“What are you doing?” she asked, planting her hands on her hips.

He held up the long, thin vines he twisted. “The vines act as a pulley, attached to this branch. I’ve fastened these leaves to the branch.” The leaves stuck out like spokes from the branch, which he propped between the posts of the canopy. He tied the vines to one end of the branch, then tugged on them. As he pulled, the branch turned, and the attached leaves stirred currents of air. Creating a fan.

Amazed at his ingenuity, she still felt compelled to ask, “Are we going to have to pull that all night?”

“No!” He shook his head at her ridiculousness. Rummaging in his pack, he produced a handful of metal pieces. Within moments, he fashioned them into a small motor. He attached the other end of the vine pulley to the device. He flicked a switch and the motor hummed to life, pulling on the vines, which, in turn rotated the branch with the leaves.

“It’s not the Pavami Emperor’s palace.” He surveyed his handiwork. “But it should keep the temperature down. A little, anyway.”

She stalked around the raised platform toward Nils. He could only stand there, a startled look on his face, as she took hold of the back of his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. It didn’t take long for him to recover, however, and he returned the kiss with avid intensity, wrapping his arms around her waist.

They were rough with each other, aggressive, as if the jungle had seeped into their blood and they became as fierce as the place itself. It was almost a contest of wills, strength to strength, mouths plundering, their tongues stroking each other, lapping up their essences.

She lost track of time, of place, and only when she pulled back, gasping, did she regain sense. Still, it was difficult to do so when his gaze burned and his hands held her tightly.

“Ought to make rudimentary devices more often,” he said, his voice a hard rasp.

“Just imagine what might happen if you build something truly elaborate.”

His smile unfolded in sensuous promise. “My imagination is extremely active.”

“Let’s finish making camp before full darkness hits. Then you can show me just how imaginative you can be.”

Slowly, they broke apart, busying themselves with the final adjustments to their encampment. A cooking fire was ultimately rejected, in case the light attracted unwanted attention, and with heavy sighs they both ate more sustenance-paks, washed down hastily with more water. Several nutrient capsules formed the rest of their meal, ensuring that they received the proper nourishment after the long, demanding day.

Tomorrow would be even longer, and not simply demanding, but treacherous. The thought weighed heavy on her. It must’ve done the same with Nils, for they both ate their meals and swallowed their capsules in silence. Sitting on their improvised platform, her legs drawn up, arms braced on her knees, she stared out into the darkening jungle. Life teemed all around, from the rustling foliage to the avian cries to the deeper, distant growls of larger animals on the hunt. None of these creatures knew or cared what brought her and Nils to their homeworld. None recognized that tomorrow might be the last day of the humans’ lives.

Oddly, this strengthened her. Everything continued on, regardless of what happened to her. Even the fight against PRAXIS would continue—though maybe not as long as she would’ve wanted. Nothing existed beyond thousands of solar years. Civilizations would die; new ones would emerge. Truth and fact blew away like so much cosmic dust. Permanence was impermanent.

“Where’ve you gone?” Nils asked softly, breaking her thoughts.

“Thinking about the ruins of Volod Rey,” she murmured. “I’ve seen them. They’re half-buried in crystalline sands. At one time, the queens of that planet thought their empire would last until the end of time. Time pushed forward. The queens and their mighty cities were no more, Volod Rey populated by archeologists, not inhabitants.”

She ran her fingers back and forth over the platform. Though she and Nils had built it strong, the jungle would reclaim it within a matter of days.

“It’s like there’s no consequence,” she continued. “I can unleash my full fury tomorrow against Marek. With no promises to keep, the fight becomes everything.”

“You don’t have any concern for the future?” asked Nils. It was too dark to see much now beyond the suggestion of his form, yet she felt acutely aware of his presence, the physical space he occupied and the resonance of his self.

“I want victory for the 8th Wing. I want to dance at the next Night of Masks, but, ultimately, the only meaning anything has is that which we assign it. And that meaning vanishes when we disappear.”

“Significance goes on, past the lifespan of one creature. Past the stretches of measured time.”

“Why are you angry?” she asked, for his voice had taken on an edge. “I thought the engineer in you would appreciate the intransience of human existence. The triumph of physics over societies. The persistence of the universe.”

“You’re asking me to contemplate your death, to consider that the loss of my life and yours is essentially meaningless, and then ask me why I’m angry?” Though he didn’t raise his voice, it held fury, tight and cutting.

She’d witnessed him in combat several times, and seen his anger, yet this aspect of him caught her by surprise. “Nils—”

“I don’t give a sipkaswine’s ass what happens to the universe,” he rumbled. “Physics can go fuck itself. I care about you, Celene. And I won’t be unmoved about the prospect of your death. Thinking about it feels like my insides have been torn out with rusty ion forceps.”

She gathered him close, and felt the tension slowly leave his body as his arms wrapped around her. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He sighed, and touched his forehead to hers. His breath fanned warmly over her.

“I can’t be cavalier about death. Mine or yours.”

She gave a humorless laugh. “My word on the Three Sacred Tablets, I have no desire to wear the pala wreath.” Her hand came up to trace the side of his face, feeling the bristles along his jaw and tracing the contours of his mouth. “There’s too much in the realm of the living.”

He started to speak again, but she silenced him with her lips. Resolute, yet tender. She explored his taste, his feel, learning him anew every time. Being able to kiss him now, when so much had stood in their way or interrupted them, was a rare luxury she fully intended to take advantage of.

Even with her reputation as Stainless Jur, she hadn’t hidden her sensual needs. She never saw the necessity to play coy, or pretend that she didn’t have sexual desires. Yet with Nils, she felt herself utterly letting go, giving full power to the demands of her body—and heart. She leaned back, pulling him with her, until they lay on the platform. Her hands moved up the tense sinews of his arms, raking her nails along his skin, and he groaned into her mouth at the sensation.

Fevered with wanting, she gripped his shoulders, feeling the bunch and play of muscles. He moved so that his body lay atop hers, his legs between hers. She hooked her ankles over the backs of his thighs, so that they were locked tightly together, hip to hip.

She barely felt the platform beneath her. Her awareness clung only to the weight of Nils, the feel of his body, the taste of his mouth. She tilted her hips and moaned at the sensation of his fabric-covered cock sliding over her. They rocked together, a delicious, maddening tease. Her hands drifted from his shoulders to run over his slick, straining back. The bandages frustrated her—she wanted to feel every part of him—yet they reminded her of the courage he demonstrated again and again. He never retreated. Like her, he met every challenge.

And, at that moment, their clothing was the challenge. They both struggled partially upright, tugging on the fastenings of their uniforms. She sighed with relief as she peeled back the clinging fabric, pulling her arms from the sleeves and pushing the uniform top down to her waist. Then lower, taking the one-piece garment down her legs. She hesitated for a moment.

“Don’t stop,” he urged. “I want you naked.”

“I want to be naked. But I’m not sure what to do about my boots.”

“Right.” He glanced at the surrounding jungle. “Hostile environment.”

“Might need to be dressed and running at a moment’s notice.”

“And we’ve seen what’s crawling across the jungle floor.”

She growled. “Damn.”

He grabbed her hand, kissed it. “It’s all right. I want you however I can have you.”

It wasn’t going to be elegant or pretty, but she pushed her uniform down so it gathered around her calves. “If I’m going to look this ridiculous, you do too.”

His eyes gleamed in the darkness. “You don’t look ridiculous. You look…real.”

“Then you’d better get real, Lieutenant Calder.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Nils also partially undressed, and in the dim radiance of the moonlight, she saw his narrow, uncovered hips, his bare legs. And his cock, upright and thick.

“Gods,” she breathed, “what I wouldn’t give for a full-sized lys-lamp. Even simu-candles. I want to see you.”

“It’s said that other senses compensate when one’s diminished. Touch, for example.” He reached for her, and she went willingly as they pressed together tightly.

She gasped at the feel of his bare cock rubbing against her. Some minor shred of modesty had kept her panties and tank top on, but the synth-silk fabric of her underwear was far thinner than her uniform, and it was almost like naked skin against naked skin. She felt the heat of his shaft, the smooth head, even the tiny droplet of moisture gathering at the tip.