Tarkos grunted, the closest he could come to a laugh, given his concern for Bria. “I saw an Italian on a Neelee ship just—a week ago now, I guess, subjective time, though it seems a month. And I practically kissed him. I mean, and I’m not gay.”
“You haven’t tried to kiss me,” Eydis said.
Tarkos’s voice betrayed his smile. “My armor’s in the way.”
He adjusted the speed of the cable playing out. It made Bria lift higher. She eased toward the edge of the tunnel.
“So, where are you from?” Eydis asked.
“Can’t you tell from my accent?”
“You speak English with a Galactic accent,” she said.
“God, that’s cruel.”
“It’s true! And your Galactic sounds like a Sussurat. You pronounce your vowels in your throat. You were born there maybe, an orphan on the Sussurat homeworld? Raised by t
