Given to the Alien (Science Fiction BBW/Alien Romance)

by Calista Skye

  Olivia was standing at ease in front of Colonel Garcia's desk, listening to Devon explain what had happened. Colonel Garcia was the commander of the quickly expanding military section of the International Space City, the largest station in orbit around Earth. He was not a space marine, but he did have ultimate authority over most of the military personnel on the station.

  “They didn't slow down or react to me at all, so I told them to hold it. They didn't. Instead they lunged at me and took me by surprise, sir.”

  “When you say 'they', you mean one of them, don't you? The recordings show only one lunging.”

  “Yes, sir. It was only one of them that lunged at me. The others tried to hold him back, but he was very large.”

  “Where was Sergeant Cooper at this time?” It was a strange question, Olivia reflected. There were multiple recordings of the event available, and the commander was asking questions to which he knew the answer.

  “She had gone inside the bar to walk around inside once, like we always do. It's standard procedure. She came to my assistance as fast as she could.”

  “Continue.”

  “Then they seemed to surround me, and one of them was very aggressive. The others still tried to hold him back. I went for my gun, but the aggressive one hit me on the shoulder and I fell to the floor. It was a pretty hard knock, sir. It made me black out for a moment.”

  It was the first time Olivia was hearing Devon's account of what had happened. The alien must have hit him pretty damn hard if he had blacked out from a hit on the shoulder. He was lanky, but he was as muscular as any marine.

  There was a knock on the door behind Olivia, and she heard it open.

  “Sir,” she heard the secretary say, “there's... umm... someone... to see you.”

  The colonel frowned. “'Someone?' Who is it, Corporal?”

  “I don't know his name, sir... He's a Braxian.”

  The colonel froze for three heartbeats, and his eyes flickered. Then he made a decision. “Well, send him in.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Olivia and Devon moved back, standing against the wall.

  The Braxian entered. It was the same young alien that Olivia had designated as a Neutral.

  “General,” Colonal Garcia said. “It's an honor to see you here, sir. Have your men settled into their quarters? I hope you find them satisfactory.”

  The Braxian sauntered in and seemed to ignore the station commander. He was still smirking, and he took up station across from Olivia and Devon. They remained in at-ease position. They didn't know who this was, and even if he might be an allied superior officer, they had not been taught to read his insignia. But he didn't seem to have any.

  He looked them up and down, then finally turned his attention to Colonel Garcia.

  “Your MPs don't hold back,” he said in his deep voice. His accent was hardly noticeable. “They sure took care of my death commando an hour ago. And here they are, being rewarded for their bravery, no doubt.”

  The station commander nervously cleared his voice. “General, I was just reviewing the case. If these two used excessive force, then I'll offer my sincerest apologies. Earth forces would of course never want to cause any harm to Braxian personnel-”

  The alien held up a hand as if to silence the colonel, and the movement was so authoritative that the much older station commander stopped his statement as if cut by a knife.

  “When I say that 'they' took care of him, of course I mainly mean this one.” He nodded towards Olivia. “What is your name?”

  “Sergeant Olivia Cooper, Space Marine Corps, sir!” she stated loudly, like she was supposed to. She might not know who he was, but his authority was so clear it filled the room.

  “You have female marines, Colonel.”

  “We do, General. There's no preference based on gende-”

  Again the alien held up his hand, and again the station commander shut up immediately.

  “Why did you throw my death commando through the air and into a wall, Sergeant?”

  Olivia looked the alien straight in the eye. Damn, those were some blue eyes... “He was threatening my partner,” she said.

  “He was,” the Braxian agreed. “I was there. He was out of line. Disgracefully so. But your response... How do you rate it yourself?”

  Olivia thought fast. She was pretty damn happy with the way she had handled the guy. Her only other option had been to kill him.

  “Sir, in my view, it was an appropriate response.”

  The alien general held her gaze for three heartbeats. His eyes were sensationally blue and clear. And deeply set, with dark, straight eyebrows and long, delicate eyelashes on an otherwise super-masculine face...

  “It's a good word, 'appropriate'. Saying so much, while not really saying anything. You're a wise woman, Sergeant Olivia. You are also unusually strong.”

  “Sir,” Colonel Garcia tried again, “if excessive force was used-”

  “I don't know which level of force was used,” the Braxian cut him off. “All I saw was three hundred pounds of drunk death commando cartwheeling through the air as if flung from a catapult. And I was certain that surely no woman could ever perform such a feat, much less an elegant and feminine woman from Earth. It intrigues me. You intrigue me, Sergeant Olivia.”

  The alien looked her up and down again, taking his time around her ample chest, then turned his back to the station commander and sauntered out of the office, talking loudly. “Our quarters are fine, Colonel. My errant death commando is confined to barracks. I'm sure we will meet again at our first common war council.”

  The door slammed shut.

  Colonel Garcia was visibly shaken and had to collect himself. Devon and Olivia tactfully looked away until the station commander found his voice.

  “Sergeant Baudin, you're dismissed.”

  Devon straightened up and saluted, then left the office, leaving Olivia and the colonel.

  The station commander came out from behind his desk, eager to regain the authority the alien general had taken from him with his dominant manner. “Sergeant!”

  She went to attention reflexively, turning to face him.

  He gazed at her. “Impressive moves, Sergeant. That Braxian wasn't lightly built. I'm going to go ahead and guess that you've got something special under that uniform. And I'll further guess that it's a small, but effective exoskeleton.”

  Olivia kept staring over his shoulder. He had to ask an actual question if he wanted an answer.

  “I didn't know they were operational yet,” the colonel continued. “And I sure didn't know they were deployed in the field. And I sure as hell didn't know one of my own MPs was walking around with one under her uniform!”

  Talkative guy. Not a space marine. They were less talkers and more doers.

  “Well, marine, I see there's more to you than meets the eye. I'm not going to ask you what your orders are or why Military Intelligence have apparently sent people like you to my station without telling me. But I will say this to you: This is my station and I decide what goes on here, including deployment of secret gear!”

  Olivia kept her gaze steadily over his shoulder. He was being a total clown. If he'd figured out that she was both a space marine and a secret Intel operative, he should keep his mouth shut about it, even in private. And that last thing was just silly, not something he should bring up at all, more like a tantrum.

  The colonel stared at her as if expecting an answer. He apparently had never dealt much with space marines before. They would respond to questions or orders, nothing else.

  Her silence was angering him.

  “Well, I can't have you running around like that after this event. Consider yourself taken off MP duty.”

  Finally an order. “Yes, sir!”

  She heard the door open behind her and saw the colonel's eyes widen, heard his intake of breath. She was still at attention and didn't move.

  Then the colonel knocked his heels together and saluted the person who had entered. Oh,
Colonel, she reflexively thought, you don't salute with your hand if you're not wearing any headgear.

  But of course he wasn't a space marine.

  “Marshal,” he said, “I didn't know you were on board the station!”

  “At ease, Colonel. And Sergeant,” she heard from behind her.

  Olivia took up the at-ease pose, feet apart and arms behind her back. Marshal? That could only be...

  Star Marshal Hoffner, commander in chief of Space Force, stepped into her field of view and sat down in an armchair. She knew him from the many pictures and vids she had seen of him. Small, wiry and energetic, Hoffner was the man everyone on Earth was counting on the win the war that now seemed inevitable.

  He looked up at Olivia with an impish smile. “Had a little run-in with our allies, Sergeant?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And you made an impression on them. Well done.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Why did you wear your secret Intel exoskeleton on MP duty? It was never designed for that.”

  “It seemed wise to be prepared, sir.”

  “Mhm. Prepared. But now the secret is out to those who know how to interpret these things. Isn't that right, Colonel?”

  “It is, Marshal. Secret equipment should not be used outside of the combat role for which it is intended.”

  The Marshal sat comfortably back and put one ankle on his knee. “That is a prudent rule of thumb, certainly. In this case, I don't think any damage has been done. In fact, I think it was for the best. We don't want to look weak to our allies. I don't mind telling you that we were a little worried about that. They are very... war-like, the Braxians. They tend to disapprove of those who don't at least try to stand up for themselves. Both our MPs did stand up for themselves tonight – ah, it's past midnight now – I mean last night.”

  The colonel was still standing up. “I have taken Sergeant Cooper off Military Police duty, Marshal.”

  The Star Marshal raised his eyebrows. “You have? I wonder if I can persuade you to reverse that position, Colonel. After all, she was only doing her duty. And our allies will wonder what's going on if they suddenly see her without her armband. They might think she's being punished. Lord knows what they will think of that. It might look like weakness to them. How long have you been a space marine, Sergeant?”

  “Just over three years, sir.”

  “Mhm. And Intel has already sought you out. Unusual for a sergeant. It was always my opinion that secret operatives should be officers. It's a noble task, after all. In wartime, promotions come fast. Of course, we're not formally at war yet, but I see no reason to squabble over details like that. I hereby commission you as Second Lieutenant, Cooper. You did good work. And I want our allies to see that we reward strength. That alien deserved what he got and more besides. They know that as well as we do. And I'm glad we gave it to him.”

  “Thank you, sir!”

  “Get your bar from the depot right away. And keep your exoskel on when on duty. You never know. But don't be obvious about it. We don't want everyone to know. Dismissed, Lieutenant.”

  “Sir!”

  Olivia straightened and saluted the Star Marshal and the colonel, then turned on her heel and marched out. When the door to Colonel Garcia's office shut behind her she jumped four feet into the air and slapped the ceiling, whooping in joy. Second Lieutenant! After just three years as a grunt!

  The fact that she seemed to have impressed that alien general was a nice bonus, too.

  She might learn to like this war.

  4

  “Promoted by the Big H himself,” Wilhelmsen mused. “Don't think I've heard of that happening for a good while. He likes to let people advance slowly and really prove themselves. And Intel work is only supposed to be rewarded after a war, not before or during. We're supposed not to draw attention to ourselves. Even medals are secretly awarded to Intel people.”

  Olivia wasn't sure what to think. Her promotion had seemed fine to her. “Think there's an ulterior motive?”

  Wilhelmsen stroked a lock of black hair back from her face. Her dark brown eyes twinkled. “Who knows? With Hoffner, there are always boxes within boxes. Enigmas within riddles. Or he was being straight and just liked what you did. But you know, Olivia, don't worry about it. Take your promotion at face value and know that it was well deserved.”

  Wilhelmsen was the Chief of Intelligence for Space Force. She never wore a uniform, preferring long dresses and silver jewelry that contrasted with her dark skin. But she always wore star-shaped earrings, just one silver star in each ear. It was her only outer deferral to military protocol. She was a brigadier general – a one-star general, in other words.

  She always referred to Olivia by her first name and didn't want to be saluted. She was very different from a space marine officer, much more easygoing, but her competence was never in doubt. She had recruited Olivia as a secret agent for her Intelligence section six months before.

  “What's your impression of our Braxian allies? I know the raw data. I want your opinion.”

  Olivia thought hard. Wilhelmsen wanted straight answers to questions – always say what you see, don't interpret or assume, always say when you're guessing. And always tell the truth. But her opinion...

  “They don't seem like military soldiers. More like bar brawlers. No discipline. No protocol. They wear huge swords walking around the station. They seem to be in extremely good physical shape. Like old-timey warriors from the Middle ages. Or barbarians, I guess.”

  “And their general, Ator'aq? You've been closer to him than pretty much anyone else in Space Force, including me.”

  Olivia got the message: Her report about this was important.

  “Much the same. He seems undisciplined. But he commands a room like no one I've ever seen. He has an extremely confident manner. Total alpha male. In better physical shape than his men. Snatched a heavy-looking flying sword right out of the air. He called the one I had to subdue a 'death commando'.”

  Wilhelmsen tapped her lips with one finger, showing that the nail varnish matched her lipstick perfectly. “Mhm. We think a 'death commando' is their elite of the elite, warriors who are willing to go on suicide missions for their cause. That's a guess, by the way. They have told us very little about themselves. Ator'aq stated that he was intrigued by you. Are you likewise intrigued by him?”

  Always tell the truth. “Yes.”

  Wilhelmsen chuckled. “Any woman would be, I guess. I know I am. There are many things we don't know about the Braxians. And what little we do know are things that they have told us themselves, so may be of questionable reliability. Any little thing is of value. How does he smell?”

  Olivia was used to General Wilhelmsen asking seemingly strange questions, so she wasn't thrown off balance. She thought back. She'd been pretty overwhelmed by the whole situation.

  “He smells like man. Clean, but... just man.” She felt her cheek blush, but she didn't know a better description.

  The general wasn't done. “What is your impression of his intentions? Is he honest? Deceptive?”

  “I detected no deception in him,” Olivia said honestly. “But I've been tricked before.”

  “Haven't we all,” Wilhelmsen said. “A ruggedly handsome face and a tiny sliver of wit, and I'm ready to believe a guy when he says the sun rises out of his ass.”

  The general pointed at Olivia's thigh. “It was a good idea to use the exoskel we gave you. Never crossed our minds that you might have a use for it aboard this station.”

  Olivia shrugged. “I knew the aliens might want to socialize, and you did tell me they might be rowdy. And we're under orders not to harm them. I mean, we were pretty much ordered to let them kill us rather than kill them. So I thought that it might come in handy to be as physically strong as possible.”

  General Wilhelmsen snorted. “Those cowardly orders are now obsolete and superseded. We are to show strength and not to back down, and that will be relayed to the other MPs this morning.
If you must use deadly force, then do so. They're big and strong. And we should keep the possibility open that the one you subdued might want some kind of revenge. As you say, they're undisciplined. Keep your exoskel on. And you have my permission to carry a concealed firearm at all times. But you don't have to. Use your own judgment.”

  General Wilhelmsen got to her feet and walked over the a small, round view port to space, looking out. She was not a tall woman, but she had a feminine shape and graceful movements. Olivia was one of the few in Space Force who knew that the Chief of Intelligence was an accomplished dancer. Her quick advancement in Military Intelligence had been a result of a genuine gift for assembling limited knowledge into a correct picture of the enemy. She was one of the first who had warned about the Ethereals and their true intentions.

  She sighed. “The Braxians are a riddle to us, Olivia. After the Moon event, they immediately came barging into the Solar system as if they were hunting someone. And that's what they claimed – that they were hunting the Ethereals. We certainly had no idea how to fight the Ethereals who ruined Moon City, so we immediately accepted their offer of help. They have space-going warships – we don't. They claim to have fought the Ethereals on many occasions – we have not. They claim to have won multiple victories against the Ethereals – we lost our only encounter with them, with the loss of six thousand innocent people on the Moon and who knows how many missing from Earth itself. We desperately need Braxian help. At least until we can bring Space Force up to become a fighting force worthy of the name. At the same time, we have no idea if anything they've told us is true. I mean – swords? Against the high-tech Ethereals? Give me a break.”

  Olivia knew some of that already, but not that Earth was so dependent on the Braxians to fight the Ethereals. It was a chilling thought.

  The Ethereals were the first aliens to ever contact Earth, and they had seemed nice. They looked like humans – extremely attractive humans with an otherworldly beauty that stunned everyone that came into contact with them. They seemed to have some sort of inner glow that made many people compare them to fairies.