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Chapter Four

S irius

Aliyah’s beautiful. She’s the most beautiful female I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen so many when I searched to the ends of the Intergalactic Database looking for an explanation to the healing properties of my blood. She has long, lustrous, straight black hair, luminous blue eyes, light bronze skin, and pillowy lips. And she was kissing me.

I don’t understand why a female would kiss a geneslave, especially one as obviously defective as me. When I returned her kiss she welcomed it, pressing me close with her hands, opening her mouth to my tongue. She must have encountered my sharp fangs, so I don’t know why I hide my teeth when I smile.

She’s on a planet so primitive she wears leaves for clothing. Perhaps she’s never heard of geneslaves. We don’t share enough language for me to explain it. Maybe tomorrow or the next day I can explain what a monstrosity I am. That she can trust me not to hurt her, but shouldn’t get close to me.

We’ve made good progress on language. She’s remembered hundreds of Earther words, and I’m learning her language. My brain has a knack for this, and with every word I learn in the People’s vernacular, I gain the capacity to extrapolate more from context.

Nouns are easy to learn, concepts are much harder. It will be difficult to explain genetics. Maybe I can just explain it with a reference to poison or broken.

But that’s for another day. She’s scared right now. I’ll calm her.

“No hurt. No enemy. Here” I reach under the furs and hand her the remnants of the pitiful leaf rope she tied me with. Crossing my hands at the wrists, I motion for her to tie me again, although she has to realize that I broke through my bonds once and I’ll be able to do it again. It’s a gesture to help her relax.

“No.” She mimics breaking free of shackles, then pulls the knife out of the stump. “Aliyah knife.” Moving to the fire, she banks the embers, then fills two gourd bowls with stew. She stabs a crude whittled spoon into each bowl, then sets one on the rock floor, and scoots it toward me with her foot.

We spent hoaras with our language lesson. The food’s overcooked but delicious. I make loud, appreciative “yum” noises as I pack in the stew. She slides me seconds, careful not to get within my reach.

She yawns. It’s late. I don’t know where she slept last night, but I’m certain she’ll want to give me a wide berth now that I’m awake. I toss my fur cover to her. Using the remnants of the fur I’m lying on, I cover myself as best I can and turn my back to her. I don’t know how to better reassure her I mean her no harm.

Aliyah

This hard stump is hurting my bottom, and I’m tired. Not to mention the wind has kicked up and unseasonably cool air is whistling through the cave. Handsome Sirius with beautiful eyes and thick muscles is only a few steps away.

Although I have a strong will, I’ve always been a good girl and followed the rules. Partly because I’m built that way. But I’ve always been an outsider to the tribe—my differences are so obvious. I never wanted to earn their anger by listening to my rebellious impulses.

But right now, I don’t want to follow the rules. I know I should grab the fur he tossed me and lie by the fire with his knife clutched in my hand, but every part of my body wants to lie down next to him and share his body heat and maybe feel his warm kisses again.

My stomach drops at this thought, clenching in desire. No matter how long I argue with myself, I know I’ll be lying with him when my decision’s final. A pang of guilt reverberates along my veins because I kissed him twice, yesterday and today, without his permission. Maybe he hates me for taking liberties with him. Maybe he wants to sleep alone in his furs.

Stepping closer I whisper, “Sirius sleep?”

He turns over, exposing a flash of his lovely golden skin with stripes of tan, looking at me directly with those interesting eyes—one frosty blue, the other a warm brown.

Still clutching the knife in one hand and the fur in the other, I pace toward him, slowly, giving him time to protest. He just watches, his muscles tight, his brow bunching downward.

Tossing the fur next to him, I bend my knees, placing the knife on the cave floor, my eyes never wavering from his. I shuck out of the leaves I wear, then make my way toward him, giving him time to protest.

His eyes widen, rounding in his face. He couldn’t fear me, but his ropey muscles are tight. He’s poised to leap out of his furs.

“Sirius, Aliyah friends,” I reassure him, then pull the fur that covers him and place it on the ground. I lie down next to him and cover us both with the remaining pelt.

The fire has burned down to embers, providing just enough light to see the expression on his face. It isn’t fear. Maybe surprise?

He grimaces in pain as he turns on his side to face me.

“Sirius hurt?”

He shakes his head as if that’s inconsequential. “Aliyah, you’re such a beautiful female. Pretty.” He circles his hand in front of his face and lifts his lips upward. “Very pretty.”

“Sirius pretty,” I tell him, nodding my head with a smile. “Very pretty.”

His eyes narrow as he frowns and shakes his head. He points to each eye, as if to remind me of their differences, then says, “Bad,” with a scowl. To underscore his message, he points above his right brow at the scribbles there. “Bad,” he repeats, shaking his head in disapproval.

I scoot closer. There’s less than a hand’s span between us now. Slowly, I reach out and almost touch the cheekbone under each eye. “Pretty, very pretty.”

Even though he’s still scowling, I muster the courage to slide one finger back and forth over the squiggles above his eyebrow. “Pretty.”

He makes a snarling motion with his face, showing me those long, sharp teeth that are so similar to a mam’non’s . He could rip my throat out with one bite. My hand reflexively jumps to protect my neck.

“Bad.” To make his point, he pulls his lips back to again show me those dangerous fangs. “Sirius bad,” his growly voice doesn’t sound angry at all. He sounds sad. His face squeezes tight, as if he’s in pain. “Sirius bad,” he repeats. He grunts with the effort of rising from our pallet, then makes his way to a tiny indent along the back wall, lays down in a tight ball, and closes his eyes.

I’ve never been allowed to be alone with an adult male before. Poppa let me care for young boys when my girlfriends asked for my help with their children. He allowed me to speak with Chernan, the healer when it was necessary. But because of my untouchable status, I haven’t had many private conversations with males my age.

I don’t know much about males, other than Poppa, who loves me beyond the stars. So I don’t understand what’s happening.

What I do know is that Sirius won’t hurt me. If he wanted to, he could have already killed me. He could have leaned over and torn my throat open with his fangs a few moments ago. He could have grabbed my knife from where it lay and stabbed me with it when he walked from our pallet to the back wall.

I don’t have to fear him. I know that now. Why did he leave me and the warmth of our pallet? Does he know I’m an untouchable? That makes no sense. He’s new here. He doesn’t understand our ways or our language.

Then it dawns on me. Is he an untouchable, too? Was he banished from his tribe? Is that why he’s alone here?

Poppa tells me I’m willful, and he’s right. I stand, clutching the furs, and stalk to the tiny alcove where Sirius lies. I can see the shine on those interesting eyes even in the dim light—he’s watching me.

“Sirius no bad,” I tell him as I set my fur down, slide in next to him, and cover us both. He turns his back to me and scoots closer to the wall. I don’t know why this doesn’t hurt my feelings, but somehow I don’t take it as a rejection. I take it as a challenge.

I scoot even closer, so my front hugs his back. I even find the courage to sling my arm around his torso, taking care not to touch his stomach.

Sirius

For the briefest moment I wonder if she’s torturing me, teasing me on purpose, softening me so when she kills me my surprise and agony will be all the sweeter. It’s what the guards on Malego used to do on a daily basis.

They would offer us trinkets or extra food if we would inform on each other, then withhold the reward. They would turn off the cameras and pit us against each other.The loser of a fight would then be kicked by the guards until he’d spit up blood.

They’d offer a small kindness only to snatch it away and laugh, telling all their friends so each one would remind you of your weakness for days.

But Aliyah isn’t like that. I can tell. Her beautiful face is guileless. My keen senses of smell and hearing tell me no others of her tribe are nearby. No one could save her if I simply turned toward her and choked her to death. She left the knife several paces away when she came to join me.

She’s lying naked and defenseless next to me. She has no ulterior motive. In fact, I have no clue why she’s doing this.

“Hush little baby, don’t you cry, Mom is gonna sing you a lullaby,” she sings so softly it’s more breath than sound. Her fingers slide through my hair, stroking as she continues, “If that billy boat don’t float, Mom is gonna buy you a cutie pie.”

I’ve seen things like this on vids. No matter how clever the Feds were at censoring what we could watch on our computer pads, I always devised ways around their boundaries. I saw entertainment vids with mothers singing to their babies. The songs were always lilting and sweet—like this.

I’m a geneslave, designed to have no emotions, bred to have no purpose but to serve the Federation. We were told our emotions and desires had been engineered out of us. But right now, this minima , I’m having emotions—a storm of them.

I have no words to describe what’s going on inside me right now. I don’t feel like a soldier, or a possession, or a slave. I feel alive, and free to experience what’s happening in this moment. And the best I can identify what I’m experiencing is… tender. I’m sensitive and vulnerable for the first time in my life.

And for the first time in my life, I want something. The urge to want things was beaten and tortured out of us as infants and toddlers. It happened so early I don’t remember it, but I was forced to do it to the next generation when I was maybe eight annums old, so I know exactly what was done to me.

The children were put in a room with toys and pieces of raw krunck ore which had a foul odor. Every time one of them touched a toy, I had to activate their shock collar. It was surprising how quickly we modified their behavior to not reach for the toys. Those lessons were repeated a million times in a thousand different ways. I learned it well—don’t desire anything. If you express a thirst for something, it decreases the likelihood you will ever receive it.

But I’m on this planet, far from a cell or the Feds, and there isn’t a guard in sight. I can allow myself to be in this moment right now and experience it fully.

Breathing deeply, I shutter my eyes and relax my shoulders, then focus on the magic her slim, supple fingers are performing on my head. I pay attention to their gentle slide along my scalp and the way it almost tickles when she draws her fingers through my hair.

This moment, right now, is the first time in my life I’ve allowed myself to relax, to fully stand down.

From infancy, every cell in my body has been on high alert. Even my sleep was consumed with fear of the next harsh treatment or abuse they would throw my way. But I order myself to absorb the gentle touch of this kind female.

The scientists dracked up. I’ve been told since birth I was engineered without emotions, but I realize that was a lie. Right now I’m feeling calm—something I’ve never experienced before. And my eyes are watering. I’ve seen this on vids. I don’t understand it, but I’m fully alive for the first time.

T he next morning I wake from the most peaceful sleep I’ve ever experienced. My belly aches, and the skin is pulled too tight, but my body is different, lighter somehow. I need to eat whatever Aliyah serves me, exercise as much as I can, and get in shape to leave.

This female has been more than kind, and from what I can recall of the attack by those beasts, I’m certain she saved my life. The best way I can repay her is to leave her alone. I need to heal and find my own place to live. I have no idea why she’s been so friendly, but I’ve taken advantage of her hospitality long enough.

Ten Galerians came down to Nativus, none came back. At some point someone’s going to notice and come looking for them. I need to be far away from any innocent beings before that happens.

Aliyah’s already up, stoking the fire. There are two skinned mammals near her. She must have already gone hunting this morning.

My elbow is on the fur-covered ground. I place my head on my hand and watch her. She’s wearing a dress she made of leaves, softly humming to herself as she cooks. I’m keenly interested in emotions now that it appears I may have some. I study her and realize this female is happy.

I’ve never known a happy person, although I’ve seen this emotion on vids. None of the products in the barracks were happy, the guards and scientists were mostly angry drackholes . Even the people on the Lazy Slacker seemed worried and fearful as they ran from their enemies.

But Aliyah smiles so easily and seems so relaxed. It’s calming to watch her and imagine what type of life could produce such an innocent, guileless tranquility.

“Sirius up?” Her smile widens when she sees I’m awake.

I should teach her more Earther so I can explain why I need to leave. I have to explain my inherent defectiveness—as well as the danger I’m putting her in—in a way she can understand.

“Sirius is awake.” I nod and move to rise, but a sharp twinge deep in my abdomen causes me to wonder just how badly that beast mauled me.

“No,” she scolds, shaking her head, frowning, and pointing for me to stay in my furs. “Aliyah food.” She motions bringing me a bowl.

“Aliyah will bring Sirius food when it’s ready?”

“Yes.” She nods.

She pulls the wooden stump near my pallet and perches there like a queen on her throne. “More speech,” she orders.

I sit. It’s still painful, but once I’m sitting, I’m fine.

While we wait for the meat to cook on the spit, I give Aliyah another lesson in her language. I’m forging a method of communication so I can understand a bit about this planet as well as why she knows Earther.

When I leave tomorrow, I’d like her to know why. For some reason, I think she’ll want me to stay. I need her to realize I’m no good for anyone, especially someone as beautiful and sweet as her.

After we eat, I start rising to help her, but she puts her hands on her hips and scolds, “Sirius sleep. Get strong.”

She’s right. I just woke up, but I’m ready for a nap. Rather than pushing myself, I’ll listen to my body—and this female.

Aliyah

Sirius is so kind and handsome, and I’m having so much fun. Every night since I was old enough to bleed, I’ve fallen asleep imagining I have a mate. I forget I’m an untouchable and pretend I have a male who smiles at me the way the males of my village smile at their females.

Now the scene I’ve imagined in my mind’s eye so many times has come true—a male in his furs nearby, me cooking, us eating together. Even in my daydreams, I was never bold enough to imagine my mate would be as handsome as this one, or as kind. He’s been so patient with me as he teaches me English.

I may have forgotten a lot, but I certainly know he’s not from Earth. Humans didn’t have ears like that—those are dog ears. And his teeth, those are more like a mam’non’s than my own. Yet he speaks my native language better than I do. I want to understand.

I’ve put my origins out of my head. When Momma died, it was like that part of my life died, too. Now that my language is returning, all those memories of my childhood are hurtling back.They are so vivid I watch as they unfold.

I was maybe three or four when Mom and I were taken. It’s been twenty winters since then. I don’t remember having a father. As far back as I can recall, I slept with Momma in her bed. It was just the two of us, and life was difficult. She worked hard and picked me up from daycare smelling like greasy food. Mom used to cry sometimes when she thought I was sleeping.

And then one day I woke up onboard a ship. I was in a weird box, cradled in my mom’s arms one minima . The next moment, we crashed onto this planet. I was young and couldn’t make sense out of anything other than that we were the only ones who lived through the disaster.

The huge explosions were terrifying, with heart-stopping noises that were louder than thunder. Momma picked me up and ran through smoke and fire. It was horrifying as she stepped over dead bodies—both human and alien. Somehow, she pulled me out of the vessel just before it exploded.

I’m breathing hard. My hands are clenched. I don’t like watching that memory. It was the second-worst time of my life. The worst was when Momma died, but I don’t want to think about that now.

I like the next part of the crash story, though. It’s when Poppa came with all the males of the village and rescued us.

Poppa came straight toward Momma and me, leaned his huge body down, and gave me a wide smile. Then he swooped me up on his shoulders and carried me back to his village while he sang a song of our people.

He loved Momma and me from that first moment, but it took Mom a while to love him back. But not me. He and I had a special bond from the moment he sang to me on our walk to his village—we still do.

He’s not going to like Sirius, though. He never wanted me to have a mate. That’s why he made me an untouchable. When I bring Sirius to the village, Poppa will not be happy.

Sirius woke just as I finished my chores. While he was napping, I killed more waruxes for dinner, carried water from the stream, and brought firewood.

I found a sturdy stick for him to lean on and now we’re walking in the sunshine. I’ll remember this as the most beautiful day of my life. The sun is beaming down on us through the dappled leaves. I love it when the leaves turn shades of blue and purple when the seasons change. The air smells special this time of year—cool and crisp.

Everything seems different today. I know it’s because I’m sharing it with Sirius. The babbling stream sounds happier. The birds call to each other with prettier songs. The sky is a deeper shade of blue.

“Aliyah bring Sirius to People?” I want to bring him home. He needs a tribe.

“No. I need to leave. Be alone.”

My brow furrows. I know he’s refusing my offer, but I don’t know why.

“One.” He holds up one finger. “Just me.” He points to himself.

I shake my head and smile. “No.” I hold up the index finger of each hand and stand them together like I did the other day. “Friends.”

“Sirius has to go alone. One. Bye to Aliyah.” He waves.

I’m frustrated and don’t understand, so I slip my hand into his and pull him toward the stream. I love the noise the water makes. It calms me. Maybe it will speak to him and he’ll decide to come to my village with me. I’ll talk to Poppa and make him like Sirius. Maybe I can convince Poppa not to force Sirius to compete in a rockshun —that could never end well.

He sits on a fallen log near the edge of the water. I can tell it pains him to bend like that. I’m not putting doram leaves on him anymore. His skin is mending at a magical rate, but his insides are taking longer to heal.

A word comes rushing back to me from my childhood. When I was young I used it so often it frustrated Momma. “Why? Why Sirius alone?”

He picks up a twig and snaps it. “Broken,” he says. Then he takes a rock and smashes it on an old ulan shell, “Broken.” He points to the shards, then, “Broken.”

He points at his chest, “Broken.” He takes two fingers and indicates those beautiful brown and blue eyes, “Broken.” He points to the squiggles on his brow, “Broken.” “Broken, broken,” he says as he touches his ears, then his fangs.

“Sirius is broken. Aliyah is perfect.” He points to the flowers at the water’s edge. “Perfect.” He stands, grimacing in pain, then walks up and down the line of flowers, searching for something. “Ah,” he says, finding the one he was seeking, “Perfect.” He plucks the flower and gives it to me with a slight bow, then sits back on the log with a wince.

“Aliyah is pretty and perfect. Sirius is broken.” He shrugs, as if he’s just explained everything.

I’m angry for a moment. Why does he talk like this? Then I look at his face. That sweet, beautiful face is full of pain. Awareness crashes down on me. I understand completely. I know what it’s like to feel broken, too.

Every person in the tribe has green skin with reddish spots. I don’t. My pink skin doesn’t match. Everyone has jade lips, mine are crimson. All the adults are eight or more hands taller than me. I’m the size of someone eight winters old. I know I’m not like them, and even though they love me, even though Poppa reassures me I belong—and he’s the chief—I feel imperfect too.

I sit on his log, then scoot toward him until my hip touches his. I gaze into his eyes as I argue with myself. First, I’m convinced his brown eye is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. It’s rich and dark and welcoming. Then I decide that’s wrong. It’s the blue eye, the color of thick, deep ice, that’s more alluring. No, that’s not right either. It’s the combination of the two that makes them even more fascinating.

I cup his cheeks in my palms and the corners of my lips drift upward in the barest of smiles. I want to dive into the magic of his gaze, this touch—to swim in the perfection of this exhilaration forever.

“Sirius not broken. Sirius perfect and pretty. Sirius and Aliyah…” I don’t know the right word, so I need to show him.

I breach the distance between us so slowly time stands still. I’ve stolen two kisses from him before. This time, I’ll give him the chance to deny me. His eyes round in surprise, then narrow in suspicion, then shutter closed as he breaches the distance between us and kisses me.

His lips brush mine, soft as a whisper. Swiveling his head, he creates the gentlest feeling as he sweeps back and forth. A ball of energy dips to the pit of my stomach, pulling my awareness there. It’s tingly and heavy and full and empty at the same time.

Spearing my fingers through his silken hair, I cradle his head, then hang on as I kiss his lips, and he kisses me back. He’s tentative at first, as if he doesn’t want to hurt me. I respond more firmly to let him know I won’t break.

We kiss with soft, wet sounds for a moment, then it becomes silent as he nips my lips with close-lipped nibbles. He rumbles low in the back of his throat. It’s the sound of exquisite pleasure.

When my eyes pop open, I catch the look of relaxed ecstasy on his face.

I pull him tighter, my hands roaming his back from shoulders to hips. His muscles are hard and well-defined under his skin. There are small patches of the softest fur imaginable on his flanks. I lodge my fingers there.

I want to taste him again, so I summon the nerve to breach his lips with my tongue. I’ve never experienced anything so divine. He tastes like warm sunshine and subtle spices. I explore the gentle rasp of the top of his tongue as well as the slick underside.

I encounter the sharp tip of his fang, and rather than scaring me, it excites me. It’s dangerous and safe at the same time. He’s my friend. He’d never harm me, of this I’m certain.

This breaks the spell, and he pulls away so abruptly I reflexively hold him tighter, but he jerks away.

“No, Aliyah, this is bad, wrong,” he keeps rambling fast words that make no sense. He shakes his head as he stands with effort. I pay close attention, straining to discern his words. I understand “bad,” “no,” and I catch a word I haven’t heard since Momma used to tell me about what the bad males were going to do to us: “slave.”

“Slave?” I ask as I instinctively reach out to touch the squiggles above his right eyebrow. Somehow, I know with certainty this is a marking to signify his status as a slave.

“Yes. Sirius is a geneslave. Bad. Broken. No good for Aliyah.”

“Aliyah slave.” I nod, then motion over my shoulder to indicate it was past. “Now…” I rise, throw my hands out shoulder-high and twirl in the sunny meadow. I spin for a long moment, then grab his hand, help him stand, and force him to circle with me.

I remember another word. Mom used to tell me over and over after Poppa rescued us—free. “Free Sirius. Sirius Free.” There, that should settle it.

Sirius

She looks so happy with herself. Her Earther language is coming back to her, that’s good. Perhaps I’ll never be able to explain to her the depth and breadth of my defects. For some reason, this beautiful, perfect female likes me. The best thing I could do for her is to heal quickly, escort her back to her People, and travel as far from her as possible.

I might be well enough to travel as early as tomorrow. “Aliyah help Sirius make bow and arrows?” I mime shooting an arrow and she smiles. She’s so lovely. I shudder, guilty I kissed her. It’s disgusting that her perfect pink tongue was in my mouth, that it touched my fangs. Not only could I have cut her, I contaminated her with my very essence.

She grabs my hand and pulls me back toward our cave, her cave I quickly correct myself. I don’t belong here. On our way, she helps me pick the best wood for arrows—slim, straight limbs. She finds a larger limb she says we’ll use to carve into the bow.

On the trip, we pass through a heavily-forested area where a flock of red birds nest. The ground is littered with their feathers, which we’ll use on the arrows.

We eat a delicious stew she cooked, and then she patiently teaches me the art of arrow making while she works on the bow.

The Feds taught us how to shoot when I was about eight. I thought making a bow and arrows would be child’s play, but if Aliyah hadn’t been here to teach me, I would have endured a long, hungry period of trial and error before I figured out the nuances.

“How far away is your village, your People?”

“Three sleeps, two if fast.”

“We go tomorrow,” I tell her. I want to start early and stay on the move until nightfall. I’ll keep her safe until we see her village, then I’ll leave. I don’t want this lovely, vulnerable female to be anywhere near me if the Galerians come looking for me. And I don’t want Aliyah close to a defective geneslave. And no more kisses. That was a mistake.

The Feds were total drackers , but they did two things right: they created a soldier who could heal himself, and they removed my ability to procreate. That last part is a blessing, and the most important reason I need to leave Aliyah as soon as possible.