Dan chuckled to himself as he watched Bo wobble off on the woefully inadequate little skimmer. Under his bulk, the bright yellow machine looked more like a child-sized bicycle than it did a serious work machine.  Just before the varius was out of sight, Dan saw him bounce up and down on the skimmer’s footpegs.  It was something he and his friends had done when they were young to coax a little more velocity out of their speed-governed safety bikes.  It didn’t work, but it made them feel as if they were doing something so everyone did it. Apparently, varius children weren’t any more immune to the fantasy of speed than sapiens children.

Dan smiled, shook his head and went back to his work, burying himself in mundane chores until the growing distance between them reduced the feeling of Bo’s presence in his mind to a whisper, and then finally to silence.   Dan found flying relaxing, and before bonding with Bo, had thought nothing of going an extra few dozen kilometers out of his way to shop at a specialty store or visit a friend. After their bonding, and especially after their marriage, he’d gradually restricted his travels until he was almost never out of range with his husband.   

Fortunately the link between the men was stronger than most, and they could easily communicate with each other over distances most pair-bonded varii could only dream about.  Dan couldn’t imagine feeling that sinking sense of loneliness and dread every time he was more than 100 meters from Bo; as much of a gift as the bond could be, it was also a curse.  Today, the silence in his mind was the result of something that brought Bo joy, so Dan lived with it. After sterilizing the test tubes, he put them back in their cases and started organizing the survey group’s field notes, a task he’d been putting off for far too long.  

When he broke for lunch hours later, he hadn’t made nearly as much progress as he’d hoped.  He should have nibbled away at the job after each day’s download instead of waiting to do it all at once.  His task wasn’t made any easier by doctor… or was it David?... scribble-for-a-last-name. His lousy penmanship, combined with mushy-mouthed dictation skills that the computer was hopeless to interpret, made Dan’s job twice as hard as it needed to be.  By the time he came up for air, he’d missed his treasured afternoon nap. In fact, he noticed with alarm, it was almost time for the survey team to be back, and Bo was nowhere in sight.

<interrogative>

*bo*

Dan sent into the ether, but nothing came back.  He tried several more times over the next half hour, more out of habit than expectation he’d get a reply, but never heard anything other than stony silence.  After chiding himself for his foolish worry, he busied himself prepping dinner for the crew and managed to slice his fingers twice for his troubles. The closer the sun came to the horizon, the more agitated Dan felt.  This wasn’t the sort of feeling he’d ever had when he or Bo moved out of range of their bond. This was something else - something negative and dark. He felt jittery like he’d had far too much coffee, only in his mind instead of his body.

When the survey crew finally returned he pounced on them like a cat on a mouse. “Bo’s missing,” he announced, as soon as they’d parked the transport. “We need to go find him.”

“I noticed the missing flitter,” Donnovan said as he climbed over the transport’s side railing and hopped to the ground, “but it’s honestly no big surprise.  I’ve worked with varii before, and this isn’t exactly what I’d consider to be uncommon behavior.”

“It’s not like that,” Dan snapped. “He was supposed to be back hours ago. Get unloaded and I’ll take the transport to find him.”

Donnovan sighed. “He probably just took the long way back, or got lost, or something.”  He zipped the lightweight jacket he was wearing against the rising wind. “Besides, if this wind keeps picking up, nobody’s going anywhere.”

“He didn’t ‘just get lost,’ Dan said. “He’s a scout. They don’t ‘just get lost’. Something’s wrong.”

“But you can’t know that for sure, right?” In spite of being bone weary, at that moment Donnovan didn’t sound entirely unsympathetic to Dan’s plight.  He did sound like he was trying to calm Dan down, which might have been worse. “We had all the radios with us.”

“No,” Dan admitted, feeling defeated. “He took the beacon locator with him, but it can’t transmit.” Radios be damned, he knew, without a doubt, that something was wrong.  At the distance that separated them he couldn’t send coherent thoughts and images to his mate, and even though he couldn’t say for certain what the problem was, he sure as hell knew that Bo was in some sort of trouble.  

No varius on this planet or any other would have questioned Dan’s sense of alarm, but he wasn’t talking to a varius, was he?  He was talking to a clueless sapiens man who had no idea that such a thing as the mental bond between varii even existed, much less that Dan shared one.  Dan could tell the man nothing without spilling the beans that an entire species had worked very hard to keep in the pot.

“Look, Dan… can this wait until we have a chance to unpack?”  the group’s leader asked, wearily. “My dogs are killing me.”

“Culturally insensitive!” a member of his crew quipped. He was promptly ignored.

Dan was thankful for the extra few seconds the untoward comment gave him to gather his wits.  Getting locked in a room or medically sedated because the group leader thought he’d lost his mind would do nothing to help Bo. “Sure,” he said, finally. “I’m sorry. I was just worried, is all.”  He sold his contrition by helping them to unpack the transport, but not a second went by that he didn’t want to toss the equipment into a pile, throw them all off by force and take the transport on a rescue mission by himself.

As if on cue, Dali showed up the instant the last equipment case had left Dan’s hands. “Let’s get a beer, Dan.”

“What beer?” Dan asked, sounding as grumpy as his partner.

The huge ursine varius rolled his eyes dramatically.  “Okay, fine. Let’s get a box of fruit-flavored nutrition supplement, Dan.”

Dan sighed and gave up.  He felt like a heel taking his worries out on one of the few people who might actually understand what he was feeling. They walked over to the chiller and pulled out a couple of boxes of the flavored water at random. Dan’s ended up being a random berry flavor, which he barely tasted as they walked around their small camp in search of a private spot.

Dali did not seem inclined to talk while they were still within earshot of the others, but once they were alone the varius put his hand on Dan’s shoulder.  “We heard what you told him,” he said, his voice a quiet rumble.  “Thank you.” As he spoke, his eyes were in constant motion in case anyone drew near.  “I know you’re with Bo and all, but… you never know who knows what, right?”

The depths of varius secrecy never failed to amaze Dan. Even as Dali was thanking him for being discreet, he never revealed what Dan had been discreet about.  “No problem,” he answered, adopting Dali’s quiet tone, “and yes, Bo and I are bonded.”

“So he is in trouble.” Dali’s ears flattened against his head with his annoyance, then drooped noticeably as he took stock of the weather conditions.  The wind had really picked up after the sun sank below the horizon, occasionally blowing hard enough to whip grit into their eyes. “I hate to say it, but Donnovan’s right.  We can’t use the transport until this wind dies down. I spent most of the day driving it, and that thing’s a pig. Hold on…” His small, round ears had picked up the sound of someone approaching, and he put a warning hand on Dan’s arm. He relaxed once he saw who it was.  “It’s just Chuck.”

Dali continued after acknowledging the other varius with a wave.  “The thrusters on the transport aren’t designed to handle a constant high wind like this. It would blow us all the way to the nearest mountain range. Or worse, straight off a cliff.”

“I can’t do nothing,” Dan hissed, fear and frustration showing in his voice. “I can’t just leave him out there!”

Dali sighed. “I’m sorry, man, but that’s exactly what you’ve got to do right now.”  

Further argument from Dan was forestalled by Chuck’s huge, bear-like handpaw.  “Stop. Getting yourself killed will not help him, and if you go and do something stupid he’s going to be all over our asses for not watching out for you.”

Dali shoved a sharpened claw through his water box’s foil port, then pushed the straw inside and took a drink. “Let’s make a plan.”

Chuck shot him a look. “I thought you were supposed to stop him from doing anything stupid.”

Dali shrugged.  “My plans don’t count because they’re not stupid.”  He sat down next to Dan and pulled out his comm to write notes. “When did he leave, and where was he going?”

“He left right after the crew did and I have no idea where he went,” Dan said, embarrassed by his lack of knowledge.  “I don’t think he knew exactly where he was going. He was just...” he swung his arms in the general direction Bo had taken, “going to that ridgeline to the north.”

Dali frowned, his ears going back as he sensed the magnitude of their problem.  He had no way of knowing how far the two men could be apart and still sense one another and there was no good way to ask, so he assumed they’d only be good for a couple of hundred meters.   He shook his head. “Considering the maximum speed of the skimmer, he could be anywhere in a hundred, maybe two hundred square kilometers by now.”

“We’ve got pretty good range,” Dan said, weakly, but he felt it wouldn’t be enough.  He was too agitated to do the math for himself, but what Dali was saying sounded logical.

“We need help,” Chuck said, decisively.  “What about that Kenzine dude? Victus? They can do some freaky shit. Maybe he could help?”

“The radios won’t reach that far,” Dan said.

“Then we should go get him,” Dali answered. “It might take a few hours, but we’ll save time in the long run.  Base camp’s not much of a detour from where Bo was headed anyway, and this wind can’t last forever. As soon as it calms down we’ll take the survey vehicle back to the camp and pick up Victus.  From there we’ll make a pass through the mountain ranges and see if we can figure out where he is.”

Chuck looked at Dali and tipped his head toward Dan.  “They’re…” he joined his handpaws together and twiddled his fingers, “...you know?”

“Yeah,” Dali nodded his head.  “He’s cool.”

Chuck picked up a nearby log and tossed it down next to Dan.  It hit the ground with an impressive thud and Chuck sat down on it.   “If we don’t find him in the mountains, we’ll run a standard search pattern on the way back.  Don’t worry, Dan,” he said, reassuringly, “we’ll find him.”

***

Dan was already awake when his comm chimed in the middle of the night to alert him that the blustery wind had calmed enough to untether the transport.  Chuck and Dali were not sleeping either, and Dan found them talking quietly amid the pile of parts and equipment they’d removed from the transport. “Jesus,” Dan muttered as he took in the sight, “will that thing still run without its parts?”

The two varii started at the sound of his voice.  Dali clutched his chest, dramatically.  “My heart won’t still run, if you keep sneaking up on me like that.”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Chuck said, waving off Dan’s concern.  “Just thought you might appreciate a little extra speed.

“And we were bored,” Dali added.  “You ready to go?”

Dan held up the small day pack he was carrying. “Yup.  We got food and water?” Chuck’s grunt of “are you kidding me” told him they were well stocked.  “Then let’s go!”

“Did you clear it with Donnovan?” Dali asked. “Even though he knows we’re taking it, he’s going to pitch a fit if you don’t ask him again.”

“Fuck him,” Dan announced, as he clambered over the protective railing surrounding the transport’s bottom deck. “Let’s go.” Dali and Chuck looked at each other, gave simultaneous shrugs of acceptance and lumbered onboard with him.

The ride back to the base camp took less than two hours, now that they could take the direct route and weren’t stopping every few kilometers to take readings. Before the sun had risen they floated to a stop at the outskirts of the settlement.  “I’ll be right back,” Dan whispered, before jumping off the transport and jogging to the tent Victus now shared with Clay. He could not see through the tent’s privacy cloth, but he knew where the man slept. “Victus!” he hissed, “wake up!”

“I am here.”

Unexpectedly the voice came from behind Dan, but from far enough away to not frighten him into screaming. “Holy shit,” Dan panted, “what are you doing out here?”

“I heard the transport’s engines,” Victus replied, calmly. “You’re not supposed to be back for another four days. Is something wrong?”

“Yeah,” Dan whispered, trying his best to slow his heart and not hyperventilate. “We need your help.  Bo’s gone missing.”

Victus was immediately in motion. “I need to leave Clay instructions for the day.”  He disappeared into the tent’s common area and returned a moment later. “Let’s go.”

Dan turned toward the transport “That was fast.”

“It was only six words,” Victus said.  “Catalog meadow weeds. Remember to eat.”

“That seems cryptic.”

“Clay and I have an understanding,” Victus replied. “He does his best and I accept it.”

“I wish I’d had instructors like you back in school.” Dan mostly remembered his own teachers with no great sense of affection.  “Most of them were martinets.”

“I enforce discipline, to be sure,” Victus said, as he helped Dan over the transport’s railing, “but it is a system which Clay is capable of mastering.”

Chuck was at the controls, taking navigation cues from Dali whenever the other man spotted thing in the distance that might force them to slow down or turn around. Their transport, like most ground craft, had been designed to float no more than a meter or so above the ground, and in terrain as rough as that through which they traveled, Dali had his work cut out for him.  

Dan was feeling largely useless.  His one job had been to wake up Victus and get him back to the transport, and now that that had been accomplished there was nothing left for him to do until they reached the mountain range.  When he realized he was pacing he forced himself to sit on one of the transport’s padded bench seats, but he hadn’t been seated for a full minute before his right leg began jittering up and down.

His attention was fixed on the mountain range that had been Bo’s target less than 24 hours before.  Somewhere in that range, the person who mattered most to him had gotten himself… lost. Not killed, he reminded himself for the fiftieth time…lost.   

The door to the cabin opened and Victus poked his head out. “Do you want to come in here where it’s warm?”

The morning chill was distinctly unpleasant against Dan’s unprotected face and hands but he resisted the suggestion to go inside.  Every millimeter of safety glass was another millimeter separating him from Bo, and he railed against it. “No, thanks,” he said, returning his gaze to the mountain range. “I’m okay.”

Victus closed the door behind him and sat down next to Dan, so close that Dan would be able to share his body heat through cloth and fur.  “So what’s the plan?” he asked.

Dan grunted. “You assume I have one?”

“Of course you do,” Victus said.  “You’re one of the most organized people I know.”

The confidence in his voice almost broke Dan. “No, I’m serious,” he said, unable to keep the anxiety from his voice, “I’ve got nothing.  Nothing,” he emphasized. “I have no idea where he went. He could be anywhere in that range.” He jammed his hands inside the pockets of his lightweight jacket in the hopes of warming them, but the thin material did nothing to help.

“I should have made him tell me where he was going,” Dan said, sounding miserable.  “If I’d just asked him to be specific, if I’d just paid more attention we’d know where to go.”

Victus shot him a disbelieving look.  “You’d make Bo Taylor tell you where he was going?”  Dan didn’t meet his gaze. “He didn’t even know for sure where he was going,” Victus continued.  “Even if he did, and if he told you, there’s every chance he could have changed his mind at the last minute and gone a different way.  He’s like that, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dan admitted, grumpily.

“What about the locator built into his comm?” Victus asked. “We can get a rough bearing on that, at least.”

“Bo disabled it about three seconds after he unwrapped his comm.”  He shook his head ruefully. “He’s got massive privacy issues.”

Victus hummed an acknowledgement, then left a silent space in their conversation so suggestion might not be misinterpreted as interrogation. “Back on the ship, you mentioned that you and Bo have “great range”.  How close do you think we have to get before you’ll be able to sense him?”

Dan was quiet for a moment before replying.  It had felt as if their range had been growing over the past months, but since being marooned they’d had so little reason to be apart from one another that they’d not really tested it. He thought back to watching Bo ride off the previous day, remembering how long it had taken him to lose contact, then converting that time into a distance. “Twenty-five kilometers?” he answered, uncertainly. “Maybe thirty?”

Victus blinked.  He’d expected Dan’s answer to be something along the lines of a hundred meters, or so.  There were rumors that isolated breeding groups of varii in Bellarus could communicate across a few kilometers, and that distance only between mothers and their young children. Thirty kilometers between adults was simply unheard of. Probably Dan was just exaggerating.

But then… Victus thought back to how easily he’d fallen into the tribond with Dan and Bo, and how easily the man had supplied him with the keys to Bo’s subconscious. The memory made him uncomfortable in a way little else did.  Dan did the impossible on a regular basis, he simply hadn’t been made aware of that fact. This among other things made him more than a little dangerous. In his youth, Victus had been granted limited access to the Kenzine version of catacombs. Hundreds of years earlier, the Roman Catacombs were built to hide evil secrets underneath the bones of the holy.  In this enlightened age, Kenzine secrets were kept safe through encryption and passcodes. Victus had been privy to knowledge so dangerous that it had been locked away, and what he’d learned made him wary of Dan’s natural abilities.

“That should make the search easier,” he said, finally.  “I’m happy to help, but... where do I come in, again?”

The question was one which had occupied a good portion of Dan’s mind for the past few hours.  The decision to go back to the main camp to pick up Victus was an emotional one as much as it had been rational, but he thought he’d sussed it out. “If the others knew our range, we could probably accomplish the search just as effectively in half the time. But they don’t, and I’m not sure if I should tell them.  Our varius friends back on Earth warned us not to share our capabilities with others, and they didn’t exempt other varii from that warning.”

Victus nodded his understanding.  In the varius world being weird was almost never good, and what was going on between Bo and Dan was definitely weird. “So you don’t trust them?”

“Not totally,” Dan admitted, quietly. “They’ve never been anything but good friends, but they both act like they’re hiding something.”

Victus grinned, sadly. “They very well may be,” he said. “Most of us live as crippled beings, hiding any ability we might have which might be perceived by sapiens as odd or different.  Our progenitors learned early on that the only way to survive in a land ruled by powerful yet physically delicate creatures is to blend in as much as possible.  

“Since we’re sometimes not completely certain what anyone else can or cannot do, we teach children from a very early age not to discuss the varius way.  Since it’s fairly universal that we see the world through no eyes other than our own, if you don’t mention an ability, no sapiens you meet will ever assume you have it. Nobody will perceive you as a potential threat, and we will all stay alive.”

“Even after they know I’m bonded with Bo, they still don’t trust me?” Dan asked.

“That’s information we don’t even share with our own families,” Victus said. “Our mothers know what is inside us as a child through our maternal bond, and our fathers learn it from her through their pair bond.  Younger children often know what their older siblings could do as children, through our mother’s dream lives. But even so, nobody in our families, or even our circles, knows what we grow into as adults unless there is a need to share that information with them. In this case,” he said, “ignorance is more than bliss. It’s survival.  Not just for yourself, but for your entire species. We take that very seriously.”

“Dali and Chuck may both have good reasons for being suspicious, but we will never know what those reasons are.” Feeling like he imagined a big brother would, he rested his arm around Dan’s shoulder. “What we do know is that they’re both friendly, caring people who are doing everything they can to help us find Bo.  But again,” he asked, “why am I here?”

In spite of the morning chill, Dan’s ears grew warm. “I really hope you’re not offended,” he said, uncomfortably. “But you’re window dressing.”

Victus looked confused for a split second before the pleasantly neutral look on his face returned.  “Aah. So I am to wave my arms around and pretend I’m searching for Bo, while you do the real work.”

“Yup.  I hope you don’t mind.”

Victus chuckled wryly. “I’ve employed decoys before, and this is not the first time I’ve been one myself.”  He looked out and saw that the mountain range had grown considerably since they’d started talking. “Do you yet have any sense of a direction he might be?  Just relax,” he reminded.

Dan looked out at the haze-drenched mountains and did his best to relax and open his mind.  He closed his eyes after a moment, but to little effect. “Not yet,” he reported. “He’s out there, I’m sure, but I think he’s sleeping.”

“You can feel him, then?” Victus asked.

“No,” Dan admitted.  “It’s just…” he struggled to find the right words, but failed.

“Like background hum?” Victus suggested.  At Dan’s nod, he sighed. “You might be feeling Bo, but that may be the static inside your head.  But then again, you may also be one of those rare individuals who can detect the… heartbeat?... of the universe.”

“Is that helpful?” Dan asked, wondering what in the world Victus was talking about.

“Probably not,” Victus answered.  “We know for certain of only a handful of persons with this ability, and all but two of them were institutionalized.  Of those, one became a religious icon and the other went on to sell real estate.” He shook his head. “That is probably not germane to what we’re doing.  I can’t really do anything for you, but I think I might be able to help you help yourself.”

Dan leaned forward slightly.  “Even if you can’t, it would help to take my mind off things for a while.”

Victus rubbed his handpaws together vigorously to warm them, then took Dan’s hands in his.  “Close your eyes, Dan, and join me in an exercise.” When Dan complied, Victus continued. “Visualize a bucket,” he suggested, remembering how important visualization had been to Dan in their previous encounters, “full of lukewarm water that you cannot perceive as warm or cool when you dip your hand into it.  Do this now.”

“I’m slowly stirring the water,” Dan said, to let Victus know that he’d complied.

“Yes,” Victus agreed, “but slowly. Very slowly.  Do you feel the pressure of the water against your hand?”

“Yes,” Dan answered.  This was a familiar feeling, one which took very little effort for him to remember.

“Fix that image in your mind.”  After a few moments , he asked, “May I join you?”  After Dan agreed, Victus said, “I am holding a piece of yarn in my hand that will represent Bo.   Can you see it?”

As easily as if he’d opened his eyes and turned to the Kenzine, Dan could see him in his mental space.  “Yes,” he answered, cooperatively.

“Describe it for me,” Victus requested, “in detail.”

“It’s light brown, Dan said, after a moment, “with some reflective patches on it.  It’s about a half meter in length, but it doesn’t look soft like yarn does, it’s more like… a strand from a piece of rope, maybe?  Thick and coarse woven.”

“Keep your hand immersed in the water.  I’m going to drop the yarn in. You will occasionally feel it brush against your hand, but do not grab for it.  Simply feel that it is there, and then feel it leave your touch.”

Dan’s expression relaxed as he imagined the coarse fibers tickling his fingers as they passed between them. ‘I think I know where you’re going with this, Vic,” he said. “Let me try…”  Dan imagined himself floating in the ocean, suspended by briny water that supported him without effort. When he thought he was as relaxed as he could be without falling asleep, he opened his mind and waited patiently.  After a time, he thought he felt movement against his “skin”, but it whispered away before he could be certain.

Although the thread was now gone, he thought he had a better understanding of how to ride this particular animal.  Resisting the urge to reach out with his mind, he opened himself to whatever was out there and waited quietly. ‘No transmission,’  his inner nerd supplied, ‘just reception.”

A faint sensation brushed against him, and then another.  No one instance was definitive, but taken together he had a pretty good idea the direction they were coming from.  It wasn’t the direction they were headed.

“Turn-”  Dan stopped and cleared his throat.  The unpleasantly dry feeling made him aware that his mouth had been hanging open.  He conjured up some spit and worked it around his mouth. “Turn left a few degrees,” he tried again.   He felt Victus’s hand on his shoulder in acknowledgement before the lupine got up and went inside the cabin to relay their new course to Dali.   It was better, he thought, that their pilot think the course change came from the mysterious Kenzine and leave Dan out of it.

When Victus returned he saw that Dan hadn’t moved.  He put an arm over the man’s shoulders and rocked him gently back and forth. “Dan,” he said, “Are you there? It’s time to come back.”

Obediently, Dan opened his eyes.  They looked tired, and there was confusion in them that told Victus he’d been right to interrupt Dan’s reverie. “Why?  I think I can lead us right to him if you give me a little more time.” Dan felt grumpy, and didn’t appreciate that Victus had started vigorously rubbing his back and shoulders,  

“I know it feels like you’re relaxing, but you’re actually expending a lot of energy when you open yourself up like that. In weather like this you’re losing heat faster than you can replace it.”

Dan complied when Victus asked him to hold out his hand, and seemed surprised by how unstable it had become. “You might also be disoriented for a time, and experience some mild nausea until your body can rebuild its reserves.”

As if on command, Dan’s stomach lurched. He clamped his jaws shut, determined not to embarrass himself in front of his friend.  The transport’s wallowing ride didn’t help as they bounced along at a merry clip.

Victus extracted a box of juice from one of his robe’s innumerable pockets and pushed it into Dan’s numb fingers. “Sip it.  Don’t gulp.” He looked out at the range of mountains stretching out before them. They were much larger than when he’d sat down, and he guessed their distance at perhaps forty kilometers. “It shouldn’t be long now, before you can feel him,” he said.   “Another half hour, perhaps? Don’t do that again today, all right?”

Dan nodded and silently sipped his juice. The temptation was there, but he had no desire to make his condition any worse than it already was.  He slurped the box dry and shoved the empty container into the pocket of his jacket.

The morning sun painted the scrubby landscape in vivid pinks and blues as if in apology for the night’s wretched weather.  The wind whipping by seemed warmer now, and after a few minutes Dan thought he was feeling a little better. As the kilometers unwound beneath their hull, his memories went back in time. They dragged him back to a time when he and Bo had been healthy and happy, surrounded by good friends in the gym.  He remembered the feeling he’d had of harvesting energy from the cosmos to shore up his strength before lifting a heavily laden barbell. It had seemed to do some good then, and he wondered if perhaps that same technique might not do him some good now.

Shutting his eyes, Dan quieted his mind and focused his attention on the energy surrounding him.  He thought he might have felt something stir, but the effect was so miniscule that it might be attributed to gas bubbling from large intestine to small.  Dan was mildly disappointed that nothing had happened, but he supposed the technique only worked when he could collapse all his tensions and troubles into a tiny little ball, then leverage that negative energy against itself  for a single explosive purpose. Today, he simply didn’t have enough focus to make the trick work.

Remembering his friend with a guilty pang, Dan opened his eyes.  He shouldn’t have worried, he thought. Victus was sitting in much the same fashion; hands on thighs, eyes closed, perception turned inward as if meditating.  As Dan watched, the Kenzine pulled one hand up to the side of his neck and felt for the pulse point. He was on the verge of making a comment about Victus probably having the slowest heartbeat in the group when his brain alerted him to Bo’s presence.  

The spark was tiny to be sure, but unmistakable, and Dan latched onto it like a drowning man on a live preserver.  “He’s there!” he said. He was well aware that it was impossible to see anything at this distance, but still he jumped to the railing and began scanning the horizon.  Bo was alive and conscious, and that was all Dan needed to know.

“I’ll let Dali know,” Victus said. “It might make navigation easier if you were to move to the front of the boat.  Ship. Whatever this is.”

Dan scrambled to join Chuck, and with his help, guided Dali over the same terrain Bo had crossed not 24 hours earlier.   At first his contact with his bondmate was tenuous, but with every passing kilometer it grew stronger until Dan had to throttle it back.  Seeing passing landmarks for the first time with his eyes at the same time he saw them as memories through Bo’s was migraine-inducing. Underneath the gratitude and relief that Dan was on his way ran a thick, dark vein of fear and shame that he could not interpret.  

A short time after they recovered Bo’s abandoned flitter the flood of emotions and feelings began to coalesce, first into thoughts, and then into words.  

not hurt

was the first thing Dan received,

hurry

was the second, and immediately after, Bo closed the door on their communication.  Dan could have pushed through if necessary, but he guessed that Bo had gotten himself into some embarrassing situation and wasn’t enthusiastic about having to be rescued.  Sighing quietly, Dan let their link lie fallow and resolved to wait. Even without the full benefit of communication he could still home in on his husband’s location, and If they arrived to find him bare-ass naked and stuck in a tree, well… Bo could learn to live with a few bruises to his pride.