Alien, Mine (4 page)

She closed her eyes, unable to bear the pity hovering on their faces, unwilling to break down before them.

“No.” She drew her legs up and buried her face in her knees.

“Would you like the medical officer to attend you?” Graegen asked.

“No, thank you,” she muttered into her legs.

“We will leave you then,” Mhartak said.

The door closed behind them and tears of angry, frightened desolation ripped silently from her heart. She cried for her family. There would be no closure for them, no end to their mourning.

No chance to say good-bye.

She cried for herself and cried for every stolen tomorrow, lost now to her forever.

Mhartak ground his teeth together and slammed into his office.

g’Nel be damned, he’d done it again!

This time was far, far worse. He hadn’t wanted to leave her. Had yearned to take her in his arms, hold her close, stroke his hands down her back and assure her everything would be alright, he would make certain of it. But her actions made it plain she wanted neither his presence nor his touch.

And probably never would.

Chapter 3

“ . . . a traveller here might chart a course . . .”

“How are you feeling?”

Sandrea looked up from examining the morbid potential of her future. Drengel stood in the doorway offering an empathetic smile. She shrugged. The bleakness had begun to recede like a slow tide. She pushed herself to move, to sit up, to metaphorically go forward in life. Before her lay a choice to accept what had happened and deal with it or choose not to deal with it and wallow in stagnation. She forced her gumption together.

I will
not
allow the Bluthen to steal my life. I will
not
retreat from circumstance.

“I’ll live.”

He lifted a bundle of material. “I have some clothes for you.”

“I am somewhat over this hospital couture,” she said, sweeping a hand over the voluminous wrap swaddling her. “Perhaps I could go for a walk somewhere, stretch my legs?”

“I’m glad you’re feeling up to some exercise.” He strode in and deposited the parcel of clothes on the foot of her bed.

She eyed the sand-coloured garments.

Army issue. Well, it’s a start.

“Thanks, Doc.” She rummaged through the pile. “No bra?”

“You mean for your, er—” He waved a vague hand in the general direction of her chest.

She frowned. “Breasts, Doc. They’re called breasts. What, don’t Angrigan women have them?”

“No, Angrigans do not have breasts, ergo do not require bra. Some of our allies have breasts, but they do not compare in, hmm, size to yours.”

So, no bra and no likelihood of one in the near future.

She was going to have to suck it up and get used to a lot of things being absent from her life. Placing a pair of boots aside, she unfolded a shirt and held it up. “How’d you manage to get one small enough?”

“These are cadet uniforms for Legolopanths. They’re built somewhat similar to you. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

She wasn’t huge in the breast department, but she did require support. “Would you have something like a wide, long bandage?”

“Certainly. Self-securing?”

He seemed to have caught on to her intent. “That’d be great, Doc, thanks.”

While he went to fetch the bandage she clambered from the bed and shook out the rest of the clothing. Something heavy clattered to the floor and she crouched to pick up a bright splash of iridescent lavender and pearl.

“Tor’s Talons, where’d you get that?”

She flicked her fascinated gaze to Drengel standing in the doorway.

“It was in the clothing.” She turned the elegant comb over in her hands. “It’s beautiful. What is it?”

“Stone of moonbeam.”

She caught the quick, speculative glance he narrowed at her. “What? Is it valuable?”

“And rare.”

“Any idea who put it amongst the clothes?”

His lips pursed. “Someone who thinks you should comb your hair?”

Or someone who thought I might like to.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” he said, handing over the bandage and retreating.

She registered his departure on the edge of her awareness, her enchanted eyes fixed on the beautiful comb. Carved from a single piece of stone, yet light as air, the artist had captured its glorious colours with breathtaking impact. Tiny swirls and tendrils inlaid with gold traced the wide side.

With reluctant determination she placed the comb on the bed and dressed. Five minutes later, she tucked the legs of her trousers in her new boots and snapped closed their clasps. Only then did she allow herself the reward of applying the gift to her hair.

With patient loosening and untangling, she managed to free every knot. And, man, it was heaven to run the teeth of the comb over her scalp. She checked for signs of grey, surprised after all she’d been through she wasn’t totally grey—or bald.

Her hair was still the same colour though all the curls were gone and now hung straighter than a ruler. Could that account for the extra length—or had she been gone that long? She glared at the new growth extending her hair to several inches passed her shoulder line. At the rate her hair grew that would mean—

“Good morning, Sandrea.”

Mhartak’s deep, velvet voice thrust aside the dreadful feeling stealing over her. A burst of delight warmed her insides and she swung toward the door.

“Good morning, General.”

Her disappointed gaze fell on the three Angrigans in his company.

“These officers are here to interview you.”

She eyed the sharp, precision dress of the soldiers.

“They are from security.” Discomfort flickered over Mhartak’s features.

“I understand, General.” A sudden insight bloomed across her consciousness.

And I’d lay money you’re the reason it’s taken them this long to make an appearance.

His gaze ran over her smooth tresses and she thought a flare of pleasure blazed in his eyes for just a moment before they returned to his customary, shuttered expression.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

She slipped the comb into a pocket. “Whenever you are.”

“Would you like to remain here or are you comfortable for the interview to take place in an office?”

She smiled at him. “I have a rather strong urge to see something other than these same four walls. An office will be more than suitable. The further away the better.”

“You feel strong enough for an outing?”

Surprise and pleasure comforted her. He really didn’t seem the sort to mollycoddle. Was he making an exception for her? And if so, why? Novelty value? She didn’t much care for that thought.

“Thank you, I’m fine.”

He probed her eyes with a quick, piercing stare, nodded, then stood aside for her to pass. Curiosity about what lay outside drove her forward and she stepped by him into a ward all chrome and white. Not far away, Drengel sat at a workstation. He eyed her neat coiffure.

“I see the comb works,” he observed.

She smiled her agreement then complied with a gesture from one of the officers to precede him from the ward.

“I will speak with you later, Sandrea,” Mhartak said as she stepped forward.

She spun toward him. “You’re not coming?” The prospect of doing this without him daunted her.

His clear, brilliant gaze drilled into hers. “The officers
will
be courteous.”

She mustered a smile. “I’ll look forward to seeing you later then.” She turned and followed one of the security officers while the other two closed in behind. Their hard stares felt like suspicious needles on her back, probing for her weaknesses.

I will
not
let them intimidate me.

Indignation burned through Sandrea. If that was Mhartak’s idea of the security officers being polite she’d hate to be on the wrong side of them when they weren’t. Fury boiled in her veins and her fists clenched. How
dare
they insinuate she was part of a Bluthen infiltration plan. So, she couldn’t remember much of what happened to her. Maybe they should try a spell as a Bluthen captive, see how well they did. The pricks hadn’t even let her have lunch in peace.

Drengel’s regular appearances to run a scanner over her had become balm to her outrage. But when she told him there was no need to be quite so thorough, he replied it wouldn’t be worth his hide to ignore his orders.

“General Mhartak sends his apologies.” Graegen’s voice penetrated her stewing thoughts. When he strode into the room a few moments ago and dismissed the security officers she could have hugged him. He held a hand out toward her. “Would you care for a tour of the base?”

“General Mhartak isn’t coming?”

“The General sends his regrets. His responsibilities are numerous.”

A mix of apology and defensive justification wove through his tone.

“You admire him.”

Graegen shepherded her out the door. “The General has not only kept this sector of space free of Bluthen depredation, but also regained territory previously inhabited by Alliance races. Something no other general has been able to duplicate to the same extent.”

“That must have been difficult.”

“It was, especially as General Mhartak does not believe in the term
acceptable losses
. In every campaign he strives for minimum casualties. Fortunately for us, he is the greatest tactician of our time.” He ushered her down a well-lit hallway. “This military outpost is General Mhartak’s headquarters in the war with the Bluthen.”

“Why
are
you at war?”

His shoulders flexed back in a gesture she interpreted as a resigned shrug. “Because we have to be. I know our appearance can seem quite aggressive. As a people, though, that is not our inclination. From our perspective the Bluthen are the most massively self-centred race we’ve encountered. They tend to think they own the Universe and everything in it. We’ve had to fight to keep what’s ours and help our neighbours do the same.”

“Severe psycho-centric cosmogony,” she murmured.

Graegen chuckled. “Well said. So you understand the character?”

“I’ve met one or two people who suffered the same delusion. Is that why they attacked Earth? Domination?”

“It’s possible they haven’t mounted an offensive against your people yet. You were probably taken in a snatch raid. They study a new species first, discover strengths and weaknesses.”

He pushed open a large door. Bright sunshine flowed in and a wave of profound gratitude flooded her at the sight of the yellow radiance. At least this sun was similar to Earth’s Sol.

“The moon rotates just enough in relation to its orbit to always face the planet,” Graegen explained. “As you can see, it’s a gas giant.”

She lifted her gaze through the clear atmosphere to the azure grandeur of the huge planet hanging above them.

“Synchronous rotation. Our moon does that.”

Sadness settled like a dull blanket as she stared at the spectacular, infinitely alien display. The distance to her home seemed to expand exponentially.

“Why were the Bluthen operating on you?” After a few moments of silence, she turned her gaze and focused on him. “Security violation if you disclose?”

“Yes, I can’t divulge that information.”

She shrugged. “Don’t worry about it, Lieutenant, I don’t need to know.”

She trailed him along a paved pathway through a sea of red pebbles between dull, grey buildings. The warm, humid air pulled a sheen of perspiration to her skin.

“You are hot, yes?” Graegen inquired. “One of our allies, the Legolopanths, acquire a film of water on their skin to thermo-regulate. Angrigans do not do this.”

“I figured that. You don’t mind the heat either?”

“No, but we can’t tolerate cold.”

She panned her gaze over a tan and red, barren landscape. Massive tors, like exclamation marks, dotted the terrain. Here and there, a low hill rose, as though the ground had been shoved up out of the way of more important geological work below the surface.

The alien landscape seemed to press in on her, shout that here,
she
was the alien, the oddity.

In the artificial light of the barracks, days and nights blended into each other. Sandrea fretted over General Mhartak’s apparent withdrawal as interaction with others became limited to the security officers and Drengel. She asked the Chief Medical Officer for his thoughts on her continuing inability to recall anything other than snatches from her time of capture and worried at his reply.

His diagnosis revolved around the theory that a part of her brain guarded her sanity, the possibility that reliving the horror of her experience could endanger her mental stability. Yet General Mhartak needed her to remember, her memories could provide vital information for the strategic defence of his command. People’s lives could be at stake.

She slept with the comb under her pillow and each night, the comforting memory of Eugen Mhartak’s touch eased her to sleep. He infiltrated her dreams and stirred her senses with intimate caresses. Deep within her unguarded emotions, the temptation of the big warrior seduced her.

After a few days the interviews ceased and her company reduced to Drengel. Casual inquiry brought the information that Mhartak was away on a mission. In silence, she worried over his whereabouts and safety, barely able to admit her care and attraction for him to herself, let alone voice it to another.

Every day the walls of her room seemed closer, and as strength and health returned, boredom became a force to be reckoned with. The constant urge to get out, to bond with this here and now on
her
terms became essential. The rest of her life lay ahead and the desire to get on with it buzzed through her blood.

The day came when she marched from her room, the fire of determination burning in her belly. Drengel lifted his head from examining a soldier’s bleeding leg
.

“Off for a walk?” he greeted.

“That’s the plan.”

“Good. Don’t overdo.” He nodded toward the entrance. “Turn right, take the first corridor on the right. That will lead you outside.”

Surprise and a splash of relief swept through her that she wouldn’t have to argue her way out.

“Thanks, Doc.”

She followed his directions and in slanting, afternoon sunlight strode from the building, crossed the flat, red ground, and scrambled up a slight, rocky rise.

Silence blanketed the top of the knoll and her gaze wandered the lonely landscape. Sunlight glinted off the surface of distant water. Across the darkening horizon, glowing pink splashed over a background of burnt orange. She drank in the sight for long moments, refusing the temptation to delude herself into thinking the display was Terrestrial in origin. It pleased her to think such beauty was Universal, even if here on this moon, because of its orbit, a sunset lasted for several days.