caring hand.

His first love made him laugh more than anyone he'd ever met to that point. Her wit was immeasurable, always one step ahead of him and able to keep up with a roomful of people as if it was a simple thing to manage the conversation nine ways. He missed her sometimes, when things were quiet and he was strapped for good company. He could have stayed with her on Pedrero. He chose to take a job with a Balthasar & Co. ancillary to do escort work for a full quarter. Probably a bad choice.

His second love was fiery and spirited and she fucked like a hurricane trapped in a bottle. He couldn't count the number of times she left him to clean up in the bathroom only to come back, refreshed, and decide that she wanted to go again. She fought a lot, mostly other people. He picked her up several times getting let out of a temp cell. She said she loved him as much as a human being was able. She also stabbed him in the ribs over takeout. In truth, he thought it was hot at the time. He still did.

Killing someone for the first time made him cry. Not much. Not even when it happened, but a few days later waiting for evac offworld from a skyjumper. It was a private event, as private as waiting in a fortified compound with thirty or so other mercs could be. They were a good team to be with. He wondered if any of them were still with the Pakros Corps or if they had moved on to bigger and more lucrative careers than impromptu militiamen and bodyguards down some nameless well.

When his father died, it didn't quite make him sad. He had grown older than most people did in their line of work, even most alien species with far better durability than humans. Either by luck or skill, he capped out at over sixty standard years and died somewhere of a pair of blood clots in his sleep. Most of his colleagues considered it a good enough way to go as any. Balthasar & Co. paid Bakur a substantial amount of money upon his first time at their Poros headquarters afterwards.

He still hadn't visited his grave on Ulaji. Several times he had the chance, but he had never actually done it. At the time -- all four of them -- it was more work than he considered worth it to make the trip down a bridgeless system well. He regretted not going now; it was something he should probably do at least once. Last farewell and burying any outstanding wrongs and all that. And, there was some need to actual pay his respects and not just say he would. Tarn deserved that much for raising a kid alone for ten years.

Joining Terminus Rex was an interest story in itself. Being a former Balthasar ancillary employee put him on the fast track to actually getting onto the deployment roster. Not wanting to be a carbon copy of his dead father, Bakur embarked with Rex to be a peacekeeper. The company had an outstanding reputation and was willing to ferry him across the galaxy to do the Galactic Unity's border work. He even went to little Rudow once where they were constructing the largest dockyard in Unexplored Space for the colonial hubs to use as a springboard moving east.

Heart of the Sun Ch. 01

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