Summerhill (37 page)

Summerhill set his finger against the button that launched the escape pod, but he didn’t press it yet. “Well, then I withdraw my apology. Because I’m not sorry for trying to save someone.”

The whole ship then lurched as the sound of a loud explosion reverberated from somewhere nearby. Arasiel showed no outward reaction except for a thin smile. “No apology necessary.” Another series of explosions, weaker than the first, shook the ship in rapid succession. “Now I’ve got two prizes to collect someday, both of them so much the sweeter because of what you’ve done.” She touched her fingers to her lips and blew him a kiss, her lipstick having stained her fingertips blood red.

With a casual twirl, she turned around, her long hair sweeping behind her. The next moment, she disappeared into thin air, and the ship began to list again.

That was all the warning Summerhill needed. He took a deep breath and pressed the button. As the flash of light overtook the escape pod, he had a very good idea of where it was going to send him.

Thirty-Seven

Gratitude

It was late evening, with Rydale’s orange sun shifted towards red as it hung low in the sky. The ocean formed a nice, placid horizon, broken only by a single offshore island.

The very first stars were visible high up in the sky, far away from the sun. Familiar patterns showed themselves, and Summerhill recognized this sky as the one he’d seen back when he’d lost track of himself inside the nevereef with Katherine. Maybe at some point in his distant past, he’d come here for some reason, and although he knew he might never find out whether that was true or not, the uncertainty no longer bothered him.

A large city filled up the coastal plain between the ocean and the gently rolling hills off to the southeast. There was still at least an hour of light remaining before true night, and so only some of the brighter city lights were on. Rydale architecture seemed to prefer buildings that were round instead of angular, short and squat, like cones that had had their tops sliced off.

From up here on the hillside, Summerhill could see almost the entire city. Down there, there were probably millions of otter-people, the scent on any crowded street likely enough to drive him into a frenzy.

Luckily, Summerhill didn’t need to go down into the city, and he didn’t need to deal with thousands or millions of otters. Just one.

He was out walking along the grass outside of the small house up here on the hill, a blue and purple truncated cone built next to a small stream. He hadn’t noticed Summerhill yet, walking with his head down as he carried a bucket in one webbed paw. His path was carrying him up the gentle incline, though, so he was bound to run into the dog eventually. Perhaps literally if he didn’t look up soon.

Having already collided with the otter twice before, Summerhill decided to spare him a third such incident. “Hello, Tekutan,” he said.

The otter squeaked in alarm as he came to a halt, lifting his head up as he came out of his daze. “Summerhill?” His wide eyes twinkled in the faint light of dusk. “What are you doing out here? I thought you were back—” He trailed off as realization dawned. “You’re not my Summerhill, are you?”

Summerhill had his hands stuffed into his pockets. “Have you been well?”

Tek set the bucket down and stepped closer, then stopped himself. “Is it, um, okay if I get closer?”

“I should be okay around just one of you. At least for a minute or two. So have you been doing all right? Sounds like you’ve, um, settled.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re good.” The otter paced a few steps in either direction. “Sorry. Wow, this is really awkward.”

Summerhill took a couple steps closer to him. “It doesn’t have to be.”

“Is something wrong?” Tek asked. “Is that why you’re here? Did something happen? Or do you need to collect your other self back? Please, I know things were strange when we met, but—”

“Tek, relax, please.” Summerhill set a hand on the otter’s shoulder, and the touch of that fur made his body tingle with half-memories and full-urges he knew he had to ignore for now. He’d be okay for a little bit longer, though. “I’m just here to say thank you.”

That clearly wasn’t what the otter had expected to hear. “Thank me? For what?”

“For something you said to me the last time I was here,” Summerhill replied. “You said something that gave me the key clue I needed to save my friend.” The dog flattened his ears and let out a little chuckle. “I tried to forget you. Guess it’s a good thing I didn’t do a perfect job of it.”

Tek scuffed one of his webbed feet at the grass. “Oh. Well, I mean, you’re welcome, I guess.” His toe tapped against the bucket. “Was this the same friend you mentioned before?”

“Yeah.” Summerhill stared at the bucket, too, instead of at Tek. “Her name’s Katherine. She’s okay now.”

“That’s good.” Tek paced some more, his breathing on the loud side. “I’m... I’m glad things worked out okay for you both.”

“I also wanted to say that I’m sorry,” Summerhill blurted. “If what I did hurt you or scared you or... I don’t know. I don’t remember much about our time together, but I recall enough to know that I must have really cared about you.”

Tek turned to look back at his house down by the stream. “You
do
really care about me,” he said. “Trust me.”

Summerhill felt his chest grow tight. He wanted to grab the otter and kiss him, but he knew that would be a huge mistake, both because of the ensuing physical reaction as well as the confused and conflicted emotions that would come with it. “There’s so much I want to ask. About what happened with me and you, and what’s happened since I’ve been gone.”

The otter’s eyes glinted with moisture in the pre-sunset light. “You’re wonderful,” Tek said, and he sniffled away his tiny tears. “You’ve always been wonderful.”

“I don’t completely lose control of myself when I’m around you?”

“Depends on how I look at you and what I whisper into your ears when we’re alone together.” The otter let out a chuckle that was interrupted by a weak sob. “Sorry. That probably wasn’t appropriate.”

Summerhill shook his head. “No, it’s fine.” He gazed over at the house. It was weird to think that there was another one of him in there, right now, unaware of any of what was going on. “I wish I could know what he knows, about you and about us, but I get the feeling that if I did, I’d—”

“You’d never leave,” Tek said. “There was a time when I didn’t believe that, but now you—well, no. I shouldn’t say.”

“And you don’t have to.” Summerhill smiled, and gave Tek’s shoulder another squeeze. Staying here too much longer was going to be a bad idea. “But I’m glad you’re okay. Both of you.”

Tek nodded. “Yeah. So am I.”

“I should... I should get going.” Summerhill looked back over his shoulder, at the copse of wide trees a few dozen paces away. “It was good seeing you again. I just... Maybe don’t tell the other me that I was here? I get the feeling that’d just upset me.”

The otter picked up his bucket. “I’d never want to see you upset. Especially because of something I said.”

Summerhill thought of Tek trying to console the other version of him, and could easily visualize the otter’s earnest tenderness as he reached out, caressed that other dog’s cheek, and whispered plaintively while staring into his lovers eyes and—

“Tek,” he asked. “What color are his eyes?”

“My Summerhill?” The otter looked curious and confused for a brief moment, but then he smiled, nice and bright. “The same as yours. The most beautiful and perfect shade of gray I’ve ever seen.”

An answer that left more questions, but perhaps an answer that was for the best. Summerhill nodded in acknowledgment and took a few steps backwards. “Goodbye, Tek. I’m glad I met you.”

“I’m glad I met you, too, Summerhill.” Tek shook his head and smiled. “I don’t know who or what you really are, but you’re something special.”

The otter traipsed back up the hill with his bucket. Summerhill watched him go for a little while longer before turning around and heading back to the trees.

The Consortium escape pod was nestled within, hidden just well enough by the flowering branches. The on-board power display showed that the pod didn’t have enough juice left to activate its reality jump drive again, but Summerhill was pretty sure that wasn’t going to be a problem.

He pulled the antique watch out of his pocket and held it up close to his ear, listening to it tick. Shutting his eyes, he rubbed the cool metal against his cheek; it was no worse for the wear, even after being shot by an energy rifle. Before putting it away, he opened the case, watched the second hand flick by, and then smiled at the sepia tone photograph of himself that looked back at him.

After taking one last deep breath of fresh Rydale air in through his nose, the dog reached up to pluck a vibrant blue blossom from one of the trees, and then he walked back into the escape pod. He knew that, if he concentrated hard enough, he’d be able to draw focus from the machine and what it was meant for, and only needed the briefest moment of pure concentration to be able to jump out of the stream for a little bit.

Two

Idylls

Tek leaned his head back and hummed, his eyes open as mere slivers. The otter took a deep breath and let it out as a sigh of contentment. From this angle, the sheen of his fur did a lovely job of catching the brilliant orange hues of the setting Rydale sun.

The russet-furred canine slipped his arms down and tightened his embrace around the otter’s chest, then planted a small kiss at the base of one of his small rounded ears.

This was the fifty-seventh time he and Tek had watched the sunset together (he’d been counting), and it still hadn’t lost its charm. Rydale was a lovely place, and even here, on the outskirts of Tiadinara City with its millions of inhabitants, it was easy to get lost in the overflowing presence of unsullied nature. Rather than interrupt the view, the cityscape actually synergized amazingly well with it, twinkling spires against a backdrop of orange-purple that then lit up like high-intensity lanterns once the sky went to black.

That wouldn’t come for the better part of an hour, though. Until then, Summerhill and Tek had their sunset to enjoy together.
“You know, you never told me,” Summerhill said, murmuring into Tek’s ear. “Rydale has barely mastered extrasolar travel. How did you manage to end up as a passenger on board a ship in the middle of nowhere?”

The otter tilted his head further back, looking at Summerhill upside-down. His contented smile became a mischievous smirk. “You never asked.”

All around the two of them, the wildflowers were still in full bloom. Their scent always made Summerhill feel better at the end of a long day. Their petals were soft to the touch, soft like velvet, their colors seeming to change in the glow of sunset.