by Greg Curtis
For the first time he knew she was listening. Or at least she’d stopped struggling, and things became almost peaceful. He allowed her a few more millimetres of freedom as a reward, and was half surprised when she didn’t try to beat him to death with them. Perhaps there was hope after all.
“You’ve been forced to fight to death?” He sighed, knowing that despite his best intentions he was letting her get the wrong impression of Earth. Something else he couldn’t afford to do. Aliens with the secrets of interstellar travel at their fingertips and who knew what other technology would be very dangerous foes. But then surely they knew so much about it anyway? Their mission here was to study the Earth and this was just recent history. Besides, was it truly the wrong impression?
“Repeatedly. It was a long time ago, in another country. There was a dictator, who was dreaming of getting himself some serious chemical and biological weapons to do horrible things to his rivals in the country next door. I was sent in to destroy the weapons, which I did, but I still got caught. And he was rather mad. Angry mad, as well as insane. With a love of combat sports and blood. He hunted people like animals. Sometimes he set them up in arenas to fight each other to the death, other times he just had them executed as he had grown bored with the game.”
“He threw me in his fighting arena as a trophy, and had all his friends watch me fight for my life. Every day. Like a cock fight.” He wondered if she even knew the concept, but from where he lay, he couldn’t see her face to check.
“I got pitted against everyone he could throw against me, including his own army troops, all with orders to kill me or die. Sometimes two or three at a time, and always they were armed with knives or clubs or similar. I survived, and none of them did. Those I didn’t kill, he did because they’d failed. It was many months before I escaped.”
It was the barest description of the hell it had truly been. He’d had to watch that madman as with a horrendous grin all over his swarthy face he shot each and every one of the opponents David had beaten. And then always, always that bastard would laugh at him, and tell him he’d survived for another day while the audience went wild, screaming and foaming at their rabid mouths, enjoying the spectacle and claiming their money from the gambling. At night, in the dreams he would rather not have had, David still saw their faces. So many of them, all young, all destroyed by a madman’s hand, all dead because of him.
Again silence ruled as she digested his words, he hoped. His breathing started returning to normal, and he gave her a few more millimetres of room while he took in the world around them. His lounge was in a mess, again. The carpet had been bunched up, furniture knocked over and some pot plants had hit the deck. But at least it was repairable. Cyrea he still wasn’t sure of. She lay there on top of him, relaxing slowly, and he knew the tension was easing out of her, but that didn’t mean she was accepting his apology. Just her predicament.
In turn the tension began easing its way out of him. His heart slowed and his breathing became more relaxed. Not only couldn’t she attack from this position, he had the feeling that she wasn’t going to. The crisis had passed, again. Now it was just a case of negotiating the truce.
He became aware of her scent, as he lay there gently breathing her in. A musky flower scented smell that was all around him. Her fur too made itself known, as it rubbed softly against the bare skin of his arms. He finally decided it was really hair. Very fine, very soft hair, glowing with vitality. It felt absolutely luxurious against him. Her skin underneath was soft and warm, and she felt like a woman, with curves in all the right paces. They were really nice curves. The memory of her as she had come out of the lake, kept coming back to him, tormenting him with its clarity.
It had been a mistake relaxing he realized, as once again he started reacting to her as a man. Every time he relaxed in her presence he started to think of her as just a woman. An attractive one. He squelched down on the impulses as best he could, hoping she didn’t notice, and wasn’t totally successful. He knew he had to get out of this mess soon. Otherwise she would have something else to be angry about.
“Let me go.” It was an order, though finally there didn’t seem to be quite so much anger in her voice.
“You won’t attack me?”
“Let me go.” He knew he would get no answer. She was ordering him to trust her, and ultimately he had no choice. It was either that or kill her, and he didn’t want to do that. Slowly he unhooked his arms and legs from her, allowing her the rest of the freedom she wanted, and she stood up. Trying very carefully not to antagonize her any further he sat up but chose not to stand. He needed to let her know he wasn’t a threat.
“Cyrea I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to attack you. I don’t want to hurt you, and despite your fears I don’t want to harm your people either, though I have to protect mine.” She stared at him coldly. But though there was still anger smouldering in her eyes, she listened.
“But you’ve got to go easy on me. This arguing, watching me, distrusting me. It’s like a cancer that’s eating away at me. It’s like being behind enemy lines all over again. Then when you are behind me, it sets me on edge and makes me jumpy as I really don’t know what to expect from you. You are very different to anyone I’ve ever known and you have claws and speed in abundance. I don’t know that you aren’t going to attack me, so deep down I always have to be ready. And for God’s sake never, ever creep up on me. Especially if I’m jumpy. It’s as close to suicide as you can get.” The sudden anger in her eyes told him he had over stepped the mark again. But it was true.
“I not bad at defending self either. You too full of self, too lacking respect for others. One day maybe I teach you lesson you not forget. Soon maybe.” And the look in her eyes told him she meant it. Maybe she believed what he’d said, maybe not, but she doubted his ability regardless and she hated his casual assertion that he would kill her. It was a slap to her face, one she would not accept. But there was an answer.
Knowing she had to see rather than be told, he got up and walked slowly over to the kitchen. Then quickly, faster than she could surely have expected, he brought his right hand down on the kitchen bench in a karate chop, smashing the two inch thick hardwood into kindling for no good reason. A second punch a millisecond later with his left hand turned a steel saucepan into shredded junk. Cyrea jumped, and then stared at the debris surrounding them. Her eyes bulged as she surveyed the shrapnel and then his hands. He saw her start mentally calculating the power and speed needed to commit such vandalism and knew satisfaction. It was a powerful statement. He knew that finally she was starting to appreciate the truth of his words. He was dangerous. But he also saw that she wasn’t going to back off from her promised lesson. He shouldn’t have expected anything else.
“If you must.” He sighed, resigned to his fate. “I don’t want to fight you, least of all when we’re both still angry. If you force me though, I will.”
“But promise me you’ll be open about it. No sneaking around, and never ever creep up on me. I cannot be responsible for my actions if that happens, and yes, I might kill you like that. I have so very little control under those circumstances. Your neck is no stronger than anyone else’s, you have the same vulnerable points as any woman, and your bones are just as brittle. Before I even knew it was you I might have already killed you.”
“Huh!” But her eyes returned to the pile of shrapnel that had once been his kitchen bench top. She was finally listening.
“Why do you think I live alone? Where there’s no-one I could hurt?” The terrible thing was that it was only the truth. The years of training and fighting had left a terrible price with him. He was too dangerous to be around other people. And worse still, that which hunted him would be even more deadly to his friends and family. For once something in her stiffness bent slightly, and she nodded.
“I still must follow.” In turn he nodded knowing that it was her bottom line. In her shoes he would be the same. While it might be a pain, he respected her for it.
&nb
sp; “Must be sure. Do swim, gym, spend days with you. Until know you. Until you know us, no longer afraid.” Which brought his own heckles back up. Afraid! Not likely. But he controlled it.
“I understand that. But that’s not the deal your boss made with me. I live alone. I need the peace, the calm, the quiet.” Even as he tried to object he knew it was an argument he was going to lose.
“Not for while. You have house guest. Sleep on couch here at night, help you understand my people. Kick backside if ever attack me again.” Privately he guessed she had to be doubting her ability at the last threat, but she’d never admit it. Not in this life time. But then in her shoes he knew he wouldn’t be able to either. Alice was right. They were two peas from the same twisted pod.
“But -.”
“No but. Elders say you not threat when you trust us. You trust us when you know us. But you refuse to come to ship to learn about us as agree. You prefer ignorance and no trust. Leg too, you won’t trust us to fix. How can we trust you if you not trust us? Sooner or later all will go wrong. Will all fall apart. Must break through.”
It was only the truth, he knew. He had made an agreement to learn about the Leinians, and had then backed down at every opportunity to meet with them or see their ship. A huge part of him hated himself for doing it. He wanted desperately to see their ship, to learn everything he could about them. But too many years of secrecy told him it was wrong. To enter the enemy’s fortress openly. It was only logical he’d kept telling himself, every time he’d thought of being a captive on their ship. They seemed so nice and peaceful, but that wasn’t proof. Besides, if he did go then he would learn things, and the more he learned, the more he might one day be forced to reveal.
“Okay, okay. I get the picture. But there is a spare room.”
“Couch is fine. What matter is that you learn about us, not that you good host.”
Also, he guessed, that she had thought that sleeping in the living room was a tactical advantage as it lay between his bedroom and the front door. But he said nothing.
Chapter Six.
“Alice was right. A rematch might be fun.” Cyrea was sitting casually on the edge of his kitchen bench, waiting for him as he walked in the door, his brace of fresh caught fish in hand. There was the most predatory smile on her face. She caught him once again completely off guard with her words and by the fact that she was speaking English perfectly. Apparently while he’d been out fishing, well, in truth sleeping in the putt putt as it drifted across the lake with a rod over the side for camouflage, she’d been learning languages. He started, but only a little. It was the living room that really caught his attention. All his furniture was missing, the rugs were gone and instead a white mat covered the entire floor. She had turned his lounge into a wrestling arena while he was out fishing.
“Oh no!” He groaned quietly, knowing that she had prepared so thoroughly for this there was little hope of getting out of it. Actually there was none. She had stayed with him now for over a week, and in all that time she had never backed away from a single contest. It didn’t matter that he was stronger or bigger, she simply would not lie down and admit it. The gym had been just as competitive every single day as it had been on that first one, though at least they had minimized the screaming. Now she just fumed and pushed herself harder while he fretted for her and felt bad. But secretly he also admired her for it.
Swimming at least was going more smoothly. She was simply so much faster than him that there was absolutely no point in even trying to compete. He just let her swim rings around him, literally, while he cruised along at his normal speed, no doubt infuriating her more, though she held her tongue. Getting out however was still confusing, as he stared at her curves while she studied his. It hadn’t been helped by the fact that she had started wearing human bathing costumes. Where she had gotten the bikini he couldn’t begin to guess, but it certainly showed off her physique to the entire world. And the way she’d altered it to let her tail poke out. Something about that was simply indecent.
The afternoons had been more bearable as he’d found ways to give himself space from her distrust. Driving in the country, fishing, hiking, playing with his stock options, all were things he could concentrate on. So while she might be physically there with him, he could tune her out, not that he necessarily wanted to. Not when she was being nice. Better yet they weren’t competitive activities. Cyrea would pay an interest, maybe ask some questions, tag along, but they weren’t important to her from a security point of view.
With her beside him in the battered four wheel drive pick-up, he knew he couldn’t leave the local valley. While the locals were all in the loop, once outside of this valley and the next it became a lottery. Some knew and some didn’t. So he knew the moment he set the truck on the road to town that it would either force her to jump out, or start a fight to the death. He chose to do neither, instead, just blasting round the hundreds of dirt tracks to the various fishing spots, or even the parks. The tourists were all well shepherded, and Cyrea had a communicator in her ear that someone would use to warn her if she was nearing any outsiders.
He found it amazing just how well the Leinians had the entire thing organized. Every local tour guide was already in the know, and they planned out every trek with the Leinians before they left. They also watched everyone in the vicinity closely. It spoke of a sophisticated intelligence system which troubled him a bit. But it also indicated the true size of the army of locals that were in the know and on their side. Good people too. And since none of them seemed particularly stupid or under the influence of anything stronger than alcohol, that was comforting too. Surely they couldn’t all be wrong about the Leinians?
Either way Cyrea didn’t seem too troubled by his outdoor interests. It was at home that her security background seemed to kick in. She watched his internet use like a hawk, apparently worried about illicit e-mails. She listened to his every phone call and he was sure she would even read his mail if given the chance. And she stressed before his every trip to town, imagining he might be heading for the nearest city instead of simply an hour down the road to the supermarket. But she held her suspicious tongue, as long as he let her see what he was doing.
In the afternoons they’d been able to talk, finding the neutral ground relaxing. They’d set themselves some unofficial ground rules, the main one being that they spoke about anything that wasn’t related to security or competition, and it worked. Once the competition wasn’t there, and when the distrust had been pushed aside into a corner, the conversation had started flowing. And the more they talked, the more they discovered that they liked each other.
As Alice had said, they were in many respects very much alike. They were both in the security business, both were utterly dedicated to the safety of their people, and both were isolated by their work. They understood each other in a way that no one outside of their field could. Each afternoon he kept hoping that things were slowly smoothing over, and each morning they were back to square one in a world of anger and mistrust.
The nights of course had been shear confusion. Having lived alone for many years it was disconcerting to have anyone else living in the house at all, let alone an alien and a female one at that. He was constantly aware of her and the fact that she was a woman. He no longer wandered around the house half dressed, and locked the shower door when he was bathing. He even found himself wearing full pyjamas for the first time in years, though she was in the next room. He was half surprised she hadn’t taken the floor at the foot of the bed, but didn’t suggest it. She might well take him up on the offer.
Then there were the endless problems associated with just having a woman in the house. In the mornings he tried to creep past her to reach the bathroom, though often times she was already there ahead of him. He had at least learned to knock. He also found her hair in the sink or shower basin. She seemed to leave it everywhere. And then there were mealtimes. Despite her fangs Cyrea was a fruit and vegetable lover, not a big meat eater. He on the other ha
nd loved a good steak.
His sleep too was disturbed at regular intervals as she checked to make sure he was still there. Three maybe four times a night he heard the bedroom door creep open and watched her face poke round the corner. At first he’d gotten up each time to ask what was wrong, but after realizing she didn’t want him to know about her nocturnal rounds, he feigned sleep. He was certain she suspected though. From his haggard appearance if nothing else.
In truth perhaps the haggardness was more due to the constant tension between them than the late night wake up calls. It was exhausting, for him and he guessed for her. They both sat there, day in day out, waiting. But waiting for what they weren’t really sure. The next fight, the next blow up, or the final battle to the death. Twice now they’d come close, and somehow pulled themselves back from the edge. Finding just enough reason to let peace prevail.