Arrival

by Michelle Robbins

  “Surely in response to our successful reclamation efforts on this planet,” said the Envoy from the other side of the holograph.

  Everyone nodded in agreement.

  “No doubt.” High Commander touched his screen again and stopped the image’s rotation. “It’s impossible to colonize a planet when their climate project fails.”

  Everyone smiled. Mike didn’t bother to stifle the gleeful satisfaction stirring his soul.

  “How long until they’re here?”

  Mike had that answer. “By evaluating the vector of the Targolt ship’s arrival and ongoing path, and applying that data against the orbital path of this planet, we can expect contact in two months.”

  “Months?”

  Oops. He braced himself against a tide of embarrassment.

  “Ah, apologies, sir. The Envoy commanded us to utilize the local vernacular whenever possible. Habit, sir. I meant no offense.”

  The Envoy nodded. “Yes, it works in order for this cabal to better integrate with the resident dominant species.”

  “Clarify the term, Sergeant.”

  Thankfully, the commander didn’t sound irked, only curious.

  “This planet tells time by the phase of its satellite,” he explained. “From bright face to dark face, that time is considered ‘a month.’”

  “Odd.” He stood for a moment, processing the information, then spoke again. “If I understand you correctly, Sergeant, it will take two full phases of this planet’s satellite before the Targolt will be in position to take action.”

  “Yes, sir.” Mike reached for the control box on the table and tapped a series of icons. “Our best estimation, made on orbital speed and the incoming ship, brings probable contact at these orbital coordinates. Sending now.”

  He put the words to action. The machine gave a sharp chirp as data leapt between the two communication units. The machine on the other side of the conference blipped, its sound softened by the distance between them. Once again, the commander paused as he processed information. After a moment, he spoke again.

  “Excellent. Let’s prepare. Scruff up, Sergeant. We’ll bring it to them hard.”

  Everyone gave a whoop of support…except for the Envoy.

  “One thing, sir. I propose an embedded platoon of humanity’s militia into our four globally placed cabals.”

  High Commander stared at the Envoy, dumbfounded. “What?”

  The E’ssennet Commander at Mike’s side of the table looked even more taken aback.

  “You want humans near our equipment?” He sputtered the question. “This species can’t even get along among themselves, and you want them within arm’s reach of our weaponry?”

  Mike had to agree with those reactions. Quarrelsome and belligerent at the best of times, a chunk of humans near enough to their weapons for easy access didn’t sound like one of the Envoy’s more spectacular suggestions.

  A beatific smile topped the political polish of the shocking suggestion. “Our hosts will be afraid of the Targolt and of us. Embedded militia will give them comfort. It will offer a feeling of control.”

  Complete bullshit, thought Mike.

  The Envoy pressed his agenda. “Such is critical since we are not here to engender a sense of deference in the dominant species.”

  “Of course not,” said High Commander from his ship’s bridge, planets distant.

  Mike stifled the urge to roll his eyes. The Envoy caught his gaze. The glint in his eye caused Mike’s breath to still in his chest.

  This was about that damned kiss? Ah, c’mon…

  “Make it happen. If you can find those with the capability to embed with our cabals, then we will welcome a flank or two of personnel. And I mean if.” The High Commander stressed the final word.

  “Naturally,” said the Envoy. “I’m confident it will be a beautiful blend.”

  CHAPTER 4

  The military camp outside the bus window looked exactly like the one where Liam had spent the last nine weeks, except for the Urilqii. The green and brown buildings, green and brown vehicles, personnel in green and brown uniforms lent a similar feeling to the situation. Other than the flag that displayed an alien camel spider, it could have been just another Army camp anywhere on this globe.

  Not a camel spider, he reminded himself. Basic Training blended with culture sensitivity training had given him the name for the beast. It was called an E’ssennet. And yeah, just as he’d assumed, it was one bad-ass critter. According to the information texts, it owned the ground on the Urilqii home planet, thereby forcing the Urilqii into the trees as they evolved.

  Yeah, Gorgeous Mike was fundamentally a mammal with a really fine ass, he noted to himself. In fact, that ass was so fine Liam found himself looking outside the window, not for a glimpse of the Urilqii camp buildings, but for a glimpse of his dance partner. After all, that was the main reason he was on this bus.

  No need to lie, least of all to himself.

  The bus shuddered to a stop and exhaled with a hard cough.

  The driver opened the side door and exited, taking the three small steps with an easy clatter of his boots. He headed for a near-by building. After a moment, when no one was there to oversee them, the bus full of volunteers began to squirm, turning this way and that as they gaped at the sights outside.

  A flight of mechanized vehicles boomed over their heads.

  Everyone lunged from the other side of the bus to his side as they attempted to trace the fast path of the unfamiliar airplanes overhead. Liam found himself shoved up against the window by another guy equally pressed into the space by some other dude.

  The uniform tag said “Goodard.”

  Three deep, and no one was going anywhere fast.

  He exchanged a nod with the guy. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” Goodard replied.

  Liam would have offered to shake his hand if both of his hadn’t been squashed between his chest and the bottom of the window frame.

  “Sinclair,” he said instead and tried not to breathe into the other guy’s face.

  A smile transformed Goodard’s expression into something way more pleasant.

  “Jace,” said Goodard. “You’re familiar. You’re that guy, aren’t you?”

  Liam felt his cheeks warm. “That Guy” had been the worldwide term for him since his moment of passion at Paradiso.

  “That Guy” was something he didn’t expect to ever leave behind.

  “Liam,” he corrected. “Good to meet you, Jace.”

  Jace huffed out a laughed. Liam caught the scent of peppermint on the guy’s breath. After a moment, Jace spoke again.

  “I suppose it’s no surprise you volunteered to be tested for embedded status,” he said.

  The bus rocked and thumps on the steps sounded as someone boarded it. Liam couldn’t see who it was because of the forest of heads that blocked his vision, but he recognized the voice when it shouted a command.

  “Get back into your seats, maggots!”

  That was Drill Instructor Jackson, or “DI Jackass” behind his back.

  Bodies shuffled, the pressure eased, and Jace moved back across the isle with a departing slap to his shoulder. Liam was once again alone in a seat, but he was getting used to it. After all, he was “That Guy,” right?

  Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell had nothing on him. Hell, was it possible to be any more out of the closet than he was? It was about as possible as him being a volunteer.

  No one had cracked rulers over his knuckles to get him to sign his name on the dotted line. When the whispers of an embedded platoon had traveled through the ranks, he hadn’t jumped on the idea. His version of “volunteered” had been three members of brass tromping over to him at the mess hall and leveling sausage-thick index fingers into his face.

  “You. You’re with us,” barked the one with the most ribbons on his chest.

  And that had been that, but Liam had gotten used to the idea.

  He even began to like the idea once he’d been informed he wa
s headed for the camel-spider company—er, the Urilqii E’ssennet Company—where his gorgeous dance partner was assigned.

  Sergeant Mike, the First Sergeant of the unit based in the Pacific Northwest, whom he’d labeled Gorgeous, had haunted his dreams nightly and starred in plenty of hand-job scenarios since that dance. Every time that amazingly handsome face had shown up on the Basic Training videos, Liam’s mouth had dried, his heart had stuttered, and his cock had gone rock hard.

  Mike had kissed him back, brazenly, unashamedly, and so very publicly! Liam wanted more of those kisses. He also wanted more of that beyond erotic cologne in his nose. Endlessly more.

  “Fall out!” roared DI Jackass before he preceded them off the bus.

  Liam and the rest of the busload of soldiers stood and filed off the vehicle in an orderly manner beneath the glaring stink-eye of Jackass. God forbid anyone embarrass the DI by acting badly.

  They’d been warned ahead of time to mind their manners and watch their asses.

  The volunteers formed into a disciplined rectangle formed of three long lines, endured an inspection, and pretended not to notice the arrival of a Urilqii base representative. Liam stood strong as DI Jackass and the Urilqii exchanged salutes, and locked knees against the urge to run after the bus as it drove off with Jackass alone.

  This was new territory for everyone, both for the platoon and for this planet.

  It was alien territory.

  Embedded, like the journalists of past conflicts to “oversee and document” the goings-on so no Geneva conventions were violated.

  Wait…did the Geneva Convention even matter in a war against hostile aliens? Christ. This situation was reminiscent of a cheesy Ed Wood movie.

  Anxiety settled onto his shoulders and stayed there with every step he took alongside his platoon as they marched into the unknown. Jeez, what were they doing? “Embedded” meant nothing. They would be of no more use than the journalists in the Iraq-Afghanistan action had been. This was a reach-around, no question about it. Furthermore—

  A hiss-sputter of engines to his right cut into his thoughts. Liam looked up and over. To his surprise, a squad of Urilqii dressed in powered armor descended from the sky and landed on the quad nearby. The last man down landed a bit away from the group, as though he observed the unit for discipline and acumen.

  Liam didn’t see anything of the man other than his backside, nor did he see the bug that buzzed by his head loudly enough to cause him to wince. He flinched and waved his hand by his ear as it buzzed past him again, hoping to scare it away. It didn’t buzz off. In fact, it made another determined flyby.

  Liam tried to locate the bug, ideally to slap it dead, but it must have slipped behind his head or something. Waving his hand all the while, he glanced back toward the Urilqii squad and discovered the observer had turned to face him.

  The helmet sported two designs across the forehead, probably alien letters that indicated rank or role. The black visor concealed eyes and nose, leaving only the lower jaw visible. A scruffy line of mustache sprouted above the upper lip. The body hugged by the self-flight armor displayed every luscious muscle, as well as the tattoo on his right breast, that of the E’ssennet, through a transparent section.

  Electricity sizzled along the pathway of Liam’s nerves with enough force that he gasped. He gasped again when the soldier tapped the side of his head to retract the dark visor and it slid up to reveal Sergeant Mike’s face. The now-dangling chinstrap revealed a short box beard.

  At last, Liam thought. Here was Sergeant Mike, star of his jack-off fantasies. Unless it was the other guy? He realized he was grinning like a goof, but didn’t give a rat’s ass. He waved hello.

  He didn’t know if the greeting was returned or not because a scant second after he gestured, a roar of “Eyes front” split the air.

  Liam snapped his attention back to the collar of the guy in front of him and found his discipline and rhythm for the march.

  He hoped Mike was as happy to see him as he was to see Mike.

  Otherwise, the coming year was gonna suck.

  * * *

  Mike watched the platoon of volunteers as they headed toward receiving. More specifically, he watched Liam. Sure, he’d assumed the guy would show up, especially considering the Envoy’s agenda on the topic, but the actual moment of realization had felt like a kick to the chest.

  He’d lost his breath and his balance momentarily upended.

  When Liam had caught his eye and smiled a greeting, obviously delighted to see him, Mike had had to fight the urge to lunge over there and wrap his arms around the guy.

  So not good , he told himself.

  Delight surged through his awareness, coming from Steve or maybe the Envoy. Both of those two fuckers thought this situation hilarious. What had Steve said? “Welcome back to the game of life?” Fuck him. And the Envoy? What had he said, “I’m confident it will be a beautiful blend.” Fuck him, too.

  The most astonishing thing about the situation was how Liam gave indications of sensitivity to mind-link communications. Every time a cabal member near him sent a thought, Liam reacted. He waved his hand, as though trying to brush away an errant bug. But it wasn’t the sound of insect wings; it was the mind-speak.

  Mike evaluated the situation and concluded that humanity was amazingly adaptive. An astonishing development, really, since this appeared to be a result of nothing more than Mike’s tongue and his sexual pheromones.

  He wondered who would take Liam under his wing. It wouldn’t be him. No, he’d sworn never again to take an adnama. The loss was still too deep. Someone else would get to enjoy those hot, hot, hot kisses and tight body.

  Steve’s distant laughter drifted to him via the mind-link.

  ::Fuck off.::

  Their commander broadcast orders to his leadership personnel.

  ::Volunteers are on base. Deploy to the assembly hall. Prepare for orientation and upcoming integration testing. Fifteen cycles on the click.::

  Mike watched Liam twitch and wave his hand again.

  Interestingly, he also noticed seven others with similar reactions.

  That boded well for the embedded project, but the four arrivals that displayed the necessary sensitivity did beg a question. Had other Urilqii danced with tongue and body with a member of Earth’s dominant species? If so, they’d managed to avoid notice. He’d been the only one on the firing line.

  ::They’re called humans,:: Steve mentioned.

  ::Dudes,:: corrected the Envoy, ::the goal is to get close, not to force distance.::

  Liam brushed at a non-existent flying insect again, which encouraged a feeling of satisfaction to ease into Mike’s awareness via the Envoy. He bit the inside of his cheek to avoid sending the words that threatened and swiveled back to the team standing behind him.

  He jerked his fist in a fast pumping action, the gesture that ordered dismissal.

  ::Fall out, :: he commanded. ::Secure your gear and clean off the dirt. Fall in at the assembly hall in no less than fifteen.:: They broke smartly and double-timed it to the nearest armory.

  Mike followed at a slower pace. Like the men ahead of him, he disarmed and peeled away his personal flight suit, then stepped into the BioClean unit. It rumbled and groaned. Dirt and airborne detritus swirled down the drain in a brownish whirlpool. When it switched off and released him, Mike stepped over to the sink and washed his face and hands because the sanitizing compound always made him itch.

  He headed over to the assembly hall, making good time. He got there in a little more than ten cycles.

  The men had done better and were waiting for him in a neat and tidy formation.

  Mike peeked inside and saw the embedding volunteers seated in plastic chairs set into a crescent in front of the podium. They appeared to be relaxed, if Mike was any judge of the soft laughter, smiles, and curious glances at their surroundings.

  To one side of the assembly, the rest of his cabal had been seated. He was proud to see they neither fidgeted no
r gawked. The cabal’s commander stepped into his line of sight and pointed both index fingers at him, then swung them around to point at a line of empty seats.

  ::Go.::

  Mike sent to the Urilqii under his immediate command. He made his own arm gestures, directing them to the empty seats. The squadron tromped in, looking competent and relaxed, and sat where they’d been directed.

  Mike cast his gaze about in search of a seat for his ass, but his cabal’s commander again cut into his line of sight. He repeated his index finger directive to make his wishes known. Mike swallowed a sigh and joined command staff at the line of seats behind the podium.

  Steve sat among the other master sergeants, at the rear of the seated Urilqii. A smirk flickered across his expression. The fucker.

  Mike made a covert caress of the third stripe on the uniform sleeve, a stripe Steve’s uniform didn’t have but Mike’s did.

  The fucker’s expression transformed into a scowl.

  Mike swallowed a bark of laughter. Beside him, the Envoy cleared his throat, the sound causing Mike to snap his gaze forward. Now it was his turn to loose a smirk.

  Steve didn’t muzzle his amusement.

  The orientation program began with a welcome to the human volunteers Mike nodded his head when his name was called, located a spot on the distant wall to stare at for the duration, and commenced his waiting ritual. Voices droned on as he counted down from five hundred thousand to one.

  Four hundred and ninety-nine thousand and nine hundred ninety-nine…

  Four hundred and ninety-nine thousand and nine hundred ninety-eight…

  He’d reached two hundred and thirty-two thousand when a thought slashed across his awareness with all the subtly of a boat horn on a crowded shipping lane.

  ::…ing asshole’s acting like he doesn’t even know me!:: That was Liam, sending his thoughts with untutored vigor. He knew the touch and the taste of Liam. Startled by the force of the message, Mike dropped his gaze from the scuffmark spot on the wall. He wasn’t surprised to see an annoyed expression on Liam’s face.