“Ara, listen to me. We’ll arrive at the site in a day, maybe two, and I need you to prepare yourself. I need you question everything, all right? You know these people better than I do. You need to be looking for warning signs of any kind. You need to question everything you know about GenOriens, about your program, about Christian, Cat, your colleagues, everything. That’s the only way we’re going to get to the bottom of this thing. That’s the only way we’ll find Ayla, and help to protect the hybrid.”
“But we’re only two people,” I protested. “If it really is this huge systemic… conspiracy, what can we hope to accomplish?”
“If we expose them, people will rise up to join us.”
I swallowed hard, and his wide eyes reflected back to me what I had just discovered: “We might not live long enough to see that happen.”
Danovan gave a slow nod of his head and drew me close again, enfolding me in the safety of his warm embrace. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Ara. I promise.”
“We’re in this together,” I protested. “If we go down, we go down together.”
He didn’t say anything then, but he drew away and bent his head forward to press his lips against mine. I kissed him desperately, my fingertips exploring the edge of his jaw, the line of his neck, down over the precipice of his collarbone.
He tugged my pants down quickly, lowering me into the grass until I was laid upon a bed of leaves and soil. I struggled to kick my sneakers off and spread my thighs for him, and he knelt in front of me, freeing his hardness from the confines of his pants. He directed himself to my warm, wet center and found that he slipped easily inside of me. He moaned as he slid himself in as deeply as he could, and I moaned as I made room for him.
His pace began to quicken as he held himself aloft above me, rolling his hips with each fluid stroke. This was different than the times before; this was tender and intimate and intense. Our gazes locked together as he pressed himself into me and when he came, our eyes were wide open.
I protested when he started to pull away, wanting to hold him inside of me just a little longer. But he had plans for me and kissed his way down, down, until he could slide two of his thick fingers into my orifice, lubricated by his emissions. He lapped at the sensitive kernel between my nether lips, the pith of my desire, flicking it gently with the tip of his tongue as he used his fingers to thrust in and out, in and out.
I quickly succumbed to his ministrations, my body tightening like a string on a violin until he played the final note of his song and I sang out my release.
“Tell me,” he said, the muscles of my sex contracting around his fingers. “Tell me you’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” I breathed. “I’m yours.”
Chapter 18:
Danovan tel’Darian
We slept there in the grass, without shelter or fire, just two lovers, spent, under the stars. And when we woke the next morning, we bathed in the stream, completely unselfconscious.
I dreamed of my mother’s face, and the sound like broken glass and splintered wood that had heralded the coming of her end. I dreamed of my father and the look on his face, the look of utter despair. I woke trembling in the night and drew Araceli close to me. She turned over and nuzzled my neck, and I held her and thought of my mother’s last words to my father: It was a great joy and a great privilege to love you… Then I dreamed of a peaceful future, the one I had seen before the attacks, just me and Ara and our brood of hybrid children, existing peacefully in a repaired Hiropass. When I woke, I thought for an instant that perhaps that future was still possible. But we had a lot of work to do first.
I was grateful that Araceli had had the foresight to pack some supplies, and we sat, eating our fresh fruit and drinking jugs of filtered water, before we climbed back into the rover and continued on our way.
The day was clear and bright, not a cloud in the sky as we continued to head in the direction of the smoke, rising into the air. We were far enough away from Hiropass now that we were two beings in a swath of empty, open land, and eventually even the tall grass gave way to rolling fields. So when we came upon another rover, headed in the opposite direction from where we were headed, they were hard to miss. The rover didn’t look like ours: it was low to the ground, in silver metal painted in shades of green in a very poor attempt to camouflage it with the surrounding scenery. There were windows at the front, clear and open, and as we drew nearer we could begin to discern faces.
“Who do you think they are?” Ara asked, leaning forward in her seat with her elbows on her knees.
“I don’t know.”
“Is their rover military grade?”
“Hardly.”
We drew closer and closer, until we could see that there was a Galatean woman and a human man in the rover, their eyes wide as saucers and locked on us just as ours were locked on them.
Nearer, ever nearer, and I slowed the rover to a halt, expecting them to do the same. But they didn’t. They drove right past us. And maybe under different circumstances, I would have thought nothing of it. But this was the day after an attack on my home village, and these two strangers in their low-grade camo rover were headed directly for Hiropass. So I turned our rover around, and followed them.
“What are you doing?” Ara asked.
“Following them. To make sure they’re not headed for Hiropass.”
“What if they live in Hiropass?”
“They don’t.”
We drove in silence for a few moments, and I was gaining on them. But then they stopped so suddenly that I had to slam on the brakes to skid to a halt behind them.
They came out suddenly, and the man was wielding a crowbar like a baseball bat. He was tall and young, with black hair and wide, green eyes that were wild with fear. He was broad by human standards, larger even than his Galatean companion, who was slight and short and rather squat, about Araceli’s size, actually. Except this Galatean woman was the rose-gold color of oxidized Quaridium Drolide, and she glistened in the afternoon light.
“Get out of the rover,” the man demanded, firm but uncertain. I gestured for Araceli to stay put, but I climbed out as he asked, my hands up defensively in front of him. “Who are you?” the man went on. “What do you want, and why are you following us?”
“We’re following you because we thought you would stop. But you didn’t, and now you’re headed in the direction of a village I’m trying to protect.”
“Village?” he asked, “What village?”
“Hiropass,” I said. “Isn’t that where you’re going?”
“No,” the woman said, taking a few tentative steps toward me. “No, that isn’t where you’re going.”
“So… where are you going?”
“That’s none of your business!” the man shouted, inching forward.
“Whoa, whoa—calm down,” I said. “I mean you no harm.”
“How do we know that?” the woman asked, her pale white eyes narrowed beneath the jutting ridge of her brow.
She had a good point—it was just my word against hers that I wasn’t there to harm her. And Araceli must have seen me faltering when she climbed out of the rover, her hands up just as mine were.
“We’re headed to the Leviathan crash site,” she explained. “But there’s been an attack on the Galatean village of Hiropass, and we were just concerned you might have been involved.”
“Well, we’re not,” the woman insisted. But again, her word against ours.
“Hang on,” the man said, narrowing his eyes at Araceli. “You’re that woman from the newsfeed. I saw your picture—they’re looking for you.”
“Yes,” she confirmed. “I’m Dr. Araceli Cross.” And she extended her hand to them, like they’d come over for supper. I eyed her dubiously.
But after a moment, the man took her by the hand. “Dr. Mason Wieland,” he said. “Botanist.”
“Geneticist,” Ara replied with a smile before turning her attention to the rose
-gold Galatean, who took Ara by the hand and smiled.
“Cleoh cal’Viernan,” she said, her voice low and calm, a welcome change in timbre. “Healer.” I didn’t shake their hands, just waved from where I had mine in the air.
“Danovan tel’Darian. Confused former soldier—let’s dispense with the pleasantries. Would you please tell me where you’re going and what you know of the attacks on the Leviathan, the GenOriens base, and now on Hiropass?”
Mason and Cleoh glanced nervously between themselves, communicating in that silent way that gave them away as being intimately involved with one another. But eventually Cleoh turned her attention to me and began to speak. “We don’t know anything about the attack on Hiropass, and we’re sorry to hear about it,” she began, “but we do know that the attacks staged against the Leviathan and the GenOriens base are linked to a conservative terrorist organization—”
“If you want to call them that,” Mason interrupted.
“Which I do,” Cleoh insisted. “What else do you call terrorizing civilians and murdering babies?”
“Murdering babies?” Ara echoed, alarmed.
“Yes,” Cleoh confirmed. “They’re here for the hybrids.”
I looked over at Ara, just as she locked her eyes on me. That’s precisely what my mother had said. There were people who knew about this group, whoever they were. People who were trying to protect the hybrid progenies of human and Galatean pairings.
“Who is in this… terrorist cell?” Ara asked. “Humans? Galateans? Who would want to kill babies?”
“It started off as a human organization—the RCB, they called themselves, resistance to cross-breeding. But since they’ve arrived planetside, Galateans who share their values have joined them. And now they call themselves the Cleansing.”
“The Cleansing?” Ara scoffed. “How very end of days.”
“They have plants in all of the major organizations that fund expeditions, trade agreements, and, yes, scientific research and development,” Mason went on. “Their goal is basically to make everything the way it was before the humans and the Galateans discovered one another. They have people in the military, people in business, finance. People in GenOriens.”
“So, what, their end goal is just to… eliminate everyone who has anything to do with the melding of the human and Galatean populations?” Ara asked, and I saw her cheeks color with rage and frustration.
“Yes,” Mason confirmed, “I think that’s precisely what they’re doing.”
“Their further intent is to drum up support,” Cleoh went on. “Every news broadcast that covers these events just instills more and more fear, in humans and Galateans. Eventually, we think, the human ships will turn around and go back to Earth, and we’ll close our borders to any further trade agreements with the humans.”
“And then we’ll just resort to spying on one another,” Mason interjected, “until everyone forgets this happened, and two hundred years from now, someone tries again.”
“And then it starts all over.” Ara heaved a sigh and looked at me, but my expression was as blank as my mind. I had no idea what we should do. Fortunately, Cleoh did.
“Come with me,” Cleoh said. “I want to show you something.”
“Cleoh—” Mason began to protest, but she silenced him with the wave of her hand before turning on her heel and heading back to the rover. Ara and I exchanged curious glances, but we did as she bid us, walking around to the passenger side of the rover, which was much more worn down up close than it had appeared from a distance.
Cleoh opened the door to the rover and shielded from view whatever it was she was going to pull out. “Mason,” she called, bent over the seat, “bring out the food and the blankets, would you? It’s about time to eat anyway.”
With a sigh, Mason did as he was told and came around to pull tents and blankets, pillows and baskets from the storage compartment in the rover. This momentarily distracted both Ara and myself from what Cleoh wanted to show us. But when she turned around, we saw what was at stake.
A hybrid baby.
The baby was so small, no more than a month old, with skin the color of her mother’s, like brushed rose gold. The baby was wriggling its little fists in the air, cooing happily as its mother bounced it. “Her name is Shae,” Cleoh said. Bounced her, as her mother bounced her. Shae didn’t have a brow ridge like her mother, but had her father’s strong forehead and dark eyelashes. On the top of her head was a little tuft of fuzzy pale yellow hair, and her eyes were white, like her mother’s. She was beautiful. Strange, but beautiful.
I tore my eyes away from Shae and looked over at Araceli, who wore a look of stark awe. Her blue eyes glimmered with the threat of tears, and she reached her arms out almost automatically, wanting to embrace the child. “May I hold her?” Ara asked, and Cleoh cast a glance over her shoulder to Mason, who gave his consent with a single nod of his head. Cleoh handed the baby to Araceli, and Ara hugged her close, bouncing her gently in the swaddling of her white blanket.
“She’s healthy?” Ara asked, ever the doctor.
“Yes,” Mason confirmed. “Colicky from time to time, but what baby isn’t?”
“How was the labor?”
“Long,” Cleoh confirmed with a knowing smile, “but, I’d wager, no more or less painful than any other labor that the universe has known.”
“Who knows about her?” I asked, standing protectively at Ara’s shoulder, as if I myself could shield that baby from harm should a shuttle descend from the cloud cover and start firing on innocents again.
“No one,” Mason said. “Not even Cleoh’s family. She and I left Pyrathas just when she began to show, and we’ve been living a nomadic life ever since.”
“But why did you run?” Ara asked. “What made you want to hide?”
Cleoh and Mason shared another one of their knowing looks, and I could see them having an almost telepathic argument, one which Mason lost. He sighed, and spoke. “I was stationed here with the human military sent to protect GenOriens’ interests in Pyrathas. I heard some chatter over the communicator that they were to round up anyone who’d had any sexual contact between species. I’ve been in combat units, and I’ve been behind desks, and I know what it sounds like when people are going to be detained without due process. And I loved her.” He looked over at Cleoh, the warmth of his affection radiating out of him. “I love her. I couldn’t let them separate us, and I couldn’t leave her alone while she was carrying my child, so… we ran.”
“We stop in towns from time to time—we saw the newsfeed about you in a tavern in Dietford. But we haven’t shown anyone our Shae,” Cleoh said, “until now.”
Araceli handed the baby back to Cleoh and glanced desperately between her and Mason. “Don’t show her to anyone else,” Ara said, her tone low and urgent. “Stay out of towns at all costs. Do you understand? Don’t let anyone know that this baby exists, and do not go into the towns. They’re razing the towns looking for women pregnant with hybrids.”
“And,” I added solemnly, “they’re just slaughtering the men.”
Mason nodded his head in understanding. “We’ll do as you say.”
“What is your plan?” Cleoh asked. “It seemed as though you were headed into the heart of things—towards the crash site, yes?”
“We’re going to find Christian Ward,” I said. “And we’re going to see if we can ascertain just how high up this conspiracy reaches.”
“The Ward family is a major player in this conflict,” Mason said, propping his hands up on his hips as Cleoh placed the baby in a small bassinet on the seat of the rover.
“How do you mean?” Ara asked, crossing her arms almost defensively in front of her. Mason proffered a chagrinned little smile, arching one thick brow over one bright green eye.
“Due respect, Dr. Cross,” he began, and I did not care for his tone, “I wouldn’t expect you to understand, since you’re sucking at the teat of the Ward Empire.”
&nb
sp; “Excuse me?”
“Mason,” Cleoh interrupted, “don’t.”
“No, I’m not going to skirt around it just because she’s engaged to be married to that shellacked buffoon.” Mason stared her down like he hated her just as much as he hated Ward, as much as he hated the entire situation into which their actions had forced him.
“That’s enough,” I spat. “I get that you’re frustrated, and that you blame the Wards for a lot of that frustration, but I will not stand here and let you insult her.”
“Danovan, it’s all right,” she said, not looking at me. “He’s right—as far as he knows, I’m part of the problem. Mason, I want you to understand that I have no intention of marrying into that family. Do with that information what you will.” There was something of a silent standoff happening between the two humans, but eventually all the fight went out of Mason, and he relaxed his posture.
“I’m sorry,” Mason said at length, a cloud crossing his features. “I guess I’m just a little on edge.”
“You’re a new father,” Ara said, smiling warmly. “It’s to be expected.”
“Will you camp with us tonight?” Cleoh asked. “We have tents, food. Even a generator. You’ll be comfortable.”
I was eager to get to the crash site, but we didn’t have much daylight left. “Yes,” I confirmed, as Ara’s searching eyes asked the question of what I wanted to do. “Yes, thank you. We’ll camp with you tonight.”
***
We drove to a patch of trees near the river, clusters of bull roses nipping at the air as we passed. Mason and I began to pitch the tents—fine, sturdy things of thick brown canvas. We unfurled thick, clean rugs on the packed dirt floor of the tents, and Cleoh scattered some pillows atop the rugs, making things very cozy indeed. Ara entertained little Shae—insofar as an infant can be entertained—and I helped to gather the supplies and fill the two tents with blankets and jugs of our filtered water. Mason and I built a campfire, and by the time the light began to dim with the onset of evening, things were very cozy indeed.
Alien Survivor: (Stranded on Galatea) An Alien SciFi Romance Page 16