White-coat #1 grunts and turns to White-coat #2. “Is there video footage from the space-station?” he says quietly. White-coat #2 shakes his head. “No matter,” says White-coat #1. “This is why we run tests.” He turns to me, his blue eyes narrowed to slits. “Activate stress-test on upper left quadrant,” he says into a microphone near his lapel.
There’s a flash of blue light from my left, and a moment later pain screams through my body as I’m knocked backwards. Immediately I smell burning flesh, feel the agony rip though my shoulder and arm as I stare at the perfectly round wound that the laser just opened up on my body.
“No!” screams Fran. “What are you doing?! We can’t do that!”
“May I remind you of your place, Commander Fisk,” growls White-coat #1 under his breath as he comes close to me and leans in to watch my flesh regenerate. “Good lord,” he mutters. “This is remarkable. We need to study this. Find a way to harness this power. Perhaps harvest this power.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” snaps Fran, her fists clenched, her brown eyes blazing with a fire that makes me warm inside, makes the pain almost disappear. “He’s a living, sentient being! Harvest him? You don’t have the right to make a decision like that!”
White-coat #1 turns to Fran and stands up straight. “Commander Fisk,” he says, his voice so low it sounds like a hiss. “Remember that we are human scientists, and our job is to do what it takes to advance the human race. That means we have to remain dispassionate, detached, leave our emotions out of it. This creature is an it, not a him. And its blood and tissue may contain secrets that can give humanity eternal life, make us immortal.” Slowly he turns back to me, his dull blue eyes so narrow I can barely see his pupils. “And if we cannot harness the alien’s miraculous ability to regenerate bone and tissue, then it is our responsibility to find a way to kill it, to prepare our military in case more of its kind launch an attack.”
I see Fran swoon on her feet, she’s so shocked by what White-coat #1 just said. I, however, do not care much. Death is a alien concept to me. The Arganians left death behind when we evolved away from the flesh—or so we thought, at least. I glance as my wound closes up and the tissue regenerates, leaving nothing but smooth skin and the musky aroma of burnt flesh in the stale air of my cage.
But then I look into Fran’s eyes again, and suddenly that strange “inside” pain takes a hold of my heart. And now I think that maybe I do care about hanging on to this body, that she cares about it too. That she cares about me!
Has anyone cared about me, I wonder as I cock my head and try to interpret what I’m feeling. There are many indescribable joys of life as an Arganian, but our existence was built on isolation, each of us a solitary being that reveled in its own powers of mind. Yes, we had no war or conflict in our society; but that is perhaps because we barely had a society.
Another blast of a pinpoint laser zaps me back to the world of flesh and bone, and I roar as the pain whips through me and I stagger back, gasping as cameras and scanners and all sorts of medical recording devices beep and click around me. Again the flesh closes up, and the white-coats ooh and aah like this is the circus.
“All chemical and physical data has been captured,” says White-coat #2, glancing at a screen and then nodding at White-coat #1.
“Excellent,” says White-coat #1. He rubs his chin and takes a breath. “All right. So we know the creature can regenerate skin and surface tissue, repair bone damage, even blood vessels. But what about internal organs?”
He mutters a command into his microphone, and a sharp, long titanium probe shoots out from the metal apparatus surrounding my cage. Before I can react, it slides into my side, and my eyes roll up in my head as I shout in agony and almost collapse. I stare down in shock as the spear retracts. The blood that pours from this new wound is dark, almost black, and I know this isn’t right. They’ve penetrated my kidney, I realize as the warm blood flows through my fingers. My eyes are watering, my vision is blurry, and now I wonder if I really am dying, if maybe—
And then a blast of light flashes in the room, and as I blink in confusion I see White-coat #1’s chest explode! He’d dead before he even hits the floor, and behind him is Fran holding her weapon straight and steady, her eyes wide but focused, her face red and flushed.
Almost instantly I feel my kidney heal itself, like somehow Fran’s decision accelerated my healing process, like she saved my life in more ways than one. I still do not fully understand it, but I know I’m right. I know this is right.
Yes, this is right, I think as I watch Fran bark out orders at the stunned room of white-coats. A moment later my plasma walls are gone, and we’re running down the hallway as emergency lights blink and sirens blare. Fran leads us to the docking bay, pointing her weapon at the bewildered guards who clearly have never experienced an actual emergency in their lives and so just put their hands up and step away from the control boards.
And as we shoot off into open space and Fran slams the ship into Warp Three, leaving the space-station in a cloud of stardust, I look over at her as the realization slowly washes over me, perhaps over both of us:
She can never go back to Earth.
She’s alone out here, just like me.
5
FRAN
“Your wound has already healed,” I say, glancing over at Flash’s torso and raising an eyebrow. “So maybe I overreacted in blowing a crater the size of the Grand Canyon in my boss’s chest. Oh well, live and learn.”
Flash stays quiet, and I look up at his face. He’s staring directly ahead, but something’s different about him. It’s like he’s changed just in the few hours we’ve known each other. Like he’s more . . . real now. More human.
Well, maybe not quite human, I think with a snort as I let my gaze travel down his long, lean torso, those big, muscular arms, glistening haunches that are bronzed and shining, big feet that would leave footprints that would only add to the myth of the Sasquatch if he ever went to North America.
“Oh, God,” I whisper as the thought of home reminds me that I can never go home! I knew it the moment I pulled that trigger, the moment I committed a crime punishable by death. But I pushed away the sickening thought as we fled, and I want to push it away now too. “What have I done?”
“You saved me,” Flash says, slowly turning his head toward me. I feel his gaze wash over me, and again I get that sense that he’s different somehow, that something happened to him over the time we’ve been together. Maybe something happened to both of us. “You sacrificed your career, your freedom, your home . . . everything for me.”
I swallow hard as I feel a strange warmth go through me. I should feel cold and dead inside, but I don’t. “I didn’t do it for you,” I say firmly, keeping my eyes front and center even though we’re a light-year away from any pursuers and I’ve got Gary running the autopilot. “I did it for me.”
“Same thing,” Flash says, still looking over at me, his green eyes shining but with a warmer light that makes me almost uncomfortable.
“How is that the same thing?”
“Because we are one now,” he says calmly. “Your act of sacrifice joined us, bonded us, created an unbreakable union.”
“Oh, so we’re married now?” I say with a raised eyebrow.
“Arganians do not marry,” Flash says. He cocks his head like he’s thinking. Then he breaks into a grin. “Humans do, of course. But you do not believe in it. You look down on marriage. Think it is a relic of the past. Outdated. Useless. Even unhealthy.”
I whip my head towards him, anger ripping through me as I remember that this creature knows my mind, got into my goddamn head and read my memories, knows my beliefs, my likes and dislikes, my preferences and peeves. I can’t hide myself from him, I suddenly realize. He knows me better than any human ever could. Than any man ever could.
Ohmygod, I think as I finally look into his burni
ng green eyes and almost melt into my seat. I have no choice but to be myself with him! I can’t lie to him. I can’t pretend to be someone I’m not. I can’t do anything but be myself! I have to be myself with him!
But who am I, I wonder as my hands fall away from the controls and I slowly swivel my seat to face him.
I’m Senior Flight Commander Frances Fisk.
I’m a murderer and a fugitive.
And I’m . . . I think as I look into Flash’s eyes.
I’m . . .
I’m . . .
I’m his.
By the moons of Jupiter, I’m his!
Slowly Flash leans in, his green eyes alive with a warmth that makes me hot, makes me weak, makes me ignore all those thoughts that are whispering that I’m off the rails here, that I’m careening headlong into madness, that I’m . . .
“You’re mine,” he whispers as his big hands cup my face, his warm breath sends shivers through my body, his scent makes my heat rise so fast I gasp. “You’re mine, and I’m yours. Don’t you see, Fran? You created me, you saved me, you sacrificed for me. You are a goddess, a creator, a giver of life. That’s your essence, your core, your power. You drew me into the world of flesh and blood because you need me to fulfill your destiny just like I need you to fulfill mine.”
“My destiny . . .” I mutter, frowning as Flash’s touch makes my nipples harden beneath my suit, makes my crotch warm and wet, makes my damned toes curl as the stars wink at us from the infinite blackness of deep space. “What’s my destiny?”
“We don’t know that yet,” Flash whispers, his lips almost touching mine, his massive hands cupping my cheeks in a beautifully tender way that’s so different from that first meeting when he almost snapped me in two. “We won’t know it until we bond in the flesh, until we complete our union.”
I blink three times and force a trembling smile. “Is this how Arganian men pick up Earth-women? With cheesy lines about them being destined for greatness but only if they put out?”
“A million years ago, when Arganian men still had bodies, we were the universe’s greatest lovers,” Flash whispers, those green eyes narrowing, his grin widening. “We could make even a Nemubrian female come with just a kiss.” He pauses as I stare up at him. “Nemubrian women do not have sex organs,” he explains like I give a shit. “No vaginas. No clits. No g-spots. No x-regions.”
“What’s an x-region?” I say with a frown, swallowing hard as I feel a weird jealousy even though Flash is talking about stuff that I guess his studly ancestors did a million years ago.
“It’s different for every species of woman,” Flash whispers, running his long finger down my smooth cheek and sending a ripple of heat through every inch of my flesh. “In fact, it’s different for every woman. It can only be discovered through experimentation. Hands-on experimentation.”
I snort and giggle, shaking my head and smiling up at this nine-foot giant who’s been shamelessly naked—and mostly erect—the entire time I’ve known him.
“Ohmygod, that’s the cheesiest pickup-line that’s ever been spoken in the history of the universe,” I say through my giggles.
“I have plenty more,” Flash growls as he draws so close that the hairs on the back of my neck are standing up straight.
“I’m listening,” I say, sighing as he slides his hand to the back of my neck and grips me gently but firmly. “What you got, O Greatest Lover in the Universe?”
“Do I need any more pickup lines?” he says softly, his fingers slowly tightening on the back of my neck, sending delightful chills through my body.
“Actually, that’s a pretty good line,” I whisper, feeling my shields drop, my defenses fade, my resolve evaporate into the empty void of open space. My body wants this, and my mind is too exhausted to put up a fight, to question the logic in letting a nine-foot-tall alien have his way with me. “For an alien.”
“That’s politically incorrect,” he mutters, grinning as his lips brush against my forehead with the lightest of touches. “I prefer the term Extra-Terrestrial Non-Physical Entity Born of Energy and Light.”
“Yeah, I’m sure that term will catch on,” I say with a snort, blinking as Flash rubs the back of my neck and our noses touch just for a moment. His eyes are shining so green that I lose myself in them, and I swear I can see vistas of faraway planets, ancient galaxies, black holes and red giants, silver stars and golden space-dust. “Born of Energy and Light,” I whisper as I stare into Flash’s eyes like I’m in a trance. “Is that really true? You don’t have . . . parents? No mother and father?”
“Energy is my father, and Light is my mother,” Flash says. “Just like it is for all Arganians. Or was, at least.”
I frown as I see a shadow pass across his glowing face. “What do you mean by was?”
“I mean there are no more Arganians. I am the last of my race.”
“What happened?” I say.
Flash frowns and draws back, his massive jaw tightening. “I do not know for certain,” he says. “I believe we simply evolved out of existence. My ancestors were obsessed with climbing the evolutionary ladder, refining our bloodline, advancing our mental capabilities. About a million years ago Arganians were forbidden from breeding with outsiders.” He winks at me. “With aliens.”
I smile stiffly. “That doesn’t sound very advanced. Forbidden from breeding outside your race? Yeah, there’ve been some crazy human leaders who tried to enforce that kind of narrow-minded nonsense. Didn’t work out so well for them. There’s a natural instinct to breed with mates that are dis-similar from you. That strengthens the genes that get passed on to the next generation. To their children.”
I blink as I say the word children, and once again I see that image of myself pregnant and glowing, shining with a light that’s starlight and moonlight rolled into one. It’s not an image I ever had before I met Flash, and for a moment I wonder if he put it there. After all, if he could reach into my mind and take what he wanted, couldn’t he just as easily put something there?
A chill passes through me as I wonder if I’m being manipulated, tricked, put under some kind of spell or something. I spent half my life studying physics, astronomy, and everything in between, and if there’s one conclusion that I can draw it’s that we have no fucking idea what’s out there in the darkest corners of the universe, what alien races might or might not be capable of doing.
“That was the next step in our so-called evolution,” Flash says.
“What?” I say, blinking as I try to push away those images and focus on what he’s saying.
“Children,” Flash whispers. “First they restricted us from having more than one child. Then, about three-hundred thousand years later, once our scientists perfected the art of creation, childbirth was completely banned.”
I almost recoil in shock. “Perfected the art of creation? What the hell are you talking about?”
Flash sighs. “Our scientists found a way to engineer new life in a laboratory. To create new Arganian children based on what they believed was a perfect model of the Arganian gene. Supremely intelligent. Physically indestructible. Psychic abilities. Perfect.”
“There’s no such thing as perfect,” I say, blinking as I shift in my chair, memories of my teenage years flooding my mind. I was a smart-ass chick, nerdy as fuck, reading everything from fiction to philosophy. I spent a good chunk of those years musing on the concept of perfection—perfection of character, of mind, and of body. I struggled with all three of those ideals, and it took me years of turmoil to come to terms with the truth: That perfection is a myth. Getting an A doesn’t necessarily mean you’re intelligent. Getting an F doesn’t necessarily mean you’re stupid. Good people can sometimes make decisions that have bad results. And there’s no such thing as a perfect body. Beauty is found in idiosyncrasies and imperfections. Evolution advances by random mutations that suit a changing environment. It can�
�t be engineered. Can’t be predicted. Can’t be controlled.
“You’re right,” says Flash, a gentle smile on his face, his green eyes beaming with admiration. I blink and shake my head when I realize he just heard all that head-talk like I was speaking out loud. “Evolution can’t be controlled or managed or engineered. That arrogance was our downfall.” He shakes his head and looks away. “Our rulers and scientists kept refining the Arganian gene.” He snorts and looks back at me. “Of course, in their obsession, they didn’t see that if you have to keep refining what you thought was perfect, then maybe perfection doesn’t exist! There’s only change. Only adaptation. Only movement. Perfection is just another name for death.” He shakes his head again, his green eyes radiating a mournfulness that makes me want to cry. “And we got there,” he whispers. “We got to so-called perfection, and what we found was death.”
I shudder as I reach out and touch the face of this alien giant who’s opening up to me in a way that’s opening me up. “Well, you’re not dead,” I whisper, swallowing hard as I hold back tears that aren’t of sadness but just raw emotion, unnamable, free-flowing emotion. “And I’m glad you’re not dead, Flash. I’m—”
But the rest of my words get swallowed up by a flash of light, light that floods me from the inside, that surreal mix of starlight and moonlight. It takes me a second to understand what just happened, but then I feel my body tense up and suddenly relax.
He’s kissing me, I realize as I feel my lips burn with Flash’s energy, blaze with his fire, spread for his kiss. He’s kissing me! By God, he’s kissing me!
6
FLASH
I feel millions of years of Arganian evolution—natural and artificial—swirl in the background as I kiss her, and I almost roar in delight as I get the unmistakable sense that all of my race’s history has led to this one moment, this one point in time, this one kiss.
Curvy for Him: The Astronaut and the Alien (Curvy for Him Series Book 6) Page 4