Contagion (Gennekt, #2)

by Amanda Milo

I was captured on my way to the laboratory where I work. I had been distracted by thoughts of the lunch I’d just prepared for myself, ğurk. The ingredients are incredibly expensive, but it tastes extraordinary. And it’s wasted now, because I dropped my lunch carrier when one of these three brutes shot me!

“Did you disinfect your hands?” I ask him, still horrified because a few moments before, I saw him walk to the wall, extrude himself without wearing gloves, and urinate on it! And they wonder why I started to struggle!

It’s almost amusing how they refer to me as if I am the alien among us. Preposterous.

These aliens have no regard for my comfort. And, as I said, they think me the alien here. But they’re referring to me also as an… ass… hole? I’m so confused.

The explosion lights up the entire room. A pink mist fills the air—and I’m too stunned to extrapolate what it is until I realize the humans have disappeared. ...The mist is exploded human. HOW UNSANITARY!

“Oh no!” I cry, stumbling towards her. “They caged you?” For the purpose of full disclosure, I admit that Erreck and I caged his human before we knew that she was not a dangerous alien animal. I’ve since learned that humans do not appreciate being caged, nor are their systems particularly adapted to it.

I give her an indignant look, but my voice comes out less shaky when I speak. “I’m a scientist. I do research on our genetic ailment. I work in a sterile environment—I’m not used to this—” “Really.”

Three panic attacks later, each one lessening in severity, and we’ve managed enough distance that the place of our captivity is out of sight. The birds here explode from the trees when you scream; it’s very upsetting and quite the negative loop.

I sniff and notch back my antennae. “I’ve never been so female-handled in all my life,” I inform her primly.

To my relief, Aurora relaxes. Tentatively, she even smiles at my words. “Um… do I cook? Let’s see. I can heat things up. I come from an area where our food gets delivered in mic-trays. Everything’s prepped in pre-rationed portions; all we do is nuke it. Does that count as cooking?” I reel back as far as our grip allows, and tsk. “You poor alien plebeian.”

“It’s probably hungry, and hoping we have food.” “We have no food,” I tell the creature flatly. “And if I did, I wouldn’t share it with you.” “Simmi!” Aurora gasps in a chiding tone.

Seeing this only makes Aurora laugh harder. She stumbles forward and collapses against me for a moment—freezing me in place. Her too. She straightens almost immediately, but I feel the remnants of her touch like a phantom warmth for a long, long time after.

“Do you know where we’re going?” I finally ask. Of course I’ve wondered, but I haven’t wanted to hear Aurora tell me she doesn’t, so I haven’t managed the bravery to make the foregone inquiry. And I’m regretting my decision to be brave when she doesn’t immediately answer with the affirmation I was looking for in the first place. “Never mind: don’t tell me we’re lost. I can’t cope with—”

Aurora taps her thumb against my wrist to gain my attention, smiling a little when I chuff at her in response. She cants her head until I stop avoiding her eyes. “Are you always this funny?” she asks. I nearly trip over my own feet. “Funny? No one has ever accused me of being humorous.” Aurora smiles wider at me. “You’re funny.” “I am not,” I say with gravity.

In all the places Aurora has touched me—when she tripped against me, when she’s taken my hand or my wrist or my arms— Good galaxies, I wasn’t exaggerating when I told her I’ve never been this handled in all my lifespan.

More nictating on the part of Aurora. Lots of flicks of her thin-skinned eyelids. I’ve noticed she does it in fits like this quite often. “You’re a trip. Has anyone ever told you that the universe doesn't revolve around you?”

Aurora’s lips press together in a way I’ve come to understand means she’s near to smiling. And although her fits of smiles happen at odd times, I find I quite appreciate seeing them.

She smacks my arm. “Quit freaking out. It’s an apple tree!” “Oh.” I rub my arm—not that it hurts. It’s just a reaction, I suppose. Until I was taken captive, no one’s ever taken to striking me as their personal hobby. I daresay it may be Aurora’s hobby. She’s flicked me, pinched my nares, and now this. Strange pleasure socks me harder than Aurora’s playful swipe when she reaches up, and rubs at the spot where she struck me. For a moment, nothing hurts on me, anywhere.

“I can’t swim, so if I drown, pull me out, and you have my permission to perform CPR.” “Drown!!! Ah—no, no, no! W-what’s ‘CPR’? Please don’t do this, Aurora. You can’t rely on me, oh galaxies above! I’m begging you—”

Eyes wide, I reach for her. “You could have fallen—that was ghastly! Here, come back here with haste. Fit your sandals back on and perhaps your feet won’t be entirely contaminated—” I gasp when she only turns away from me and keeps going. “BAD HUMAN! BAD!” Skynan didn’t listen to my safety advice either—what is it with these impetuous, dauntless aliens? “Are all of you averse to taking simple direction?” She snorts and starts giggling—and I stop chastising her only because I’m afraid I’ll distract her.

That’s not all that happens. She vomits. In. My. Mouth. “GALGGGAAH!” I shout, lunging back from her, jaws agape, her vomit-water and my saliva trailing down my chin as I reject the option for it to enter my throat. DISGUSTING! “People are disgusting!”

Her voice is a whisper when she offers, “I’m surprised you’re touching me.” I pull back to meet her eyes. “You’ve flicked me, dragged me through choking swarms and clouds of insects, guided me by the hand when I wanted to wallow and shriek at the sky—we’ve done nothing but touch.”

In fact… I could lie here, with Aurora atop me, just like this. It’s… peaceful.

Also, Aurora’s idea of cajoling has suddenly begun to involve her lips tapped to mine. Aurora’s idea of cajoling is abstrusely effective.

“If we’re lost out here for much longer, and our situation becomes the direst of circumstances, you have my permission to eat me after I perish.” “Shut up, Simmi,” Aurora says on a laugh. “But only after I perish,” I stress.

When I find myself staring at the night-dew damp grasses under and around my feet with paranoia, I force my gaze up and focus on the oddly pleasant sight of Aurora’s backside, delineated in her dress. When she turns her head slightly, I raise my gaze, and her eyes connect with mine. Her brows jump, making her appear surprised.

“I’m ignoring your rational voice from now on. I’ve had enough of it following me and trying to feed me lies.”

Aurora’s biting her lips—but if she’s attempting not to smile, she’s failing. “Now get up here with me.” “No.” “Simmi.” “Not in hells.”

Aurora grabs my arm. She’s much stronger than she looks and she drags me down to her face’s level. “Don’t try to kiss this awa—” I try to say, but my words die off the moment her lips cover mine.

“I was wrong earlier,” she whispers to me. “You’re not a princess. You’re a little fussy, but you’re really a prince.” And with that, she brushes a soft kiss over my mouth.

I like my life. It’s orderly. Quiet. Clean. My workspace where I spend the majority of my time is like my dorm: devoid of clutter, utilitarian, and hygienic. I like these places for these reasons. Against all reason: I like Aurora. She is not orderly. She is anything but quiet.

“I suppose I’m willing to concede that, despite these unsanitary conditions, thanks to you, you’ve somehow made my time here bearable, and if I must endure this hardship, I am more than glad to do it at your side.” I jolt when tightness suddenly and without warning forms around my midsection. Aurora is hugging me.

“Not all humans are like the ones who took us,” she says. I meet her eyes. “I know. Some of you are wonderful.” Aurora’s cheeks flash pink. She glances down and quickly busies her hands picking off burrs—aggressive plant seeds—from her clothing.

Aurora reaches up and claps her hand over my mouth. “Some people are really, really small-minded. They judge you for what you wear and who you’re with. Some places are like this, Simmi, and there’s nothing we’re going to be able to do to change that.” She tugs me down so we’re eye level. “For now, we need to play by their rules, all right?” I’m not pleased, but I am somewhat mollified when she grabs me by either side of my face, and presses her lips more firmly to mine than she ever has before.

Rather than answer in words, the human jerks his head and we turn to see a table laden with metal and glass containers—and all manner of flying insects buzzing around them. Horrified, I latch onto Aurora’s shoulders. She reaches up and pats my hands and says to the food-maker, “We’ll just stick with the well-done burgers, thanks.”

“Say something.” “You’re demanding.” She taps me again, a grin stretching her lips this time. “Say something else. Something flattering.”

She’s heavenly.

“Will you go with me, Simmi? Please?” Without my conscious consent, my mouth speaks for me. “Okay.” Okay? What! ‘Okay,’ what? Why did the sight of her gazing up at me get my blind agreement to whatever she wants me for? “How do you do that?” I ask in bewildered astonishment.

“I know I can’t cure everything with kissing...” I sweep my tail at all of myself. “Obviously.” She grins. At the sight of her smile: so do I.

That’s right. Aurora makes soaps. CLEAN, SWEET-SMELLING, DISINFECTING, *CLEAN* SOAPS! Is this not the most perfect female for me in all of Creation?

And that’s when she takes off her clothes. Usually just one item. But just one is all it takes before I’m less concerned with dust mites on the bed coverings than I am about driving myself into her until she’s screaming that she loves me. I love it when she tells me that.

Aurora performs a slow nictation, and we’ve been married long enough for me to recognize the real but subtle warning in the gesture. Immediately, I consider what I’ve just said. “And I’m fine.” I look into her eyes. “And I love you.”

Rather than kiss me, Aurora—who is ever-mindful of my myriad of issues—chooses to affectionately touch her nose to mine instead. “I love you too, Simmi. Want to go brush our teeth together?” I bend down, and take her in my arms again, enjoying her surprised chuckle. “Why yes, I would like this very much.”