The Alien's Patient

by Renard, Loki

  “You’re not going to get me that easy,” Faith replied with a scowl. “I’m not going to imprison myself for you in your bed. I’m not going to be some good little prisoner, nibbling on your rabbit greens. I’m not going to…”

  “You’re going to settle down now, or you’re going to feel my hand on your backside,” Serkan interrupted her tirade with a gruff growl.

  Faith stared at him. His nice act had melted pretty damn quick.

  “Jerk,” she muttered under her breath.

  “Go back to bed, Faith,” Serkan said, gesturing to her with the flat end of what passed for a spatula on his planet. “Now.”

  “What if I don’t?” She sat back in the chair. “What if I’m not scared of you and your threats?”

  “I’m fairly certain my ability to inflict discomfort exceeds your ability to resist it,” Serkan replied sternly. His silver gaze was locked on her with an intensity that made her squirm where she was sitting. He didn’t look angry, but he did look determined.

  The problem was, Faith thought to herself, that although Serkan liked to play nice, underneath that niceness, he was a powerful man in every sense of the word. A man who liked to pretend to play by the rules, but who actually broke them whenever it pleased him. And she did owe her life to him. He could have left her to go cold in the forest, but he’d decided to take her, and in doing so, he’d made her his patient and his prisoner.

  Did she have a debt of gratitude to him? For saving her, perhaps. For taking her into custody? No.

  “We’re never going to see eye to eye on this,” Faith said. “This just isn’t going to work.”

  “What do you mean, this isn’t going to work?”

  “This arrangement. This… treatment. This me staying with you on this planet… it’s not going to work.”

  A faint smile passed over his lips. “You speak as if you have a choice.”

  “Of course I have a choice,” Faith said. “I can choose to go along with this, or I can choose not to. And I’m choosing not to. So. That’s that.”

  Serkan put the spatula down and turned toward her, rubbing his hands free of whatever particles of foodstuffs might be on them. Faith kept her seat, not moving an inch as the large alien approached, reached down, put his hands on hers and drew her up from the chair.

  “You need some rest,” he said calmly, as if she hadn’t said any of what she’d just said. Before she could refuse, he stooped down a little and pulled her up over his shoulder, carrying her in a fireman’s lift back to the bedroom. There, he tossed her on the bed and the moment she tried to get up, pinned her down, his hands on her arms, holding her easily.

  “You can’t force me to sleep,” she growled up at him. “You’re just winding me up more, you know.”

  “You’ll tire yourself out sooner or later,” Serkan replied. “I can strap you to the bed, if I have to.”

  “Don’t you…”

  “You need rest,” he repeated. “You’re exhausted. That’s why you’re in such a bad mood.”

  “I’m in such a bad mood because I’ve been alien abducted, you jerk!”

  “Abducted from certain death,” he reminded her.

  “Stop throwing that in my face every two seconds.”

  “Stop acting like a spoiled, ungrateful brat and I will.”

  His words cut through her, delivered in whiplash tones that seared to her very soul because they were true. She knew she was behaving horribly. But she felt horrible. She felt an emptiness in the very pit of her stomach, a longing for the world she had departed.

  “I’m homesick,” she said. “I want to go back to Earth. I need to go back to Earth. I don’t think I can be a human this far away. And if I can’t be human, how can I be at all?”

  Serkan made a sound of pity. “I know this is strange for you. I know you miss your home. You miss your freedom, no doubt.”

  “I am going to go crazy, Serkan. If you keep me here I promise you, I will lose my mind. That is what happens to humans who don’t have other humans around them.” She looked at him with tears in her eyes. He didn’t understand what it was to be like her. He looked human, but he wasn’t. His needs were so different and he really didn’t understand hers.

  “You have me,” he said, his hands smoothing down her arms as he put less pressure on her. He laid next to her and she curled up into his body.

  “I just… this is so hard,” she whimpered. “And you think I should be happy.”

  “I want you to be happy,” Serkan agreed. “You think I enjoy seeing you in discomfort? You think the man who threw away his commission on a stray in need is suddenly a sadist who wants to see her suffer?”

  “You lost your commission?” She lifted her head to look at him.

  “I lost my ship,” he said. “And my title.”

  “Jesus. Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you… why did you let that happen?”

  “Those things can be earned again. Your life could not be.”

  “You’re making me feel guilty,” she said, frowning slightly. “I mean, seriously, Serkan. You’re not supposed to care about me that much.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because nobody does.” The answer rose to her lips more swiftly than the thought accompanying it.

  “I earned my commission because I care,” he said. “First I cared about humanity. Being an observer is a great honor. We take our role as an advanced species very seriously. We know it is not our place to determine how other civilizations grow, but we know which paths lead to peace and which lead to disaster. Humanity is a particularly frustrating species to watch over. So much potential, so much brilliance, and so little restraint at times. If ever there was a species which needed to learn to take a deep breath and slow down for a moment…” He shook his head. “Anyway, I care. I cared about my mission, and then I came to care for you.”

  “It’s not fair when you talk like this,” she said in a soft whimper.

  “Why? Because it makes it difficult for you to resist the fact that you’re loved? Sorry, Faith, but it’s my job to provide you with the treatment you need to live well in this world. It isn’t my job to play the monster in the nightmare you insisted on living back on Earth.”

  His words sounded harsh, but he had a point, and she knew it. Everything had been so much simpler when she could just hate the people she was in contact with. When everyone was a bad guy, it didn’t matter how much of a bad girl she was.

  “When will you know that I am rehabilitated?”

  “You’ll know,” he said with a smile. “You’ll know it by the choices you make and how you feel when you make them.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means you’ll feel good when you do good things, and bad when you don’t. Soon enough, the treatment will be unnecessary.”

  “It still sounds like brainwashing.”

  “It’s conditioning, of a kind,” he admitted. “But it’s a conditioning you need, Faith. And it won’t change who you are as a person. There’s not a treatment in the universe that could do that, I don’t think. You are one of the most stubborn personalities I have ever encountered.”

  “Have you looked in the mirror lately? You’re more stubborn than I could ever be.”

  Serkan smiled and pressed a kiss to her mouth. “That’s what I’m counting on.”

  * * *

  It took some time, but finally Faith was back to sleep. This would possibly be the most difficult day for her. Yesterday everything had been new and strange, but Serkan knew well enough that the second day was when reality began to sink in. When she woke up again, she would be rested and at full strength to resist her new life.

  Serkan had always known that keeping Faith would not be easy. That had been apparent almost immediately. She had so many conflicting needs: the need to be nurtured, the need to be disciplined, the need to be free, and the need to be kept safe. It was almost certain that he would fail in some regard, but he was pleased with the way her first session had gone
. It was important that she not be frightened by the treatment process—which could easily happen if he were too harsh, or pushed her too far.

  While Faith slept, Serkan gathered his resolve. The first treatment had gone well. She was quite receptive to it, and her orgasmic response was more than strong enough to eventually shape her behavior. Every time she climaxed, her body and mind were flooded with reward hormones, and new connections would be forming in her brain between obeying him and feeling good. It was really only a matter of time before she became compliant—or at least, manageable.

  He smiled to himself. He was not entirely sure he wanted a compliant mate. Faith’s challenging behavior made his life difficult, but interesting. Since meeting her, the dread he had felt at the prospect of returning to his home planet lifted and even being back on Svari was not as bad as he had imagined it would be.

  When he first departed, he had imagined that he would miss his home world terribly, but time spent on Earth in his own company had been illuminating. He had found himself thinking and acting in new ways. Ephemera’s law kept Svari culture in line, and he was, of course, still very loyal to the council, but it had been quite an experience to be far from the glowing lady, as Faith referred to her.

  A smile spread across his face. He adored Faith, even when she was trouble. Perhaps, especially when she was trouble.

  Bing bong!

  A chime at the door indicated the presence of a visitor. It was not the most convenient timing, but having barely spoken to anyone since his return, Serkan answered it. He found an old acquaintance standing there, Elvor. They had been friends once, when they were young lords of Svari, anticipating a grand future. That future had come to pass in many respects, they were both rich, and prior to recent events, had both enjoyed high status. Elvor was married to a good woman of equal breeding. Together they had a brood of saplings, several of which were being considered future council prospects.

  Serkan’s reluctance to take that particular path had put a strain on their relationship, so he was surprised to see Elvor at his door. There had been a distinct lack of general greeting his homecoming, largely because word had no doubt spread near instantly about Faith. The Svari had no tolerance for aberrant behavior and he was sure that his peers and the people who had once called themselves friends and graced his elegant home were even now cloistered in some other dwelling, whispering to one another in horrified delight.

  Elvor was dressed formally, his gold and green robes shining with fresh silk thread, his hair bleached blond and slicked back. His smile was broad and vacant, his eyes beady with social malice.

  “Serkan,” he said. “Welcome back from the stars.”

  “Thank you,” Serkan said, stepping back. “Would you like to come in?”

  The invitation was a matter of course, and of course, Elvor accepted. He stepped into the room, his eyes glancing over every surface and corner. Serkan knew precisely what he was looking for.

  “She’s sleeping,” he said.

  “Hmm?”

  “My companion,” Serkan said. “From Earth. She is sleeping.”

  Elvor’s brows rose toward his hairline. “So it is true. You brought a human back with you. Serkan, I must say, I am surprised to hear that the rumors are right. Is it also true that you no longer have your commission?”

  “Your tact, as ever, is astounding,” Serkan said grimly.

  “There is no point in speaking softly over such matters,” Elvor said. “I feel that I have some responsibility for you, Serkan; ever since your father passed, my father has been concerned for you. And now that he is too ill to come himself, it falls to me.”

  “There is no need to be concerned, Elvor. Your father’s guardianship ended many years ago. I am the master of my own life and…”

  “You are no longer the master of your own ship,” Elvor interrupted. “You are bringing your family name into disgrace. I cannot allow you to do that without some intervention.”

  “I know you are trying to help, in your own way,” Serkan said, keeping his patience as best he could. “But truly, I do not need the help. I have made peace with Ephemera and the council have agreed to attempt to rehabilitate my human companion. I am skilled in such matters, Elvor.”

  “Your skill as a physician is not in question. Your judgment is,” Elvor said, strolling over to take a seat on Serkan’s couch. “Tell me why you did this.”

  It was not Elvor’s place to demand rationalizations, but Serkan knew that in some sense he was not only speaking to Elvor, but to his entire social circle. If he managed to convince this man, then life would be much easier for Faith. In time, he hoped she would become part of society, and the first step in that process was having the others accept her as a concept.

  “She was in extreme danger,” Serkan explained. “I found her…”

  “They’re all in extreme danger, Serkan,” Elvor interrupted with a sigh. “We know that when we take our assignments and go down there. Humans don’t know the glory of Ephemera. They’re not really sentient, you know.”

  “They very much are,” Serkan disagreed. “Faith has as much intellect as anyone I’ve met, and more resourcefulness too.”

  Elvor shook his head with a slow, pitiful smirk. “You know this has made you the utter laughing stock of the titled,” he said. “You were the last we ever expected to fall from grace. I cannot, in good conscience, allow this to happen without saying something.”

  “Ephemera has already blessed this decision,” Serkan said stiffly. “What right do you have to question the council’s judgment?”

  “You say Ephemera blessed this? I heard you were stripped of your title and command. Is that not true?”

  “It is true for the moment.”

  Elvor’s eyes lit up in an unpleasant fashion. He shook his head, tutting furiously. “This will not do, Serkan,” he said. “You were once a great man bound for great things. What happened to you? Why did you take such a foolish excursion to such a bestial little rock?”

  “You are beginning to try my patience,” Serkan said, his tone as stiff as his body. Elvor was pushing his luck, though of course, he did not know it. The man was too arrogant to consider there might be some consequence for his rudeness.

  “You should put the human in a zoo,” Elvor said. “Claim your command back. Marry my cousin. She still pines for you, Serkan.”

  There it was. The pressure to perform his procreationary role, to become husband to a woman who did not care for him any more than he cared for her and to bring forth a gaggle of offspring who would likewise be expected to live as others determined.

  In that moment, Serkan missed Earth almost as much as Faith probably did. There had been a freedom there he had so enjoyed. He had not realized just how claustrophobic social order would be after a time away from it. It took every bit of self-control he had not to lose his temper and physically throw Elvor out of his house.

  “A human is less than an animal,” Elvor said. “They are perhaps a curiosity. You could sell her to a show of curiosities. The lower classes would pay to look at her, I am sure. She would likely be well entertained if she were to be presented with a simple amusement, perhaps a glowing screen with moving pictures.”

  “Hey, asshole,” Faith’s voice growled from behind them. “Why don’t you shut the hell up and get out of here before I show you something really primitive?”

  Serkan turned to see Faith standing in the doorway, her hair askew, her face set in a scowl. She must have been woken from her sleep by Elvor’s obnoxious booming tones.

  Elvor looked at Serkan with a faint expression of panic. He had clearly not expected to be confronted by the human herself.

  “Should she be allowed to simply roam free without any kind of restraint?”

  “She is no danger to…”

  “Yes, I am,” Faith snarled. “I’m a huge danger.”

  “Put the human away, please, Serkan,” Elvor said, straightening his robes in a sort of displacement of anxiety. “I find her
presence quite unsettling.”

  “He’s not going to put me away,” Faith said, advancing. “But you can get out of here. You’re pissing me off.”

  “Faith!” Serkan snapped her name. Her attitude was not acceptable, though he understood it. He half wished he was saying what she was saying. If anyone deserved to be thrown out, it was Elvor, but it was certainly not Faith’s place to do the throwing.

  Elvor sank back, an expression of fear on his face as Faith approached.

  “Serkan! Control her!” There was a gratifying note of panic in Elvor’s tone.

  Sensing his weakness, Faith took full advantage of the situation. She screwed up her usually cute face, curled back her lips, and growled like a pit bull dog, snarling and snapping her flashing white teeth. It was such a credible impression of feral wrath that Elvor bounced up from the seat he had not been invited to take and fled to the front door with a very un-masculine whimper.

  “Ephemera will hear of this!”

  “Good!” Faith shouted after him. “I’ll bite her ass right off too!”

  The door slammed behind Elvor and it was all Serkan could do not to pick her up and hug her as she turned back to him with a broad, proud look on her face.

  “That was very naughty,” he said, trying his best to muster a stern response when all he really wanted to do was laugh. That was one of the most effective measures he had ever seen taken against Elvor’s obnoxiousness. It had been a lifetime coming too.

  “Eh, he was an asshole,” Faith shrugged. “I don’t like assholes.”

  Serkan knew that she had to be disciplined for what she had just done. He could not allow aggression for even a second, and yet his heart was truly not in punishing her.

  “I’m going back to bed,” she yawned. “If you have any more trouble, let me know.”

  “Uh uh, you’re not going anywhere,” he said, catching her by the back of her nightshirt. “Get back here, we are not done.”

  “I am not in trouble for that,” she declared flatly, as if she was in charge of when she was and was not in trouble.