Page 35

I shouldn’t be here. I know that. It’s the twenty-first of October, far too late in the year to risk traveling here, especially alone. Mine was the only car in the parking lot for good reason—wise people don’t explore here for pleasure this late in the season.

Thick, heavy snows have been known to blanket this canyon as early as mid-September, and although snow that early is unusual, it’s not remarkable at all for blizzards to hit this time of year.

I just couldn’t watch that footage of the desperate calf struggling against its bonds and not try to save it. I could almost hear its forlorn bleats over the silent pictures as I watched them. As the area’s only vet, I figured the little guy’s choice was either rescue by me or death.

Finally, my hiking boots touch the gravel at the bottom of the cliff and I strike off toward the east where the animal was last seen.

After the long hike down, my backpack feels like it weighs a hundred pounds.

Although it was foolish to come this late in the season, I’m not dumb.

I came prepared to stay awhile in case the animal needed treatment and I had to spend a few nights.

Why I’m still carrying the dead weight of my comm bracelet, though, is another question altogether.

Despite the fact that every square inch of Earth has supposedly been covered by satellites for the last century or more, no signal penetrates between the rocky walls of the River of No Return’s steepest canyon.

Since I have a comm unit that’s no more helpful than a brick, I use the old-fashioned compass my mom taught me to use. I walk with confidence, knowing I’m heading in the right direction.

Holy shit! What is that noise? It’s straight out of one of the sci-fi movies I love to watch.

The fiery whoosh of something big plummeting to earth draws my attention toward the heavens.

A moment later, the impact of a crash rumbles beneath my feet.

The fireball leaves no question as to where the explosion occurred.

Running now, I tear my backpack off and toss it to the side so I can make better time.

There’s a pillar of black smoke billowing near the water ahead of me.

I don’t know why I’m running. This has to be an old satellite whose orbit has finally decayed, causing the thing to crash to Earth.

Those relics, leftover from a previous century, have been falling to Earth so often they rarely make headlines anymore.

But for some reason, I do run. I’m driven by a sense of urgency I don’t understand.

When I’m a hundred yards away, I see a silver metal ball, maybe six feet in diameter. I have no idea what those old satellites looked like, but that has to be what I’m seeing, right?

It’s in shallow water which is sizzling from the intense heat of the metal ball lying in its wet embrace.

I stand, paralyzed, as I debate whether I should approach or run.

Has it had its final concussive explosion, or will it burst into a fireball as soon as I’m close enough to be snuffed out by the flames?

Curiosity gets the better of me and I inch closer.

Although I know nothing about centuries-old satellites, I don’t think that’s what I’m seeing.

It’s round, or it used to be round before it crashed.

It looks like a space-age parachute tried to slow its fall and it’s completely absent the big dohickeys that were designed to send or receive signals.

With a whoosh, a round door opens. I edge closer to peer in, then slog through ankle-deep water to glimpse into the opening. All of a sudden, every awful old sci-fi movie I’ve ever seen flashes through my mind. Is this a spaceship? Am I safe? Are we being invaded?

Finally close enough to see into the dark confines of the tiny sphere, I take a peek. Holy shit. Is that an alien inside?

I mean, I’m not naive. I know there are aliens. We’ve been visited by several species starting over a hundred years ago. But they don’t usually arrive in one-person fireballs from outer space.

I approach like the frightened doe I made friends with once.

In fact, she was the driving reason I wanted to become a vet.

As a preteen, I was reading a book out in the woods.

I waited hours for her to come to me, one step at a time, always careful to keep my gaze from becoming too personal.

Her velvet nose nudging my hand was a seminal moment in my life.

I sneak close enough to peer in and gasp when it’s clear I’m not only seeing an alien—it’s a Draalian. A naked one.

Is this an early Christmas present? Everyone in town knows I’ve been saving up for a Draalian mate. Hell, every time I go to the grocery store, the women at the check-out ask how my Draalian savings account is coming.

There are so few males on our planet. Not only do we have to find compatible species and do ad campaigns to encourage them to come, but the government or private agencies have to test them for mental and physical health.

The agencies then house and feed them and perform all the matchmaking tests as well. Because of the law of supply and demand, it’s expensive to apply to the mating services.

Every spare penny I get goes into that fund. The extra money I make by putting calligraphic addresses on birthday and Christmas cards goes there. When I’m not busy enough at my practice, I call clients to see if I can groom their dogs for extra credits.

My mom jokes I ‘drool over Draalians’, and she’s right.

“Stop drooling, Lumina, and get to work,” I scold myself.

I reach inside the capsule in trepidation. Who knows, this guy might be playing possum and reach out and grab me. Once I get a good look at him, though, it’s obvious he’s not conscious. I’m not even certain he’s alive.

Two fingers on his carotid answer that question. He has a pulse, but it’s thready. He’s going to need medical attention. I tamp down my fear and excitement and switch into professional mode. This guy doesn’t have a lot of time to wait around for treatment.

There’s a cave about half-a-mile back near where I dropped my backpack. I made a mental note that it would work as shelter in case I had to stay here overnight to tend the calf.

Although I can’t read Draalian, I see pictograms that even an idiot could interpret on how to detach the round capsule door from the rest of the sphere. I manage to release the lock, then rock it back and forth to remove it. It bent upon impact and didn’t exactly slip off as intended.

Now that the disk is curved side down in the shallows at the water’s edge, I release the harness that has the male secured to the seat.

After struggling to pull the Draalian out and lay him on it, I tuck his knees to his chest so the over-six-foot alien will be able to ride on the five-foot round door.

There’s blood, lots of it—and it’s blue. I don’t want to take the time to inspect him. I’ve watched enough vids to be plenty worried about the craft exploding. I want to leave now, but I take an extra minute to poke around in the cabin, looking for anything that might prove helpful.

There’s a box that might be a first aid kit. I grab it and toss it gently on the door. There are two thick blue blankets under the seat. I definitely want those. Draals are reptilian. They’re cold-blooded and can’t self-regulate their body temperature.

If I’m not mistaken, the little packages I find in a cubby are freeze-dried food. They’re covered with pictures of little insects. Gross.

“Okay, big guy, let’s bounce.”

The door handle has a thick webbed pull attached. It’s a couple of yards long, so I’ll be able to more easily lug my cargo toward the cave. I’d better hustle, the sun drops like a rock out here. Once it passes over the slim opening of the deep chasm, the light fades fast. So does the heat.

I feel the chill in the air already, so once I’m far enough from the crash site that I’m out of the explosion zone, I stop for a moment to cover him with the blankets.

I take one teeny tiny moment to inspect him.

I tell myself it’s to see if I need to do a field dressing on him, but I was never good at lying to myself.

I’m looking at his wounds, yeah, that’s what medical professionals do, but I’m also looking at him .

Five years ago, long after it was clear humans weren’t going to birth any more male babies, the women of Earth decided to allow other species to emigrate here. We agreed upon three species to start with. The Saveet, the Zresta, and the Draal.

For some reason, it was the Draal and only the Draal that turned me on.

Literally. I have a scrolling Draalian screensaver, keep daily track of the number of immigrants from that planet, and finally gave in to temptation and used some of my savings to buy a Draalian sexbot.

My mouth is dry just looking at the male in front of me, and I haven’t even allowed my gaze to dip below his waist.

His face is perfectly symmetrical, carrying the hallmarks of his race: flat nose, thin lips, little fangs that protrude from the upper jaw, and high cheekbones. Just as I suspected, his lack of hair makes his features even more handsome.

I tell myself I need to inspect all of him for injuries.

Since he’s curled on his side, I have to move his top leg to get a better look at him.

My eyes spend an inordinate amount of time inspecting his genitals—the two blue cocks these males are famous for.

When flaccid it’s hard to see past the secondary cock resting on the primary cock which is hidden in shadows.

The sight before my eyes is enough to fuel my fantasies for the rest of my lifetime.

“Lumina, you’re a pervert,” I scold myself even as I allow myself to drink in the sight of him for one more second.