by Nikki Clarke
Thirty bucks a month.
Cool, I need it to store my spaceship.
Now we’re inside of it. I’m settled into one of the cushy seats. Kwarq is in the other, fiddling with the numerous controls on the dashboard.
This is surreal, and by surreal, I mean insane. When he maneuvers us above the city, it feels just like being in an elevator. My stomach lifts then slowly lowers back down. I grip the arm rests to focus on keeping may stomach from rebelling.
“Won't people be able to see us?” We’re high above Hyde Park. The perfectly square roof of his apartment building is getting smaller and smaller until it looks like a little Lego piece.
“Don’t worry. Our cloaking technology is too advance for any of your monitoring systems to detect us. Besides, we will be gone before they could even latch on.”
My mind races with expectations. Things are happening too fast. I feel like this moment could be an example of me making all of the right decisions or a prime circumstance where I make a bunch of wrong ones that are going to lead me somewhere crazy. Crazier than being in a spaceship with a fine, tan alien man with a ginormous cock who just knocked me up.
“This will feel strange. Something like being on an amusement park ride. Do not panic.” Kwarq’s voice is gentle. He has been this way since I decided to go with him. Calm and reassuring, but his eyes look sad.
“Have you been on an amusement park ride?” I latch on to the only familiar part of his warning. It’s easier than acknowledging that I’m actually in a spaceship headed toward an alien planet. Let’s talk rollercoasters and the Floor Drop.
“Of course, I have. Last month, you went to Great America. You closed your eyes on every ride. It will feel similar to that.”
Right. Kwarq has spent the last two months following me around. If I were a smarter woman, I wouldn’t be willingly engaging in interstellar travel with my admitted stalker. But then, I wouldn’t have slept with and be knocked up by my admitted stalker, either. I brace myself, digging my nails into the soft material of the chair until the joints of my fingers ache.
“If it will make you feel less afraid, you can close your eyes now,” Kwarq says gently, and I do. I squeeze them until every bit of light is blocked behind my eyelids. I squeeze them until it feels like my eyeballs are going to suck into my head. I hear a beep and the sound of Kwarq’s nimble fingers tapping against the flat panel just before the pod gives a jolting lurch. My back lifts from the seat for the briefest moment and floats back down. That familiar sinking feeling enters my stomach. I clutch it with one hand and immediately move my hand away. I don’t want to think about what’s going on in there.
“We must wait to dock, but we are here.”
I crack open one eye. Everything outside the pod is calm. We are suspended in the sky, not space, but the sky. In front of us, a row of crafts around the same size as our’s hover in a line as they wait to pass through some kind of check point. A small, square booth sits in suspension ahead of us. It almost resembles the highway toll booths back on Earth. Except I’m not on Earth. I’m on another planet.
“Holy shit.”
Kwarq chuckles beside me and continues to tap away at the control panel. Now that I think about it, all the cool shit I’ve been waiting to see from this alien encounter is right in front of me. Kwarq’s little pod is like something from old school Star Trek. A series of holographic images and data streams float across his side of the screen, too quickly for me to try to make sense of, but then again, I’m only barely looking.
Like everything else today, this moment has yet to feel real. I sit quietly beside Kwarq as we get closer and closer to the station until we’re next in line. He pulls up to the booth.
At the window, an expressionless woman dressed in a bright red uniform holds out her hand. I blink. She looks so…human. Like Kwarq, she’s tall. Even sitting down, her torso is long, but other than that, her features are that same odd amalgamation of human phenotypical expression that I find so fascinating.
She’s of olive complexion and very narrow in the face. Her round green eyes are surrounded by what look like rows and rows of dark auburn lashes. She blinks them slowly as she regards us through the open pod door. A puff of coppery-red hair that almost resembles my own kinky texture, curls out wildly to frame her face. If she was on Earth, she’d be a hipster folk singer or super-model or the chick that sells artisanal jelly made from pinto beans at the farmers market. It’s all too normal. I find myself shrinking back into my seat, afraid that she’s going to suddenly sprout fangs, leap through the window, and eat me.
She says something in Kwarq’s language, and I’m surprised to hear her husky, melodic voice. The words flow from her lips in an almost sensual way.
Kwarq responds with a long stream of Lyqa. He gestures with his hands, making circles and shooing motions. At one point, he presses his hand to his chest before turning to me and taking my hand.
“I have told her that I came from ta’ani maul on Earth. There, I connected with you, my lehti. I have explained that you have mistakenly conceived and we are coming to terminate. Our stay will only be for tonight.”
I’m so glad I don’t blush, but I feel my face warm when the woman ducks her head and peers closely at me. She inhales and one slender eyebrow raises before she turns away and begins to move her hands over a panel inside the booth. I drop my eyes to my lap.
“Did you have to tell her why we’re here? It’s a little embarrassing.”
Kwarq frowns and squeezes my hand.
“You do not have to be embarrassed, lehti. It happens. We do not consider this something to be ashamed of.”
They may not consider it shameful, but that doesn’t stop me from squirming in my seat when the woman takes my information, fits me with a tracker-like wristband, and sends us along.
As we pull away from the booth, I keep my eyes on my lap, mostly because I’m still in too much shock to risk a look at what’s around us. I can’t escape everything I’ve ever seen in a movie or read in a book. Images of wild, creature-filled jungles and cold, metal metropolises float through my head. I’m freaked the hell out, but I’m also tempted to peek and see if I’ve landed on friggin Pandora or Mars.
“I will park here. My family has automatically been notified of my return. I do not want you to be alarmed when they come to greet us. If it concerns you, I will greet them first and send them back to our home. Then we can go and have the procedure.”
Before the words are out of his mouth, Kwarq’s door flies open, and I only see a flash of dark blue and gold as he’s yanked out of the craft. A scream rips from my throat, and I pull my legs up into the seat to escape whatever it is that’s coming for me. I brace myself for the cold constriction of a tentacle or the piercing burn of a pair of fangs. My heart kicks up, trying to beat out of my chest. Am I about to die?
I squeeze my eyes shut and cover my face. If I’m about to be eaten by a huge slug, I don’t want to see it. Strangely, the maternal instinct to protect the life inside of me makes my hand move to my stomach in a gesture that I hope is comforting to whatever is in there. Please, just don’t let it hurt, I ask in a silent prayer to the universe.
I curl into an even tighter ball as I wait for whatever has gotten Kwarq to get me next. The moments tick by slowly, but nothing happens. It’s probably only been about five seconds, but it feels like an eternity. The sounds of crafts and movement and people is suddenly loud in the silence.
“Lehti, it is okay. It is just my brother.”
Kwarq’s gentle voice expels the all consuming terror that grips my body, and I risk a peek between my fingers. He’s leaning into the craft, and right beside him is a face that resembles his, except…darker.
“Whoa.”
It’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen. Kwarq kind of looks like a white dude whose father has a black daddy no one told him about. He’s all tan skin and strange ambiguous features. That’s the best comparison to anything human I can muster. His “brother,” whose features are exact
ly the same, is the darkest black I have ever seen.
I once knew a Sudanese man who had the richest, bluish-black skin. It was lovely and smooth, almost surreal in its flawlessness. The man beside Kwarq is this color, but darker. It’s different, and familiar, and really really sexy. I stare openly at him until I’m able to swallow around the sudden dryness in my throat. I need a moment to absorb this new layer of alien.
“This is your brother?” I can clearly see it. They do look alike. Exactly alike. How is that even possible?
“He is.”
I relax a little but cross my arms over my chest just in case I need to return to my protective huddle.
“Same mother, same father?”
Kwarq chuckles a little.
“Same womb, same time.”
I don’t have to see my face to know that I look like a gaping fool. They’ve got to be shitting me.
“You’re twins?”
Kwarq’s eyebrows flinch up in confirmation. His brother, who’s been watching our exchange with an amused smile, crouches down and leans across the inside of the craft.
“I am sorry, my sa’aih,” he says to me in softly accented English. His voice sounds just as delicate and breathy as Kwarq’s. “I did not mean to frighten you.”
I’m still curled up in the seat, but he manages to maneuver around my knees to take gentle hold of my arm. I sit in stunned silence as he leans in and presses his jaw to my temple. He holds it there briefly, and just like with Kwarq, I can feel his warmth. It instills a sense of calm and safety in me, pushing out the anxiety. He isn’t going to hurt me.
“Bati, she does not like it when she is touched without her permission.” Kwarq’s gentle instruction comes from outside the pod along with something else in their language, and Bati pulls away hesitantly. He leans toward me and then away again until I realize he wants to apologize, but that would mean he has to touch me again.
“It’s okay. I’m sorry I screamed. I didn’t know what was happening. I’m so nervous. This is all new to me. I’m scared.”
I want to cry. It hits me hard and quick, and before I know it, a sob bursts from my throat. My vision blurs, but not before I see Bati reach for me before pulling away, looking nervously to Kwarq for guidance.
“Amina has conceived tonight,” I hear Kwarq inform his brother around my sobs. “The hormones are settling heavily on her. She has already had the initial sickness. I will see to her. Can you send mother and father home? We will not be here for long.”
I roll my tight, swollen eyes at Kwarq’s insistence on telling everyone with ears that I’m pregnant. Bati’s face brightens at Kwarq’s initial announcement, but then he sobers, glancing over at me.
“She will not stay for the birth?”
Kwarq shifts uncomfortably, leaving a heavy silence before he responds.
“It was an unintentional conception. I was not as careful as I should have been. I have brought her here to terminate, then I will see her back home.”
Again there is a pause, and then Kwarq leans in to whisper to his brother who nods solemnly and looks back in at me.
“I apologize again for scaring you, my sa’aih—Amina.” The slight bow of his head is respectful. “It has been good to meet you. I will leave now.”
He nods again and straightens before walking off. I hear the clang of his footsteps along the short metal landing that extends from the pod down to the ground. I still haven’t looked around, but I let my eyes float over the outside of the pod now, and I’m surprised to see that we’re parked at the curb of a large, open terminal in some kind of transport center. Pods arrive and depart all around us.
In front of our pod is a stopped craft. A Lyqa male and female, both tall and graceful, embrace on the curb beside it before the woman rushes inside of the terminal. A pedestrian walkway shows several Lyqas moving to and from the transport center. Overhead, a sleek, reflective bridge arches between two buildings. Everything is so regular. It’s difficult to spot something foreign to make the moment real. I almost want to believe that I am not on a strange alien planet. By the look of things, this could be any airport back home.
“Amina, we do not have much time. If you want to stay for a while after the procedure, you can, but we must hurry.”
I look over at Kwarq, remembering exactly why I have come to this place. My brain doesn’t seem to want to catch up to the last few hours. It’s back on the Red Line trying not to step on train guy’s toes.
I reach across the seat and let Kwarq hand me out of the craft. All manner of Lyqa pass by us, and the first thing I realize once I’m in the middle of it all, is that Kwarq was right. Everyone is tall. Way taller than me. A few Lyqas look my way, but no one lingers too long on me. Out the corner of my eye, I think I see a bright pink short figure, but before I can get a good look, Kwarq is speaking quickly to an attendant, a youngish looking male with long, silky blond hair and honey brown skin, before rushing me out of the terminal.
“You’re just going to leave your pod here?”
“It is not my craft. I rented it for the trip. I was returning it. I have secured another reservation for our return, do not worry.”
I am worried, but not about that. I’m worried that Kwarq seems different, more distant. He rushes me through the street—and there are streets. They are wide, cobblestone rustic pathways lined with thick bushes—like we’re late for something.
I glance to my right as we beat a path along the sidewalk and see what looks like a large puppy. Its shaggy coat hangs heavily on its body. It shuffles along the road, and as it moves, I see that its legs are thin and boney, the two-toed feet have long sharp claws at the end.
I recoil and skitter to the side, bumping into Kwarq, causing us both to lose our footing for a moment.
“It is just a local animal. They do not hurt anyone. Try not to panic.”
The comfort of his tone is undercut by that same sense of urgency. He quickly rights me and hurries me along.
A few minutes later, we come to a bright blue building. As Kwarq rushes us to the entrance, I arch my neck back to check it out. It’s about five stories high and made from some kind of opaque glass. Everything about it is round. The floors look like donuts stacked on top of each other. There are a few strangely dressed Lyqas standing outside in long, priest-like robes.
“This is similar to a hospital on Earth. We can have it done here.”
I pause even though Kwarq seems anxious to get inside. I haven’t had a real chance to think about this. There’s too much happening. I’m on an alien planet walking around like I’m on a jaunt through Roger’s Park or something. I need this to make sense.
“Wait, I need a minute,” I tell Kwarq when he tries to usher me inside again. “Just hold on. I can’t think. How do I know it’s okay to let them operate on me? What about payment? What if something goes wrong? What if I get some alien disease?”
I’m being really human right now, but I can’t help it. I need to feel like I understand what’s about to come, and I don’t. Kwarq sighs again, and this time, I detect a little bit of impatience when he responds.
“We do not charge for healing here, and even if we did, as your lehti and the one who brought you here, I would not expect you to provide any compensation. I will, of course, cover any expenses of your stay. Do not worry about disease. There are very few things here that we cannot cure. But we must hurry.”
He doesn’t just seem hurried, he feels nearly panicked. This feeling propels me forward. Maybe something is wrong, and he just doesn’t want to tell me. We reach the convex doors and they slide open. I laugh, I can’t help it. Motion activated entrances aren’t that impressive. Actually, the technology, aside from the space travel part, has been comparable to that on Earth. I was expecting to be wowed, but I’m really just kind of ‘eh.’ Then we step through the doors and my feet lock at the ankles. My eyes float over the scene before me and my mouth drops open.
Comparable my ass.
Chapter 13
Kwarq
I would laugh at the dazed look on Amina’s face if I weren’t so worried about the change in her scent. The early mixture that signaled her conception has taken on a more distinctive smell. It’s a singular blend of both of us, and it worries me because that means she is farther along than I thought.
I try to move us through the building quickly, but Amina keeps pausing to take in this or that thing. A group of physicians walk along side a hovering healing capsule. Inside, the patient is in a calm, sleep-like stasis. Amina cranes her neck and nearly trips over her feet trying to see inside, and I only narrowly stop her from crashing into it.
Unfortunately, healing centers and travel ports are the mostly likely places to see non-Lyqa species, so when we pass a short, gray being with tall pointed ears and a thick, fleshy neck, she gawks, her hands gripping at my shirt in alarm. I gently ease her away, while putting myself between her and the confused Kreesian.
Amina continues to gape at everything, rushing close to things that seem interesting and then pressing her face into my side when things are too unfamiliar. It takes us several minutes to get to the maternity wing of the healing center. I guide her straight to the desk where a young, Lyqa woman is reviewing something on a transparent holoscreen in front of her.
“My lehti has mistakenly conceived, and we would like to terminate,” I tell her in our language. She looks up with a smile and gestures to the small machine beside her.
“Can the patient put her arm in here so we can assess her, please?”
“Amina—“
I turn, but she’s no longer beside me. I spin around. Panic is a cold fist in my chest before my brain kicks in. Nothing will happen to Amina here. Even if she is lost, she is safe. That alleviates my worry, but not my urgency. I must find her. We are almost out of time.
I try to spot her through the rush of tall Lyqas around me. She’s so small, it’s difficult. I rush from one end of the hall to the other, and as I turn the corner, I think I see the back of her dark, curly head just inside one of the patient rooms. I rush over to find out what has drawn her away, and as I get closer, I see that she is bent over making odd, murmuring noises.