THIRTEEN
"Captain Bahaghari. My, don't you look…fetching."
Diego's face burned as Commander Miranda Zaya's glance went down his body and returned to his face with a smirk. She was in a military dress uniform, only her head and hands not covered. "Thank you, Commander."
An older man with thick white hair, neatly trimmed beard, and finely wrinkled brown skin, dressed in an elegant tuxedo that covered him just as thoroughly, took the commander's hand. "Commander. Nice to see you." He turned to look at Diego and managed a double take without even looking away.
"Ambassador Karim, this is Diego Bahaghari. He captains our supply ship. Bahaghari, Athelbert Karim, Earth's ambassador to Beresh."
Diego, face still hot, took the offered hand. "Ambassador. An honour to meet you."
Karim shot a sidelong glance at Zaya, who added, "Bahaghari is Administrator Portya's plus one."
"Oh! My apologies, Captain Bahaghari. I'm glad to have this opportunity to thank you in person for the services you and your crew provide us here."
Diego smiled politely. It was likely the ambassador knew as well as he did that Starways had volunteered Caravan at the insistence of the United Earth Government. "It's a privilege, sir."
Karim's diplomatic training did not stop him from stealing glances at all the bare skin Diego was showing off. He hoped it was only his torso the ambassador was staring at.
Diego had worn the clothes in private around Portya so he wouldn't need the Antho device, and he'd gotten used to Portya's regard, but being stared at by other Humans—that was not something he'd considered. Fortunately, embarrassment was a great preventative for erections, so he wouldn't have to suddenly hide one.
He wished he had pockets to stuff his hands into. What could he say?
"Diego." Portya was behind him, his warm hand clasping the bare skin of Diego's hip.
Diego relaxed into Portya's certain, if intimate, touch. He didn't miss the quick look exchanged by the commander and the ambassador, but he didn't care if it was approving, disapproving, or whatever.
"I borrow my lissande?"
"Certainly, Administrator," Karim said. "It was a pleasure to meet him at last."
Portya led Diego away. "Why he stare at you?"
"Because this is not how Humans dress at fancy parties," Diego replied, wondering if Portya was jealous or merely curious.
"Yes, I see. Earth must be cold planet, Humans wear so many clothes."
Diego opened his mouth in protest before he spotted the crinkles around Portya's eyes.
"You have enough fancy now?"
"Hey, I'm supposed to be making you lose control and you want to go?"
Portya quivered in laughter. "I not want to come. Here only for you."
"You just wanted to see me in these clothes." Diego frowned, trying to work out how he could make Portya lose control.
"Yes," Portya agreed, still deeply amused.
Diego slipped one hand under the back of Portya's jacket and caressed his ass.
Eyes still crinkled, Portya pulled just far enough away to face Diego. "Want you very so much, but you soon disgrace self, minessa." He leaned forward and swiped Diego's nose with his long pink tongue.
Diego closed his eyes and counted to ten, but with Portya's scent surrounding him and his hand still on Portya's hip…he had to admit Portya was right. In the matter of self-control, he would always be minessa, a child.
*~*~*
Diego made Portya introduce him to all the top-level people on Mikesi, pretending to preen when people complimented him on his show of skin. That was the one thing that seemed to bother Portya, though he wasn't sure if it was a form of jealousy or possessiveness. Whatever it was, he liked it. He only put up a token resistance when Portya rasped in his ear that it was time to leave.
When they were ensconced in the privacy of Portya's quarters, it was then that Portya gave up his control. Diego could appreciate how swiftly the Antho garments came off.
"I fuck you," Portya growled, nipping at Diego's neck hard enough to leave a mark.
It was so seldom Portya wanted it, Diego all but begged. He knew exactly where the seldom-used bottle of lube was—he'd brought it to Portya's quarters himself. He helped Portya prepare him with gasping enthusiasm. Portya was the only person he'd ever been with bare, and the small part of his mind that could form coherent thoughts tried to say it was because Portya was an alien and that was the only reason he did it, but it was a paltry half-truth that crumbled well before orgasm swept over him.
"So dry, so tight. Think I hurt you," Portya murmured, wiping their bodies clean with one of the thick, soft towels they kept by the bed always.
Diego didn't want to say it hurt so good, because he wasn't sure the Antho had a similar concept. He didn't think Syncrete was up to explaining how a burn could feel good or what the prostate was. Portya seemed to have one—there was certainly a spot inside he loved stimulated—but an explanation seemed too much of an effort. "So good, Portya. So good."
Portya gathered him in his arms, holding Diego tenderly against his chest.
"I love you," Diego said, unable to stop the words.
"What mean love?"
A soft smile curved Diego's lips. He had the words already. "It means I want to protect you, to keep you from all hurt. It means that right here in your arms I feel protected, safe. It means your happiness is important to me, so much that I would sacrifice mine for yours, if need be. It means this is home."
"Mikesi?"
"Not Mikesi, not your quarters, not my quarters, Portya. You, your arms, this is home. Home is wherever you are."
FOURTEEN
It was the retching that woke Diego. He knew that sound. He nearly tripped on the sheets tangled around his legs in his haste to go to Portya's side. He didn't say anything, just gathered the silky red and black strands of Portya's hair out of the way and rubbed gently over his back until he finished.
Sitting on the floor, he pulled Portya into an embrace. "Do I need to call emergency medical services again? I thought Dr. Filas said your body had adjusted?" Could it be a reaction to the lube? That was possible, he supposed.
"Not emergency, but should make appointment with doctor," Portya said.
His words were almost as alarming as his being sick again. Last time he'd been so adamant that he was fine, when he wasn't. To admit it—that worried Diego. "That's very adult of you."
Portya crinkled his eyes. "Thank you."
*~*~*
Diego paced in the small room of the quarantine section of the Antho hospital. Now that everyone knew he was Portya's lissande, they gave him little trouble. Lissande, he'd discovered by repeating the word to his digislate until it recognized it to translate, approximated lover. He suspected the meaning was closer to calling someone "my heart" with the depth of emotional commitment Humans didn't necessarily assign to a word like "lover."
He sat on the edge of the patient bed and popped the holographic display on his digislate. He'd only begun to read over inventories when the door slid open and he jumped to his feet.
Dr. Filas wheeled Portya into the room in a chair, but as soon as he stopped, Portya stood. He was also in his own clothes, which Diego took as another positive sign. Dr. Filas said something in Antho, the sibilant language sounding more like hissing this time.
Portya wheeled around, body tense, and fired back an equally fierce reply.
"Bahaghari, you talk sense to him," Dr. Filas said in Syncrete.
Diego looked from Filas to Portya, who wouldn't meet his eyes. "About what?" he asked, continuing to look at Portya.
Portya finally met his eyes, and Diego tried to read what he saw. Not Portya's usual confidence. Fear? Defiance? He'd not seen either in Portya before to be sure. Portya took his hands, as if seeking reassurance, and said, "Tell, Filas. I not have words."
"Is not possible," Filas said. "It is not viable, Portya!"
Portya lifted his chin and squeezed Diego's hands.
&nb
sp; "One of you please tell me what's going on," Diego said, worry growing a knot in his stomach.
"Is not possible," Filas repeated. "Portya has conceived. You must convince him to terminate."
Diego swung his head around to stare at the doctor. "Portya has conceived what?"
"A…" Dr. Filas hooked his arm and made a cradle motion that broke all language barriers, adding, "offspring," as if that clarified the matter.
Diego pulled his hands free from Portya's and stared into his golden eyes. "That's—that's not possible."
"I know," Dr. Filas growled.
"You, you're male!"
"I not pesserantha," Portya said, nostrils flaring in offense. "I am Antho. Whole person."
Maybe he misunderstood. "Are you saying…Portya's pregnant?"
Filas nodded.
"But—!" Diego stared at Portya, horrified. How could Portya be pregnant? Males did not get pregnant! He knew every part of Portya's body and there was no way he had the biological requirements to get pregnant! "I fucked you! You have a dick!"
Portya blinked at him, as if confused, and reached for his hands.
Diego backed away. "No! What the hell are you? This is fucked up!"
"Diego…?"
"No!" Fuck, no wonder Portya's ass was lubed, it wasn't his ass! But it had to be his ass, it was the only hole he had, one puckered hole…How could someone get pregnant in their ass? It wasn't possible!
A gulf opened, and the differences between Antho and Human suddenly seemed insurmountable. Everything he'd told himself about Portya was a lie; they didn't have anything in common. Everything between them was based on a fairy tale Diego told himself and Portya indulged. He turned and ran from the room. He didn't stop running until he was in his quarters. He collapsed on the bed without turning on the lights.
Portya… pregnant. How the fuck did that even work? He couldn't think about it. How can he have that magnificent cock…and…? He groaned and rolled over, remembering vividly the feel of Portya's cock, the deep plum colour, the heat of it, the weight of it, so heavy and warm, never fully soft, but—Shut up! It's a lie, that's not the real Portya!
But he couldn't stop. The things he loved about Portya were now perverted—alien, lies and illusions. His perfect love turned out to be a surreal nightmare.
*~*~*
"What the hell is the matter with you, Captain?"
Diego flinched at Wilma's angry tone. He was distracted, lost. At Caravan's navigation console, where he had nearly killed everyone on the ship. "I—"
"You know what? Shut up. Nothing you can say will excuse fucking up a Fold equation. Seriously, what the hell?"
Caravan was now safely docked at the space station, no thanks to him. Diego dropped his head into his hands, elbows resting on his knees. Before all this, this horror, he'd told himself that if he had to give up Portya, he'd immediately take Starways up on their offer to transfer him to a different ship. Because I couldn't stand seeing him and not being with him. So why hadn't he?
"Diego? What is it?"
"Portya," he mumbled.
"You two break up or something?" Wilma's voice held only concern now.
"You're right, it's no excuse." He liked it better when she was angry. And not asking about his personal business.
"I thought—I mean, I'm no expert, but it looked like true love to me."
"He's pregnant." The first messages from Portya had been a mix of concern and confusion. Diego had ignored them, feeling betrayed and lost in a way he didn't understand. A week later the messages had then been filled with confusion and hurt. They'd burned Diego like vinegar on a cut; this was the, the alien he'd thought he wanted to protect.
"He's…what? Are you—? Diego, how is that even possible?"
Pesserantha. Half-people. "Do you know why the Antho call us pesserantha?"
"Because we're alien?"
"It means half-people."
"I know that," she snapped. "But it also means alien, at least that's what I heard. Like we call 'em calicoes and it's not really an insult, just very literal. But also an insult. I figured pesserantha was sort of like that."
"Very literal," Diego said. "The reason we don't see a lot of females is because there aren't any."
Wilma frowned. "They're all…male? But if Portya's…pregnant…They're…Oh my graces and gods. They're both."
It had taken Diego an embarrassingly long time to figure that out. Portya's final messages had started with hurt and finished with anger. The last message basically told Diego to take his declaration of love and go fuck himself, though of course Portya hadn't used those words.
He nodded in response to Wilma's words. "I was a little…upset."
"Yeah, I can imagine that was a shock. I still can't—but, you broke up with him?"
"Of course I did! He's not a him!"
"He's not a her either, though," she said thoughtfully, as if oblivious to Diego's state of mind. "I wonder why they chose to use the male pronoun?"
"Probably because they most resemble men, and Syncrete has no gender-neutral pronouns." He'd thought a lot about it, but it didn't do a damn thing to bridge the distance between them. The distance that had always been there, he just hadn't been able to see it before.
"One of its many flaws."
Diego didn't want to discuss the flawed nature of Syncrete any more than he wanted to discuss his personal life. He did a third instrument check to confirm the ship was secure. "You should go supervise the unloading of the cargo."
"Right. No, that's your job, Captain. Or rather, it's your job to sign the manifests, so you better make sure it's offloaded and received correctly. Starways won't give you another ship? I thought we could transfer out of here any time we wanted. Not like pilots who can calculate Fold are plentiful."
Diego didn't reply. He took a deep breath, pushed to his feet and walked out the hatch, aware that Wilma followed on his heels. "So, he was fooling around on you?"
Diego stopped so abruptly Wilma bumped into him. "What? No!" He turned to glare at his co-pilot.
"Well, who made him pregnant, then? Because he's an alien. Or you're an alien. Either way, one of you is too damned alien to make the other one pregnant."
Diego felt faint. It had never occurred to him that he might not be the father, but Wilma had a point. He shook his head. She was taking this all in stride, like it wasn't a major perception shift. Of course, she hadn't fallen for an alien. "I really am an idiot."
"I can't argue with that." She said nothing for a few moments as they reached the hold. But it was too much to hope she was done. "I'm still confused."
Diego glared at her. "About what?"
"It's the Antho being, you know, alien that's got you upset. Not that you, a product of the evolutionary process on a totally different world, got said alien pregnant."
"Until you brought it up, yeah." Until then, Diego had still been struggling with Antho anatomy. Somehow their vaginal cavity and anal passage used the same hole—he remembered the tough resistance his finger had met the first time he'd penetrated Portya. That seemed unhygienic to him, but maybe the vanilla-scented slick had antibacterial properties. What the hell did he know? Not much. His role in Portya's pregnancy was the one thing he hadn't questioned.
"Why?" Wilma asked bluntly. "I mean, it's not like Humans have never been born with sexual characteristics of both reproductive genders."
"It's not the same." Diego considered himself and other Humans who didn't fit the sexual reproductive biological profile to be the normal genetic outliers found in any large gene pool. Gender performance was now mostly an artifact of cultural customs, not social norms. He knew all this, but it didn't seem relevant to compare the Human race to the Antho, to Portya, even though he'd drawn certain conclusions about Portya based on visual cues created by a lifetime experience of Human bodies. Portya's ability to get pregnant wasn't an outlier for the Antho, it was how their species reproduced. That made it creepy and, well, alien.
But Portya is st
ill an outlier, isn't he? A mutant.
"If you say so. Shame though," she said, her voice growing softer as the Mikesi stevies approached the now open cargo bay doors. "You seemed really happy."
It was more than seeming, but he couldn't tell her that. As a couple of Antho dockworkers entered the bay to unload and distribute the cargo he'd brought back, Diego marked off each package on the manifest. Was it his imagination or were the stevies giving him funny looks? He hadn't been to Backwash since he'd left Portya at the hospital. He hadn't been anywhere but the Embassy cafeteria, and that carefully timed to avoid running into Portya.
Even still he would see him at a distance, always unmistakeable, his beautiful Portya.
Diego signed the manifest with an ache in his chest. He had believed Wilma about the paternity of the baby for maybe a whole minute, but no matter how impossible it was, he was certain he was the…well, a parent. Whatever else Portya might be, he'd said "only you" and Diego believed that. Besides, even Dr. Filas didn't question the baby's parentage, and he'd surely done a lot of testing. What a mess, he thought, not for the first time. But his eyes stung as he double-checked the security on Caravan's shuttle and turned down yet another invitation to unwind with Wilma and Rudy.
He hadn't contacted Starways because he couldn't leave the station; he couldn't leave Portya. The realization hit him almost as hard as the bomb Dr. Filas had dropped.
Whatever Portya was, were they really that far apart? However uncomfortable he felt about Portya's pregnancy, Portya was still the man—the alien, the person—he'd fallen in love with. He winced, thinking of Wilma's words. If he'd reacted the same way to a Human lover, he'd be an ass of unforgiveable proportions. Although he would have recognized the body he was loving as outside his experience of sexually reproductive males from the first sexual encounter. Humans simply didn't have vaginas hidden in their asses. That was hardly Portya's fault. Portya had known going into this that Diego was, by Beresh standards, only half a person.
It was the pregnancy that had really thrown him, though. Being gay with a passion for the masculine bodies, pregnancy was a thing that would never happen to him or by him. The shock of finding out that Portya was more alien than he'd initially seemed might have been absorbed if it hadn't included a baby.
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