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Bishop’s Opening (Part 4 of 4)

By R.S.A. Garcia

The attendants set little bowls shaped like flower petals in front Sebastian and Olly. Steam drifted upward, redolent of fresh herbs and a hint of lime. Bits of white flesh speckled with green seasonings, and rolled dumplings floated in a golden broth.

“You must be hungry by now,” Sticky said. “I made this fresh earlier today. But of course, you know that. I dropped an entire pot–”

“This is mom’s fish broth, isn’t it?” Olly said in a low voice, staring at the delicate transparent bowl.

“Her favourite,” Sticky’s voice was gentle and Sebastian’s heart pinched at the melded love and loss in his expression. “The Bishop has a fondness for it as well. I make it often for him.”

“Why do you call him the Bishop? Isn’t Bishop his name?” Sebastian asked.

“Bishop is his title,” Sticky replied. “Bishop Kingston. Only the King, Queen and Grandmaster rank above him in one of the most powerful Septs in Valencia. It’s a great honour. And a terrible burden.” His eyes roamed Olly’s downturned face as if committing her to memory. “But I should start with what you want to know.” He invited them to eat with a wave of his hand and settled back in the gilded chair, his fingers playing with the stem of his water glass.

Sebastian closed his eyes at the first taste of the thin, complex broth, its citrus notes elevated by the spiciness beneath, making all the flavours sharper.

“I spent my life bouncing from station to station, and ship to ship, searching for ways to get better at cooking. I was obsessed with reproducing the dishes my grandparents spoke of, with finding a way to recapture the food and traditions we’d lost when the seas swallowed the Caribbean.

“When I met your mother, I was an impatient, arrogant bastard. But she saw something in me. I’d like to think my passion seduced her. But my neglect–” he lifted his intense gaze to meet Olly’s, “–she would not tolerate that. For herself, or for you. I didn’t understand what I had then, you see. I was still chasing this…need to be the best. Eventually, I drove her away. But I loved you, and your grandmother knew it. Your mother was not one for second chances, so it was your Gran who brought you to see me.”

Olly placed her spoon back in her bowl. Sebastian continued to eat, listening.

“Gran told me after Mummy died. That you were my father. I thought…” She paused for a moment and looked skyward. “Like an idiot, I thought when she died, you’d come for me. When you didn’t, I even went to the Basement, looking for you. I went there again today, just in case you’d come back. And when you weren’t there…”

She turned to Sebastian. “I’m sorry, Bas. So sorry. I should have told you.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I understand.”

Sticky’s sigh carried the weight of the world. “When the Blowout happened, I was at a meeting with the Grandmaster Kingston. He had tried the food at my stall several times and wanted to make me an offer. It was a chance to cook every day over an open flame, in gravity, where I could explore every technique. But I would have to go where his people went. I would travel with his flagship when necessary. It meant I would be away from Greater Paradise for long periods, but I would be able to cook, truly cook. And the pay would be more than I ever imagined.”

“You left with him? You didn’t know what had happened to Mummy?” Olly’s voice held an edge of desolate hope. Sticky shook his head. Sebastian dropped his spoon as her face crumpled, rubbing her shoulder as her sadness made his own eyes sting.

“Please, don’t,” Sticky reached for her hand and held it tighter as she tried to withdraw. “That’s not it. Not at all. I was there when it happened. I knew–” he closed his eyes, “–I was ice cold from the moment the debris from the Blowout hit the ship.

“When we got to the bridge and I saw the bodies, I begged the Grandmaster not to wait for the Station Agents. He was a hard man, but we made a deal. The whole time the rescue crew worked, I prayed she and your Gran weren’t on duty. But she was the third person we brought in, one of the few still alive.”

He looked at her, his eyes red. “The Grandmaster’s physician tried but could not save her. I was with her, at the end. She wasn’t alone, Olly.”

“But I was!” Olly thumped her chest, her voice broken. “I needed my father, and you never came. Not even to the funeral.”

“It was the price of your mother’s treatment,” Sticky said, his voice brittle. “I had to leave with the Grandmaster as soon as her treatment was resolved, one way or another. He was not going to return to Greater P. for another tempi and he wanted my services for a fete to honour the Grandmaster Valencia.”

“Oh my God,” Olly’s voice shook with rage. “It took us three cycles to confirm her death and locate her body. You just…left her with the hospital like that?”

“You have every right to hate me. I’ve failed you, time and again.” He paused and then spoke in a hardened voice, “But I would never do that. We spent three cycles trying to save her life. The Grandmaster is extremely strict about his security. He would not let you on board to see her, so I held off on telling either of you because I didn’t want to get your hopes up. When we failed, I reached out to your Gran. I told her everything, including where your mother would be.”

Olly collapsed against her chair, eyes wide. “She never said anything.”

“I begged her not to. I wanted to explain myself. It was foolish, I see that now. But I’d been such a failure as a father and a husband, and I’d lost Anita because of it. I…couldn’t face either of you right then. I decided I would send the money back to Gran. She’d make sure you had everything you needed, and in a year, I’d be back, rich and settled and ready to take you with me to a better life.”

Tears streamed down Olly’s face and Sebastian offered her his napkin, his throat thick with the sight of her sorrow.

“Mom died when I was twelve. I didn’t leave Greater P. for another five years. Where were you?”

Sticky sighed, his eyes seeing something over his daughter’s shoulder. “Things didn’t go as I planned. The Kingston was a…difficult man. He felt he’d done a great deal before we had an agreement. I needed to keep his trust.

“He did not allow me leave for several tempi. He would not give me permission to travel with another Sept. He was afraid I might make allegiances outside of Sept Kingston. I had to wait until one of his ships were headed to Greater P. I came back, only to learn your grandmother was dead and you had left.”

“She had a heart attack when I was fourteen,” Olly said. “Or she probably would have told me all this.”

Sticky drew in a pained breath. “When I found out you were alone all those tempi. That the money I was sending stopped being accessed… I searched for you as best I could, but no one knew where you’d gone.”

“I got flight certification and left the minute I could. Gran’s friends had taken me in, but it was a tight fit. They had three kids of their own and it was too much of a struggle for us all. It was better than being a Station Ward though. I changed my name to Olly Richards to avoid that. Wards got sent planetside to orphanages and I didn’t want to leave the only home I’d ever known.”

“I’m so sorry, Olly,” Sticky said, his voice shaking. “I thought I was making a better life for you. For us. I realise now, I discarded the life we already had. You were the best thing to happen to me. And I abandoned you when you needed me most.”

“Yes, you did,” she said, looking him straight in the eye. “And nothing will ever change that.”

“I know.”

Olly looked at Sebastian and there was a softness in her eyes that made his heart swell. “It wasn’t easy, those years, but I got lucky. Sometimes, you’re born into your family. Other times, you have to choose it.” She turned back to Sticky. “What did you hope for? Honestly? Was it forgiveness? For me to fall into your arms and call you daddy?”

“No,” Sticky breathed out, almost deflating. “I can’t ask that. I haven’t earned it.”

“Then what?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, glancing down at the cold soup. “I had this fantasy. I would come back a success and cook you a meal that was unlike anything I could have done before. I would show you how much I loved you, prove you’d always been in my heart. I would make all your favourites. And we would…talk. About what we’d missed. Try to find a way back to each other. I wanted you here to see my life and understand what I’d accomplished. Valencia–it is dangerous, but also wonderous. There is so much here that is beautiful and unique.

“And–I hoped we could visit. I thought if you agreed to get the seedling, once you saw how I lived–what I do–there’d be a chance you’d be willing to come to Valencia again. Maybe even…stay. Not now. But someday.”

Olly leaned her head against Sebastian’s shoulder, and he put his arm around her, nuzzling her temple, trying to make her feel his love and support. Her body relaxed into him a little. “You made Mummy’s favourite today. What else did you make?”

“I had a suckling pig and root vegetables I’d pit roasted for the main course. And I’d made passion fruit ice cream for dessert.”

“Passion fruit? I’ve never heard of that.”

“Your grandmother loved it. They have it on New Kairi, in the greenhouses there. They brought it with them from Terra. That’s been the best part of traveling with the flagship. I get to meet others who left Terra with my ancestors, but didn’t lose touch with our culture the way some of us were forced to. There are so many amazing places like that, Olly, you have no idea.”

“We just got back from Tavaco, actually,” Sebastian said. “It was beautiful out there. We thought we’d make a run to New Kairi after the next shipment.”

Sticky nodded, his eyes bright with some good memory.

“Have you… Do you still make doubles?” Olly asked.

Sticky smiled for the first time, and it changed his face, Sebastian noted. Suddenly, he saw a version of Olly’s cheeky beauty reflected at him. “I can make it, if you want.”

Olly glanced at Sebastian, and he was relieved to see her slight smile. “All this one could talk about on the way here was doubles and roti.”

“Let me get you some fresh soup.” Sticky rose to his feet. “And while you have that, I can get started on a batch. I always have channa prepared and dough waiting. It won’t take long. The roti though…that can’t be today.”

“We’ll start slow, then,” Olly said. “Just the doubles for now. If you want.”

Sticky’s chest heaved and his eyes sparkled. “I would like that.”

“Well then,” Olly said, “four, with everything, plenty pepper.”

---

After they finished the best meal Sebastian had ever had, Sticky offered to give them a tour of the grounds. Bishop joined them again, wearing fresh clothes and a new mask. He fell in beside them as they donned half masks and entered the greenhouse, which had been grown from the vineyards like the rest of the Sept. Then they moved through huge doors into the evening outside.

Trees and grassland spread out in iridescent thickets that sometimes obscured the golden sky of the setting sun. There was so much openness, Sebastian was dizzy at first. Needle-like leaves spun and danced in the perfumed wind, and vines trailed the canopy, reaching out as they passed, like lovers’ fingers. Some parts of the forest were darker than others, and there, multicoloured fruit lay burst on the ground, their sour rot a faint note under the floral musk. But those areas were few and Sticky steered them away from them, strolling on a clear path, hands behind his back as he spoke to Olly. Sebastian slowed, allowing them some privacy, happy that Olly was getting this chance to begin healing an old wound.

“Your Grandmaster isn’t here, is he?” Sebastian said.

Bishop glanced at him, eyes unreadable through the tinted slots. “Why do you think that?”

“Because based on what Sticky told us, he would not have done this. Any of this.” He pointed. “This is all you.”

Bishop returned his gaze to the path. “The Kingston was called to matters of trade several days ago.”

“I knew it!” Sebastian grinned. “Would he even let us in here? Why did you?”

“I have broad discretion when it comes to the Septhold and access. Sticky has been a loyal asset to this Sept, but lately he has become…restless. By helping him, I’ve forestalled his attempt to resign, and secured the goodwill of a loyal servant. Now he knows his daughter is alive, he will seek to provide for her.”

“You’re manipulating him?” Sebastian stared, shocked.

“I’m guiding his decisions along a mutually beneficial path.”

“He could still decide to leave with her,” Sebastian pointed out. “I could tell him what you’re doing.”

“It would not matter. Sticky understands how things work here. And his relationship with his daughter is fragile and new. He is unsure of his reception. She is unsure of his sincerity. Time is needed. Time during which my Grandmaster and I will enjoy many meals in safety. It is worth the adjustment of our protocols and the price of two seedlings to secure this.”

He paused, glancing at Sebastian. “However, it would not be…advisable for another Valencian to know you have connections in this Sept. Sticky is safe here, but outside of Valencia, away from our rules, the Great Game we play for power can be even more ruthless.”

“That reminds me, did you find out who your attacker was?”

“I interrogated her during your first meeting with your friends. It is no longer a matter of consequence.”

Sebastian frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It has been dealt with.”

“How? Did you kill her?”

Bishop stopped and turned to him. “What would you have done?”

“Not kill her. Don’t you have courts here? Shouldn’t she face a judge or something.”

“She did,” Bishop said simply. “And she was sentenced according to her crime.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “You’re a judge?”

“Bishops execute strategy on behalf of Kings and Queens, who take their direction from the Grandmaster. It is my remit to uphold the rules–or to find a way to bend them for my Sept.”

“So, she’s not dead?”

Bishop stepped close, so close his breath puffed against Sebastian’s cheeks, raising the hairs at the back of his neck.

“Why do you care, Sebastian? She almost killed you and would have killed me.”

“Because you’re making unilateral decisions about taking someone’s life. That shouldn’t be up to one person.”

“In my world, it is. To be Septed, to be Grandmaster, these things are the epitome of what it means to be Valencian. We make the decisions of what we need, where to go, what to trade. We earned that right. It is always up to us. My attacker knew that, and she chose to play the Great Game. She lost. She understands the consequences.”

“Maybe,” Sebastian said, his blood running hot. “But that doesn’t make any of what you do right.”

“Who decides what’s right, Sebastian? Do you? Do the people of Greater Paradise have any more say on what’s right for that Station than the people of the Lesser Games here?”

“I didn’t say we were perfect, but at least we don’t kill people without a trial.”

“We are definitely not perfect,” Bishop agreed, and it struck Sebastian then that he’d not raised his voice or lost his calm demeanour even as Sebastian struggled to hold on to his temper. “But we are efficient. And we do not waste time on trials for those who enter the Great Game knowing full well what they risk in their quest to rise to the top. You may not like our rules, Sebastian Carver, but be assured we have them.”

Sebastian studied the sharp line of Bishop’s jaw, the grim set of his finely etched lips, and certainty settled in his mind. A slow smile spread over his face.

Bishop’s lips tightened. “Why are you smiling?”

“Because you’re full of it.”

A dangerous stillness formed between them. “What did you say?”

Sebastian stood between Bishop’s spread feet and lifted his chin. “I’m not saying you don’t believe some of what you said. But if you truly believed all of it, you wouldn’t be sneaking a cook’s family into Valencia under your Grandmaster’s nose because he’s your friend.”

“You mistake me,” Bishop said. “There is no such thing as a friend in the Great Game of Valencia.”

“Maybe. But there’s such a thing as a friend for the Bishop of Sept Kingston, or you wouldn’t have risked giving two complete strangers access to your world in exchange for a servant’s goodwill.”

“It is no risk. You have shown me you would lay down your life for a stranger, and you are Olly’s…family. You would not betray her, or her father. You will protect each other. To do otherwise would endanger all your lives.”

“Yes, but why do any of this at all, if there’s not a good man under all that Great Game hogwash? Why even bother to go through all this trouble to bring me to your ship for treatment when I’m nobody to you? Why not kill us all when we attacked your people instead of taking us here to give two people a chance to find each other again?”

“Why did you save me?” Bishop snapped.

“You keep asking that like it’s a bad thing. Why does it bother you so much?”

“Because I have lived a long time and no one has ever done that for me,” Bishop bit out, and for the first time, Sebastian saw his jaw clench. “No one ever would. Why did you?”

“Because in my world, if you can help someone, you do it. Space is a big, lonely place. When you find other humans, you cherish them. You have no idea when your reactor might go, or your hull might blow out from an impact, or your equipment might fail and leave you floating until your oxygen runs out. You don’t know when the last time is that you’ll get to talk to someone, laugh with them. Kiss them.”

He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry, and stepped back. “Out there, anything that can take life is the real enemy. Out there, you don’t ask questions when you see a problem. You jump in and help. Because we’re all valuable. We all matter.

“You, Bishop, you matter. And not because you’re the Bishop. Because you’re a human being. I didn’t know I was saving anyone at the time, but I knew someone was looking to kill, and I couldn’t let them do that to another human being.”

For the first time the stern lips parted a little, as though he’d surprised Bishop. Sebastian couldn’t look away from them as he added impulsively, “For what it’s worth, even though this has been the longest, most insane cycle of my life–if it’s even still the same cycle–I’m glad I stepped in front of you. You gave Olly back her father.”

Bishop’s lips curled. “If you believe me to be a hero, or a good man, you could not be more wrong. You don’t know me, Sebastian.”

“Maybe I don’t. But I’d like to try, sometime.”

Bishop was silent a moment. Then he asked, “Why?”, and the hesitancy in his voice made a strange tenderness unfurl in Sebastian’s chest.

“I don’t know. I don’t even know what you look like. But you helped me. You helped Olly and Sticky. And you have an amazing voice. I like the way you say my name.”

He turned to catch up with Olly, heart pounding hard, but satisfied whatever game Bishop was used to playing, however much he was used to winning, he hadn’t won that round.

---

“You are sure?” the Kingston asked.

Bishop waited, silent before the virtual form of his Grandmaster and beside the very real one of his Queen.

“The Bishop has been most thorough,” the Queen replied. “In all, four Pawns and one Rook had been compromised. And the dead Knight, of course.”

The Kingston turned to Bishop. “You were able to identify all these traitors due to the information received from interrogating the captured Pawn?”

“Yes, Grandmaster Kingston,” he said.

A slow smile split the wide, full lips beneath his half-mask. “And you say torture is not effective.”

“I believe in give and take, Grandmaster. Pain and death cannot be the only reward.”

“Oh? And what was the give and take for the Pawn?”

“I took flesh in return for her life.”

The Grandmaster frowned. “You did not judge her as she deserved?”

How to explain that when the time came to dispose of the unlucky Pawn, he could not forget the heated words of a man the Grandmaster must never know existed? Could not forget how twice in his life, he had been helped. Shown mercy.

That once he learned how new to the Game the Pawn was, his ruthlessness felt like the type of cruelty Sebastian would never forgive him for.

Sebastian’s opinion of him should not matter. He knew that. And yet it did. This realization was burning through him, razing many things in his path. Stripping his detachment from him in ways he had not expected.

“The Pawn has no family, and now, no home. The moment she returns to Valencia, her implant will kill her. If she tries to remove it, her implant will kill her. She is maimed, alone, and disgraced.”

“She has her life,” the Queen remarked. He turned to look at Bishop. “The Great Game is seldom so merciful. And I have never known you to be.”

“It is good that I was. She confirmed what I suspected–that Sept Bartica was not involved in such an obvious move that would immediately bring them under much suspicion. She confessed to all she knew of Sept Marigot’s involvement during the first interrogation. But it was during her recuperation, when she truly believed I would not heal her to kill her, that she divulged the participation of the White Knight.” He glanced at the Queen. “We must never be afraid to grow, change and adapt if it is for the good of Sept Kingston.”

“What of Sept Marigot?” the Grandmaster asked, eyes narrowed within the holes of his gold and jade mask.

“The King and I shall have a response for you in a few days,” the Queen said, his voice mild. “I recommend patience. Let them wonder if they have succeeded. Then, as news of the purge here spreads, let them dread our retaliation.”

“I approve,” the Kingston said with an indulgent smile. “You and my exceptionally competent daughter have my full trust in this matter.”

Bishop swallowed his bile at the compliment the Grandmaster had paid to the woman who had taken his position. Who had helped deliver Bishop to his enemies, along with Alexandar–the previous Valencia and his only true friend in the Great Game.

“The Valencia has decided the Consortium’s lost slaver ship will be handled by both our Septs. It is too an important opportunity for us to form a new alliance with a powerful civilisation. It cannot be left to one Sept’s influence. And she will need assistance given the ship’s last reported position yielded no sign of it. As to the other…delicate problem you’ve alluded to…” The Kingston sounded grim for a moment at his usage of their code for a problem only a Grandmaster could address. “I shall return to Valencia in two weeks. After that, we shall have much work to do.”

The Queen murmured his assent.

“And you, Bishop.” The Kingston’s voice was sly. “What of Septhold matters? Do I still have a Cook?”

He bowed his head. “We have come to an agreement, Grandmaster. He will remain in service for three more tempi.”

The Kingston’s chuckle was dry and short. “So you finally managed it. How?”

“He believes us to be friends, Grandmaster. I convinced him I was looking out for his best interests.”

The Queen broke out in hearty laughter. “Was that all it took? These off-worlders. What an odd outlook they have.”

“Odd indeed,” the Kingston agreed. “I bought his loyal services for some money and a few days treatment for a dead woman. He prevailed upon my mercy, I granted it to him, and he is forever grateful.” He glanced at Bishop. “Much like our reformed Bishop. Isn’t that right?”

Bishop swallowed the ball of shame and rage in his throat and met his Grandmaster’s gaze. This anger, this was familiar. He could not abandon it now. He would hold to it until he regained power and took back all he had lost. And with someone making unsanctioned moves, he sensed his time approaching. “Yes, Kingston. Thank you, Grandmaster Kingston, for your mercy.”

The Kingston gave him a smile edged with scorn. “It is good you remember.”

He could almost feel the throb of long-ago pain under the smooth skin of his back as he replied with his usual honesty, “I shall never forget.”

---

“Best leftovers ever,” Reece sighed after lunch a few cycles later. They were getting ready to launch, everything having been repaired and tested, and their new payload and route confirmed by Dispatch.

“I’m definitely going to miss Sticky’s cooking,” Sebastian agreed as he stowed equipment. He would not let his mind go to what else he might miss, as there was no point in that. It appeared he’d won nothing but Bishop’s absence. He had not seen him since the Greatwood, and he refused to acknowledge the sharp edge of hurt that raised in him.

You made a pass, he wasn’t interested. It happens. Maybe he’d been too subtle but taking the initiative had always been hard for him. In fact, he’d never been interested in anyone who wasn’t already a friend before. Bishop was new, terrifying territory and in the end, his lack of response made his position clear.

“Sticky and I exchanged pings,” Olly said casually, as if it wasn’t a bomb being dropped in the middle of the conversation. “We’re going to meet up next time we’re in port together. Wherever that might be.”

They both stared at her. Then Reece grunted. “Well, wonders never cease.”

“That’s good, Olly,” Sebastian said with a grin. “Real good.”

“It’s not a big deal,” she warned. “I haven’t forgiven him. I just really like buss-up-shot.”

They laughed, agreeing without words to leave her the fragile safety of her flippancy.

“Thank you,” she said to Sebastian in a halting voice. “For being there for me through that. And thank you,” she turned to Reece, “For always understanding what I need. I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.”

Reece made a humming noise and turned away. “You’ll never have to find out.”

Sebastian went outside to make the final checks with the shift supervisor and knock panels for document transfer. The supervisor was walking away, already conversing over his implant with another ship’s crew, when he noticed a tall figure coming straight toward him out of the corner of his eye. He turned at the bottom of the Kiskadee’s accessway, taking in elegant shoulders under a loose shirt, hands tucked into the front pockets of jeans, and finally, the arresting and unfamiliar face.

His body recognized Bishop’s scent before his mind caught up to the soft flop of hair over a smooth forehead, and the watchful darkness of his eyes. The lips were as stern as ever, his jaw flexing under golden brown skin.

“Wow,” Sebastian said, “you…clean up good.”

Bishop glanced at the ship. “You’re leaving.”

“You’re not wearing your mask.”

“Sometimes I need to go about my business without announcing who and what I am.”

Sebastian cleared his throat and asked, “What business are you about today?”

Bishop’s eyes gave away nothing as they travelled his smudged coveralls and heavy boots. “You were right,” he said. “Sticky is a sort of…friend. Because I know what it is to be taken into service with the expectation that you forget those you left behind. I know the cost of the loyalty the Kingston demands, and I understood how difficult it must be for those not of Valencia. I may not agree with all you said. But I have thought on it many times since we spoke.”

“Oh?” Sebastian folded his arms over his racing heart. “This should be good. What did you think about, exactly, while ghosting me for cycles?”

“I didn’t ghost you. Your seedlings always tell me where you are. But I had much to do. Sticky said you were leaving today, and I wanted to see you before you left.”

“You could have seen me when we were visiting your ship, or the last time we went to see Sticky in Valencia,” he pointed out.

Bishop inhaled deeply, then breathed out. “It is not a good time for me. There are things I am bound to do. Problems within our society, with the Greatwood itself, that I am tasked with helping my Grandmaster and our leader, the Valencia, solve.”

Surprise swept through him. “What kind of problems?”

Bishop glanced at the ship then back at him. “I wish you and your lovers well, Sebastian. Stay safe on your journeys. I do not think we will meet again.”

He moved closer, giving Sebastian time to react. Time to refuse. The problem was, Sebastian thought, as he watched him lift his hand, curl strong fingers around his neck and pull him near, he didn’t want to refuse him. Instead, he met those firm, gentle lips with his own and his breath hitched, his pulse running riot as he tasted silky warmth and languorous exploration.

When Bishop drew back, he fitted one thumb into the slight depression of Sebastian’s dimple, while his other hand curved around to rub his thumb against Sebastian’s mouth. “Kian,” he said in a quiet voice.

“Kian?” Sebastian whispered, confused.
“My name,” Bishop said. He released him and stepped away. “And I like the way you say it too, Sebastian.”

Sebastian was still staring after him when it dawned on him none of the questions he’d asked had been answered.

---

“You know,” Reece said after they’d launched, “I thought you’d want to stay a little longer.”

“Stay?” Olly questioned from her co-pilot chair. “Why would he stay?”

Reece glanced at Sebastian where he sat in the jump seat, trying hard to look unaffected while his lips still tingled. “Should I tell her?”

“Tell me what?”

Reece turned back to the controls. “Bishop.”

Olly looked at him with wide eyes.

“Thanks a lot, Reece,” Sebastian said.

“Oh my God! He’s such an asshole though, Bas. Really?”

“Apparently, he doesn’t kiss like one,” Reece said.

“You were watching!” Sebastian accused.

“I was testing the cameras.”

“How could you not tell me?” Olly slapped at Reece’s arm. “You know how I love to watch him get hot and bothered.”

Reece grunted. “Checklist was more important.”

“You’re such a prick.”

“That’s why he likes me.” Reece leaned back as after switching to auto-pilot. “That’s probably why he likes him too.”

“I do not like you because you’re a prick,” Sebastian said, glad no one could see how hot his face felt. “It’s precisely because you’re more than that, under,” he waved a hand, “all that. And so is he.”

“Sure about that, are you?” Olly said with raised eyebrows.

He sighed. “Hell, no. All I’m sure about is the man has too many secrets and is nothing but trouble. His kisses might be worth it though.”

Olly’s expression softened. “Yours certainly are. But no more getting caught up in assassination plots, okay? They don’t usually end with good food and kissing.”

He held his hand over his heart. “I swear, I don’t go looking for trouble. It just finds me.”

“Maybe you exchanged pings,” Reece said in a mild voice.

“A joke!” Olly squealed. “Are you okay, Horace Reece? Do you have a fever?”

Reece ignored her and turned to face Sebastian fully. “You could have stayed. Spent a little time with him. If you feel something for him, you can say so. You know that, right? You can change your mind about…us.”

Sebastian unclipped himself from the chair, walked over to Reece and bent to give him a lingering kiss. He held his face with both hands as he said, “Yes, I feel something, but I don’t think it’s the same for him. So, no, I haven’t changed my mind,” he said with a smile. “I’m where I want to be. With the people I love.”

“Same,” Olly said, reaching out to caress his forearm.

Reece grunted as Sebastian stroked his head, closing his eyes in contentment.

For a few precious minutes, there was nothing but the three of them breathing in harmony as Greater Paradise faded, a dying of the light in the star-studded dark.

Just perfect.

Well. Almost.

“So,” Sebastian said. “Did you leave any roti for me, or did you two assholes eat it all?”

---

Host Commentary

By Valerie Valdes

Once again, that was the conclusion of Bishop’s Opening, by R.S.A. Garcia.

If the talk of doubles earlier in the story didn’t make you hungry, I bet this episode did. Food can be a source of fond memories, or sometimes it can arouse more complicated feelings. The past can’t be erased or changed, but the future is a meal that has yet to be prepared. And what about love? It can be found hiding in unexpected places, like in the apparently cold heart of a Bishop, who finds warmth in a man with no interest in playing galaxy-changing games. Check, and mate.

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Our opening and closing music is by daikaiju at daikaiju.org.

And our closing quotation this week is from Nalo Hopkinson, who said, “We do not know a planet that is home. We are always home. It is our job to see and map and learn languages and stories and carry them from place to place.”