Arrival

by Michelle Robbins

  Mike poured more compassion into Liam, trying to soothe him. He started an easy pace for the ground. Liam tightened his grip with a yelp.

  Panic flared through their connection again. Liam’s readings remained high, but they were not at critical levels.

  “Elevator down, that’s all.” The emotional rasp in his own voice both startled and concerned him. “We’re heading back to the ground floor. We’ll be back on your mother Earth in minutes.”

  A concerning reality circled through him. A thought pushed into his mind. Liam’s terror. Right into his head. Like they were—

  No.

  “I’m gonna be sick…” Liam said.

  Mike rolled onto his back and brought Liam’s body prone. The suit would catch any vomit so there wasn’t any concern in that regard, but this position would settle his stomach.

  ::Just breathe, Liam. We’ll be on the ground in a minute.::

  “Oh, God.”

  ::Take it easy. I got you.::

  It wouldn’t take long to land, but Mike could guess it was an eternity to Liam, and an uncomfortable one at that if Liam’s restless twists and moans were any hint. He brought them to a stop before they hit the ground and powered off the engines. He landed on his ass with a grunt and a curse.

  The sounds coming from Liam’s communication unit resembled prayer…or sobs…or both.

  “Easy,” Mike said, for what must have been the hundredth time.

  He was forced to pry Liam’s hands from around his neck and legs from around his waist before he could coax a separation. He rolled into a seated position, urged Liam onto his back and made quick work of the fastenings of Liam’s helmet.

  Liam’s skin was grayish white. His eyes were wild, and his nose ran. His lips trembled. His gauntleted hands held onto Mike’s armored forearms with a determined grip.

  Twice Liam tried to say something.

  Twice all he managed was a croak.

  Mike unsnapped the chin fastening of his own helmet and pulled it off. He let it dangle against his back and neck while he took experimental breaths. He didn’t detect the scent of the suit’s flight chemicals, which was good. Their absence in the air was proof the suit hadn’t malfunctioned. Then why had Liam tumbled so badly? Before they’d risen into the air he’d appeared to be fine.

  No.

  Mike recalled how intermittent waves of unsettlement had shimmered around and within Liam on more than one occasion.

  He’d dismissed it as something expected. Free flight wasn’t the norm for their species so of course there would be some concern.

  But what if it had been more? Had Liam hidden a deeper fear?

  If so, why then had he volunteered for flight action?

  The answer came moments later, via Liam’s sobs and loud self-loathing. A flood of incoherent sputtering and protestations spilled between them, interlaced with wild promises of greater success.

  That told Mike much. In fact, the self-hatred and grief that spilled from Liam was what told him the full story. Shit-fuck. Liam had volunteered for flight duty because of Mike.

  “I’m sorry,” Liam sobbed. “I’ll get better. I can do this. I’ll do better. I’m sorry. Please, I’m sorry.”

  Guilt lashed Mike. How could he have been so oblivious?

  What the shit-space was wrong with him? The last moments of Arvidnan’s life spilled through his memory again. Now Liam— dammit, no!

  This wasn’t a complication he would accept. “Live for me,”

  Arvidnan had urged, and shit-fuck, he was. Living didn’t require another adnama inside his heart and mind.

  Steve’s thought drifted feather-light into his mind. ::Does it necessitate its absence?::

  Mike slammed closed the mental door on his pod-kin. If Steve didn’t watch himself, the next thing he’d slam would be his fist into his pod-kin’s face.

  The approach of medical assistance arrived in his awareness like a rope thrown to a drowning man. He was that man, drowning, drowning, drowning.

  Liam was sobbing in earnest. Harsh, soul-wrenching sounds of grief tore from his throat and shook his body. He wrapped his arms around his torso and rocked from side to side.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Liam wailed. “Don’t be mad. Please don’t hate me. I can do this. I will. Please, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

  Grief. Nausea. Emotional anguish. Self-loathing. Was he feeling Liam’s mental space, or was Liam feeling his?

  What was he doing? Liam hadn’t signed up for the link. Mike had done that to him and without his consent. Just a kiss? Bullshit.

  His mating scent had filled the air and tweaked both of them. Liam was along for the ride of Mike’s mistake.

  Liam wailed, then choked so hard he started to cough.

  Fuck. Arvidnan wouldn’t tolerate his bullshit cruelty however inadvertent. More, Mike didn’t recognize himself anymore.

  Yesterday, he would have said indifference and emotional abuse were not in his nature. Today?

  The question forefront in his mind was what excuse he’d tell himself for his recent cruel unconcern for Liam’s emotional health, which he’d transmitted to Liam?

  Mike rearranged himself so he was crouched over Liam. He propped himself with a gauntleted hand on the ground and tucked his other hand inside the metal of the external shell. Liam’s sporadic, body-shaking shudders could be felt. Sweet stars, what had he done?

  ‘Hey, hey, hey,” he murmured as another violent tremor shook Liam. “Easy does it. Breathe…breathe…

  “You hate me,” Liam sobbed. “What did I do to make you hate me?”

  He clamped down on the guilt that flooded his mind before it shifted into Liam’s. “Hate you? No.”

  “You do.” The wail rose in volume. Liam twisted sideways, closed his eyes and pushed his face against the grassy ground.

  “Why? Why?”

  If Arvidnan was here, he’d kick Mike’s ass. No question about that. Worse, Mike wouldn’t try to fight back because he knew he deserved a good ass-kicking. No question about that either.

  Mike opened his mind and poured warmth into the link between them. It was new, bright and vulnerable, equal parts victory and catastrophe, but it existed and that meant… He shook off that line of thought. He wasn’t ready to think about that right now.

  “Look at me, Liam.”

  Liam shook his head and pressed his face harder against the grass.

  “C’mon, look at me,” Mike coaxed. “Liam?”

  Although in profile, the adorable thrust of Liam’s bottom lip was apparent. “I can’t.”

  The quiver in Liam’s voice tore at his heart. Using his teeth, and with a few practiced moves, Mike tugged his gauntlet off and tossed it to one side. It landed with an audible thump. He used his thumb to urge Liam’s face away from the grass. Their gazes collided.

  Energy sizzled between them. Liam swiped at his running nose, but the gauntlet didn’t offer much in the way of absorption. In fact, it made it worse. Now streaks of dark blended with the gooey glaze across his nose and cheek.

  Mike wasn’t sure why, but Liam’s disastrous hygiene situation urged the bloom of affection inside his chest to flower. He felt his cheeks tighten and figured a smile had crept into his expression.

  Worried? Not about that. Not right now.

  Instead, he turned his attention to separating the breathing filter of Liam’s helmet from its housing. Soft and significantly more absorbent than the hard shell of the flight suit, it was a good way to wipe the mucus and metal maintenance lubricant smeared across Liam’s face.

  “Since I’ve met you,” Mike said, as he worked, “you’ve been nothing but balls to the wall courageous. You requested a dance, you took a kiss, you accepted mine…”

  Mike paused to drop the used wad of filter and pull another one free, which he used to continue his project.

  “Inside you, Liam, there beats a huge heart. I saw the data streams after the data was delivered to your media outlets. I saw you stand strong against t
he pushback of your culture and defend your choices. Unashamed, you never cowered. In fact, you volunteered to serve as well as to come here.”

  “Stupid,” Liam muttered around his ministrations.

  Mike set the wad of filter down and braced himself on both hands as he gazed at the man so close emotionally and physically, and yet parsecs away from safety.

  “No, Liam. Not stupid. Fearless.”

  He opened himself all the way so Liam could feel the truth as he spoke.

  “Fearless and beautiful, Liam. Everything beautiful’s inside of you. In fact,” he paused, “beautiful is you. Heart and soul.”

  Liam’s gaze didn’t waver from his.

  “In fact, I doubt you could ever disappoint me.” The truth was the truth, and it deserved to be said, although it was saddening to realize the same thing couldn’t be said about him.

  He was doomed to disappoint this pure and perfect human.

  Liam flinched. Or maybe he winced. Mike didn’t have a chance to figure out which because less than a second later, Liam twisted onto his side and vomited.

  “Ah, fuck.”

  Mike stroked Liam’s sweaty head as he puked and was a happy guy when a medical team fell to their knees beside them and took charge.

  CHAPTER 9

  The sun had long set and the waning moon nestled against the mountains when Mike finally found time to visit the infirmary. He pushed through the doors and came face-to-face with a member of the medical corps, seated in the reception booth.

  “Perfect timing, as usual,” teased the technician.

  The scowl was a good one, crunching the young cabal member’s forehead into uneven folds of skin. If it wasn’t the twinkle in his eyes and the slight upward tilt of his mouth’s edges, Mike might have paused for a moment and wondered.

  “Are our guests resting comfortably?” he asked instead.

  At the table, he stopped and placed his palm on the ident-a-cube. The machine lit up with a bluish-white glow. A low buzzing filled the air as it took and recorded his cellular information.

  Amusement flowed between the two men.

  “At this moment,” said the corpsman. “The vomiting and diarrhea stopped about three marks ago.”

  Mike nodded, and suspected his expression was a smirk.

  “You’re right. Perfect timing.”

  His fellow cabal member’s booming laugh drowned out every sound in the area except the loud click as the security lock disengaged. With a wave, Mike moved through the door, which made a sharp snick as it closed and locked behind him. He headed deeper into the medical facility.

  He wasn’t gonna lie; he was here to see Liam, but he made time to check in on all the other volunteers as well. They all lay still and quiet in their bunks, on their sides to aid in the noxious task of cleaning up the vomit and…the other thing.

  Each volunteer had been stripped and put into the bunks naked.

  Fuck if he knew why, other than it was the medical team’s peculiar preference. Probably so they could more easily slip a guy an injection. Can’t trust them anywhere within arm’s reach.

  He was glad to see a cabal-member inside the room of each volunteer, ones who didn’t wear the uniform icon that indicated assignment to medical. The energy around the visiting Urilqii blazed with agitation and concern.

  The visitations were proof of intimate connections on the horizon. It purported fantastic things for the goal to embed human troops and for the necessary full immersion and inevitable claiming.

  What did surprise him, however, was one of the visitors.

  Steve sat beside the bed of volunteer Jace Goodard. Startled, Mike paused at the threshold. Steve looked up, raised his eyebrows, and Mike kicked himself back into gear. He continued into the room and stopped by the foot of the bed.

  Under his pod-kin’s regard, Mike’s cheeks warmed. ::I’ve been too self-involved lately. I missed the obvious. I missed your concern or I would have reached out earlier.::

  ::You’ve got enough on your mind these days.::

  Shame slammed into him. ::You’re my pod-kin. I’ll always have time for your concerns. You know that.::

  One side of Steve’s face dimpled with a half-smile. ::Of course you do. But I can handle my heart myself.:: The flood of reassurance Steve sent his way brought a sting of emotion to his eyes. ::So, I’m not such an arrogant asswipe after all?::

  Steve huffed a laugh. ::I wouldn’t go that far.::

  They shared a brief smile. Brief because in the next heartbeat, Steve’s attention swung back to the figure on the bed. He snatched what looked like a moist body cloth even before Mr. Goodard’s body began to shudder.

  Steve sat on the mattress and drew the cloth across the human’s shoulders and back with gentle but confident strokes. The link between his pod-kin and this human volunteer was strong and vibrant. The emotions bleeding from Steve were those of care and concern.

  ::Shouldn’t you be using the blanket not the towel?::

  ::He’s not cold,:: Steve replied. “Besides, there’s medicine on this.”

  “Ah.” Come to think of it, he could smell the medicine.

  Antiseptic and astringent, it bit at his nose. ::Typical hospital stink.::

  “Yep.”

  Steve said nothing more and applied himself fully to stroking Jace’s trembling body. Mike quietly left the room. With a single last glance inside, he resumed his journey through the medical wing. In the back of his mind, he wondered if the link between him and Liam was as strong and obvious as the one between Steve and Jace.

  The Envoy’s presence intruded into his thoughts. ::It’s been there since the kiss. Why else would I ask for human troops and make sure your Liam was one of those chosen for the project?:: Mike gritted his teeth and shut down his mind. Consequently, the snarled thought, Higher echelon pod-fucker, went to no one but him.

  His attempt to keep his annoyance muzzled must not have been fully effective because his visits inside the sickrooms suddenly included frowns from cabal members at the bedside. As such, he didn’t linger.

  Liam’s room was the last one on the list. He’d planned it that way. Mike stepped over the threshold and entered the room with some trepidation. Once inside, he stopped.

  Liam’s naked shoulders and back were glazed by the green glow of the medical machines. Displays shifted and repainted in quick cycles as they displayed Liam’s vital signs. The vomit bag that hung off the bed’s frame appeared empty and flaccid.

  No matter how much he might try to deny it, he was the reason Liam was here, and the reason Liam was sick as hell. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he would end up ripping Liam’s heart apart before he was through.

  ::It doesn’t have to be that way,:: Steve noted.

  ::Yes, it does.:: Mike’s response was a verbal whip’s lash.

  Guilt burned a hole through his gut. He wanted to rage and storm and punch walls.

  Arvidnan’s face shimmered in his memory. The memory of his death sliced into his heart. He’d loved once. He’d endured the loss once. He wouldn’t do that again. He’d live, yes, but that was all.

  He wouldn’t love again. He couldn’t.

  Liam cried out. The despair shimmered in the air like a public condemnation.

  Mike wasn’t aware of moving, but he found himself at Liam’s bedside in the next breath. The need to comfort and care was undeniable. Mike reached for Liam’s shoulder, but stopped. The guy was unconscious. What could he do to help?

  A shiver wracked Liam.

  Concerned, Mike laid a hand on the bare shoulder. Cool, he noted, near onto cold. Had the blanket been kicked away?

  Shouldn’t it be over Liam’s body? He plucked the blanket’s leading edge from where it lay at the small of Liam’s back and tugged the item up to the shoulders, where he tucked it in with fastidious care.

  Except, one shoulder wasn’t with the program. In fact, oddly enough, Liam’s left arm lay extended up the bed, over the pillow, and onto the bed’s sturdy frame. There, his hand
wrapped the top plank.

  He touched the hand, noted its death-like clench. He worked to loosen Liam’s grip on the frame.

  “Don’t do that.”

  Mike jerked his hand away, startled, and a bit embarrassed, if truth be told. Doctor David approached the bed, his attention dancing between Liam and the display on his handheld info unit.

  The Envoy, David’s adnama, entered behind his partner. He stopped just inside, lending support with his presence, offering respect with his silence.

  “I was just—” Mike bit off the words. Clearly, David knew what he was doing, which is why he’d put a stop to it. Why? “I don’t understand.”

  The doctor didn’t answer immediately. He used a few moments to check on Liam’s status before he gave Mike his full attention.

  “He needs to anchor himself,” the doctor said. “He does so by holding onto something that doesn’t move. The wall, at first, then the bed when we raised the bed rails. The most critical aspect of this presentation appears to be the requirement for the needed anchor to be higher than the brain.”

  That explained why Liam’s hand clung to the highest bed rail.

  “Why?”

  “My hypothesis is that something in Mr. Sinclair’s make-up needs this anchor. His species are naturally singular in the way they relate to their environment. As his mind struggles to adapt, your Liam reaches out in a way that convinces his mind that things are stable and unmoving.”

  “My Liam?”

  Doctor David’s head cocked slightly to one side. His brows furrowed. Mike realized he’d brought his hand back onto Liam’s body in the silent task of offering warmth and support. It surprised and embarrassed him, but not enough to cause him to pull away.

  The least he could do was try to comfort the guy, since it was his fault after all.

  “Liam made his own choices,” the Envoy reminded him from where he stood. “He was given the opportunity to option out on multiple occasions.”

  Yeah, and he knew why Liam hadn’t taken it. That reason wore his boots.

  “He must have believed you worth the risk, Sergeant.”

  “Respectfully, Envoy, I’m sure Mr. Sinclair will wake to the realization of his mistake.”