Page 33

Seeker

Jen’s motel room only has one bed.

In the last month, I have consumed much local entertainment, and I’m familiar with this romantic device. The protagonists are forced, due to necessity, to share the bed, and erotic contact follows. But she’s been strange and distant this afternoon, quiet even within the confines of the group.

On the drive back, after their evening meal, she didn’t say much, her responses monosyllabic when I tried to break the silence. It’s clear that she’s distracted, but I don’t know what’s troubling her. I set my belongings down near the door, unsure how to proceed. The movement draws her attention.

“Make yourself at home,” she says. “You must be starving.”

While that’s an exaggeration, I do need more nutrition. I combine the protein powder with tap water and drink it quickly. Jen slips into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. We’ll be alone for the whole night, and I feel deeply conflicted.

On my homeworld, sharing habitation signifies a major commitment.

The silent subtext is weighty— I plight myself to you and we will share all challenges and joys henceforth .

But she would have sensed that promise in olfactory cues as well.

And she would be displaying the proper mating colors, affirming that we’ve come to consensus regarding our future together.

Human social rituals are a great deal more confusing.

I perch on the edge of the motel bed, listening to the sound of running water.

The synthetic bed cover feels rough, unlike the sleek foliage that I’d use for nesting on my homeworld, but it’s better than the bedding at yesterday’s temporary shelter.

I don’t get too comfortable, however, aware that I’m here only due to her generosity.

Regulating my respirations, I release the tension from the day.

It was exhilarating but also terrifying, passing unnoticed among all the unsuspecting humans.

No one realized that my unique look represents reality, not a clever use of special effects and prosthetics.

Relief accompanies the quiet buzz of satisfaction that I succeeded at hiding in plain sight, but even as I bask in my success, I experience a pang of longing for a place where I need not hide, where my true form isn’t fodder for a costume contest.

Pensive, I tap out a musical pattern on the wooden backrest behind me.

Jaz wants to tell Poppy and Tad while Ravik is vehemently opposed.

I’d like to share the truth about them with Jen right now, but this isn’t my secret.

The others need to give me permission before I say anything. That’s the moral choice.

Eventually, Jen emerges from the bathroom in a cloud of steam.

She has on different clothing, and much less of it.

Per local entertainments, this would be her sleeping attire.

Her skin is pink all over, the bits I can see, but it must be from the heat of the water.

Her mood tells me that she’s not in a mating frame of mind.

Not that I’m entirely certain how that would even work between us.

“Are you all right?” I ask.

Jen doesn’t respond immediately, and I study her with a sense of bewilderment. She feels galaxies away despite the insignificant distance. I thought things were going well. In fact, she’s always shown a marked predilection for my company.

“I’m fine,” she says.

Fine is not a word my people would use. Our words are also defined with colors and scents, so meanings are delivered more precisely.

I’m imperceptive without those useful hints guiding me to understand her mood.

On Earth, the word fine seems to be a shield, a way to deflect undue interest. I respect her need for privacy, but the interaction feels… unfinished.

I have also seen exchanges in visual entertainment where the protagonist furiously claims they are fine when they are, in fact, precisely the opposite.

She doesn’t turn to look at me. Instead, she fiddles with her luggage, searching for something.

The hum of the motel’s air filtration device is too loud in my auditory sensors, exacerbating the tension and the silence.

“It seems that might not be the case,” I say.

I have learned much about humans, their customs and contradictions, yet I remain an outsider, unable to understand certain behaviors.

What is her rationale for trying to deceive me?

Perhaps she fears that she was precipitous with her generosity?

Too hasty in offering aid without thinking the situation through?

If that’s the case, I can release her from obligation. “You’ve been so kind to me. But you don’t have to shelter me. I can—”

“What?” she cuts in, blinking in apparent startlement. “Where did that come from?”

“It’s obvious that something is troubling you. And please do not deny it again. The mood is strange between us.”

“That’s because you’re plotting something with Jaz and Ravik! You think we can’t tell? Poppy and Tad noticed too. It was a really pointed secret meeting.” Then she presses a hand to her mouth as if she didn’t intend to blurt all of that out.

Now I understand completely. I can’t even say that she’s wrong.

“We did have a private discussion,” I admit. “But I wouldn’t call it a plot.”

“Fine then, I’m being dramatic,” she mutters.

Now I have a crucial decision to make. Is my loyalty to Jaz and Ravik, two fellow exiles, or to Jen, whose good opinion matters more to me than I’d previously realized? I don’t want her to think I’m… I believe the human word is sketchy .

“I don’t want to have weird thoughts, but…what if you’re dangerous?” she whispers.

That pains me. But I comprehend why those thoughts might occur to her. For all she knows, I’m a recon scout, a stranded vanguard of some terrible military action. My people are artists, not warriors, but she has no way to verify that information. And my secrecy has consequences.

“It’s not what you think. I suspect you’d never even guess.”

“Tell me?” She sits down on the other side of the bed, finally done pretending that she needs a vital item in her bag.

“Only if you promise to keep it between us.”

Jen sighs. “More secrets.”

“This one isn’t mine to share, but I don’t like keeping things from you. The fact is, Jaz and Ravik are from somewhere else as well.” I point straight up, hoping that will be enough.

I don’t believe in the surveillance state that some forums on 97-B refer to, but just in case, it’s better for me to be cautious. Jaz and Ravik didn’t give me permission to tell Jen about them, and I hope they’re not too angry.

Her mouth opens. Closes. She can’t seem to figure out what to say.

I wait, patient as the ancient moons of my homeworld, for Jen to break the stillness.

I’ve endangered the peace between Jaz, Ravik, and me, but perhaps they don’t need to know that Jen knows?

I don’t favor the capacity for deception I’ve embraced on this planet.

“How long have they been here?” she finally asks.

“Ten years for Jaz. Longer for Ravik. Jaz wanted to talk about telling Poppy and Tad about all of us. Ravik is against trusting anyone.”

“But they know you looped me in already,” Jen says.

It’s not a question, but I incline my head anyway. That’s a human gesture I find useful for simple affirmation. “If it helps, Jaz wants to tell you. Ravik seems paranoid. Living here so long, in complete isolation, has altered them.”

“Loneliness is painful,” she says softly.

I know that all too well, and it seems as if Jen understands the searing chill of isolation also.

I study her, seeking clues in her demeanor.

I want to be closer to her, not divided by these conflicts.

I reach out, and she meets me halfway. Her hand is soft and small, her skin contrasting the bright and dark patterns of mine.

She traces a rounded shape on my skin, and a shimmering current of sensation passes between us, more pleasurable than a static shock.

My mating colors deepen to violet. I feel her pulse, quicker than mine, a rhythm that thrums like a promise.

Warmth floods my being, desire that sparks with surprising strength.

She leans in, and I mirror her movement. Her breath mingles with mine, a delicious intimacy on my homeworld. Humans would kiss now. I have witnessed their courtship rituals, but I do not share that experience. Yet I wish to touch her, learn the contours of her face and the lines of her form.

We’re a breath apart, the question of what comes next like a star in the night sky, beautiful and shimmering with heat.