“Gave up?”
The choice of words rang through Lane’s mind with a significance that she couldn’t quite make sense of.
Akari looked away, as though she couldn’t bear to explain while holding Lane’s gaze.
“Despite what you think,” Akari started, “I wasn’t ready for an Abzu. I did want one, but I wasn’t ready.”
Lane squinted at Akari, shocked at the sudden vulnerability in her words and tone.
“Why?” Lane asked. The question felt too intimate to speak out loud.
“The responsibility of caring for another, of protecting them: I don’t think I can do that well enough. And just as I expected, you are still in danger. And I am afraid that I cannot protect you.”
Lane felt the fear, the overriding sense of inadequacy that kept Akari’s words small. Lane had seen Akari’s confidence over and over again; she didn’t question her competency. She hadn’t seen this side and the fragility of it sparked a warmth in her toward the Apkallu.
Lane stepped closer to Akari, reaching for her hand. When Akari didn’t pull away, Lane gently lifted Akari’s hand to rest on her neck. Akari’s eyes floated closed and a small smile started its way across her lips.
“I trust you to do everything in your power to protect me,” Lane said. “And that’s more than anyone has ever done for me.”
“Really?” Akari whispered.
Lane nodded and leaned to close the small distance between them, leaving a slow kiss on Akari’s cheek.
“The political situation between our governments has not improved,” Akari said. “I spent all day attempting to broker peace, but accomplished nothing.”
Akari’s grim tone drew Lane closer. She carefully placed a hand on Akari’s hip, pulling the other woman flush against her. With the woman’s body pressed to hers, Lane buried her face in the crook of Akari’s shoulder and let out a long breath.
“If there’s anyone that can do this, I truly believe it’s you,” Lane said into the soft skin.
Akari pulled away, her eyes wide.
“Lane,” she said, the name more of a question than anything.
Lane just smiled at the Apkallu, relishing in the way Akari leaned toward her. Lane could feel Akari’s desire and hesitancy. The bed felt large and welcoming behind her.
“I want to hear about today’s talks,” Lane said. “I want to hear what’s stumping you. But, before we do that, I think that we both need to relax. Will you lie down with me?”
Akari’s eyebrows rose slightly, clearly surprised by Lane’s behavior. Lane smiled at her and then pulled her toward the bed.
“Did you miss me?” Akari asked, a brightness behind her words.
Lane answered by situating herself in the middle of the bed and pulling Akari closer. She nuzzled her nose into Akari’s collarbone, loving how the scent of the woman’s skin clouded her head. Akari ran her hands up and down Lane’s back, pressing her lips against Lane’s temple.
Lane let out a long breath of contentment and she felt something like a smile cross from Akari on their telepathic connection. She snuggled down closer.
“It’s strange,” Lane said, “but I feel more comfortable here, with you, than I’ve ever felt with a Human lover. I never would have thought that would be so.”
“Have you had many lovers?” Akari asked. Lane shrugged, blushing despite her best attempt not to.
“Only a few. I didn’t have much time for that with my schooling and work. Besides, there weren’t many people that I trusted enough to grow close to. I don’t like being physically close without a certain amount of…” Lane’s sentence petered out, as though unsure how it had intended on finishing.
“I think I understand,” Akari said. “But what’s so different about me?”
Lane couldn’t help but think that was a good question. Was it that Akari had saved her from certain harm? Or was it that she felt some undeniable, chemical attraction to the Apkallu? Or did it grow from her admiration of Akari’s position and abilities as a diplomat? She couldn’t be sure.
“A few things, I suppose,” Lane settled on. “I’m sure our telepathic connection helps.”
“It usually does,” Akari said. “I’m afraid we bonded too soon. That maybe your trust in me is a reaction to the procedure.”
“No,” Lane said. The certainty of her answer surprised even her. “It started before that. I’m sure of it.”
“I’m glad.” Akari gently intertwined her legs with Lane’s, bringing them closer. She leaned down to kiss Lane’s temple again, but Lane lifted her face and met Akari’s lips with her own.
Akari breathed into the unexpected kiss, lifting a hand to rest on Lane’s jaw. Lane tested the waters, pulling at Akari’s dress as she deepened the kiss. Akari’s mouth tasted lovely, all spice and warmth amidst the cold of the spaceship. Lane thought that she could kiss that mouth for a long time. A very long time indeed.
Chapter 14
Lane felt naked, sitting at the conference table under the gaze of a room full of Apkallu diplomats.
It was the next day and Akari had called a meeting of the highest Apkallu strategists to decide what to do next in the Human-Apkallu dispute over Lane. The Apkallu ship’s conference room was sufficiently formal, long black lines on the walls mimicking the length of the table that took up the center of the room.
“You’re aware that you still have to sign documents to cement your Apkallu citizenship,” an older Apkallu named Liswe Aravan said, his grey hair swept back dramatically in his Human male form. The other Apkallu were in Born form, allowing Liswe Aravan to speak directly with Lane. Akari sat beside Lane in her Human female form, her dress shirt buttoned all the way up and her hair pulled back in a severe up-do.
“Yes, sir,” Lane said.
“And until you sign those documents, the struggle over your custody will continue,” he said.
“I understand,” Lane replied. Akari reached over and squeezed Lane’s hand.
“And may I ask why you haven’t completed the process?” Liswe Aravan pressed. “You realize that the Human government can use this gap to vie for your custody. We know now that they’re working with The Ummanu willingly, so the stakes couldn’t be higher for you. You’re bonded to Nys Akari, but that isn’t a blanket security measure.”
Lane pressed her lips tight, trying to work out words for her thoughts. She knew that she was procrastinating on the citizenship process, but she couldn’t justify it except to tell the truth: that she was afraid and unwilling to leave her Human status behind.
“Don’t be afraid,” Akari said to her. The familiar voice was soothing, just as Akari’s grasp had been a moment before.
“To be honest,” Lane started, speaking slowly, “I’m a bit torn on the subject. I still owe the Human government two years of service in exchange for my schooling. They’re the only reason I was able to attend school at all. I can’t turn my back on them like this.”
“But this same government is willing to turn you over to The Ummanu,” Liswe Aravan pointed out.
“Just because they will betray me doesn’t mean that I should betray them,” Lane pointed out, her voice growing a bit more heated. “And it’s significant to me, giving up my Human citizenship. If I could keep both, I would become an Apkallu citizen. But, I can’t. And I’m hesitant to complete the process that was forced upon me.”
The room fell silent after this. Lane imagined that the Apkallu were talking telepathically amongst themselves, but she couldn’t be sure. Akari withdrew her hand, leaving Lane feeling even more alone than before. She knew that her last phrase had been pointed, but she hadn’t expected such an obvious reaction from Akari. She tried to push down the feelings that accompanied Akari’s withdrawal.
“We understand your feelings,” Liswe Aravan said finally, straightening the wide collar of his shirt. “And we can appreciate the predicament that you’re in. But I must caution you at this juncture. This conflict is escalating quickly and the Humans are unwilling to neg
otiate anything but your return to them. Apparently, they believe that you have crucial data. I don’t mean to insult your intelligence, but I must point out that your lack of action on this could very easily lead to war between our peoples.”
Lane nodded, just once. She’d been aware of this since the entire situation started.
She felt the weight of the moment, the heaviness of the inevitability of her decision. She knew she couldn’t put it off any longer. She had to stop being selfish and do the hard thing.
“You’re right,” she said. “I have to forgo my Apkallu citizenship and give myself up to the Humans.”
The room erupted into indecipherable clicks and huffs as the Apkallu responded in their natural way. Akari turned to Lane, eyes wide, and said, “No.”
“I’m sorry,” Lane said, not able to meet Akari’s gaze, “but this is the only way to avoid a war. This is the only way to avoid more death.”
“You’re being reckless,” Akari said. “There’s no telling what will happen to you.”
“I’m sorry that you have to lose your Abzu,” Lane started. “But I--”
“You can’t do this,” Liswe Aravan said, breaking through the cacophony and interrupting Lane’s conversation with Akari. “If you’re looking to be selfless, sign the documents and become a full citizen. We can protect you and make a diplomatic answer for your actions. We can avoid a conflict.”
“With all due respect, Liswe,” Lane said, turning now to Liswe Aravan and standing from her seat at the conference table, “I don’t think my Apkallu citizenship will solve this. If the Human government won’t negotiate now, how will some paperwork change that? If they want me this badly, they won’t stop until they have me. I know my people. You Apkallu might be patient, but Humans are stubborn. They won’t just give up on this.”
The Apkallu looked at one another, as though the reality of Lane’s words had finally sunk in. Lane felt Akari’s gaze on her but didn’t turn to meet it.
Lane let out a long sigh, slumping back into her seat.
“I won’t let you do this,” Akari said. “You are my Abzu and I won’t allow you to sacrifice yourself.”
Now Lane turned to Akari, taking in the desperation she saw in her bonded partner’s eyes.
“Do you have another idea?” Lane asked. “Because I sure don’t.”
“I do,” Akari said, her voice impossibly grave. “But it’s dangerous.”
“Nys, please elaborate,” Liswe Aravan said.
Akari took a long breath, waited a beat, and then explained.
“Lane is right about one thing: the only way we’ll avoid this war is by giving the Humans what they want. However, there is a way to hand over Lane, in essence, while still protecting her.”
“There is?” Lane asked, sincerely shocked.
“Yes,” Akari said. “Now that you’ve had the procedure, there’s the option of shunting your memories through our connection into a data stick and presenting the Humans with that instead. It’ll take a lot to convince the Humans to accept this compromise, but if it works…”
“Nys Akari,” Liswe Aravan pushed in, “you know that shunting is a dangerous process under the best circumstances. And since your connection is so new, there is an even greater chance of complications. It’s not safe for either of you.”
“I’m aware that this puts me in danger, as well as Lane,” Akari said. “But I think the risks are preferable to handing her over to a group of terrorists.”
“What is this shunting?” Lane asked. She felt her heart ramp up with anxiety.
“It’s a process we only use on our criminals,” Liswe Aravan explained. “When a bonded pair has committed a crime, we can shunt their memories into a searchable data file. That way, we can view the moment of the crime and determine the suitable punishment. It’s a dangerous procedure, with many possible side-effects, which is why we only use it on our worst criminals.”
“What sort of side-effects?” Lane couldn’t help but get all the information before even starting to decide.
“Everything from temporary motor skill loss to permanent brain damage,” Liswe Aravan said, his expression stony. “A few Humans and Apkallu have died as a result of the procedure.”
“No,” Lane said. “I can’t let Akari go through that for my sake.”
“Lane, just listen for a minute--” Akari started, reaching for Lane’s arm.
“No,” Lane interjected, pushing Akari away. “It’s not even an option. We’ll go back to my plan.”
“But it’s my decision, too,” Akari said, “and I’m willing. I’m a diplomat -- it’s my job to help preserve the peace.”
“But at what cost?” Lane asked, turning away from everyone to look right at Akari. “I can’t let you risk your very life for it.”
Akari opened her mouth to answer, but Lane couldn’t listen anymore. The room felt stuffy, suffocating. She needed to get out, to be alone with her thoughts.
Unable to handle the glares of the Apkallu and the intense decisions floating in the air around them, Lane fled the conference room.
“Lane, wait!” Akari called after her, jogging to catch up to Lane in the hallway. “Just stop for a minute and let’s talk about this.”
Lane reluctantly stopped, knowing that Akari would catch up anyway. She waited for a moment and then turned to face Akari. The yellow-orange lighting of the hall made Akari look sickly.
“I couldn’t talk in there,” Lane said. “I couldn’t even think. I--”
“I know,” Akari said gently. “I know. Let’s go back to our place and talk, okay?”
Our place. The words rang in Lane’s head with a new significance.
“Okay,” Lane said.
Akari stepped closer to Lane, holding her gaze as she reached out and took her hand. Lane held Akari’s hand gratefully, feeling safe yet again at the touch. She couldn’t understand how such a simple gesture could affect her so much. She only knew that it did. It felt like she was forgiven for her earlier comment that had caused Akari to pull her hand away.
They walked in silence to their quarters. Akari occasionally sent a strand of shimmering light via their telepathic link and Lane felt her heart rate slowing. She began to think that maybe, just maybe, being with Akari long-term wasn’t the worst thing that could happen after all.
CLICK HERE TO READ THE REMAINING CHAPTERS…
Love Thy Enemy
An Unusual Alien Romance Story
T.J. Brandow
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
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ONE
Commander Meko Roshad was most displeased. He hadn’t even wanted to use up their vacation cycle coming to some forsaken galaxy for a bit of rest and relaxation in the first place. What was restful about a planet with so much atmospheric pollution that the people lived under glass? And the noise!
The engines of the vehicles, and their horns; the blaring of something they called a ‘rock concert’, which was apparently meant to be an entertainment, and the ‘idiot boxes’ broadcasting depressing news about how the background radiation beyond the dome still had another hundred years, had all combined this afternoon to give him a splitting headache.
“Private Doban has something he would like to tell you,” said Lieutenant Breela sternly as the pair stood before him in the middle of the living room of their ‘posh, five-star suite’ that looked more like a hostel than a home. Just the look on Breela’s face told him everything he needed to know. The rookie had done something bad.
>
“What is it, Private?” he asked tiredly as he sat forward on the sofa and began to rub at his temples.
“You need to understand, sir, I was very drunk,” the lad began, making Meko groan.
“Been there, done that,” he sighed. “My head feels like it must have been a recent thing.”
“Sir, it was last night,” Breela informed him, her smirking chuckle doing the opposite of wonders for his attitude.
“Oh yes, I seem to remember something like that.”
“Yes, Commander,” Doban continued. “We were all at that private party gambling, and I—well, I seem to have gambled away something rather important.”
“Would you just spit it out, Private Doban?” Meko growled. “I can’t take much more of this interaction.”
“It’s the remaining fuel cubes, Commander,” said Breela since the Private seemed to have frozen under the tyrannical glare Meko cast his way. “He bet them all on a wager he was sure to win, except that he didn’t. And to a group of Sinkat warriors, no less.”
“I’m pretty sure the hand was rigged somehow, sir,” Doban defended himself.
“Sinkat warriors? On Earth?”
“I’m afraid so, sir,” Breela said grimly. “Well, for a brief moment anyway. Long enough to trick Doban into surrendering ownership of the fuel that was meant to get us all home again. As soon as one of the warriors won, he quickly sent a few of his lackeys to head over and seize the supply, and this morning their ship is nowhere to be found.”
“So what you’re saying is, we need to find enough galactic credits to obtain some fuel cubes, or we’ll be stuck on this backwater planet even longer?” Meko clarified.
“That about covers it,” said Breela with a sigh.
“How often do those gambling parties occur?” the commander wanted to know.
“There’s another one going on tonight, sir,” she said. “But there’s a five thousand credit minimum holding fee per person just to get through the door.”
A New Reason To Fight: An Intergalactic Romance Page 58
