Alien Mischief

by Cara Bristol

  “So we can contact Andrea and have her contact the SS Masquerade?” His voice rose with hope.

  “It’s not that good,” I said, relieved he couldn’t leave yet, and strangely hurt that leaving was his first concern of the morning. Naturally, he wished to return to his planet. If a Dakonian had been marooned on Earth, he would want to come home, too.

  Well, maybe not. Earth had an abundance of females and a much better climate. Most likely a Dakonian would want to stay and find a mate.

  “The snowing has slowed,” I explained, “but it hasn’t stopped. My camp isn’t far, but we don’t have a skimmer, and you shouldn’t walk with your ankle the way it is. Once the storm abates, I’ll hike to my camp and return with a skimmer. How is your ankle by the way?”

  He twisted a wry face. “Like the blizzard—better, but not good. Still sore, but I can put weight on it and hobble.”

  “Glad to hear it. Let me see.” I knelt and unwrapped the bandage. “The swelling has decreased. That’s a good sign. I’ll get more ice after breakfast.” I rewrapped his lower leg then extended my hand and helped him to his feet.

  He limped to a chair, and I handed him the boots I’d found for him. “Put these on. They’ll keep your feet warm and provide support for your ankle.”

  He tugged the left one on then slipped on the right. “Um…toasty!” he said.

  His phrasing struck me as odd. “Do all Terran men speak like you?”

  “Speak like me how?”

  Like a female. Overhearing conversations around camp, I’d gotten familiar with the female manner of speaking and word usage. However, I’d had a limited association with Terran men. Maybe they spoke like their women. I shrugged. “Nothing.”

  “Toasty means they’re warm and comfortable,” he said.

  I’d inferred that. “Let me get the morning meal started.”

  “Let me guess—smoked kel?”

  “Macha gruel.”

  “Sounds…yummy.”

  I was learning a lot about the Terran language through Madison. On Dakon, males and females, while speaking the same language, often expressed themselves differently. Females tended to be more descriptive, more creative in their use of language than males. To avoid embarrassing Madison, I’d never mention it, but his manner of speaking reminded me of a female’s.

  In a wooden bowl, I mixed some macha grain with water and sweetened it with tree sap. Then I placed it in the flash cooker. It was best slow-cooked over an open fire, but since the emergency huts had been outfitted with illuvian heaters, lamps, and flash cookers, they were no longer stocked with wood. There was a woodshed nearby, but I would have to tromp through the snow to get to it.

  The flash cooker dinged, and I removed the gruel, dividing it into two portions by scooping a measure into a smaller, fresh bowl for Madison. I got us wooden spoons.

  “Eat,” I said.

  Hesitantly, he tasted it. His eyes lit up. “It’s good! Kind of like a nutty cross between cream of wheat and oatmeal.” He dug in. “I’d kill for a cup of coffee, though.”

  “We have coffee at camp.”

  “Dakon has coffee?” His jaw dropped with an expression so comical, I laughed.

  “Well, Dakon doesn’t, but Earth does. The Terran females like it, so Andrea has shipments brought in from Earth.” I made a face. “Dakonians don’t care for it, although we do like your chocolate. She orders that, too.”

  “If Dakon can get coffee and chocolate, living here wouldn’t be that bad.”

  “I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult to my homeland.” I pretended an affront.

  “I’m sorry. I spoke without thinking,” he said.

  From my experience, speaking without thinking often revealed exactly what the speaker believed, but I took no offense at his comment. His discomfort and reddening color amused me. “I’m just chipping your ice.” I laughed. Forgetting how slight he was, I slapped his back, almost knocking him off the chair.

  “Are you all right?” I apologized.

  “Fine. No harm done.”

  We finished the morning meal in a companionable chat, exchanging information about our respective worlds.

  “So, Dakon used to have industry?” he asked.

  “We weren’t as advanced technologically as Terra is now, but we had big cities, machinery, powered vehicles. The asteroid devastated us. Between the fires and the massive temblor, every city was destroyed. Millions died upon impact and from the firestorms. Millions more starved to death and died of disease later. The only thing that saved our species from extinction was the subterranean caves where some survivors took refuge.”

  “What about the animals? They must have died, too.”

  “They did. We lost many species. Some survivors had the foresight to herd kel into the caves and grab whatever smaller animals they could.

  “When the fires ran out of fuel, survivors emerged to find our planet enveloped in sooty darkness. The smoke blocked out the sun, changing our climate and causing this ice age. Some hearty plant life regenerated, but Dakon used to have much more diversity than it does now.

  “Everything we were used to disappeared. Our civilization started over.”

  “How do you know so much about what happened if everything was destroyed?”

  “Because the survivors wrote down memories of their lives before the asteroid hit, what happened upon impact, and in the years following. They recorded our history on parchment. We have those tomes stored in the hall of records here at the Meeting Place.”

  “When did the female population start to decline?”

  “Within a couple of generations. The male/female ratio among the births right after the asteroid hit was about 50/50. Within a couple of generations, 90 percent of babies born were male, which left too few females to produce children.”

  “What was your population before the asteroid?”

  “Hundreds of millions.”

  “And now?”

  “About fifteen thousand.”

  Madison clapped a hand over his mouth. “Oh my god,” he said, his voice muffled by his hand. “And you think a virus caused this?”

  I nodded. “That’s what the first generations after the strike believed. They had no way to perform lab tests to prove it, but they speculated the asteroid carried a virus, which mutated our DNA.”

  “With the addition of a few hundred females, our population is increasing, incrementally, but it is growing again. Among the Terran-Dakonian couples, the male/female ratio of births is about 49 percent male/51 percent female.”

  “You still need more females,” he said. “A few hundred can’t be enough to reverse the tide.”

  “It’s a start. With every shipment, the gap between hope and reality shrinks. One couple in another camp gave birth to twin daughters. Every tribe on Dakon celebrated.”

  “I’ll bet.” Madison smiled as if he shared in our good fortune. “I can see how auspicious that would be. Twins run in my family. My mother, grandmother, and great grandmother were fraternal twins. All girls. My father’s side of the family produces girls, too. He and my brother were the only males born in four generations.”

  “And you,” I pointed out.

  “Oh, yeah. Me, too. Of course.”

  Madison’s expression grew pensive, and he sighed. “I appreciate you sharing all of this with me. I knew some of the facts, but getting your viewpoint gives me a different perspective.” He sighed. “It makes it easier to accept Earth women coming here. I’ve had some issues with that.”

  “Why?”

  “Because women are being traded for rocks. On Earth, selling people is called trafficking, and it’s illegal. Yet the Earth’s government is trading females for illuvian ore. They’ve become a commodity, a thing.”

  “Women are most definitely not things to us,” I replied. “No one has a higher ranking in Dakonian society than a female. We revere them, value them above all else. When a man ge
ts a mate, his entire focus shifts to making her happy. There isn’t anything a man wouldn’t do for his female.”

  Madison tapped his head. “Intellectually, I understand. I do. I get it. You need females. But the whole thing sounds so…cold to me. Businesslike. Don’t be insulted, but the way you select women—in a lottery—makes it seem like any female would do.”

  “For our species to survive, it’s true, any female would do, but that doesn’t take into account attraction and personal desires. Men choose females for whom they feel an affinity. Often they sense immediately which female is theirs as soon as they enter the lodge.”

  Madison lifted his hand as if to brush his hair aside. “It always seemed like an act of desperation for women to come here.”

  “Yet, you work for the program bringing them.”

  He fidgeted. “Don’t assume my conscience doesn’t bother me, because it does. I rationalize it by telling myself it’s their choice.”

  “So, if you were a woman desiring a mate, you wouldn’t have come here?” I asked.

  He hesitated. “No.” He clasped his hands in his lap. “I almost married once…”

  “You did?” I jerked my head.

  He nodded. “My fiancé was killed.”

  “Oh Fates, I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m all right now. But it took time getting to this point.”

  I could not imagine the pain and grief he’d been through.

  “On the day of our wedding…on the way to ceremony…there was a car accident.”

  I clapped a hand on his shoulder. Not getting a chit had felt like grief to me, but I’d experienced nothing compared to the loss he’d suffered. To have a mate…and then she’s gone. “You have my deepest sympathy.”

  “Thank you.” He puffed out his cheeks. “It was very hard, but it’s been three years now, and life goes on. But, that’s why I can’t settle for anything less than love. Because I had it, I know it.”

  “I would not settle for less, either,” I said.

  She’s here. She’s here!

  I jerked. “Stop!” I covered my ears in dismay. Not having heard voices since yesterday, I’d thought the whispers had gone away.

  Madison recoiled. “What did I say?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean you.” I pushed away from the table, unable to share my torment. He would think I was insane. How could he not? I doubted my mental state. My mate would have appeared by now if the voices had originated from the Fates.

  I shoved my feet into my boots. “I need—I need to take care of some matters.” I grabbed my kel and hurriedly did up the toggles then pulled mittens from the pockets.

  “Out there?”

  She’s here.

  I flung open the door. Drifted snow spilled onto the floor. Absently, I noted none fell from the sky. The storm had granted a reprieve, but the air carried the scent of another blizzard.

  She’s here.

  “Enoki…wait…”

  His entreaty momentarily silenced the whispers, and I looked back.

  “Where are you going in such a hurry? What are you doing?” He stood there, brow furrowed with concern.

  “It’s all right. I’ll be back. Stay inside.” I plunged into the cold and slammed the door.

  Chapter Seven

  Madison

  Could I screw up any more? Enoki said I hadn’t caused his need to leave the cabin, but who else could be responsible? I’d shared too much. Given how much Dakonians longed for mates, I shouldn’t have told him about Matt. But, we’d seemed to have a rapport, and he’d been so easy to talk to.

  Then he’d jumped like he’d gotten an electrical shock and fled as if he couldn’t wait to get away from me. I hobbled to the door and opened it.

  Already quite a distance away, Enoki resembled a huge bear as he charged through the snow, his long legs making deep depressions in the blanket of white. Only someone as tall as he could achieve headway; even without a sprained ankle, I doubted I could walk in that. With drifts to the windows and snow piled on the roofs, the cabins looked like rolling hills in a landscape of white.

  Such was life on Dakon—challenging. What a hard time his people had had—still had. The conversation with Enoki had opened my eyes. I couldn’t imagine having civilization wiped out in an instant. My appreciation and respect for the Dakonians had grown. What fighters they were; they had never given up. Terrans had gotten soft, lazy. We took luxuries for granted when the Dakonians couldn’t count on survival.

  I needed to do something to earn my keep. Maybe I could get us some drinking water? I packed an empty crockery bowl with fresh snow and placed it in the flash cooker. After it melted, I took a sip; it tasted like dirt. Snow only looked pristine, so I heated the water to boiling then set it out to cool, and scooped more snow into another bowl.

  Outside, Enoki had vanished, but his tracks were clearly visible. It reassured me a little that I could tell what direction he’d headed—even if I couldn’t see him or follow him. But if he said he’d return, he’d be back. He wouldn’t abandon me. Not like the SS Masquerade. Not like Matt.

  I heated a second bowl of water and set it out to cool then used the chamber pot again. I considered emptying it, but I didn’t trust myself to stumble through the snow without spilling urine all over myself—and given that I scooped up snow for drinking, dumping it right outside the door seemed like a bad idea. Better wait for Enoki.

  What upset him so much?

  We’d been having such a nice discussion, too—although he had given me a few odd looks, like I’d said something strange. At first, I’d chalked it up to cultural differences—we were aliens to one another—but I wondered.

  About a lot. Being able to share what had happened to Matt made me realize I was finally over his death. There would always be a place for him in my heart, but my grief had healed, I could move on now. So where did I want to move to? What did I want to do with my life? I needed to figure that out.

  Continuing with the exchange program wouldn’t do me any favors. The isolation of being on a ship for six months at a time had been akin to burrowing into bed, pulling the blankets over my head, and hiding from life. The time had come to fling the covers off and rejoin the world, get involved with people again. I’d never meet anybody being away from Earth for most of the year.

  Of course, there were people on the ship. One hundred women per voyage, but in creating a false identity and playing it to the hilt, my disapproval of the women’s choices had shown, and they’d responded in kind. I hadn’t made any friends.

  I had been too judgmental of the women who’d chosen to become mail-order brides of aliens. They’d come to Dakon to have a life; I’d come to hide from one. It took a lot of guts to come here. I realized that since I’d gotten to experience Dakon’s winter for longer than a round-trip dash from ship to lodge.

  I opened the door and peeked outside. The sky scowled, angry and gray, but so far the blizzard cease-fire was holding. Enoki had disappeared, but his trail cut through the center of “town” into the woods. Could I blame him for running? Through no fault of his own, he’d become saddled with an annoying Earth guy who’d needed help with every little thing.

  I hated being dependent, but if I had to rely on somebody, I was glad it was Enoki. I sensed his word was as solid as illuvian ore. He didn’t throw his weight around or brag. For the right woman, he’d be perfect husband material—honest, devoted, protective, and hot. He had those piercing, soulful eyes, thick black hair, skin like melted milk chocolate with enough masculine scruff to add a sexy bite. And what a bedroom voice!

  When Enoki finally drew a chit, he’d make some woman very happy. I wouldn’t be here to see it because I was going home to restart my life.

  I shut the door.

  Taking advantage of his absence, I squeezed into the uncomfortable compression band. There was no telling how long I’d be stuck wearing it, but it was better than walking around with crossed arms, worr
ying he might notice I had breasts, unimpressive though they were.

  Discovery of my gender now would place us both in an awkward position. Perhaps, if I’d told him at the beginning, the situation would be different. Now, he would feel duped. And, I’d have to ask him to keep my secret because if my employer found out I’d lied on my job application, I’d never get a reference for another job.

  Dakon might be millions of miles from Earth, but gossip traveled faster than light. If Andrea had access to computers, the other women here might, too. My masquerade could go viral. I could imagine them tweeting, “I knew there was something odd about Madison. #Masquerade #NotFooled.”

  Or, “Madison Altman—what a liar. #Asshole #AlienMischief.”

  Everyone would claim they’d seen through my disguise—except for the exchange program honchos. They’d be reluctant to admit they’d knowingly hired someone who’d falsified her resume—but pleading ignorance wouldn’t look good, either. The shitstorm that erupted when the public learned they’d shipped female felons to Dakon when the program first started almost scuttled it right then. They wouldn’t appreciate any more bad press. So, my name would be mud. I’d never get another job.

  I had to maintain the disguise until I got back to Earth. I donned the tunic over the band, used the chamber pot, and then set about tidying up the cabin.

  I smoothed out the kel bedding. My clothing had dried, so I folded it into a neat pile. Using some of the melted snow water, I washed the gruel bowls, dried them, and stacked them on the shelf. With nothing else to do, I sat at the table to wait.

  Chapter Eight

  Enoki

  I ducked inside the Trading Post, grabbed the traps I’d noticed last night, and stomped toward the woods.

  What would Madison be thinking about my hasty exit? I should have attempted to carry on as I had been doing all along. If I couldn’t control my actions, I would have to approach the healer and deal with whatever happened. It was the right thing to do.

  In the meantime, I would set the traps, hopefully catch some game, and we’d have fresh meat for the evening meal. I glanced at the dark sky and sniffed. The icy air augured another blizzard; this was the calm before the storm. Alone, I could have hiked to my camp, but Madison couldn’t walk that far, and I couldn’t leave him.