She tapped on what looked like some etchings on the metal, then drew her finger up a line running along the side of the wristband.
“You might want to sit back,” she said.
“Why?”
A bolt of light shot out of the end of her wristband as she made a fist with that hand. Henry was so startled, he fell onto his ass. The wood burst into flames.
“Are you okay?” she said.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
Except he wasn’t.
Craig and Barbara might be giant, spine-fur covered, four-armed aliens, but they didn’t walk around with rayguns. And Henry was betting that Vay hadn’t dialed her wristband up to the maximum setting just to start a fire.
The Lyrians’ ability to camouflage themselves seemed a very inadequate defense. Still, Henry didn’t doubt for a second that they would attack Vay on sight. And lose.
He really needed to keep them apart. Or disarm Vay, but in a way that would keep her safe, just in case Craig swung by the cabin and saw them together. Henry didn’t want her getting hurt either.
If Craig thought Henry was entertaining another Earthling, Craig would stay out of sight. But that meant that Henry needed to get Vay out of her uniform.
“I’ll make us cocoa.” He scrambled to his feet, contemplating his options.
If he spilled something on her uniform, maybe she’d take it off. The cabin was still cold and the water from the reservoir on the roof would be freezing. Even a little bit of a spill on her uniform would make it uncomfortable to wear. Unless it was water-resistant.
He didn’t have any better ideas. Of course, the moment he committed himself to the plan, his imagination showed him Vay slowly peeling off the skin-tight fabric.
He remembered the soft feel of her body next to his as they’d sat on the couch and talked for hours the day before. His world had seemed so much more normal then.
Letting his imagination run a little felt safer than thoughts of alien rivalries and his planet getting caught up in the middle of it.
She would need something to wear afterwards. He could picture her long legs stretching out from beneath one of his soft flannel shirts. His hands tingled at the thought of touching her. Blood started pooling in places…he really didn’t want it to at the moment. He needed to focus.
Water. Cocoa. Keep Vay and Craig and Barbara safe.
The kettle sitting on the stove already had fresh water in it from the morning. He opened the cabinets above the sink and pulled out a pair of mugs, then the hot cocoa mix.
“I didn’t get around to making you any yesterday,” he said, “But I promise you’ll like hot cocoa much more than coffee.”
“I’ve actually already tried it. And I do.”
“They have cocoa on your mothership?”
“Mothership?”
“You probably don’t know that term.” He poured a bit of water in the mugs, planning to offer her something to drink while he made the cocoa and maybe “tripping” as he handed it to her. “We Earthlings tell stories about extra-terrestrials. Sometimes, we reference the ship they travel on as the mothership.”
“Why?”
“I’m not really sure.” He’d never thought about it before. “Maybe because it takes care of the people living on it and brings them to new worlds?”
She laughed. “That’s something we Sadirians would never think to call it.”
“Why is that?” He was more focused on his plan than his question.
It was now or never. He started walking toward her, both mugs in his hands.
“Sadirians don’t have mothers. Or parents of any kind.”
Henry tripped. For real. His feet seemed to forget how to work together to carry him toward her. She reached out to catch him, bumping his arms and spilling the icy water all over both of them.
Chapter Nine
Vay reached out to catch Henry. His mass was too much for her to manage gracefully. The water he was carrying splashed out of his mugs, drenching them both. It beaded on her uniform, running off harmlessly, but it soaked through the front of Henry’s shirt. It might have even hit him high enough to wet the shirt she could see underneath.
“Cold! Cold!” He set the mugs down on the counter as quickly as he could, then pulled the fabric of his shirts away from his chest.
“We need to get those off of you,” she said.
Earth clothes couldn’t come close to the protective qualities of her uniform and the cabin was still chilly. He had to be profoundly uncomfortable. At least the fires were starting to put off some heat.
She grabbed his elbow and pulled him toward the large fireplace just past the couch. As soon as they were in front of it, she started unbuttoning his flannel shirt.
“How do you not have parents?” he said.
“We’re genetically engineered—created from genetic material from either donors or DNA banks. I guess if the donors pay to have a child created from their DNA, technically they’d be considered that citizen’s parents. But even those offspring are grown in maturation chambers.”
“People pay to create children in petri dishes?”
It took Vay a moment to remember what a petri dish was. “Maturation chambers are much more complex than a petri dish.”
“You get what I mean, though.”
She had his shirt unbuttoned and tugged it up out of his jeans, then down his arms. The white T-shirt underneath was wet all along his neck and down the front of his chest. It looked like he had on another long-sleeved shirt as well under that.
“How many layers of clothing are you wearing?” she said.
“Lots.”
She pulled the T-shirt loose, then lifted the hem as far as she could. When he didn’t lift his arms to help, she gave it a firm tug, glaring at him a little. He grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it over his head himself.
“I’m trying not to judge your society before knowing more, but that sounds awful,” he said. “Is it?”
The final layer of clothing—she hoped—was made out of thermally insulating fabric. Brendan had purchased cold weather clothing for everyone stationed on Earth to assist with the Department of Homeworld Security. The insulating layer was usually worn closest to the skin. Which meant that he was naked under it.
Her stomach started to tingle. The sensation spread quickly, dropping down through her abdomen and pooling between her legs.
If he took off this last shirt, he might get cold. She glanced at the nearby couch, noting a fuzzy blanket that was tossed over the back of it. She could wrap him up and keep him warm. And the shirt did look a little bit damp.
He should take it off. Just to be safe.
She gripped the bottom of his shirt and started to tug it free. Her gaze seemed magnetized to the latch of his jeans, and she couldn’t help imagining the soft fabric of his shirt sliding against his skin.
Not all Earthlings wore undergarments. Henry might be among them. Pulling his shirt free might be stimulating his—
“Vay?” He grabbed her hands, stopping her.
“I’m sorry.”
She must have overstepped. Yes, they had shared that one kiss, and enjoyed proximity the day before, but that could have been about sharing warmth. He might not be as interested in her physically as she was in him.
At least, she assumed that was what all of these sensations flowing through her meant. It was all so new to her. He made her body respond in ways she’d never experienced before, awakening urges she wanted to explore.
“Was it awful?” he said. “Being grown in a tank and then… What happens when you’re done ‘maturing’?”
“Oh.”
He hadn’t even been paying attention as she stripped him. She definitely hadn’t made the same impression on him as he had on her.
“It was fine,” she said. “Like I said, it was all we knew. Before Earth.”
“But there are other sentients who still have children naturally. You have to know about those.”
Who had
he been talking to?
Even if he’d come across a rogue Tau Ceti, there was no way they would share this kind of information. Plus, their breeding program would have to strike Henry as much worse than how Sadirians made new citizens. At least with her people, there was no cannibalism of their broodmates involved.
“I don’t know how you found out about all this,” she said. “But it is very dangerous for you to have this knowledge.”
“Dangerous for whom?” His mouth was pulled in a stern line.
“For you. If my people find out that you know all of this, they’ll—”
“Order a mindwipe. I know about the Coalition and their protocols.”
She gasped. She couldn’t help herself. This was so much worse than she thought.
Henry took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “But I want to hear it from you. I want to know your side of the story.”
“What story? You shouldn’t know any of this.”
“But I do know. And since I’ll probably get a mindwipe if you report me, what’s the harm in at least giving me the peace in this moment of knowing—” He clamped his mouth shut.
“Knowing what?” she said.
“Knowing that you aren’t one of the bad guys.”
Her heart seemed to freeze in her chest. “I’m not.”
When he turned away, she reached up and gently gripped his face to try to get him to look at her again. He stared at the shining material of her gloves, his mouth forming that line again. She wanted his smile. The openness that he’d shared with her the night they met.
She stepped away from him, tapping commands into her wristband as quickly as she could. As soon as she heard it release, she snapped open the compartment for her helmet, then unsealed her uniform.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m showing you exactly who I am.”
She had her uniform off in seconds. Gloves, boots, all of it. She wadded it up in a ball and tossed it behind the couch, leaving her standing in front of Henry in just the black mini top and form-fitting shorts the Coalition provided female soldiers to wear beneath their uniforms.
Even that was too much—a link to them she couldn’t stand. She started to peel off her undergarments, but Henry stepped forward and grabbed her wrists, stopping her.
“Vay.”
The room was blurry. Her eyes had filled with tears. She pulled her arms free from him and wiped them away.
“This. This is who I am. V-21-b3. Twenty-first embryo of batch three from the V unit. Cultural programmer. One of the most valueless functions in our society. They don’t call us anthropologists or social scientists. I’m a cultural programmer. Do you know why we’re called that?”
“No.” Henry’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“Because we don’t study cultures to learn ways to improve our own or even simply for the sake of expanding our knowledge and understanding of each other like you do on Earth. We study them to figure out the best ways to destroy them. To program them so that they follow Coalition law. That was my entire reason for existing before I came to Earth.”
“And what is it now?”
“I’ve been tasked with learning more about how so many different cultures exist on Earth simultaneously. How they manage to interact and deal with differences. We’re hoping that we can present a case to the High Council that will show them there are other ways—better ways—of ruling the galaxy.”
“Why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming?”
“If they don’t listen, my colleagues and I will most likely face disciplinary action for overstepping our orders. Maybe even be mindwiped ourselves. They’ll put us into reprogramming pods and turn us into whatever kinds of soldiers they want us to be.”
She started to tremble, thinking of that very likely future. “Henry, I don’t want to go back to that.”
He grasped her face firmly and pulled her toward him. Liquid fire seemed to pour along her skin as his lips touched hers. The kiss wasn’t tentative like their first had been. He claimed her mouth, his tongue sliding along her lips until she opened for him.
She wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him closer. His warmth seeped into her, bone-deep. Stars, she’d never felt anything like it.
Slowly, he ended the kiss and shifted back a bit.
“Sorry,” he said.
“For what?”
“Losing control.”
“Never apologize for kissing me. Especially like that.”
He chuckled, running his hands lightly down her arms. “Vay, I don’t understand everything that’s going on. But I’m going to do my best to help you.”
“I know.”
It was strange to be so sure of him already, but she was certain he would help in any way he could. She just had to be sure he didn’t endanger himself by trying.
Chapter Ten
“You must be freezing,” Henry said.
The fires were starting to heat up the cabin, but there was no way the tiny strips of fabric Vay was wearing could be keeping her warm. His slightly-damp thermal shirt was barely keeping him from shivering.
He led her to the couch, wrapping her in the blanket he always kept there.
“Thanks.” She pulled him down next to her, holding onto his hand tightly.
“We’re going to figure this out.”
“It’s not your burden. I’m sorry I was so upset a moment ago, but I can handle it. Really.”
“I believe you. But you don’t have to handle it alone.”
“I’m not alone. There’s a whole team assigned to Earth at the moment.”
“I don’t know if that’s reassuring or not.” He shrugged, and said, “At least they’re friends of yours. That says something about them.”
“Something good, I hope.” She gave him a tentative smile.
“Yes.”
“We’re setting up a First Contact committee with several Earthlings on it. We hope to establish good relations between our people.”
“Any chance they need a high school biology teacher with an interest in—” He stopped himself before saying, ‘cryptozoology’.
As much as he hated to admit it, letting her know about that side of him could endanger Craig and Barbara. Bigfoot was the most well-known cryptid. He didn’t want Vay to figure out his source of information was a Lyrian.
“I’m not sure,” Vay said. “I would ask, but if they find out about you…”
“They’ll probably insist on a mindwipe.”
“If I don’t tell anyone, maybe they won’t discover you. But you’d have to promise not to tell anyone what you’ve learned.”
He laughed. “Who would believe me?”
She arched an eyebrow at him and frowned.
“But more importantly,” he said, “I won’t tell anyone anything in the first place. I promise.”
Her lips quirked back up into a smile. Lips he had recently kissed. And she had kissed him back.
It was hard not to think about how little she was wearing under the blanket.
“Are you sure you don’t want to put your uniform back on?”
She shuddered. “No, I’m fine.”
“You don’t seem fine.”
“I’d rather be cold than wear that. I hate it.”
Henry was surprised at the vehemence of her words.
“It’s not that bad,” he said. “I mean, it’s a little 1950’s scifi cliché, but—”
She broke in before he could finish his thought. “Do you know how often we have to wear our uniforms? Always. That’s the kind of existence I have to look forward to when I go back. The only time we can take them off is for bodily eliminations. And those only happen every couple of days, thanks to the regen beds and the specially formulated ‘food’ they make us eat.” She made sarcastic air quotes when she said the word. “With all the development effort they put into our nutrient bricks, you’d think they would have some flavor or texture, but they don’t.”
“At least it’s not—�
�
“Please don’t make a Soylent Green joke.”
Henry let out a short laugh. “How do you know about Soylent Green?”
“My commanding officer’s husband, Brendan, is a self-proclaimed geek.”
“Husband. So, you guys get married. And sometimes to Earthlings, unless you also have geeks among your kind.”
She grinned at that. “Several of my colleagues have fallen in love with Earthlings and pair-bonded with them.”
A sharp spike of dread hit his system. Her life sounded terrible, and he could imagine her trying to escape it by any means necessary. He was trying very hard not to be suspicious of her interest in him.
She was gorgeous, smart, funny… He wasn’t used to someone like her being attracted to someone like him.
“Vay, I have to ask. You aren’t looking for some Earthling to…pair-bond with so you can—”
“Please don’t make a ‘Gray card’ joke. And that’s not what this is about.”
He felt his eyebrows rise up his forehead and had trouble bringing them back down. “Brendan again?”
She shook her head. “Evelyn. She was the first Earthling to pair-bond with one of us. She told me she initially had similar concerns about General Serath’s interest in her. But with Scorpiians—what you call Grays—operating on Earth, I’d rather not joke about them.”
“Grays are real? And on Earth?” His forehead was going to cramp at this rate.
“It’s not a good thing. They’re shape-shifting assassins who can take on the form of anyone whose DNA they’ve sampled.”
“Cool,” Henry said.
She arched an eyebrow at him.
He feigned a stern expression. “I mean, that’s terrible. Very frightening.”
It actually was, if he let himself think about it. He wanted to keep his focus on Vay—on this moment they were sharing.
She looked away briefly, then said, “I was actually a little concerned for about a nanosecond that maybe you were…”
“What, a Gray? Me?” He laughed and shook his head. “I promise I am not a shape-shifting alien assassin. Or an alien of any kind. At least, as far as Earth is concerned.”
Entry Visa (The Department of Homeworld Security Book 5) Page 5
