by T M Roy
Kent tilted his face and brought his tingling lips to hers. Her long eyelashes tickled his nose and cheek. He intended the kiss to be simple but it turned into something else.
A blaze ignited in him as passion took control. His heart leaped into his head and made his mind spin.
What am I doing…? Why am I doing this? Because you want to, you fool! Just shut up and kiss her.
The sound she made only encouraged him: a small, soft sound of astonishment, which turned to pleasure when his tongue went much farther than the outer and inner delights of her full lips. Likewise the momentary stiffening of her body melted. Somewhere in the part of Kent that remained rational, he guessed she’d never been kissed like this before. Her body melted into his as she opened willingly to let him taste deep. She tasted so good, sweet and spicy.
She was breathing as hard as he was when he drew back.
“One small step for man,” muttered Kent.
“Hm?”
Struggling to control himself, Kent stepped back from her and turned to one side. “We’ve got to get going.” His top teeth rubbed across his lower lip. He could still taste her, and it was a taste he knew he’d want more of. “We still have a long way to travel before dark.”
He took a reluctant step back from her. How was it possible to feel so much yet remain so numb? Was that expression in her eyes, like her slow backward step, a reflection of his? The motions of reaching for packs, shouldering them, and making adjustments were made in a dreamlike pas de deux.
The eye contact between them broke only when Kent started toward the trail. The first few steps were made side by side. Enough for Kent to notice that instead of limping, both of them took the uncertain, careful strides of people whose feet had gone numb.
The numb feeling will wear off soon enough, his practical side said as he moved into the lead on the narrow trail. Best take advantage of it.
* * * * *
THE MOON, SHROUDED IN HIGH clouds, cast a diffused light over the forest. Kent examined the filmy layer in the sky with an anxious eye. Rain or snow tomorrow. He could feel it, in every aching step, in the scent and direction of the light wind. The stretch of good weather he’d enjoyed for the last several days was bound to break. Doubt it could hang on for another day…
“Know why she’s Mother Nature,” he mumbled, his irritation with the female gender returning.
Too tired to continue the last five miles to the main trailhead, Kent stopped in the first likely looking place to pitch the tent. Povre, head down and steps lagging, almost bowled him over.
“We’ve got to stop and get some sleep,” he said as they leaned against each other for balance until finding their weary feet.
He dropped his pack and went to his knees to extract the tent. He groaned as his injured leg and then the rest of his body protested. “I’m getting old. Old and brittle. When did my body start to give up on me anyway?” He twisted this way and that, trying to work the kinks from his back and shoulders.
Povre’s hands came down firmly atop his vest. First he felt the telltale tingle of her interior electricity at the base of his skull as her thumbs found the perfect point, one to relieve tension. She spread her fingers, hands flat, exerting a fabulous pressure over his shoulders and upper back. Then she began to knead.
“Oh, man, that feels good,” Kent said with a sigh, wanting her to continue for the next several hours. Common courtesy, however, prevailed over his selfish desires. “Thanks, Povre. But you’re tired, too. Let me get the tent up and arrange some food.” Then I’ll turn my body over to you, he thought, not quite certain how far he was hoping she’d want him.
Povre helped him, spreading the ground sheet. After he demonstrated one for her, Povre quickly discovered the beauty of the shock-corded poles. A flick of her wrist caused the folded tubes, threaded with bungee material, to snap into a single long rod. He took energy from her triumphant, delighted smile.
Again he marveled at how quick she was. He’d been camping with many different people, many first timers. And none of them had only to watch him once, or see what he started and pick up from it. By the time he was ready for the rain fly, he and Povre were working together as if they had been teamed up for years.
“It might not rain,” he explained, even though she probably still didn’t understand, “but the temperature around here goes way down overnight. This will help us stay warmer.”
By the time they were finished, Kent’s teeth had started chattering with cold and exhaustion. His barked shin burned and throbbed. Povre touched his shoulder and indicated she needed to relieve himself, and Kent could only manage a grunt and half-nod while he watched through his peripheral vision as she wandered off. His primary concern right now was hot food, warmth, and sleep.
As he spread the Therma-Rest pad and pulled out the sleeping bag, he realized they’d have no choice but to use the propane stove. Too risky to have a fire if anyone was out searching for them. Just because Povre had spotted two other people out in the woods, it didn’t mean that they were being followed.
He shook his head. Didn’t matter. He couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t risk her. Surveying the interior of the tent, one more thought surfaced.
And he wasn’t sure he liked it.
Kent scowled. All right, what are the options?
“Like H’renzek you look,” Povre said when she returned.
He was pleased—and knew she was as well—with their advancements in verbal communication. They’d spoken constantly on the trail, trading bits of knowledge. In addition to improving her syntax, Povre now knew the names of every plant, every animal they’d seen, and many more words for other things.
Kent’s most current problem had nothing to do with flora or fauna, and everything to do with sleeping arrangements. To keep warm, he and Povre would have to share his sleeping bag.
On one hand, the idea brought heat to his chilled body. On the other, he remained practical, and as a result grew increasingly grumpy as he continued setting up the quick arrangements for the night.
“H’renzek?” He glanced over his shoulder.
“Yes. Is H’renzek…Sirgel male man. My j’asin-let.” She made a frowning, grumpy expression that probably matched the one he felt twisting the muscles of his face.
Kent turned toward her all the way. “J’asin-let? Let’s see now. J’asin means man, so j’asin-let means…?”
She looked at him helplessly. “I am his j’asi-ken. His female…what name for little deer?”
“Fawn? Baby? H’renzek is your father. Your male parent.” Kent nodded. “J’asin-let is father. And j’asi-ken must mean female child—daughter.”
“Yes, is father. But also is Retu—tell words to do. No sci-in-tist like me, like others. Is—” She fell silent, only a small shrug filling in the gap.
“Where is H’renzek?”
She pointed up. She turned away from him.
Too late, thought Kent. Even if she’d turned away sooner, he would have felt how upset she was. Somehow he felt it as if she came right out and announced her thoughts. He wished human women were like that, instead of merely expecting a guy to guess most of the time.
He moved closer. “I thought that you were left behind. The others…they left, right?”
~~
Povre nodded without turning. She wanted to, wanted to fling her arms around him and burrow close for comfort. She was determined not to let him see her dry, burning eyes, how lonely and scared she really was. At the same time, she realized how silly that was, because she was an empath, he was standing right next to her, and it was very obvious he was receptive to the emotions she broadcasted. One of these days, she would try to study with a Folonar how to control that.
That was, if she survived this and ever had the chance.
“Why did they leave you here?” he demanded.
“No listen to words to do H’renzek tell.”
“Words to do,” he repeated. “Words told to do.” The crease between his brows dee
pened as he pondered.
Povre considered another way she could phrase her words to help him understand, but just then his breath and voice came out with a rush. “Words to do—orders. You disobeyed orders.” Anger blossomed in his tone. “Your own father left you behind. Simply because you disobeyed orders. He deactivated your equipment so you can’t even call for help?”
His words came hard and fast, too fast. She translated the emotion in his body and voice well enough.
“Doesn’t he understand what could happen to you?”
Wishing she had more words, Povre turned to the big human. “No bad of H’renzek,” she said, defending his actions. He couldn’t endanger the entire team, maybe the entire ship, just for her. Nor would she expect him to. All the same, the reality of her situation pressed down on her as if the gravity had suddenly increased, forcing her fear to the surface. She tried to stop more gulping sobs rising in her throat. “Is orders.”
She stumbled to her feet and moved away. Her upset of being lost on an alien world, combined with her growing fondness for this human male, confused her feelings and muddled her thoughts. K’nt wasn’t like what H’renzek had warned her the native beings of this planet were like. He had a temper, certainly. And he seemed to embarrass easily. But he liked her. And she liked him. She sensed something deeper from him, something more emotional, more animal in nature. She swallowed hard. Could it be desire? What of her feelings toward him, was it possible that she desired him too? What if he were to do something about that? A small hum of pleasure pulsated through her system along with some frustration. Couldn’t he tell she favored him, too?
A Sirgel and a human. Could it be done? The only way to find out if they could was to try…
What am I thinking of? It might be possible but it’s not right!
She covered her mouth with both hands to stifle her sounds and retreated behind the shelter of a large tree. Not a juniper tree, but what K’nt called a ponderosa pine.
She leaned against the thick reddish bark and reveled in the hard feel against her spine. This planet was so beautiful. Her world was all but lifeless. The close passage of a huge comet had altered the orbit, and as plant life and lower animal forms died on the surface, her people were forced to a quick evolution in the effort to survive. Had the Sirgels not been contacted and aided by others from other systems, her species would’ve been extinct four hundred years earlier, when the last of a livable atmosphere failed and radiation levels became too dangerous for even one of her hardy race to endure.
She had been born and raised in space, in orbital habitats and space stations and even ships upon which she traveled with her parents as a young child. Coming to this place was a dream come true. Living plants and diverse creatures, plentiful water and lovely natural air…until she let the dream get hold of her sensibility. Povre’s enchantment with K’nt’s bountiful and life-filled world got her in this mess.
She turned and hugged the tree trunk. She pushed with her talent and made contact with the life force that pulsed through the huge living plant. But it was a cold life, and thoughtless but for the need for sunlight and water and soil to spread its roots. The tree didn’t care. It had endured storms, fire, floods, dry spells. It lived only to grow taller, shed needles, grow new ones, and make seeds for future trees that it didn’t even care about. No worry, love, or concern.
“Maybe I can be like this tree,” Povre said to herself. “I wouldn’t hurt as much.”
“Povre.”
His low voice surprised her. Why hadn’t she sensed or heard his approach? Last she checked, he’d been squatting near the food he prepared. Now he stood behind her.
She turned her head. He stood, his arms open, his face soft. “I’m sorry.”
She let go the tree and burrowed into his body. She liked the feel of him and his strong arms hugging her. She surrounded herself with his emotional field. K’nt worried. He cared. Did he, perhaps, love?
The familiar behavior—drawing near to one another in times of need—shared by their races comforted her. She knew, though, as much as she wanted him to hold her and not let go, he’d become uncomfortable. So she backed off after a minute and tried to smile.
He led her back to the tent and the steaming container. The contents smelled good: a thick, pale green liquid he identified as “split pee soup.”
Povre looked at him askance. “Pee?” Hadn’t he told her that “pee” was the human word for urine?
He laughed when he finally understood, laughed so hard his eyes turned wet. She stared in fascination as water formed and dripped from them.
“Not that kind of pee, Povre!” Then he explained about the small edible seed, and words in his language that sounded the same but meant different things. Povre thanked the Goddess that he gave up on the latter and instead brought out his handy notebook.
She leaned close to watch as he made a quick sketch of a plant, a flower, a funny bumpy pod with little round seeds.
“Pisum sativum,” he added, an absentminded afterthought. “There’s a related plant that grows wild, Lathyrus odoratus, or the sweet pea, but while it’s a great nitrogen fixer like all legumes, it’s poisonous. Very pretty flowers. It looks like this.”
Povre liked the way he explained with images and words. She liked, as well, that there were special scientific words for things. Why then bother with all the same-same sounding words? Why not just use the correct one in the first place?
She pushed the rush of irritation with his language aside and examined the soup once more, very relieved that it had nothing to do with urine and didn’t contain any ingredients made from animals, because she was starving.
Carefully, she touched her tongue to the hot liquid and found it delicious, if a bit salty. She also enjoyed the stuff he called trail mix, or gorp. He explained it was a mix of fruits and edible seeds and something called khandee. The colored round things with the brown sweet stuff inside, the khandee, she didn’t care for at all. Since K’nt said those round colored bits were the best part, Povre gave all hers to him in trade for the dried fruit in his share.
“TIME FOR SLEEP. I'M going to clean up a little. You go ahead, go into the tent.” Kent took himself off to do his part in woodland fertilization and perform a quick spot cleaning with his Ziplocked supply of baby wipes. He changed his underwear and slid into his last clean set of clothes, sweats, and sweatshirt. Had he been alone, and the weather warmer, Kent would’ve slept nude. He would’ve slept nude in other circumstances, too.
As a matter of fact…
“Stop it!” He gritted his teeth and pulled up the sweats over his goose-fleshed legs. “It’s too damned cold.” Of course it’d be warmer for both if they did sleep—unencumbered.
He returned to the campsite, lit only by dim, clouded moonlight. A closer look at a strange shape hanging from a tree limb revealed Povre’s empty jumpsuit, spread neatly. Next to it was another one piece garment, a thinner one.
“You can’t leave these out here, Povre. They’ll be soaked by morning.” He retrieved the garments, rolling them the same way he would roll his jacket and shirt to use as padding beneath his head once he was settled. Then he stopped short. “Damn.”
What did that leave on her?
He found out soon enough and nearly bolted from the tent. From what he could tell, she was entirely nude. He gulped. Then again, the flash of a bare shoulder didn’t mean she didn’t have some sort of strapless covering on.
“I doubt it.” He swore again, softly.
Great. He had to sleep in a narrow sleeping bag with a naked alien—an attractive, beautiful, soft-as-chamois female alien who looked all too human in all the right places.
“It’s that or freeze. So what am I complaining about? Sleeping with Povre is a much better alternative. What the hell…one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind…”
He could see the supermarket tabloid headlines. I Slept with an Alien. Amazing TRUE photos!
“K’nt.” Her husky voice interrupte
d his thoughts. “You are baby-man, yes? Or no?” She sounded scolding and just a bit amused. “I not bite. Not carn-ee-vor.”
He couldn’t move or speak at the moment, fighting an internal battle.
Then she started squirming out of the bag. “I sleep out.”
“No! You sleep in. Too cold out here. I’m coming…” Bad word choice. “I’m getting in.” He punched himself in the thigh. Lord. Couldn’t he say a simple sentence without a double meaning smacking him right where it hurt the most? “I’ll sleep in the sleeping bag with you. But I warn you, no kissing, either. Just sleep.”
“No kiss? Kiss make warm I, you.” Was that a smile in her voice?
Kent stripped off his socks. “No. Absolutely no kissing. For your information I’m not the sort of person who engages in casual sleeping with an alien.” He tried not to laugh. “At least not on the first date.”
Another sigh. “O-kay.”
He handed her the bundle of clothing. “Use this for a pillow. Under your head.” After arranging their boots so the insides would stay dry, he peeled off his shirt and rolled it with his jacket. Another small step for man, he thought to himself, taking a deep breath.
Kent wriggled into the sleeping bag beside her as quickly as he could. He turned his back to her, telling himself he didn’t feel anything soft and warm through the never-ending zing of tiny static shocks. And no, he hadn’t caught any alluring glimpses in the half-filtered moonlight, either. Not a single one. He zipped the tent, then the bag, closed his fingers into fists, and crossed his arms in front of himself like a mummified pharaoh. His legs tangled with hers, as the bottom of the bag narrowed and there wasn’t any way around it. Both muttered apologies as their respective injuries were bumped. Legs settled in layers: first, his left leg, then hers; his right leg with hers on top.
He felt her warm body mold itself to his back. A slender arm slipped around his waist. He tried not to flinch as more of the small electrical charges prickled, but couldn’t help a shiver as her fingers touched the skin and sparse hair on his midriff.