by J. M. Snyder
“You’re not the only one who holds himself to high blowjob standards,” said Cal when Jude was good and spent, not to mention taking up nearly the entire bed with his arms spread out where they’d gripped the sheets.
“Lucky me.”
A wiser man, Cal belatedly realized, would’ve figured out first if they were just going to be fuck buddies or there was the possibility for emotional involvement. He’d let his dick get ahead of his brain again.
Nothing for it now but to hope their interactions didn’t get too awkward. Best case scenario, they could start a relationship. Middle case scenario, Cal got over his feelings and they either continued as mining partners or upgraded to friends with benefits until they went their separate ways. Worst-case scenario, everything got awkward and one of them broke down to ask for reassignment, but he was reasonably sure it wouldn’t come to that unless Jude freaked.
Cal made the sensible if cowardly choice to enjoy the afterglow for another minute or two before they started the conversation.
Chapter 4
Sex with Cal was far and away better than masturbating to porn. Jude’s orgasms had been of the solo variety for well over a year now, which made him all the more appreciative of a good blowjob. Well, those emotions he was trying his best to suppress might have played a part as well, but he didn’t want to encourage them, so he stuck with the dry spell explanation for the sex being so damn good.
“I could get used to this,” said Cal.
“Mining partners with benefits? Sounds good to me.”
Jude’s reasoning, if you could call being really horny some kind of reasoning, was that they might die if nobody picked up their SOS, so why not have sex? If they survived, he’d be perfectly happy to exchange more blowjobs.
Cal’s face fell. “Benefits, okay.”
Oh, fuck. He wanted more. This was why Jude had planned to stick with jerking off, and the occasional one-night stand when he could get lucky on supply runs. More than sex was just asking for trouble. Unpleasant truths would come out, realizations would be had, and Jude would end up right back where he’d started, with the added misery of a freshly broken heart.
No point in putting both of them through all the drama, so he decided it was best to nip this in the bud. “I thought we were just having sex.”
Cal attempted to shrug away his obvious disappointment. “I guess we were.”
Jude sighed. Since those stupid emotions seemed to be returning, he decided to man up and give an explanation. “I’m not relationship material.”
“Why?”
“I’m just not.”
Cal’s eyebrows went up. “Ever consider letting someone else be the judge of that?”
He had, and the consensus seemed to be that no sane person wanted to get involved with him. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
“So what? Did you kill a person or something?” At Jude’s pause, Cal grew nervous. “Please tell me you didn’t murder someone.”
“No! God no. It’s just…if it weren’t for me, other people would still be alive.”
If Cal had pushed, Jude’s defenses would’ve gone up. It seemed like he knew that, because he said nothing at all and watched Jude quietly.
Jude didn’t want to tell the story, exactly. He did want to be relationship material, for Cal particularly, even if he didn’t think it was very likely. He tried a sentence. “My brother is a convicted and undoubtedly guilty serial killer.”
Cal remained quiet. Jude wasn’t sure whether to thank him or curse him for not interrupting.
“He’s my identical twin.”
At this, Cal’s eyes widened. “Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
“That must be awful for you.”
Nobody had ever wanted to hear about how bad it was for Jude, and what remained of his defenses crumbled away. “Eight people. This face is the last thing eight people saw before they died. And that’s not even the worst part. Everyone thinks because we’re identical, and we had the same upbringing, that I might be a serial killer too.”
“That’s crazy.”
“I know. We look identical, but we’re not the same people. Maybe we were born different, maybe it was John’s drug use, or something else. He was never a pleasant brother.” In his heart of hearts, Jude thought his parents were blaming the drug phase because it was easier. Looking back, John had exhibited plenty of psychopathic traits even as a kid. Unlike his parents, Jude had never believed the parakeet’s death was accidental.
Cal waited a moment to speak, as though he was debating what to say. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, because I don’t think you have to change your looks, but if it bothers you, have you considered cosmetic surgery?”
Of course he had. “Working out here was half running away, half a plan to save up money to get it done right. I had to wait until after the trial, though. I needed to go in there looking like him, so I could show that he used me as an alibi. That’s what he did when the police first got suspicious. I should’ve guessed he had an agenda, that he wasn’t just calling out of the blue to reconnect.”
It still made Jude furious to think he’d been part of his brother’s evil deeds, however unwittingly. Therefore, somewhat against his better judgment, he accepted the comfort of Cal’s hand placed gently on top of his own.
“He’d ask what my plans were for the weekend. There was one night I said I was going to a club, and it was a perfect alibi for him. Plenty of witnesses who could look at his picture and say they saw him, even one guy who identified him as a hookup partner. Except it was me, and my brother was an hour’s drive away killing a woman. If he hadn’t been able to use me as an alibi, they might’ve caught him earlier.”
Rationally, at least part of Jude knew this wasn’t his fault. Emotionally, it was hard not to blame himself anyway.
“So you had to show up in court looking like him,” said Cal.
“Yes. I mean, the lawyers said we could show pictures, but they also said my testimony would have more impact if I didn’t change my appearance. I had to do my part to get him locked up for life, so I did what they asked. I took my last leave during the trial, and now I’m considering minor surgery.”
Jude hated the idea of having to go under the knife because of his brother, but he thought it would be a relief not to look like a serial killer anymore. Maybe just a few subtle changes would help him feel better in the knowledge he no longer looked exactly the same as his murderous twin.
“Sounds like you got dealt a shit hand,” said Cal. “Still waiting for the not relationship material part, though.”
“You’re kidding.”
The entire population of Mars had ruled Jude out as a romantic partner over this. He’d been dating a guy for a few months when his brother was arrested, and it wasn’t long before that boyfriend went running. There had been no boyfriend since, as Jude couldn’t even get a date once the news decided to heavily feature the sordid saga of Mars’s first serial killer.
Okay, he’d gotten one date, but the guy turned out to be a reporter trying to get inside information. Jude hadn’t been on a date since that disaster.
“Nope,” said Cal. “Not kidding.”
“My identical twin brother is a serial killer.” He wasn’t sure who he was reminding, Cal so he’d know why Jude was a relationship land mine, or himself so he didn’t get his hopes up that maybe Cal wouldn’t consider this a deal breaker.
“We’ve already established that.”
“I can’t even stand to look at myself in the mirror some days.” Not every day, which was an improvement, but still. He knew his reflection was the face eight people had seen on their killer. There was no way around it, nothing which could ever begin to make it right.
Yeah, he needed to start looking for a good cosmetic surgeon if he was ever going to be able to move forward with his life.
Cal gave him a sad, sympathetic smile. “Too bad. I like to look at you.”
Looking was one thing. Dating was another. “Yo
u don’t want to get involved with me. Everyone on Mars knows me and my family. Mixing with us is bad news.”
“We’re not on Mars. I always figured that I’d go back to Earth when I got tired of flying around the galaxy.”
“Me, too. Unless a new colony appealed to me more.” No way in hell he was going back to Mars, that was for sure. He didn’t know why his parents stayed, unless it was to punish themselves for raising a serial killer.
“So what’s the problem?”
“If people find out, they’ll all be telling you to watch out, my twin is a serial killer, so I might be too.” It was why Jude’s last boyfriend broke up with him, and he didn’t want to go down that road again.
Cal said, “I don’t give a flying fuck.”
“You…” He ran out of words. There was a strange feeling bubbling in his chest which he eventually identified as optimism. It was an emotion he’d thought lost forever.
“Look, I’m not trying to minimize the shit you went through, but that doesn’t have to define your whole life.”
Cal clearly didn’t get it, so Jude attempted to explain. “It’s always going to be a defining feature of my life. My brother used me to divert suspicion. However unwillingly, I was part of his crimes, and that will never go away.” He still had nightmares about it, sometimes.
“A defining feature,” echoed Cal. “That’s a far cry from the defining feature. Your brother did horrible, evil things, and he dragged you into it, but that doesn’t mean your whole life has to be an apology for his crimes. You’re allowed to move forward.”
“I’m trying. However, I doubted anybody would voluntarily add my family issues to their own life. It seems unwise.”
Because Jude’s life was just one problem after another, an alarm went off. He just couldn’t catch a break.
“That’s the proximity alarm,” said Cal, whose job it was to recognize these different jarring tones.
They threw on their clothes and went up front to investigate the trouble. The proximity alarm was designed for use in space, of course, but it could alert them to animals or angry natives just as well as an asteroid.
While they’d been sucking each other off and talking, the storm had progressed to near whiteout conditions, so the visual feed was useless beyond a few meters. Jude therefore peered over at Cal’s station, which was showing heat signatures.
“Is that a herd of something?”
“Looks like,” said Cal. “I think a blizzard is a weird time to come check out what fell from the sky.”
Six individual heat signatures were heading their way in what couldn’t possibly be a coincidence. Cal reached over to start the exterior weapons charging. Their main purpose was to shear off chunks of rock, but they’d do in a pinch. However, Jude wasn’t about to start firing any time soon.
“We can’t shoot them before we know they mean us harm,” he told Cal. “What if they’re sapient?”
Considering the secrets he’d just spilled, he hoped Cal understood that he meant he couldn’t possibly become a killer, like his brother. Not even in defense, he suspected, but at the very least not until he was one hundred percent certain there was no other option.
“Okay, we don’t need to be trigger happy, but we do have to protect ourselves,” Cal said.
He was right, of course. Jude nodded and watched the heat signatures get closer. “Is it me, or do those look vaguely yeti-shaped?”
“Actually, they do. Big, bipedal, sort of hulking and top-heavy. Could be yetis.”
The real question was the creatures’ intentions, and there was no shortcut to that answer. They had to sit and wait for the things to get closer, while Cal snuck peeks to confirm that their weapons were fully charged.
Once the herd came into visual range, Jude’s theory was confirmed. The things bore more than a passing resemblance to yetis, down to the fur, long arms, and large feet which wasted no time in kicking the ship.
“That didn’t feel very welcoming,” said Cal.
Jude set the cameras to follow the yetis. Alston liked to send this kind of data to scientists or, when they wanted some positive publicity, the galaxy at large.
“Maybe they’re trying to see if the ship is alive,” Jude mused.
“They’re not causing any damage with the kicks, at least. I wonder if that’s as hard as they can kick.” On the heels of that musing, one of the yetis gave the hull a good whack. “I take it back,” said Cal. “I don’t need to know how much force they can manage.”
The herd stopped kicking, leading Jude to wonder if perhaps they learned the hull was solid and bound to hurt their feet. He had a camera zoom in for some detailed shots, and thus discovered the fangs.
“Look at these teeth.” He pointed to the video feed in question.
“I don’t think we’re dealing with herbivores,” said Cal.
“No kidding.”
“Maybe this is how they hunt, during storms when their prey is at a disadvantage.”
“Cheerful, Cal.”
“What? It makes perfect sense.”
It did. Jude just didn’t care for the fact that they were the prey in this scenario. Meanwhile, one of the smaller yetis jumped up on the shoulders of another. For such large and bulky creatures, they were surprisingly nimble.
“Oh shit,” he said.
“What?”
“They have tools.” He pointed to the bones carried by the largest two herd members. These were solid bones wielded like clubs, possibly a sign of intelligence or even sapience.
“Smarter animals use simplistic tools,” said Cal. “These don’t appear to have been intentionally modified for a specific purpose.”
“They still brought tools with them.”
“Yeah.”
The yetis were making a racket out there, which begged the question: did they have speech, or were the noises simple and animalistic? It was impossible to say. Jude was no linguist, and the computer’s pattern recognition, not being designed to make such a determination, was unhelpful.
Not being a religious man, Jude didn’t pray, but he did silently beg the universe for the yetis to be on their way without causing any harm, in order for him to avoid a situation where he might have to kill an intelligent life form.
“I don’t think they’re clever enough to realize the ship is an artificial construct,” mused Cal while the yetis clambered over their vehicle. “However, I’m concerned about the damage those claws could do to our solar panels.”
With the latest in super-efficient solar panels, the ship had enough power for everything except engines and deflector shields, which they didn’t need on the ground anyway, to run almost indefinitely. Without the solar panels, their plight got considerably worse, veering into territory where freezing to death was a distinct possibility.
“I wonder if we can scare them off with the grappling hook.”
“Worth a shot,” Cal said.
Jude extended the hook out from the side, which caused considerable excitement among the yetis and probably furthered the idea that the ship was alive. It did not, however, stop them from climbing all over the ship, including the solar panels on the roof.
“Damn it.”
“What?” asked Jude, letting the hook swing freely.
“They scratched panel one. We just lost four percent of its surface area. Those are some serious claws.”
The ship ran on four solar panels, so they could survive the damage, but obviously something had to be done in order to prevent more destruction.
“Can you move them with the hook?” asked Cal.
Not knowing how much the yetis weighed, Jude couldn’t say for certain. “I don’t think we’re going to help anything if they break the hook and crash onto the panels.”
“No.”
The yetis started to chatter and claw at a solar panel.
“Fuck. We have to shoot them,” said Cal.
Jude watched as one of their attackers tossed the bone club to another, and then he saw in his m
ind’s eye the weeping mother of his brother’s youngest victim.
They were the intruders on this planet. Did they have a right to kill possibly intelligent natives just to save themselves?
“If they destroy the panels, we’re dead,” said Cal.
Technically, the weapons were Jude’s job, as they were generally intended to be used while Cal was busy flying. Jude managed to get them aimed in the general direction of the yeti herd when he started remembering snatches of conversation about him.
I’d watch out for that one.
Identical twins? Could he be a serial killer waiting to happen?
Isn’t this psychopathy genetic?
I’d sleep with one eye open around him.
And, most of all, he saw his brother the one and only time Jude had gone to visit him in prison, hoping to get answers. He found none, only John telling him, “The first time I killed it was that stupid bird, and I knew right away I’d kill again, even people. It’s a high like nothing else, Juju. The power to hold life and death in your hands, to play God.”
He couldn’t press the button. Even if it meant he would die, and Cal too, his hands might as well have been stuck in cement.
Cal routed weapons control to his own computer. “It’s us or them,” he said.
Jude knew it. He still couldn’t move his hands. He just sat there like a fucking useless statue, watching while Cal took aim and shot one of the yetis beating up their solar panels.
It fell off the side and didn’t move anymore. The rest of the herd howled and two more went for the weapon, clawing up the solar panels further. Cal shot a second yeti, and that got the message across. The remaining four jumped down and backed a few meters away.
Jude still couldn’t move, mired in fear and self-loathing for his inability to act, though his heart raced out of control.
“Come on,” Cal muttered. “Get the message.”
The yetis did, and cautiously crept forward to the bodies. Two carried each body slung between them as they started to their trek back from when they came.
Crisis over, Jude fell against the back of his chair. He couldn’t have managed to stay standing for anything in the aftermath of his massive adrenaline crash.
