Kane’s panic attack struck him in the middle of the following night, denying him a well-fought rest. He suffered it alone rather than turning to the carnivorous—albeit warm—embrace of the former Death Cultist. Still, Myr knew of his suffering. Not only was Kane still visibly tired the following day, but she had sniffed out the scent of his stressed sweat overnight, her nose tuned like a hound’s on a trail. She regretted his decision not to come to her, but did not voice as such; Eutophoria was meant to be a place where regrets could fade away.
Yet following his predicted-for panicking, Kane fell into Luciene’s crew—particularly under Myr’s wing—well enough. No one proved as welcoming a substitute for Cornelius, he found; Kane felt as though Luciene’s patience could not have been as boundless as she let on, and that at some point she might grow tired of babysitting him as he acclimated up in Eutophoria. He had no evidence to back up his hunch, and knew it may have originated from his own skepticism borne of the Imperium’s cynicism. But all the same, it was a pessimistic view he still worried may come to be.
Luciene, meanwhile, had other things on her mind than the youthful worries of her latest recruit.
***
Giant pillars of glass pulsated with the blue glow of arcing lightning as vast energies transferred from their apexes to their nadirs. Every now and then, an arc would strike the side of its pillar, and while it did not penetrate through the glass, the heat would incinerate the air on the other side, creating a small patch of singed oxidation which slowly faded away, like a hot breath on a cool window. Luciene watched this process with some wonder, unaware of why these pillars existed in the first place, or why Kotak the Unbroken had taken up station in their vicinity. But regardless of either unknown, she was present—alongside Zaer and Kor’Kassan—to meet with Kotak. Their host, however, proved absent.
“Leave it to the offspring of humankind to be late to their own meeting,” Zaer said, the disdain on his voice as palpable in the air as the low buzz of electricity which kept one’s hairs on end.
“The offspring of humankind?” Luciene queried.
Zaer waved a hand dismissively and winced. “I doubt the Leagues or the Imperium would remember as such. Shortlived races are not known for keeping a good history of themselves,” Zaer answered.
“It’s not like Kotak to miss a meeting. Perhaps we should leave and attempt communication at a later time,” Kor’Kassan suggested. Luciene frowned and shook her head.
“You may leave, if you wish. But this time and place was set by our host, and I shall remain to parley, regardless of the wait,” Luciene said.
“As unflappable as ever,” Zaer noted with an unseen roll of his eyes.
“I do not soon intend to leave your side, Luciene,” Kor’Kassan assured her.
“Nor do I,” Zaer added.
“I know,” she said with a soft smile, and held her arms together behind her back, keeping her head up. Zaer stepped away, albeit not far, and crossed his arms in a visible display of impatience. Kor’Kassan, meanwhile, continued to stand by Luciene’s side, and simply folded his hands together at his front, under his waist. The trio held their ground for longer still. Luciene entertained herself with her view of the arcing lightning. Their hue of blue reminded her of her patron, whom she had not seen in some time. Not since arriving at Eutophoria. Luciene worried not whether her patron remained alive after the many centuries that had passed, but rather wondered how she was doing, and where she may have been at present.
The lightning arcs held no answers for Luciene.
But the memories of the past did help to pass the time in the present, and soon enough, the clanging of metal far ahead and to her left suggested to the trio that they were about to become a quartet. Kor’Kassan’s hands unfurled to fold up behind his back, as Luciene had been holding herself. Luciene, meanwhile, took on a more neutral stance, neither so noble nor uptight as her prior positioning suggested.
Zaer remained impatient, and off to the side.
“Apologies, gentlemen and lady, for my tardiness,” grumbled a low and gravelly voice—lower and gravellier, even, than Kor’Kassan’s. Kor’Kassan’s tone was passably alive, but the voice that spoke now sounded as though to have come from a stone, emotionless and not too apologetic. Its owner approached them slowly, albeit not out of caution. The being was small, about half Luciene’s size vertically, yet sturdy—built like a rock indeed. If Luciene needed to describe the shape of this figure, the word that came to mind for her was ‘rotund,’ though she kept herself from saying so. The creature was not fat, persay, but its blue, plated armor was thick and, given the being’s shortened stature, gave it a rounder silhouette.
“It’s entirely unprofessional for a first meeting,” Zaer—audibly—muttered.
“It is quite alright,” Luciene said immediately afterward, approaching the figure which she dwarfed, and extended a stygian arm out for the creature to shake. It did so, but held his grasp upon her afterward.
“Kotak,” it introduced itself plainly. “You’re the enigma.”
“So they tell me,” Luciene admitted.
Kotak let go of her hand at last. “You’re polite. You shouldn’t be. I have kept you here for an egregious span of time. You should take offense to that, as that pointy-eared one does.”
“Hey!” Zaer shouted, unfurling crossed arms and tensing up.
“Do not be the sort that is taken advantage of, enigma,” Kotak continued. “Assert your presence in the universe, lest it swallow you up and forget about you. Be bold.” Kotak turned to his right. “Fio’Ui Kor’tal Kor’Kassan, it has been some time.”
“Master Kotak,” Kor’Kassan nodded, bowing slightly. Luciene had already been made aware that Kor’Kassan was once this Demiurg’s apprentice, long before she had whisked the T’au off for her own purposes. “I hope you have been well.”
“I have.” Kotak then returned to facing Luciene. “You seek a ship.”
“I do,” Luciene confirmed.
“A ship will bring with it a pilot. Do you have a racial preference?” Kotak asked.
“Non-greenskin,” Zaer interjected. Kotak glanced to Zaer, but looked to Luciene for approval. She nodded in agreement.
“Their vessels could hardly be considered anything more than scrapheaps anyway. You have a racially diverse group here. I may have just the pilot looking for a crew such as yours. However, if I am to introduce you to one another, there would be a string attached,” Kotak explained.
Luciene shrugged. “Just one?”
“A job. Which I suspect you want anyways. We can discuss it now, or after you have made contact with your prospective pilot.”
“What’s the gig?” Kor’Kassan asked. Again, Kotak moved an impassive glance toward Luciene’s ally before returning his gaze to her. Again, she nodded in approval.
“It is a longtime tradition of my Kin to harvest resources from the guts of the Great Devourer’s bioships. Ordinarily, we would do this of our own impetus; however, the Kin here on Eutophoria are an independent, isolated colony from the League Cores. A tendril of the Devourer has breached remote Imperial space and been defeated, but its carcasses remain. Eutophorian Kin wish to harvest this tendril. The job is defensive protection, and to ensure we can make the journey there and back without a tail that reveals this colony’s location. There may be Devourer stragglers, Imperial scouts, or Drukhari raiders. If I can give you a ship, I will ask you use it to ensure the success of this mining operation,” Kotak explained.
“To protect an entire mining operation from hypothetical forces like that would take quite the ship,” Zaer noted. “We were thinking something small.”
“It is small, as far as ships capable of sailing the sea of stars go. But it is capable. And fast. Do we have an accord?” Kotak asked, again turning to Luciene.
Luciene extended her hand again. “We do, good Demiurg. Who is this pilot, and where can we find them?”
“Their name is Zet, and you can find them loitering about Deck 6. I will send word that you are coming, if you wish to make haste today,” Kotak suggested. Luciene nodded once more. “It shall be done. Enigma, be warned: you will be of interest. Zet will not attempt to harm you, but I can guarantee you will fascinate him.”
“I have that effect on most I meet,” she shrugged. “I do not imagine it will be a new experience for me.”
“I would not bet on that,” Kotak shook his head. “Will there be anything else, enigma?”
“There will not.”
“Then meet your pilot. He has awaited a crew for some time, and has already been briefed on this mission should he find those willing to fill the confines of his vessel,” Kotak declared, and without a word, turned to leave from the same place he had entered the scene. Luciene thought to bid him farewell, but looked to Kor’Kassan, who shook his head. Kotak had no tangible investment in further discourse, and all involved had been given everything they needed to proceed. There was nothing more to say.
Save, of course, for when Luciene turned to Zaer, who at last eased up in his tension as he approached his partner. “You will be displeased with what I am about to ask of you,” Luciene warned him.
“You do not wish me to be present in your initial meeting with Zet,” Zaer asserted.
Luciene nodded. “You are not the most diplomatic, Zaer.”
“That is putting it mildly,” Kor’Kassan muttered in agreement.
Luciene continued. “I will also ask you to fetch Kane and Myr from our abode, that the whole crew might be present before Zet at once.”
“You’re asking me to babysit and play tour guide for the Mon’keigh,” Zaer grimaced. “Surely the T’au is better suited for the job; they at least get along with one another.”
“Be that as it may, you get along well enough with who you know, and you do not know Zet. I need Kor’Kassan to inspect the technologies of this vessel we are about to see, to judge whether it is up to the task Kotak has put before us.”
“I can judge—” Zaer started.
“Yes, you can be quite judgmental,” Kor’Kassan interrupted him, smirking, and earned a sneer from the Aeldari.
Zaer heaved in and out a single, large sigh, and then raised his hands in exasperation. “If this is what you wish, Lucy, I will oblige. Your judgment is ever sound.”
“It is. Fetch our mutual friends, will you?” she asked of him, implying that the humans were friends of the Aeldari. It was a tall and meaty implication. But so, too, was Zaer’s faith in Luciene. It would take more than a pair of humans to shake his loyalty to her.
***
Eutophoria was a busy place. To traverse its city streets was to lose oneself in a cacophony of travel as hundreds, if not thousands of footsteps pounded the ground in disharmony. Yet this was not the case for the hangars of the city, as few within Eutophoria had craft of their own from which to depart, or the license to do so. When Kor’Kassan and Luciene arrived on the platform for Deck 6, they did so alone. And it was there that Kor’Kassan felt as though he was traveling astride a ghost. He had witnessed it firsthand in the past, but Luciene carried herself with such grace as to travel without making a sound. It was an eerie thing, and if not for her welcoming charm—perhaps cynically identifiable as an ‘allure’—even the wizened T’au may have been spooked from solitary travel with his partner.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
As they ventured across the empty and shadowed darkness of Deck 6, both Kor’Kassan and Luciene began to feel as though they were being watched—nay, observed. Studied. Whatever eyes had set upon them were wielded with an analytical, prospecting nature. Luciene, for all her virtues, had not the patience to be someone’s lab rat, and after a few moments aware of her being examined, halted in place and extended an arm past Kor’Kassan’s chest, suggesting he stop as well. “If I fascinate you so, Zet,” she called, “I must be even more interesting up close, no?”
“You cannot know the degree to which you entertain, enigmatic one,” came the reply. It seemed to come from everywhere, audibly, and nowhere, physically, and seethed of a slithering tone. Neither Luciene nor Kor’Kassan had heard vocal tonnage quite like it, and while Luciene kept her composure despite this novelty, the T’au did not. “Your representative of the Greater Good’s Earth Caste seems to be losing his nerve. I think you and I prove too much for him.”
“He will manage,” Luciene said, speaking with such confidence as to instill some back into Kor’Kassan. “Though I question whether my patience will last until you decide to reveal yourself.”
Though largely absent of illumination, what little light was present on Deck 6 flickered thrice. Each time it did so, the shadows seemed to warp into different angles, until at last, after the third flicker of the lights, a green pulse emerged from a wrinkle in reality before the pair, short and swift as lightning, and just bright. When the flash had passed, a figure stood before Luciene where it had not before, hunched over in a deep black cloak, as opposed to the crimson one Luciene was, as ever, clad within. Both she and the figure were only revealing their faces, and the new figure’s seemed to be hidden still behind a metal mask. Green orbs of light twinkled in the vacuous eye sockets of the mask, the figure staring as emotionlessly toward Luciene as Kotak had not long ago. “Satisfied?” the figure—Zet—asked, and when it spoke, a spattering of green light emerged from the mask’s creased mouth.
“For now. Are you?” Luciene returned.
“Far from it,” Zet admitted, and leaned to the left and right while keeping his mask’s eyes locked with Luciene’s, sizing her up from all angles. Zet was large. Of their group thus far, Luciene had been the tallest, just barely edging out over Zaer’s height. But Zet, standing before her now, already stood to match her, despite the hunch he possessed. “You glisten with life.”
“I will choose to take that as a compliment,” Luciene said.
“It was.”
“Good. Kotak told us you were a pilot. Where is your ship? We wish to inspect it, which my fellow here can accomplish whilst you ogle me further,” Luciene suggested, gesturing to Kor’Kassan. Kor’Kassan waved meekly, visibly in horrified awe of the new creature standing before him.
Zet’s head tilted to and fro. “Ogling implies a sexual view. Do not take this the wrong way, enigma, but that is not my interest in you.”
“No offense taken. But I will ask you address me as Luciene henceforth, not enigma. Your vessel?” she repeated. Zet nodded and gestured wide, revealing a large metal hand, covered in an armor that matched his face. The glimmer of green lights briefly revealed itself from within his cloak as well. “That’s…”
“Small?” Zet admitted, and loosed a chuckle. It was an unnatural thing, like a pre-recorded message of falsified, forced humor. “Yes. Sorry. That is my personal craft. It is known as a Scythe among my people. You are welcome to inspect it as you wish, though it cannot house a crew such as yourselves, and I assume you have other allies yet.”
“Something tells me you already know I do, and that you’ve seen and studied them without my—or their—consent,” Luciene replied, crossing her arms. “You have a larger vessel? I would not assume Kotak thought to waste our time.”
“Indeed I do,” Zet nodded, and produced the same arm from within his cloak again, this time holding a green, semi-translucent cube in its grasp. “I hide it within this, a Tesseract. It is…much too large to harbor here within this city. Kor’Kassan is welcome to inspect it from within.”
“I never introduced myself,” Kor’Kassan replied.
“Oops,” Zet shrugged, uncaring. Luciene had already called him out on the matter anyways. “In any case, if you so desire an inspection, T’au, I can send you in.”
Kor’Kassan turned to Luciene with eyes pinched halfway shut and one eyebrow raised. “Frankly, Luciene, if this…entity…speaks the truth of the nature of that cube, I suspect its vessel will be such a technological marvel to me that I will not be able to discern its capabilities much at all.” He then turned back toward Zet. “Though I confess a budding interest to investigate all the same.”
Luciene nodded toward Zet. “Send my compatriot in, then. But know this, and know it well: if I do not see or hear from Kor’Kassan in five minute’s time, I will drive you through, and no vast tech-sorcery or feeble wordplay will save you.”
“I shall hope your fellow does not trip and bump his head, then,” Zet chuckled; again, from him, it was a grating expression, and kept even Luciene on edge. “Just as I can pull you in, T’au, I can remove you from my vessel on demand. So do not be alarmed by a sudden change of locale,” Zet explained, and Kor’Kassan nodded and shrugged, inviting Zet to send him on a journey. Zet depressed the bottom surface of the cube while holding it toward Kor’Kassan, and in an instantaneous flash of light, three became two.
“What is it about me that so fascinates you?” Luciene asked at once, as soon as they were alone together.
“You are alive,” Zet answered.
“Is that so rare?”
“Not as common as one might expect,” Zet laughed again, mask still expressionless. “Yet it is not only that there is life within you, but without, too. You exude it. I have never known someone to possess a life so vibrant as to fail to contain it within themselves. Many of my kind would seek to study you. Word of advice: I would not volunteer oneself for their eyes.”
Luciene grunted. “I am on the verge of regretting volunteering myself for yours.”
“Ha! Touché!”
“If you do not mind me asking, what kind is it that you are a part of, if formerly so?” Luciene asked.
Zet cocked his head to one side, some form of mechatronics whirring beneath his cloak in the process. Then he shrugged and righted his head. “Does it matter?”
Luciene shook her head. “If you do not wish to tell me, I will not pry. So no, it doesn’t matter. But I get the sense there is something beneath that mask of yours that I have not seen before.”
“That is truer than you know,” Zet replied, and while there was a touch of knowing irony on his voice, there was also a deeper somberness, as though spoken with a degree of longing. “And you? What is it beneath your cloak, or beneath your skin?”
Luciene stared at the lifeless green lights Zet hid his eyes behind. Was there an easy answer for him? She drew a blank.
“You do not know, I take it,” Zet suggested. Luciene admitted as such with a nod. “People do adore a good mystery,” he noted, and extended two armored hands toward her, palms up—his right still possessing the cube that Kor’Kassan remained within—welcoming Luciene’s presence before him. It was from such a position that his left hand contorted and shot to extend two fingers, thick slabs of metal as they were, further to Zet’s side. The motion was robotic in nature, sudden and jerky, but precise, and caught Luciene off-guard. Luciene traced Zet’s extended arm to its end, where four razor-sharp and white-hot discs were held in suspended animation just before Zet’s fingers. And laying far beyond those discs… “A friend of yours,” Zet observed, still facing Luciene rather than his aggressor.
Luciene, meanwhile, had turned away from Zet, all but enraged. “Zaer! What the hell?” she shouted toward him, who stood still, aiming through the scope of his Shuriken Catapult for Zet’s head. Kane and Myr stood behind the Eldar, shaking their heads, apparently having no part of Zaer’s plans to assassinate their potential new pilot. “I knew you were shite at diplomacy, but—”
“Get away from it, Lucy!” Zaer yelled back. “Whatever it’s told you, you cannot trust one such as it!”
“Ah, a zealot of Biel-Tan, how fun,” Zet muttered, then stood upright for the first time since initiating their meeting, and stood a foot and a half taller than Luciene in the process. “Have you failed to count, Aeldari? Where do you suppose your sixth is?” Zet taunted him, and raised the hand holding his Tesseract higher.
Zaer tightened the grip of his rifle. “Bastard,” he hissed.
Luciene paused, aware that she was not understanding the nature of the strife between Zaer and Zet, but also aware that it needed to end. “Release Kor’Kassan, Zet,” she commanded of him.
“Not with a Shuriken weapon pointed at my skull, no,” Zet answered. “For what it’s worth, I did not intend to take him hostage, but now that the need to have one has manifested, I do not intend to lose my bargaining power so soon.”
Luciene turned back to Zaer and gestured for his weapon to be lowered. “I can’t do that, Lucy. Not in its presence. As much as you and I may hate the Arakhia, that thing behind you is far worse, because unlike greenskins, its kind has a history of some intelligence.”
“Some?” Zet asked, offended. “Which of us is it that brought a rifle to a parley?”
“And I am not regretting doing so,” Zaer answered.
“Enough!” Luciene declared, and stomped a foot into the ground with force enough to crack the plating beneath her feet. Zaer already knew she was strong, but Zet did not, and his interest in her only escalated higher. “Zaer, you will lower your weapon and come over here peacefully, or I will go to you and rip your little toy in half. And you, Zet, you will join Zaer in explaining to me where my fellow’s feud is coming from, as you two seem to have recognized each other well enough from a single glance.”
Myr bumped an elbow into Kane’s side, and the latter looked to her. “Mommy’s angry. Doesn’t happen often.”
“Leave it to the Eldar to manage that,” Kane replied.
“Shut up,” Zaer sneered, but did as Luciene commanded, and approached the pair warily. As he neared, his rifle only just barely lowered its aim toward the ground, while Luciene noted some visible fear on her partner’s face. Whatever Zet was, Zaer believed his fears were justified. But as Nessa Myr was drilling into Kane, fear was something Luciene sought to defeat through means other than hatred.
Luciene turned to Zet, who otherwise was staring into Zaer’s face, the two refusing to look away from the other. But she was sure he was aware of her presence still; she had been too captivating for him thus far. “Kor’Kassan,” she demanded of him.
Zet lifted the Tesseract higher, and again depressed its bottom edge. Zaer winced as light flashed from it, but nothing happened to the Eldar. Instead, Kor’Kassan manifested into space near the trio, unharmed, but without his bearings. “Bloody disorienting, that is. Yes, there’s a ship in there and—oh. It’s turned to shooting,” Kor’Kassan observed. “Classic. I didn’t understand a single thing I saw in there, Luciene, but I suspect you have bigger issues currently,” he suggested, seeing the staring contest between Zaer and Zet.
“Join our friends away from here,” Luciene said, and Kor’Kassan was happy to oblige and distance himself from the scene. “Well?”
“Before we answer her—” Zaer started.
“No!” Luciene yelled at him.
“—did you serve in Heaven?”
Zet chuckled, and as it had for all others, his laugh proved to unnerve Zaer. “Oh, my naïve child, there is not one among my kind that did not.”
“Then you are damned,” Zaer hissed.
“Moreso than you can imagine,” Zet agreed. He then turned to Luciene and lowered himself before her, assuming a bow. “My apologies, miss Luciene. I have not intended to lie to you, but I have withheld the truth in failing to clarify your assumptions about me. I am…not alive, not as you know it. And this, err, ‘mask’ I wear—well, you flatter me. But it is no mask,” Zet explained, then stood upright again, and in the process shrugged off his cloak. Even Luciene’s jaw fell open at the sight of the internally-illuminated skeleton that stood before her then. “I am a Nemesor of the Necrontyr…or, I would be, if the Necrontyr remained.”
“Nemesor,” Zaer muttered, then shook his head. “Of which Dynasty?”
“None,” Zet answered.
Zaer shook his head, dissatisfied with the answer. “That cannot be.”
“Are all on Eutophoria not what they once were?”
“But your command and resurrection protocols—”
“Have been severed.”
That, at last, gave Zaer pause, and he even lowered his rifle entirely. “It is a trick.”
“I do not often rely on cheap deceptions, young Aeldari.”
“Lucy,” Zaer turned to her, as though seeking guidance. “This creature is too dangerous. I cannot advise we spend any further time with it.”
“It has a name,” Zet muttered.
Luciene ignored the Necron for the moment, and addressed Zaer’s comment. “More dangerous than me?”
“I…no. No, not more than you. But for all your years, you are a newborn whereas it is ancient. If you give it even one chance, it would kill us all in a moment,” Zaer protested.
“I think I have given Zet multiple chances to do so,” Luciene suggested.
“But to be on its own ship—I…it’s unthinkable, Lucy. It’s—”
“Are you afraid?” she asked him, and placed a hand on his left shoulder.
Fear. Belief. Zaer understood the power of both, as the Exarchs had taught him so. Yes, Zet terrified him; a Nemesor outmatched him in every way, though he would never admit as such to Zet’s face. But Zaer was not fearful of his own wellbeing, but that Luciene’s crusade to eradicate fear, and to stand in defiance of it, would see her doomed. No, that was not quite it. Zaer was afraid he believed that was the case; he feared he did not believe in her enough. “I am.”
Luciene nodded, understanding, and then turned to Zet. “Apologize to my friend.”
“I’m sorry?” Zet said, and would have likely snorted, had he the throat to do so.
“Whatever it is that stands between you two, I will not have it. He is afraid of you. You will give him reason not to be. That, or you will find another crew, and I can assure you they will not be as fascinating as I am,” Luciene answered.
“I am certain that is true,” Zet said, but otherwise paused, and regarded Zaer. Zaer wondered what Zet could apologize for, if even the Necron would do so. A Nemesor was so high up in Necron society, and all Necrons were egotists to begin with. To expect one would humble themselves before an old enemy was as unthinkable as volunteering to step upon a Necron’s ship and expect to survive. And, yet, Kor’Kassan had done so. But when Zet materialized a great staff, affixed with a scythe’s hyperphase blade at its end, Zaer expected that both he and Luciene were about to be bisected with their next heartbeat. Instead, Zet used his grip on the staff to seamlessly fall to one knee before the Eldar. “4,193,” Zet said. “Such is the tally I have taken from your species in eons past. But on penalty of terminating my lifeless existence, Zaer of Biel-Tan, I hereby vow I shall not claim another, you or others of your kin, unless commanded to by your voice, or hers. I am sorry that our kinds once ignited the stars and bloodied Heaven itself. I cannot even shift blame unto my ancestors for that. But I cannot alter the past—not as some Diviners could. I can only keep from wronging the future. By Asuryan, I must hope that will be enough.”
Zaer heard the words, but could barely process them, as not a single one was even remotely close to what he had expected of Zet. In response, he turned away from the Necron, and wrestled himself out of Luciene’s grasp. “Get the name of my god out of your toothless mouth,” he grumbled, and stormed away from the pair, holstering his rifle. He did not join the other trio across the Deck, and instead left the scene entirely on his own.
As Zet rose to his feet again, and as Luciene watched Zaer walk away, the latter muttered, “That will not be enough to quell his fear. But it is a start. Thank you, Zet, for hearing and obliging my request.”
“It is not an unsound one to make,” Zet agreed. “This galaxy is riddled with the scars of mistakes made millennia ago. My species has made far more than most. I cannot blame him—or any other—for hating me for long-ago errors.”
“Hatred only leads to more mistakes being made,” Luciene shook her head. “There are better ways, even if few can see them. I suspect you’re one of the rare few that can,” she said, and tapped a hand to Zet’s shoulder. Her skin was warm. It was one thing for Zet’s internal registers to assess the precise evaluation of her body heat and label it above room-temperature.
But for the first time in 65 million years, Zet felt the warmth of another’s touch, as though he had taken off the mask.