Alien Bride, page 13
part #2 of The Alien Series
“And… you will stay away from Ambassador Loret.”
“Why?” I ask, confused. Now, it isn’t that I hold any particularly strong feelings toward Loret or anything, but I do wonder what this odd request is about…
“I simply do not want you speaking with him. Perhaps I am a jealous man,” he offers in explanation.
“Well, I can’t just be rude to him, Kye. Not while I’m an Islerian guest and counting on your government to send me home.”
“Of course you can,” he tells me, but when I give him a reprimanding look, he revises. “Fine. Within reason. You don’t need to be rude to him, but do not make him one of the people you connect with.”
“Deal,” I tell Kye and reach out for his hand again. He looks a little dumbfounded for a second before he reaches out to mirror my gesture. Only instead of shaking hands he brushes his pheromone things along the sensitive flesh of my wrist. My body instantly reacts. Butterflies start in my tummy and dive lower, tickling me deep inside. I feel a hot flush creep up my chest and onto my cheeks.
“Damn it, Kye!” I squeal, and reactively cover my arms over my chest as if trying to conceal nudity, but it’s just my sense of vulnerability and (begrudging) desire that is on display in this moment. And my hard nipples…
“I’m sorry, I thought you were requesting a dose of—”
“No! I just wanted to shake on it!” I exclaim. He holds out his hand again and I tentatively reach out to him, giving it a quick shake.
“Okay then,” I say, still covering my chest. “Finally. We should have done that days ago. You’d think that being a politician would make you better at compromise.”
“You must not know many politicians,” he says, smiling at me.
Chapter 17
Kye
The days following are as close to marital bliss as Alessandra and I have gotten. While I am working she occupies her time in the ballroom with the musicians staffed on board my ship, having what she calls “jam sessions”. In the evenings she joins me for our meal. There have been times she has been late and twice she has come with a trail of music makers at her heels, locked so deeply in conversation that I had to personally remove them from our doorway and physically pull her in, mid-sentence.
“Sorry. You have no idea how exciting it is for musicians to share alien music. The instruments, the sounds, the styles… It’s just so easy to get lost in it,” she explains excitedly.
But days like that do not bother me, because our agreement seems to actually be working.
On the first day she asked about Isleria and I spent hours telling her of the canals that run through the cities of our water-rich planet and how the buildings stand right up against the water’s edge. I describe the bridges that cross the waterways, linking our cities, creating paths from one side to the other, higher and higher up into the skyscrapers.
I describe to her about all the white sand beaches and the forests of Denai to the south, where there are hanging bungalows that dangle hundreds of feet above the waves along the edge of the tree-lined cliffs. When I tell her that the skies are a light purple she can scarcely believe it.
The second day I was inspired by one of her Earth songs and decided to share Islerian literature with her. I took some of my favorite books down from my shelves, mostly poetry… stuff I haven’t read in years. On this night we moved into the bedroom to sit, because I still have not allowed the settee to be returned. Some part of me still suspects she would try to sleep on it each night, regardless of our deal.
At first, she laid across from me on our bed, but when I came to a book with artwork she scooted in close so that she might see. Even when we moved on to the next book she did not make an attempt to move. So, I continued reading until she drifted off to sleep leaning against my shoulder. Sometime in the night she retreated to her side of the bed, however. When I awoke she was curled up on her side, with her back to me.
Eventually, an evening came when she asked me about my work.
“So, why did you become an Ambassador anyway? Was it your dream?”
“I had always dreamt of being a hunter or gatherer, or perhaps a farmer… burrowing around in the soil…” I say wistfully.
“Was that a primitive crack aimed at me?” She swats at me as she laughs. “And did you say burrowing? Do you even know how farming works?”
“Obviously not,” I tell her as I indicate the room around us. She takes in the finery of our surroundings, seemingly unimpressed.
“My father was an Ambassador in his time,” I tell her more seriously now. “Politics is a world I more or less grew up in.”
“I see, that makes more sense,” she says.
“How so?” I ask, walking across the room to the bar. I have something special for Alessandra tonight.
“I don’t know… something about it just doesn’t seem to fit. What would So’Leke say…? Oh yeah, ‘your inner light does not align,’” she says in the dreamy voice of the refugee who has fur covering much of her body and antlers at the crown of her head. I let out a chuckle as I nod, accepting this assessment. After taking down two glasses, I open a dark and aged bottle of Oolai and pour a bit into each glass.
“I don’t suppose you are far off. It doesn’t always feel like the right fit, even still. Nonetheless it was always the only logical path. Recently I have found a mission I feel drawn to, however.” When I turn I see Alessandra perched on the edge of the dining table. I approach and subtly wedge myself between her legs, handing her a glass. She cocks an eyebrow at the drink, no doubt recalling the traditional associations of it, but she still takes it from me with a smile. I linger there, close to her, close enough to touch, close enough to smell the sultry scent of her hair, close enough where if she so desired, she could wrap her legs around me and pull me against her. Any other woman and this would have already happened… ten times over. But for weeks now, Alessandra has been my wife and all I have to show for it are a few stolen touches.
“Tell me about this new mission,” she requests, without pushing me away. I set my glass down next to her and rest my hands on the table on either side of her hips, bringing us that much closer.
“There are Islerian colonies in this system, which is the reason for my work here. Over the years tensions have been rising. The colonies have become self-sufficient, for the most part, and they wish for sovereignty from our home world,” I explain. She nods for me to go on.
“There is a neighboring superpower in this galaxy. It is called the United Planets. It is comprised of many systems that have joined together over the eons, and it truly is a spectacular thing. It was the Nev'Rhaan who originally gave birth to this massive alliance and their influence can still be seen thousands of years later. Their culture, their values, and their laws have become shared with all those linked in this association. It is amazing, and it is my model for this sector of the galaxy. What greater gift is there to give my people than to give birth to a legacy that will prevail for thousands of years.”
“Sounds ambitious. How do you plan to go about creating this legacy?” she asks, and I am surprised at the skepticism in her tone.
“By keeping all our communities as one, of course. Ipoch, Molai, Kevlan, Darva, and all the others… they are all Isleria. Always.”
Alessandra coughs a little on her drink and rolls her eyes. “Okay. Let me know how that works out for you.”
I don’t know whether to laugh or shake my head. “You have thoughts on the matter? I didn’t realize you had a background in interstellar politics. Tell me then, human, how would such an endeavor be handled on Earth?”
“Tell me this, what does the opposition have to say about it?” she asks with that sparkle of a challenge kindling in her eyes… our foreplay, as I have come to think of it. “Because you do have opposition, right? So, what do they say?”
“Islerians are a fundamentally loyal people—”
“Said the guy on his thirteenth wife…” She smirks, and I can’t help but notice how her body is beginning to relax. Her legs rest without trepidation against my hips, so casually that I wonder if she even notices.
“We are bonded as husband and wife, yes, but there is one further step to the ceremony, which binds a pair permanently. Once an Islerian finds their permanent mate there is no separation. It is forever,” I tell her, noticing that I feel slightly more bothered by her teasing at my loyalty than by her challenge against the sovereignty of the colonies. “As I was saying, loyalty, that is what this argument is about. It is a trait every Islerian shares, likely ingrained into our DNA at some point in the evolutionary process and now it is inescapable.”
“And the opposition says…?”
“The opposition believes in loyalty as much as I do. The question comes down to where that loyalty should lie. Some feel it should be with the planet one dwells upon. That is particularly true of the farmers who till the soil. But those are the people with no vision, with no plan. No desire for a legacy, and believe me, that is the wrong path.”
“You sound so sure.”
“I am. If Islerians do not take the lead someone else will, and perhaps it will be a culture whose values do not exactly align with our own… and those values, Alessandra, will prevail for thousands of years and permeate thousands of worlds. If it is not us, perhaps it will be the Makaan. What type of values do you think the Makaan might instill on foreign worlds? What types of laws might they enact? Or perhaps more importantly, what types of laws might they omit?”
Understanding pales my wife’s warm features. “We certainly don’t want that,” she says before falling into her own thoughts. She finishes her drink and trades her glass for the one in my hand. A slow smile spreads across my face, despite the dark turn of our conversation. I never thought discussing politics with my primitive little bride would be such an enjoyable endeavor. Though, it does shamefully remind me that I have been less than focused on my work for the past several weeks.
“So, that’s what it’s really about then? Whether or not the people down there call themselves Islerians or Ipoch… Ipochonions or whatever? There isn’t some hidden agenda, like they don’t want to pay taxes or something?”
“Taxes? No. Isleria supports the colonies for the first years as they establish their lands and businesses—until they become self-sufficient enough to care for all their people. If they were to become sovereign it would actually save us money.”
Alessandra thinks on my words for a minute before she rubs her forehead and laughs.
“Enlighten me. I’d like to know what you find so humorous,” I press.
“I don’t know… it just reminds me of parenting in a way.”
“Do you have children?” I ask, and a sudden wave of shock hits me like a physical thing to my gut. Was Alessandra taken from more than just her world? Was she taken from her children as well?
“Oh no! No, no, no! No kids. Oh my, I’d have fallen over dead from a broken heart if I was taken from… No. No kids.” At her words, I exhale a breath of relief and the tension that pulled at my insides a moment ago now slips away.
“I just mean, it sounds kind of like a young adult stepping out into the world and working to become their own person, all the while struggling against an authoritarian parent who just wants to keep them under their thumb forever,” she explains. “You guys even give them an allowance to keep them dependent on you…” she scoffs. “But it sounds like your babies are growing up, Kye,” she finishes in a sing-song voice.
“If they were true children of Isleria they should have more respect for their parent planet.”
“Spoken like a true authoritarian parent,” she says, raising her glass to me.
“It seems you have a better idea of how this should work,” I say, encouraging her to go on.
“Look, I won’t pretend I know the innermost workings of politics, particularly those of an alien planet—”
“To be fair, you are the alien here,” I remind her.
“Touché. But, when it comes to relationships, aspects like loyalty and respect are didactic. You can’t demand loyalty without reciprocating. You can’t command respect unless you emulate that attribute first. The quality of the relationship is what will maintain the bond between your communities, not what they choose to call themselves.”
I take in Alessandra’s words and all I can do is frown. “How do you know this?”
“I don’t know, it’s Relationship 101.” She shrugs. “But, full disclosure, all that shit’s easier said than done. I finished your drink, by the way.” I reach for the glass, but she slides off the table and places a hand on my waist to move me aside so that she may walk past. I smile at the intimacy as she does. We have certainly come a long way from those first days of Alessandra chasing me around the table wielding a book.
“I got it,” she says and heads to the bar, pouring me a drink. I notice she does not refill her own cup. “I’m cutting myself off,” she explains.
“Feeling very affected by the Oolai?” I ask, as she joins me again at the table. We lean side by side against it, without touching this time.
“I’m okay. I just don’t want to get carried away. There is another party coming up that the band and I are practicing for. I want to be at a hundred percent in the morning.”
“A party?” I ask, confused. Neither I nor Anu have any diplomatic events planned.
“Yeah, something Loret is throwing. A bunch of bigwigs are coming. You know, I think he said something about a representative from the United Planets—”
“Loret. Of course. Only he would make himself so at home on another man’s ship that he would host an event without first consulting his own host,” I tsk, unsurprised. “You’ve been speaking with Loret then?”
“He comes down to the ballroom most days, but like we agreed… I’m just trying to avoid being rude. We aren’t BFFs or anything.”
“Bee eff eff?”
“Sorry, that doesn’t really work with the translator, huh? Best friends. I’m not building a friendship with the guy, I’m just being polite.”
“Hmm. So, you want to keep a level head so you may be free to practice in the morning?”
“Exactly.”
I face Alessandra, trapping her against the table once more. I lean down so I am at eye level with her.
“Is there anything I can do to persuade you to be less level headed?”
Brave Alessandra doesn’t break eye contact, though I can practically hear her heart rate increase. Her chest rises and falls with each breath and her lips part ever so slightly. Her pink tongue teases the seam of her full lips. For a while she stays frozen like that, with heavy-lidded eyes, but slowly, whatever spell she was under begins to fade. Her smile wanes.
“I think maybe I should get to bed,” she whispers. I nod and allow her to duck under my arm. She heads toward the bedroom. “Are you going to come?” she asks. A blush rises in her cheeks and she looks a little flustered. “I mean, are you going to come to bed now, too?”
“I have some business to attend to before I do. I should be back shortly, but don’t wait up for me, in case it takes longer than I anticipate.”
“Do me a favor while you’re out?”
“Name it and it shall be yours, wife.”
“Bring me back a damned couch… I’m tired of holding up the walls every time we’re in here,” she says haughtily, but wears a broad smile across her face.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Yeah, I bet,” she laughs and disappears into the bedroom, leaving me wondering how I got so close yet ended up so far away. I nearly chase the sound of her laughter, but I stop myself. I truly do have other business to attend to now. So instead of following my woman to bed, I turn to leave our room. The second I’m in the hall I send a comm link to Anu.
“What is it?” she asks, without wasting time on pleasantries.
“I demand you dismantle that device at once,” comes a voice from Anu’s end of the line. I recognize it immediately as Khalil. I hear scuffling and muffled words before Anu speaks again.
“Make it fast, Kye,” I hear her say in a tone that simultaneously sounds frustrated with me as well as happier than I have ever heard my friend before.
“Are you aware that Loret is hosting an event here on our ship, to which he has invited a representative from the United Planets?”
“Is this a joke?” she asks.
“Unfortunately not.”
Anu sighs loudly, “Meet you in the office in five.”
Chapter 18
Kye
When I get to the office the first face I see is not Anu, but Khalil—looking greatly put out. She stands with her arms crossed just inside the doorway, so I have to inch around her to enter. She scowls at me.
