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Alana shook her head. “Not where I’m from.”

Sand stared and blinked rapidly as if unsure where to go from there.

I give up.

“Thank you, Sand. You may go.”

He then said the same thing most of her interviewees had said in some form or another. “I hope I was helpful and provided answers that you find useful.”

“You were great.” Alana didn’t find any of their answers useful as far as helping Crimeans fall in love, but they were all helpful. She saw how near impossible the task before her really was.

“Shall I send the next one in? It’s Graysky Shadowdrop. Master of—”

“I don’t need to see anyone else,” Alana said, turning to Ice. “I think I know all I need to know.”

Ice raised his eyebrows and dismissed the new interviewee. “Excellent. You have a plan already?”

Alana laughed. “Unfortunately, no. All I mean is that more people giving the same answers isn’t going to help. I have no idea what to do, and a thousand interviews from now, I will probably still have no idea.”

Ice didn’t say anything, but left the room, presumably to send the rest of the interviewees away. Alana scanned her notes, hoping for some kind of inspiration to strike, or for an answer to occur to her. Nothing happened.

When Ice came back, he sat in the chair across from the desk. “What kind of help do you require to start formulating a plan?”

“I’m not sure any help will matter.”

“Alana, these are my people. Their fate rests in your hands. Is there nothing you can think of to try?”

Alana blew out a breath and leaned back in the chair. “Crimeans are intellectually curious about so many things, but they seem to have no curiosity about love or sex. There’s also a distinct lack of…empathy. No one seems to be willing to sacrifice his personal comfort or even time unless it benefits the state in some way, I suppose because most have been raised by it and don’t even understand the concept of family. I honestly don’t know where to start. How can a people without empathy ever feel love?” She closed her holocube. “I thought maybe the sex angle would be a starting point, but everyone sees sex as messy, unnecessary and a distraction from more important things.”

Ice’s expression didn’t change. She guessed expressing disappointment might even be beyond most Crimeans. For all the good it would do now, Alana still wanted to ask Ice the questions that he’d avoided the night before.

“Have you ever loved someone, Ice? Or even been particularly fond of someone? Any family?”

Ice nodded. “A father and a mother in name only. I was necessary to keep House Silverkiller alive. But my mother didn’t give birth to me. I’m a decant, like almost all of the most recent generations.”

“Raised by the government,” she whispered. She’d suspected it, but it seemed so much worse hearing him say it.

“Yes. Raised and provided the very best education. I think I may have some fondness toward a few of my teachers.”

“Because they taught you so well?”

“Yes.”

Alana stood and moved to stand in front of the desk, directly in front of Ice’s chair. “That’s not the same kind of love I’m talking about, not at all.” For a moment, Alana almost backed out of what she was going to do. Ice seemed so clueless about love and desire that she felt foolish even thinking about it.

But if it helped her find a way through the problem, it was worth trying.

Alana sat in Ice’s lap. The astonishment on his face almost made her laugh. “Is this uncomfortable for you?”

“You’re not heavy enough for it to be uncomfortable,” Ice said, his voice quieter than normal. His hand moved to her lower back, as if he feared she might topple over.

“That’s not what I meant, but I’ll take it.” She put the palm of her hand against his cheek, smiled, and pressed her lips against his.

They were soft and cool. Ice didn’t move, even when she let the tip of her tongue glide over the crease and press in slightly, deepening the kiss. Her own body’s reaction surprised her, because she had the urge to keep kissing him, to squirm in his lap, until she got some kind of reaction from him.

When she leaned back to look at him, Ice’s eyes were wide open, staring. He didn’t seem offended, but he didn’t seem pleased, either.

“Do you feel anything?” she asked.


Tags: Lizzie Lynn Lee Science Fiction