NOVEL NEXT Ch95.2 Dilinur: Beautiful Broken Things (Scene 2)
Mars Standard Time: 21:30, May 11, 2295 (Earth Day Equivalent)
Aboard Osiris, Lion District, Xing Hong, Hellas Basin, Mars
The Constellation-class carrier Osiris didn't just occupy space—it redefined it.
Dilinur stood at the base of the boarding ramp, her fingers unconsciously finding her throat. Still feeling phantom lips there. Phantom heat.
"Bloody hell," Wilhelm breathed beside her.
"I reckon most of you have not been on or seen this ship personally." Laurent was saying. "Chairman Kofi and I have decided to leave her on Mars if case the Fenris Horde ever make a bold move. Luckily, that decision is paying off."
"Never been aboard, myself. Scarabs, Aniomas and plasma guns usually sufficed for missions back on Earth." Wilhelm managed a faint smile as he turned to Dilinur. "Pictures don't do her justice, eh?"
"Sorry?" She blinked, realizing he meant the ship. Jade and gold rippled across Osiris's hull like oil on water, the Directorate's bioengineers having grown metal to curve like living wood.
"I was saying, pictures don't quite—you alright?" Wilhelm's hand hovered near her shoulder. "You seem elsewhere."
"I'm fine. More than fine, actually."
Celine glanced back, eyes narrowing. "Are you? You seemed taken with our host."
"She provided the activation codes," Dilinur said evenly, swallowing, blushing. Why blush now? She scolded herself. "And she seems…important."
"Among other things, I'm sure." Celine's tone could have etched glass. "That woman had you eating out of her hand before the appetizers arrived."
Laurent pressed his palm to the recognition pad before Dilinur could respond. The boarding doors—three stories of carved fractals—flared gold.
"Welcome back, Prince N'Guessan," the ship's voice resonated through their bones. "Osiris awakens."
They entered through a corridor that pulsed with light, and Dilinur noticed Celine walking three steps behind Laurent. Not following. Making a point about not following.
"Where are Jabari and his android?" Celine asked, her tone deceptively casual.
"Preparing the Scarabs and Gyatas for transport. As ordered."
"You mean away from sensitive discussions." Celine's fingers traced the wall's bioengineered surface. "Don't trust your new Major with strategic planning?"
Laurent's shoulders tightened. "I trust him to follow orders."
"Like you followed the Oligarchs' orders to leave Osiris dormant?" The question hung between them like a blade. "Yet here we are, waking her."
"The situation has changed."
"It has. We need victories to maintain influence." Celine's smile could have drawn blood. "This isn't about Mars. It's about proving Kimaris deserves to exist as Chairman Kofi's trusted."
"Worried the Chairman and his Oligarchs won't provide those financial sponsorship next year?" Laurent asked, turning to Celine.
"Always." Celine's response was instant.
Wilhelm cleared his throat. "Lovely ship. Shall we admire the bridge?"
The bridge unfolded before them in tiers of golden command stations cascading to a central dais. A massive table materialized from the floor—no, rising felt like the wrong word. Growing. Golden veins spreading through crystal until the surface hummed.
As Celine pulled up the Mars projection, Dilinur caught Wilhelm watching her.
"You've been awfully quiet since dinner," he said. "Not like you."
"I'm observing, Major Wilhelm."
"Mmm." His blue eyes held uncomfortable perception. "Quite a perfume you're wearing, by the by. Martian jasmine?"
Heat crawled up her neck. She hadn't put on perfume. The scent was Millaray's, somehow clinging to her clothes, her hair, her skin despite barely touching.
"The Mayor was...generous with her proximity," she managed.
"Ah, I noticed." No judgment in his tone, but something else. Concern? "To me, she seems the type with adopt different persona for different people. Wonder which one you met."
Before she could respond, the room filled with light. The Mars hologram erupted from the table, and suddenly Dilinur was inside it—standing in a projection of Xing Hong's streets. For a moment, she saw Millaray walking ahead, black silk wrapping her swaying bosom, just out of reach.
She blinked hard. The vision dissolved, leaving only Mars spinning above the table, infected with what looked like Fenris and Jokull hive clusters on the northern half.
"Conservative estimate puts them at fifty thousand," Celine was saying. "Could be twice that underground."
Through the viewport, a transport approached carrying their Moondust shard—one and a half stories of crystallized power, after the fusion of all shards in their posession. Even through the carrier's shielding, Dilinur felt it pulling at her consciousness. A headache spiked in her temple, and for a second, she could have sworn she tasted wine and felt silk against her skin.
"So, where's Skarn? Do we have any…information on the Fenris Primarch?" she asked, needing to anchor herself.
"Unknown. But wherever he goes, the hives should respond." Laurent pulled up tracking data. "He has the main Crystal body, after all. I'd wager somewhere between Xanthe Terra and Olympus Mons."
"We have our fair share of Moondust." Celine said with lethal certainty. "It's time to act. Track him down, and show him the Directorate's might."
Laurent laughed. "Rather straightforward."
"The longer we wait, the stronger our enemies become." Celine's hand had found her waist. "Or perhaps we should secure more of the Crystal from the Alliance."
"From the Alliance?" Laurent's voice sharpened, eyes narrowing as he leaned on the oval table, grinning sarcastically. "We'll need a really long speech. And some extra large coffee."
"No need for that." Celine stepped closer to the prince. "Give the word, Prince Laurent, and I will lead a band of Ologuns to board Ironsides VII and slay anyone who gets in our way. Tonight is an ideal time."
"You mean to take our rivals' Crystal shards by force—"
"While their battlecruiser is dormant, yes." Celine's eyes glinted with intent as she raised a finger. "It'd be unwise for them to bring Moondust fragments into the city. Ironsides VII is the only logical place they'd have them stored."
The Moodust shard entered through dilating cargo doors, its light throwing shadows that moved wrong. Dilinur winced—a shared spike of pain behind her eyes.
"Anyone else feeling..." She pressed a few fingers to her temples.
"The Crystal's resonance," Laurent said, though his own voice strained. "Seems there's no using it without occasional insomnia."
Dilinur saw Celine's jaw clench, saw Laurent's hands tremble. The Moondust shard was affecting them all, amplifying something in any human who'd interfaced with it. For Celine, someone who had been temporarily controlled by it. For Laurent, a previous Moondust user much like Dilinur herself.
Her Quantum Watch buzzed. A message from Millaray: "The Alliance is moving their shard into Eagle District. Thought you should know."
Why would she share that? Unless she wanted the Directorate positioned specifically...to win?
"Message from the Mayor." Dilinur spoke up, raising the red dial of her watch so the others could see, the holographic bubble hanging in the air.
"Then we infiltrate Eagle District." Celine added quickly. "I'll borrow a few Krypts from Amir. Maybe have Jabari join us. Should be enough to sneak in and fight our way out, taking their shard."
"Nevermind how difficult the plan is, with Lorna Weiss on their side—" Laurent leaned away from the table, standing straight. "That is simply not what the Kimaris stands for."
"Nevermind, then." Celine sighed.
"What if we weren't alone?" Laurent said suddenly. "The Alliance—"
"No." Celine's refusal came out almost strangled, like she was fighting the words. "I won't—I can't work with them."
"I suppose mathematics do support cooperation. One plus one equals two, hey?" Wilhelm offered, though sweat beaded his forehead. "But Thousand Gods. It ain't like the Alliance has a history of trusting us."
"Beautiful broken things," Dilinur murmured.
"Is this an Imperial proverb I'm not familir with?" Celine asked.
"Elaborate?" Laurent countered.
"No, it's just..." Dilinur admitted. "I can't stop thinking about—" She bit her tongue hard enough to taste copper.
Wilhelm's hand found her shoulder. Steady. Grounding. "The Mayor?"
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
Then the central screen flared red.
"Proximity alert. Multiple bio-signatures detected. Three hundred meters and closing."
For a moment, the room exploded with motion—Laurent drawing the hilt of his Psytum Sword like instinct, Celine moving to tactical displays.
But in that moment of panic, Wilhelm had positioned himself between her and the others, protective. And Dilinur—she'd reached for her watch to call Millaray.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
Then the signatures veered away.
"Just migrating Sky Shredders, following regular flight paths." Celine sighed as she stepped back from the displays.
They stood frozen, recognizing the false alarm.
"I'll ask Ume to calibrate the detection matrices." Laurent put his sword hilt back in his robes, crossing his arms. "Assuming she can comprehend Osiris's systems."
"We're not ready for an alliance," Celine said. "We can't even trust each other enough to form a plan."
"Let's take a break and reconvene in the morrow." Laurent offered. "The closer we get to Skarn, the more careful we should be."
"Major Wilhelm, your room is 2311 at the Serengeti Crown Hotel." Celine eyed Wilhelm briefly before turning to Dilinur. "And you, Cadet Dilinur, 2309. Jabari and Ume's rooms are adjacent."
"Lovely arrangement." Wilhelm's voice carried forced cheer. "I'm always avaible if anyone wants to drink orange wine or play some poker."
Mars Standard Time: 23:00, May 11, 2295 (Earth Day Equivalent)
Room 2309, The Serengeti Crown Hotel, Lion District, Xing Hong, Hellas Basin, Mars
The hotel room was aggressively neutral—beige walls, brown furniture, the kind of space designed to be forgotten. Dilinur stood at the window, still in her Conjurer robes, watching Osiris pulse in the distance like a mechanical heart.
She should shower. Sleep. Prepare for tomorrow's inevitable duties.
Instead, she pressed her forehead to the cool glass and let herself drown in the phantom sensation of silk against her calf.
A knock—three light taps, almost apologetic.
"It's me, Wilhelm. Brought that orange wine. And cards. And..." a pause, "...well, what passes for food at this hour."
Dilinur found herself smiling despite everything. She opened the door to find Wilhelm balancing a bottle, two glasses, a deck of cards, and a paper bag that smelled of garlic and ginger.
"Went to Amir ealier. Asked if he'd like to join. Alas, the monk seemed occupied with something ritualistic." The Valoran shrugged, his blonde hair catching the corridor's dim lights. "Jabari and Ume are trapped in their own nice little bubble. Good for them, all things considered!"
"Breaking curfew, Major?"
"Perks of rank." He held up the bag. "Dumplings from a place that doesn't officially exist after midnight. The owner owes me for not reporting his Bone Fiend side business."
"Bone Fiend business?"
"Man captures them to be grilled and mixed with Bodhi Agni. Local cuisine. Rated 4.62 on the Extranet!"
"Why, that sounds delicious." She mocked.
"Tried it once. Tastes better than chicken, for sure." He grinned with a casual shrug.
She stepped aside. He entered, setting his contraband on the small table by the window.
"You looked ready to crawl out of your skin back there," he said, uncorking the wine with practiced ease. "Thought you might appreciate the distraction."
The wine glowed amber in the low light, citrus-scented with an undertone of something harder.
Dilinur accepted a glass, let it soothe her throat before speaking. "Playing nursemaid?"
"Playing friend." He settled into the opposite chair, shuffling cards with surprising dexterity. "Unless you'd prefer to brood alone?"
She almost said yes. The Imperium had trained her for solitude. But something in his easy manner, the way he didn't crowd her space or demand explanations, made her sink into her chair.
"Five-card draw," he announced. "Stakes?"
"I don't have anything worth betting. Not anymore, at least."
Her mind drifted back to that night with Joon-Seok. When she'd traded her virginity for his mercy. She couldn't help looking to the side, staring at the oriental dragon etched into its crimson dial.
To her relief, Wilhelm's warm voice broke the depressing thought. "Stories, then? You win a hand, I tell you something embarrassing. I win, you do the same."
"That's…a terrible idea!"
"All the best ones are." He dealt with quick efficiency. "I'll start—lost my virginity to my economics tutor. She was forty-three. I was seventeen and thought I was the Thousand Gods' gift to women."
Dilinur choked on her wine. "That's your opening?"
"Sets the bar, doesn't it?" His grin was boyish, disarming. "Your turn to deal or share."
She looked at her cards—pair of queens. His face gave away nothing, but the way his thumb tapped the table suggested nerves.
"I call." She laid down her hand.
He showed three fours. "Lucky me."
"I once spent six hours hiding in a supply closet because Governor Qin was in one of his moods." The words came out flat, clinical. "Cheng Wei, my seneschal back then, found me. Pretended he didn't see anything."
Wilhelm's hand stilled mid-shuffle. "My respects."
"Your deal."
He dealt. This time she folded immediately—her cards were garbage, but she also didn't want to risk another confession.
"Smart play." He showed his hand—nothing. Pure bluff. "My first Scarab deployment, I was so nervous I forgot to engage the catheter system. Pissed myself during combat. Still won, mind you, but the cleanup crew never let me forget it."
That startled a laugh from her. "You're making that up."
"Scout's honor. Ask Laurent sometime. He loves that story."
They played three more hands. She learned he'd joined the Directorate after his father's shipping company went bankrupt, that he'd learned to fly the Anioma before he could drive a civilian car, that he collected vintage Imperial books about dragons and monks.
"Your turn," he said after winning with a straight. "Something that isn't about survival or duty."
She poured them both more wine, buying time. The question sat heavy between them. What did she have that wasn't about survival or duty?
"I used to paint," she said finally. "Before the Legion. Watercolors, mostly. My mother taught me—said Uyghur women kept their souls alive through art."
His eyebrows rose slightly. "Do you still?"
"No. The Imperium trained it out of me. Art requires feeling. They needed weapons, tools, assets. 'Useful' people."
"What happened to the paintings?"
"Burned them myself. The night before I joined the Conjurer program." She shrugged. "Couldn't risk the sentimentality."
Wilhelm gathered the cards slowly. "That's quite a sacrifice."
"It was necessary." She took another sip. "Everything I've done has been necessary. Every man I've let touch me. Every order I've followed. Every piece of myself I've carved away."
"And the Mayor?" He leaned back. "Is she necessary too?"
The question made her freeze. "I don't…I've never…" She stopped, started again. "Women weren't...an option. Not in the Imperium. Not for someone in my position."
His voice stayed carefully neutral. "And now?"
"Now I'm on Mars, probably going to die fighting monsters, and a woman I met three hours ago has me..." She gestured helplessly. "I don't even have words for it. I've had men in my bed. Used them, or been used by them…doesn't really matter which. But this feels different."
"First time wanting someone just because you want them?"
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
"It could be." He reached across the table, his fingers hovering near hers. "You're allowed to want things that don't hurt."
She looked at his hand—steady, callused, offering something uncomplicated. Then she thought of Millaray's fingers tracing wine glass stems.
"I don't know if I'm built for that."
"Nobody's built for anything. We all just...adapt."
Her Quantum Watch chimed. Both of them looked at it—'From: Osiris Secure Message Server; 0830, Rally in Booth 66 of Serengeti Crown Hotel. Breakfast together before meeting Terra Alliance personnel.'
"Ah, meeting the eagles, but with proper scrambled eggs and black coffee." Wilhelm stood. "I should go. Let you rest."
"Stay." The word surprised them both. "Just...not alone tonight. We can play more cards."
He studied her face, then nodded. "Deal me in."
They played until the wine ran out, then switched to water and the dumplings, now cold but still good. He told her about Anise in the Confederacy, who'd broken his heart so thoroughly he'd fled to Mars. She told him about the first time she'd used Eclipse magic and nearly burned down a training facility.
Around 0200, she dozed off in her chair. When she woke, he'd covered her with the spare blanket and was reading something on his watch, feet propped on the windowsill.
"You stayed."
"You asked me to, hey?"
"I meant stay for cards, not..." she gestured vaguely.
"I know what you meant. But what you needed seemed different."
She should have been angry at the presumption. Instead, she felt something unknot in her chest.
"The Mayor…Millaray…she's dangerous," she said to the ceiling.
"Yes."
"I still want her."
"I know."
"You're not going to warn me off?"
He smiled, sad and understanding. "Would it work?"
"No."
"Then I'll just be here. For cards. For terrible midnight dumplings. For whatever you need that doesn't involve me watching you destroy yourself."
"That's a very specific kind of friendship."
"The best kind—honest."
Dilinur chuckled as she eyed him. "You're so weird, Wilhelm."
"Get some actual sleep," he said, standing. "Tomorrow we pretend to trust the Alliance while planning to stab them in the back."
"Just another day, then?"
He paused at the door. "Dinu? You're not as broken as you think."
"How would you know?"
"Because broken people don't worry about it. They just break others." He gave her one last smile. "You're trying not to. That's something."
The door closed behind him. Suddenly, loneliness returned. Dilinur wished she had the courage to ask Wilhelm to stay over, ranks be damned.
But when she closed her eyes, she saw jade green and black silk.
She stripped mechanically, folding her robes with military precision as she entered the shower unit. The shower ran too hot, but she didn't adjust it. The pain felt clean, simple. Nothing like the complex ache between her legs that no amount of hot water could wash away.
Governor Qin had touched her. Used her. Left bruises that had faded but never really healed. She'd learned to disconnect, to float above her body while it endured. Sex was transaction, power, violence wrapped in prettier words.
But Millaray hadn't even touched her—really touched her—and Dilinur was coming apart at the seams.
She shut off the water, wrapped herself in the hotel's scratchy towel. The bed was too soft, the kind that swallowed you whole. She lay on top of the covers, still damp, staring at the ceiling.
Her hand drifted down without permission. Found herself wet, swollen, aching. She snatched it back like she'd touched fire.
"No."
But her body didn't care about her protests. Every shift of the sheets sent sparks through her skin. Her nipples stood hard against the towel's rough fabric. She could smell her own arousal, sweet and shameful in the sterile room.
What would Millaray taste like? Sound like? Would she be cruel or tender? Both?
Dilinur grabbed a pillow, pressed it over her face, making a muffled scream. When she came up for air, nothing had changed. She still wanted. Still ached. Still felt like she was betraying something fundamental about herself.
The Imperium had categories for everything. Soldier. Woman. Tool. But they'd never prepared her for this—wanting something that didn't fit in any box they'd built.
Her Quantum Watch buzzed again. That very same number who'd told her about the Alliance and where they're moving their Moondust shard to.
'I know you're awake.'
Dilinur's heart stopped. Started. Raced.
'How did you know?' She typed with shaking fingers.
'I'm the Mayor. I know a lot of things.' A pause. Three dots appearing and disappearing. Then: 'Usually.'
'What do you want?' Dinu typed back.
'Now? To know what you're thinking. Later? To find out what breaks you beautifully.'
Dilinur stared at the screen until the words blurred. She should delete this. Block the number. Report this to Wilhelm, Celine, Laurent, Jabari. Whoever!
Instead, she typed playfully, feeling aroused: 'You assume I break.'
'Everyone breaks. The question is whether they choose how.'
'And if I choose not to choose?'
'Then you're lying to yourself. But that's beautiful too, in its way.'
Dilinur set the watch on the nightstand. Didn't respond. Couldn't respond. But she didn't delete the messages either.
Outside, something howled—perhaps more Sky Shredders, Fenris scouts probing Xing Hong's defenses. Tomorrow would bring blood and horror and impossible choices. But tonight, she lay in the dark and let herself want something she couldn't name, couldn't categorize, couldn't control.
When sleep finally came, she dreamed of jade, silk and shadows, of being collected and catalogued among beautiful broken things. And for the first time in years, she didn't dream of escape.
She dreamed of surrender.