Page 36 of Aliens Love Curves

I just pray we both survive to see what comes after.

Chapter 17 - Casey

The hypo-spray glints menacingly in my hand as I practice the motion of "accidentally" dropping it. Three times I've rehearsed my allergic reaction, each time with Stryker critiquing my performance.

"More wheezing," he suggests from his perch on our bed. "And maybe clutch your throat earlier."

I shoot him a look. "I think I know how to fake anaphylaxis."

"Just trying to keep you alive." His tail twitches – the tell meaning he's more worried than he's letting on.

THE MEDICAL BAY'S STERILEscent burns my nostrils as I perfect my performance. Around me, monitors beep steadily, recording my "reaction" to the test solution. I catch my reflection in a chrome panel – my face appropriately flushed, eyes wide with manufactured panic.

"Blood pressure dropping," one medic announces, exactly as we'd planned. The hypo-spray falls from my trembling fingers, clattering dramatically to the floor.

I gasp for air, clutching my throat. Stryker steps forward, his concern only partly feigned. "Do something!" he demands, tail lashing with genuine anxiety.

But Harlan's smile stops us cold. He stands in the doorway, looking more amused than alarmed. "Fascinating reaction," he says smoothly. "Though perhaps a touch... theatrical?"

My heart stutters. Does he know?

"Fortunately," he continues, "we anticipated potential sensitivity issues. I have a special formula prepared for race day – completely safe, I assure you. We can't have ourstar pilotmissing the biggest race of the year, can we?"

The medical staff exchange glances, but no one questions him. I notice how they seem to shrink away as he approaches, their movements becoming more mechanical, less natural.

"The formula will be administered by myself just before the race," Harlan explains, helping me sit up with false solicitude. His touch lingers on my arm, sending shivers of revulsion through me. "No need for preliminary testing. I personally guarantee its safety."

My heart sinks. So much for Plan A.

BACK IN OUR APARTMENT, I pace while Stryker examines the tracking devices for the hundredth time. Each one is a masterpiece of engineering – microscopic, virtually undetectable, but powerful enough to transmit through almost any shielding. One in my suit, one in my boot, another sewn into my underwear.

He looks into my eyes after examining this one. “If Harlan tries anything...” I shake my head and roll my eyes with a smile. "The one in your suit broadcasts on three frequencies," he explains, his professional tone belied by the way his tail keeps reaching for me unconsciously. "If they try to jam the signal—"

"The others will still get through," I finish. "I know, my love. We've been over this."

He looks up sharply at the endearment. Even after everything, it still surprises him sometimes – these casual admissions of feeling. His expression softens, and suddenly I can't bear the distance between us.

I cross to where he sits, settling into his lap. His arms come around me automatically, tail curling protectively around my waist. "We could still leave," he murmurs into my hair. "Right now. Just... disappear."

The temptation is strong. To run away, leave this twisted place behind, forget about genetic experiments and missing pilots and whatever horrors lurk in Harlan's special formula.

But the faces of those pilots in the pods haunt me. Their twisted forms, their suffering – it would follow us wherever we went.

"You know we can't," I say softly.

His arms tighten around me. "I know. Doesn't stop me from wishing."

We stay like that for a while, just holding each other. Through the window, Ova's three moons paint the room in shifting shadows. In two days, everything will change. One way or another, this will end.

"Tell me about after," I whisper.

Stryker's hands stroke my back, soothing us both. "After we expose everything? After we save those pilots and bring down Harlan's operation?"

"After all of it. Where will we go first?"

He shifts, settling me more comfortably against him. "There's a small planet in the Andromeda sector," he begins, his deep voice rumbling through my body. "Barely colonized, mostly wilderness. The sky there... it's never the same colour twice. Something in the atmosphere makes it shift constantly, like an ever-changing rainbow."

I close my eyes, letting his words paint pictures in my mind. "Tell me more."