Alien and the Wedding Planner

by Lizzie Lynn Lee

  “No. Infants and small children irritate me,” Echo said, but without a hint of unpleasantness. She could have been talking about the weather.

  “Have you ever been in love, or thought you might be?”

  “I’ve read about love, of course. It’s thoroughly described in many ancient texts. But I’ve never really comprehended its true meaning.”

  “Love’s different for everybody, I suppose.” Alana rubbed the back of her neck and turned her head to get rid of a pinch she felt there. “I think it’s the feeling when you long to be with someone as much as possible. You get a rush when you get to be near them, and you miss them when they’re gone. And coral pudding isn’t a person. It doesn’t count.”

  “Oh, it is delicious, though.”

  Alana turned to Ice, who nodded. “It’s good. You should try it at lunchtime.”

  She stared at the smooth surface of the desktop, and had the urge to rest her forehead there.

  “Okay, how about caring about another person so much you’d do almost anything for them, including putting their needs above your own?”

  “I would do whatever Emperor Chaos asked me to,” Echo said. “His needs are clearly more important than mine, as Crimea would go on without me much the same. The loss of the emperor would be a blow to the people, however.”

  “I think that’s more loyalty than love. Isn’t there any other Crimean whose needs you’d put before yours? Say you had one small loaf of bread with no hope of more food in the foreseeable future. Not counting the emperor or anyone high in the government, is there anyone whom you’d give that bread to while you went hungry?”

  Echo thought for a moment, her eyebrows moving up and down. Finally, she said, “Not at the present time. But if I deemed their survival more important to Crimea than mine, I’d give them the bread. However, hunger isn’t an issue here, so the point is moot.”

  The next interviewee was Sand Trueblood, a junior officer at the Ministry of Treasury. He seemed younger than the men Alana had met so far. Surely she could get somewhere with a very young male Crimean.

  “Have you ever loved anyone?” Alana asked, pen poised over the notebook.

  “I don’t think so, no.”

  “What about sex, Sand? Do you have what you consider normal sexual urges?”

  “During puberty I sought out sexual pleasure, and often provided it myself. I was preoccupied for a while.”

  This was good! This was progress. A Crimean who didn’t see sex as unnecessary.

  “When was the last time you had sex?”

  “Puberty. I eliminated the urges with a chemical implant.”

  Alana chewed the inside of her cheek. “You didn’t enjoy it?”

  “The brief pleasure it afforded wasn’t worth it for the work and distraction involved. I found I derived as much pleasure from successfully balancing difficult accounts or compiling department budgets. Or—”

  “Yeah,” Alana said, raising her hand. “I understand. But what about love? Bonding with another person and completing that bond with physical intimacy? Sharing pleasure?”

  Sand stared at her blankly, then blinked. “I do find pleasure in completing a task successfully. Is that love?”

  Alana shook her head. “Not where I’m from.”

  Sand stared and blinked rapidly as if unsure where to go from there.

  I give up.

  “Thank you, Sand. You may go.”

  He then said the same thing most of her interviewees had said in some form or another. “I hope I was helpful and provided answers that you find useful.”

  “You were great.” Alana didn’t find any of their answers useful as far as helping Crimeans fall in love, but they were all helpful. She saw how near impossible the task before her really was.

  “Shall I send the next one in? It’s Graysky Shadowdrop. Master of—”

  “I don’t need to see anyone else,” Alana said, turning to Ice. “I think I know all I need to know.”

  Ice raised his eyebrows and dismissed the new interviewee. “Excellent. You have a plan already?”

  Alana laughed. “Unfortunately, no. All I mean is that more people giving the same answers isn’t going to help. I have no idea what to do, and a thousand interviews from now, I will probably still have no idea.”

  Ice didn’t say anything, but left the room, presumably to send the rest of the interviewees away. Alana scanned her notes, hoping for some kind of inspiration to strike, or for an answer to occur to her. Nothing happened.

  When Ice came back, he sat in the chair across from the desk. “What kind of help do you require to start formulating a plan?”

  “I’m not sure any help will matter.”

  “Alana, these are my people. Their fate rests in your hands. Is there nothing you can think of to try?”

  Alana blew out a breath and leaned back in the chair. “Crimeans are intellectually curious about so many things, but they seem to have no curiosity about love or sex. There’s also a distinct lack of…empathy. No one seems to be willing to sacrifice his personal comfort or even time unless it benefits the state in some way, I suppose because most have been raised by it and don’t even understand the concept of family. I honestly don’t know where to start. How can a people without empathy ever feel love?” She closed her holocube. “I thought maybe the sex angle would be a starting point, but everyone sees sex as messy, unnecessary and a distraction from more important things.”

  Ice’s expression didn’t change. She guessed expressing disappointment might even be beyond most Crimeans. For all the good it would do now, Alana still wanted to ask Ice the questions that he’d avoided the night before.

  “Have you ever loved someone, Ice? Or even been particularly fond of someone? Any family?”

  Ice nodded. “A father and a mother in name only. I was necessary to keep House Silverkiller alive. But my mother didn’t give birth to me. I’m a decant, like almost all of the most recent generations.”

  “Raised by the government,” she whispered. She’d suspected it, but it seemed so much worse hearing him say it.

  “Yes. Raised and provided the very best education. I think I may have some fondness toward a few of my teachers.”

  “Because they taught you so well?”

  “Yes.”

  Alana stood and moved to stand in front of the desk, directly in front of Ice’s chair. “That’s not the same kind of love I’m talking about, not at all.” For a moment, Alana almost backed out of what she was going to do. Ice seemed so clueless about love and desire that she felt foolish even thinking about it.

  But if it helped her find a way through the problem, it was worth trying.

  Alana sat in Ice’s lap. The astonishment on his face almost made her laugh. “Is this uncomfortable for you?”

  “You’re not heavy enough for it to be uncomfortable,” Ice said, his voice quieter than normal. His hand moved to her lower back, as if he feared she might topple over.

  “That’s not what I meant, but I’ll take it.” She put the palm of her hand against his cheek, smiled, and pressed her lips against his.

  They were soft and cool. Ice didn’t move, even when she let the tip of her tongue glide over the crease and press in slightly, deepening the kiss. Her own body’s reaction surprised her, because she had the urge to keep kissing him, to squirm in his lap, until she got some kind of reaction from him.

  When she leaned back to look at him, Ice’s eyes were wide open, staring. He didn’t seem offended, but he didn’t seem pleased, either.

  “Do you feel anything?” she asked.

  “My…lips feel moist now.”

  She shook her head. “If someone I loved, or even someone I simply desired, did that to me, my heart would beat faster. I’d feel a little giddy, a physical rush of excitement.”

  Ice blinked twice, so Alana kissed him again, this time letting her tongue find his and tangle with it. He moved his own in an unskilled attempt at kissing back.

  She moved her hips
against his lap seductively, hoping to feel that she was affecting him. He simply stared at her. Sexual desire didn’t seem to be the answer here.

  Alana stood and leaned her hips against the desk, crossing her arms. “If you love someone, you want to hold them in your arms and bask in their presence. You cherish every moment you get to spend with them.”

  Her face was warm. A shiver went through her as Ice stood and moved close.

  “I have never experienced love, then. Would…wouldn’t the desire to spend that much time with someone take away from work and other pursuits?”

  Disappointment swelled inside Alana. She realized she’d been hoping she could make Ice feel something. “Sometimes it’s a distraction, especially at first, but mostly being in love makes the rest of life better.”

  She stood and placed both palms on his chest. “Love can bring you the greatest joy imaginable. And sometimes the greatest pain, but the potential for joy is worth the risk. When you love someone enough, you’ll be willing to set aside your own comfort and happiness to ensure theirs, and to sacrifice everything to protect them, even at the cost of your own life. Love is generous and selfless. And I’m not sure those are concepts compatible with Crimean philosophy.”

  “They used to be,” he said softly. “Before Arcana. We just have to find a way to get back to that. With your help.”

  “Ice, I’m human. We’re social animals. Love isn’t something we have to learn to feel. Almost all of us are born with the potential to love, and we need companionship, social interaction, warmth, and intimacy. If human babies aren’t held and cuddled, they don’t develop properly, and many die. Even adults can wither away from loneliness. We need contact, physical contact, from the moment we’re born, so we crave it, first in the form of a parent’s hug or family affection, later in a lover’s embrace.”

  That was what Alana knew. Crimeans, who seemed as cold as they appeared with their ice-chip eyes and white hair, couldn’t seem to understand any of that.

  “We used to not be so different, Alana. We can rediscover our past. Surely we can learn it again.”

  Alana tilted her head. She wished she could be so sure of that. “Crimeans, who are created in a growth sack and receive little to no physical contact or affection as they’re raised by the state, don’t seem to need any of those things. I can’t even relate to that, let alone understand how to overcome it. You don’t seem to understand the most basic of emotions anymore. If I were dealing with humans, I would know where to start, because these needs are built into us. I’m not sure the same approaches will help here. As a scientist, surely you understand that.”

  She leaned closer to Ice, her hands still pressed against his chest, hoping against hope that some kind of buried instinct might kick in and he’d at least put his hands on her hips or touch her in some way. Something she could work with.

  “I do understand it,” Ice said. “But we have to try.”

  When Ice didn’t move, Alana let her hands drop as she stepped away. “I will try. But I think you should be prepared for the possibility that the things we try may not work.”

  Ice nodded and quickly left the room.

  Alana slumped in the chair to read over her notes one more time and hope for inspiration to strike. Her pulse raced. She licked her lips, still cool from the kiss, and wondered why she’d wanted him to put his hands on her so badly. Was it Stockholm Syndrome already? He’d kidnapped her and brought her here against her will. Ice had his reasons—mostly fear for his planet—and she felt for him. But she should still be furious at him.

  Yet, she wasn’t.

  She’d imagined him kissing her back. Touching her.

  He doesn’t seem to feel anything for me, not even empathy at the situation he’s put me in.

  There was that lack of empathy again. If he couldn’t even feel too badly about uprooting her, how could he ever love her?

  Alana gasped at the thought, wondering what could put an idea like that in her head. How could he ever love anyone? Not her specifically. That was all she meant. Wasn’t it?

  She stared at her notes a long time without reading or really seeing them at all.

  Chapter Eleven

  When Ice left Alana in his office, he wasn’t sure where he was going. He only knew he needed time to think without distraction. Alana’s pessimism about her purpose there bothered him, but he couldn’t convince her of anything until he figured a few things out for himself.

  He walked for a while, thinking about the things she said about how hopeless it would be to try to teach a people with no empathy how to love. On the surface, that sounded correct. But Ice knew that Crimeans once loved each other and reproduced. There was art, music, dance. It had taken both the misguided Arcana system and enough technology to provide options for ordinary romance and coupling to drive out the survival instinct in his people. But that instinct had been there, for most of Crimean history.

  If it was there before, they only had to find a way to bring it back.

  As often happened when he walked to think, Ice ended up in his lab. Alana was either still in his office working on the problem, or she’d been escorted to a meal or back to her room to rest. Maybe even to the emperor, who expected progress reports as often as possible.

  He sat at one of the desks in his lab and stared at a Sylvian dish where he’d begun growing a bacterium that had started to thin some of their staple crops in Farm Eighty-Nine. He was tasked with finding a way to neutralize it without damaging the host plant. Maybe if he focused on that for a while, better answers about the most pressing problem would present themselves as if by magic?

  A few hours later when Ice’s experiments with a new herbigel didn’t have the effect he’d hoped, he crossed his arms in frustration. He was sure he’d formulated it correctly.

  But you keep getting distracted thinking about Alana’s lips.

  The way Alana had sat in his lap kept coming back to him, too. The feel of her bottom and thighs against him, not just the warmth but the softness, had proven an unfortunate distraction. And the kiss weighed heavy on his mind. The taste of her lips had been surprisingly pleasing, and the color—a moist, deep pink—had been so…delectable. He’d wanted to taste them again and feel them against his mouth. The pull of it was shocking.

  Ice had decided that his desire for her lips was because they were the color of lintenfruits at the peak of ripeness, when they were the most delicious. Lintenfruits were his favorite, and her lips had matched them perfectly.

  Surely that was it. It couldn’t be anything more. The color had made him think they would taste as sweet and enticing….

  Ice gasped at the tightening across his lower stomach and the heaviness between his legs. His chest felt as if warm fingertips were gliding up and down, and his breath caught in his throat.

  The feelings were pleasant but strange. No matter how hard he tried to focus on the bacteria in the dish before him, he kept seeing flashes of Alana’s naked body, her nipples nearly the same shade as her lips.

  Would they taste the same?

  Ice wanted to know. And no matter how much he told himself it was scientific curiosity, the hard cock between his legs was proof of the lie.

  He wanted to kiss Alana. He wanted to touch her. Not merely to see what it was like, or to find a way to end their problems.

  He wanted her simply because he did. He could think of little else.

  Ice went in search of her to tell her of his feelings. He doubted she shared his enthusiasm, but at least he could explain these new sensations to her and perhaps aid the mission they were both on.

  More than that, he longed to be in the same room. To see her and be near her, even if he couldn’t kiss her and taste her body under his tongue.

  The attachment.

  Yes, the attachment!

  Ice’s heart raced as he approached her door. He remembered her complaints that morning, so even though the door wasn’t locked, he knocked.

  “Come in.” Alana’s voice was
thick.

  As Ice entered, she was just swinging her legs over the side of the bed. He clasped his hands together at his waist. “Did I wake you?”

  “No, I wasn’t asleep yet. Just resting.” She stood, frowning. “What’s wrong? You’re flushed.”

  Ice touched his own face, surprised, and found it less cool than usual. “Nothing’s wrong. But I have some information that might help you.”

  “Yeah?” Alana stretched, her full breasts rising as she did so, her back curving. Again, Ice had the strongest urge to reach out and touch her.

  “Yes. I’m not sure why I’ve reacted to you the way I have, but when you sat on my lap and kissed me, things began to happen.”

  Alana approached him. “Oh? What things?” She stepped directly in front of him, and there was an almost gravitational pull between them. He leaned in.

  “I could think about little else while I tried to do my work. I became physically aroused while sitting at a desk in my lab.” Ice stretched his neck and took a deep breath. “I realize this may be asking too much, but if you’re agreeable, perhaps you could do those things again so we can monitor my responses.”

  Alana blinked slowly, then put both her hands on Ice’s chest. His heart jumped. Perhaps she felt it, because one corner of her mouth turned up. “For scientific purposes?”

  “Yes.”

  Alana tilted her body so that she pressed against him. Her hands slid down until they slipped around his waist. “A necessary experiment.”

  He nodded.

  “Tell me what you’re feeling, what you’re thinking.” Her eyes shone as she looked into his.

  “I’ve never had urges like this before. Not even during my adolescence when some others did seek sexual relief in some way. I was always too busy studying. No one ever aroused me like this.” Ice stroked his hand over Alana’s cheek, then down the reddish waves of her hair. “It’s possible you’ve awoken some instinct in me, some desire for physical closeness. And we need to figure out how that’s happened, because it could be the key to our problem.”

  Alana’s smile faltered. “Then we should get to your lab and monitor your reactions scientifically as we run several experiments. Shouldn’t we?”