The sleek silhouettes of fresh Conglomerate battleships appeared in the horizon. The usually nonchalant Roluans were urged to anxious gossip. Bemariq became the target of quick glances and harsh whispers. Even I experienced distrustful ice hidden in the politeness, but nobody could blame the locals.

Worst of the tension mellow, when it became apparent that the battleships wouldn't approach Heva. Only a decidedly civilian ship passed the Roluan military vessels and entered the harbour.

Still, the Conglomerate was out to impress. Their oceanic liner dwarfed the other vessels at the docks in both size and luxury. With its bony pitch-black hull, it gave the impression of being capable of taking on the Jaan battleships, despite its lack of weaponry.

An eerily calm crowd of locals had gathered to the waterfront. I too watched from the window of a seaside restaurant, as a whole army of extravagant notables and their stately servants walked down to the pier. Their demeanour was festive, as if the cream of Conglomerate society had decided to organise a pleasure cruise across the oceans.

A few Jaan mariners made an appearance, decorously beyond easy shouting distance.

My husband hadn't touched his meal of fermented sea snails. His stern gaze was stuck on the Conglomish arrivals, who mingled with the courteous but lukewarm Roluan reception.

"Recognise anyone?" I asked in a teasing tone.

Bemariq's frown deepened. "Yes."

I rested my elbows on the table. "Doesn't this help your home sickness?"

"I feel sick of the Conglomerate without any helping." Bemariq turned his eyes to me. "Are you hoping that I'll work my frustrations on you?"

"Perhaps."

My husband had been on the edge, after the nerveless telegraph from the Conglomerate convoy told that Bemariq's 'informed counsel' was expected. Such a blunt command meant that someone in the Conglomish delegation had the prestige to boss my husband around.

As our little house was unfitting for entertaining exalted guests, we had moved to a suite in the Grand Baleen hotel. The rather sumptuous decor and readily available room service were a nice change of pace, but I had done my best not to show any overt enjoyment. Bemariq might have taken it the wrong way.

After settling in, the Conglomish notables arranged a half-official reception at one of the hotel's lounges.

I took it as a chance to wear the splendid gown I had worn in our wedding. As I did a pirouette, the nacreous green-blue hem swirled around me. With my corset tight underneath, the wide rigid skirt made my waist look delightfully small. Like the trunk of a young tree, which would snap in the wind, if it wasn't so willowy.

Despite my admonitions, Bemariq didn't put on proper Conglomish dress. Instead he had a dark-grey suit in the sober Roluan style. Though the attire was immaculately tailored, he was woefully underdressed among the imprudent display of Conglomish men.

While my husband didn't quite look like a servant, he wasn't far off. Though admittedly the tight cut of the jacket highlighted his shoulders and vigorous build.

An eminently tall man strode to us. His hair was silver and he lacked all youthful aspect, yet despite his stately gravitas, he appeared barely older than Bemariq.

My husband nodded almost deep enough for it to be a bow. "Associate Ayimun."

I managed not to visibly start. Ayimun was a highly placed advisor in the government and a captain of industry, and a long term financial supporter of my husband. I had never personally met him, but I couldn't have failed to know his reputation.

"Associate Bemariq." Ayimun smiled wide. "You seem surprised to see me."

"Well, of course." Bemariq's voice had almost broken into a stutter. "How was your voyage?"

"Pleasant enough." Ayimun glanced at me. His eyes lingered at my abdomen. "Your wife is not with a child?"

"No."

Ayimun's smile didn't falter, but his eyes gained a harsh glint. "You should make haste. It would be a shame to lose yet another esteemed line of associates. Now, excuse me, I can't linger here. Do enjoy the party. The delicacies are almost fresh from the homeland."

After the high associate was gone, I pressed against Bemariq and whispered: "What did he mean, 'lose a line of associates'?"

Bemariq swirled his hand. "I'm at the moment the last male Usinilim. The next in line, a third cousin of mine, failed to establish any hereditary reins. His mother's infidelity was suspected but never established."

I had assumed that like other ancestral corpus of the Conglomerate, Usinilim was a large clan, with plenty of spare male's to take up the title. The continuation of an ancient line --an the easy utilisation of the infrastructure shackled to it-- rested on me bearing children.

"What's wrong?" Bemariq asked.

"I--"

A man in snappy dress uniform strode to us. "Lady Usinilim. Associate Bemariq. I am commandant Duy."

"Luwud." Bemariq's voice was cold. "How's your wrists?"

I winced, but Duy lifted his hand and smiled wide enough to push his eyes closed. "Oh, fine. The bones have healed, and the pain is but a memory."

Bemariq placed his arm around my waist and pulled me to him. "'Commandant', eh? Quite an promotion from a mere senior journalist."

Duy's smile didn't falter. "You see, associate, I was undercover. I work for the Elusive Service. At the present, I have been assigned to guard you."

"Oh, and presumably, keep an eye on me."

"Just so." Duy nodded. "This whole affair is due to the injustices committed on your person. I will remain at the hotel to keep you two safe. Do inform me or my men of your--" Duy glanced at me. "--or your wife's movements."

Duy took his furtive leave. For the rest of the short reception, Bemariq and I spent greeting immaculately polite people, who appeared to know my husband well, but whom my husband found more distant than mere strangers.

When we had lingered long enough to fulfil the bare minimums of courtesy, Bemariq took my hand and fled the lounge. He remained silent during the groaning elevator ride and the walk to our suite.

I closed the door after us.

"Would you like a drink?" Bemariq asked. He went straight to the cabinet, where he poured a glass full of fortified wine.

"No, thank you." For a moment I wondered, how I would get out of my gown. Bemariq didn't seem inclined to help. I untied my shoes, made the support cartilage of my skirt slacken and went to sit next to Bemariq.

He sipped his drink in silence, so I said: "You were surprised to see Ayimun."

"Yes."

"Why?"

Bemariq looked at me with an amused frown on his face. "A man like that, here in the end of the world... What he thinks he'll get out of here must outweigh the losses from not supervising his ventures back home." My husband's voice had a strange frailty. Not the wavery quality of fear, but a distinct vulnerability nevertheless.

Instead of poking into the source of those feelings, I said: "Why didn't you tell me you were the last Usinilim?"

"It didn't seem relevant." He let out a grim chuckle. "At times I've thought that it'd be a poignant gesture of spite to die without an heir."

A jolt went through me. "Was that why you were fine marrying me?"

Bemariq took a long sip of his drink and turned his eyes to examine me. "Your point eludes me, Sirin. We could always have had a child through a surrogate."

I frowned. Chimeras weren't such an unproblematic solution to childlessness. The scandal alone would have been a wildfire of nasty gossip, not to mention the heightened possibility of developmental irregularities. Of course, none of that would trouble someone, who didn't want progeny.

"But you do want children? With me?"

Bemariq drank long and full while staring the rain-spattered window. "You must admit that at the moment it would be inconvenient."

His words struck me as an unpleasant pang. Odd, as procreation hadn't been high on my priorities in life. The primordial machines must have programmed the instinct into me. I remained quiet, as I fought to suppress the mounting disappointment, before the anxiety turned into grief.

My husband turned to look at me. I let my face communicate my feelings, as I found no sensible words. My hand was drawn to my abdomen, inside where a knot twisted.

Worry spread into Bemariq's expression. "Did the pain start?"

"What pai--" I caught myself.

He must have meant my cycle. Through a moment of concentration, I managed to separate the real physical pain from my mental anguish.

This was the wrong moment to disgust Bemariq with my feminine physicality.

I smiled. "No, it's merely the digestion. Something spoiled in the imported food, perhaps." I patted my husband's thigh. "I need to visit the bathroom. Help me out of this gown."

Without visible hurry, I made my way to the bathroom and used the precaution given by my physician. After the sedatives began their work, my sickness was quite tolerable. I allowed myself to relax a little. Perhaps the flux wouldn't be so horrible this time.

I returned to the main room. Bemariq had taken off his coat and had a found a book to read, yet his expression remained tense.

The reception had upset my husband more than he cared to show. He deserved to relax. Afterwards he'd be able to see my point of view and properly consider his decisions.

I sat next to him, and slowly began to unbutton his shirt.

With a wry smile on his face, the man allowed me to take the garment off him. I rested my cheek on his bare shoulder. My hand wandered down the defined torso. Below the pliant layer of skin, was thew, which could be both so pleasantly soft and rock-hard.

I unclasped the front of his trousers.

Bemariq placed his hand on mine. "If you are eager, we could do, what we have already done plenty of times."

"No. I don't want to our new first time to be something we have already done."

My hand wandered into his trousers to find the hardening member. The man's breath deepened.

"We could use contraception", he said.

I wrapped my hand around his girth. How odd, that his tool felt more mine than my own had.

"It'd be insipid", I said in tones theatrical haughty scorn. "For your sword to be sheathed, when it has entered me freely already."

Bemariq's smile disappeared. "We'd risk pregnancy."

"Would that be bad?"

The man moved my hand aside. "I said it would be inconvenient."

"Why? You wouldn't be the o--"

"Look, Sirin." Bemariq squeezed my hand, but the gesture was too strong to be reassuring. "Even without your... condition, the situation is precarious. With the Conglomerate here, I will have to make hard decisions."

"What do you mean?"

He sighed. "I should have told you. The Censor tried to instil a map of the facility into my mind. The mental image is a half-forgotten dream. Nevertheless, I found what must be the secondary entrance." Bemariq turned to stare into my eyes. "It didn't open for me, but I am certain you --or your suit-- have access."

My jaw clenched. "You mean, you would take the Censor's offer, before these countries can fight over the facility?"

"Yes." Bemariq leaned back. "Neither the Jaan or the Conglomerate are going to back away. They both must lose, before they can start a war."

Shivers pulsed up my spine. "You want my help, so you can abandon me?"

Bemariq closed his trousers and stood up. "The search for this facility was everything. I was fool, who had committed his life to a mere tale. Against all the sneers, we found it." The triumph was bitter in his voice. "And still I had to slink back home to beg and snivel for more funds, just so I could actually get inside. I could easily do, whatever it takes, if it weren't for you."

The air petrified around me, save for the insisted tapping of the rain. I was a burden. My silly small ideas about a family were shackles to Bemariq.

If I loved him, I would support his life's work.

"I understand", I whispered. "But please don't treat me as an anchor around your neck."

Bemariq turned around towards me. On his face, the scowl was defeated by a worried frown. He sat next to me. I let him take my hand. He said: "If I'm right, I will need your help."

He needed me, just so he could leave me. Yet his reasons were righteous enough, even if his motivation had the stench of personal glory. I couldn't blame him that the facility was beyond both of our dreams. My anger was doused by absurd joy, and their combined steam rose out of my throat as a deranged giggle.

I found myself on my feet. I couldn't look at the man, lest whatever emotion was on his face prompted me to break into a whimper.

The suite had no room to hide in. I had to escape and find some peace to make sense of my whirling thoughts. I was too undressed to leave, so I went to my clothes.

Outside, the rainy evening was dark, so the dullest spare gown could do. It was easy to slip into, alone.

Bemariq was at the door. I avoided looking at his eyes.

"Sirin." The name was firm and toneless on his lips. It could have been a command, or a strained plea.

I pulled the ring off my finger. "With this you should be able to utilise the carapace suit to your ends." Pride swelled in me for managing to speak without breaking down into a snivelling bitter heap.

Bemariq refused my offering, so I tilted my hand and let the ring drop on the floor. Nothing moved in the man's face.

"Please, let me pass", I said.

The man moved aside. I wrapped a cloak around myself and headed out.

My stony determination held, for a while. Before I was out of the lobby, tears gushed from my eyes.