Faer’s Command: Scifi Alien Abduction Romance (Science Fiction Alien Romance) (Survival Wars Book 3) (5 page)

            Just as suddenly as it had begun to truly delve
into their deepest desires, Faer suddenly ended their fantasy and began to ease
them both back out of the link, no doubt to stop things before they went too
far. In spite of the fact that Faer had done a phenomenal job gradually pulling
them out of each other's heads, the loss still felt abrupt to her, and reality
crashed in around her with the nuanced subtlety of being tossed into an ice
bath.

            “I am sorry, Anne Claire,” Faer murmured beside
her. They must have seen how jarred she was, for they smiled uncertainly. “I
would have wanted to go further and share more with you, had we kept things
going much longer.”

            “I wouldn't have minded,” she couldn't help but
grumble as she nestled deeper into her covers. Her reaction earned her a genuine
chuckle from Faer. “I wouldn't have cared how far we went, not with the way you
made me feel, Faer.”

            “Nor would I,” they admitted when their
snickering had ceased. “But I also know that doing so would tire you out even
more than you already currently are. The rest of that process, the art of love
making is an activity best saved for when we are both revitalized and
rejuvenated.” They reached up and smoothed back her hair, tousled from their
activity. “Sleep, so that I may show you my world in the morning.” Anne Claire
was sure she murmured something in the affirmative, but couldn't be certain of
very much else beyond that as she fell into the deepest, most contented slumber
she had ever experienced in her adult life, clinging to Faer's hand like it was
her only connection to the one person in either of their universes that made
her feel like she belonged somewhere. From the linked emotions that Faer was
channeling in a hushed murmur through their touch, the sentiment wasn't one she
felt alone.

            With morning came the sun streaking through the
fluttering curtains and rousing Anne Claire from her slumber. She begrudgingly
sat up, blinking away the last hints of sleep from her eyes. In spite of the
warmth of her blanket, she felt a strange chill under her skin once her senses
had caught up with her, and it didn't take much to attribute it to the feeling
of loss when she woke up to a room decidedly missing other occupants; Momo was
nowhere to be seen, and had apparently led Faer out of the room along with him.
Swiveling her legs over the edge of the bed to rise for the day, she hissed at
the feeling of her feet hitting cold wood flooring.

            The action was so mundane, her surroundings so
familiar to her that for a moment, she wasn't entirely sure that she hadn't
just had a long, vivid dream. For a few moments, she stood in the center of her
room, letting her mind settle and decide whether or not it was all real. As she
dressed, her mind cleared, and the undeniable traces of her connection with
Faer confirmed for her all over again that what had happened was real. Still,
it struck her as oddly convenient that all of her clothes were in the exact
places she had left them in her room back home, but chose to not complain;
better that she have clean clothes than have to make do without. Clothing
situation successfully dealt with, she padded out of her bedroom to try and
find the other occupants of the space.

            Her search was short lived, as she rounded the
corner and spotted Faer, still as ethereal as the moment she saw them step out
of their ship, perched on one of her comfy armchairs and flipping through one
of her older journals absentmindedly. Faer's eyes had taken on a warm golden
hue as they took in the words scratched into the paper and the odd sketch here
or there, and Anne Claire pondered whether or not it was because they were
trying to divine more of who she was and how she worked from her entries.

            “Your poetry fascinates me, Anne Claire,” she
jumped a bit at Faer's voice ringing in the quiet of the space. When they
lifted their gaze, their eyes glittered in amusement. “My apologies, I did not
mean to startle you,” their gaze flitted back to the pages in the book. “These
were all written when you were stargazing, correct? I seem to recall you having
an affinity for writing your thoughts when you look at the stars.”

            “Um, yeah,” Anne Claire said sheepishly as she
went to her kettle to start the water for tea. “I probably already said this,
but it's a comfort to me. I like getting to go somewhere that I can get my
thoughts out without anyone else being there.” She stood in the kitchen
uncertainly, waiting for the telltale whistle of the kettle to let her know
when it was ready. “Sometimes when I don't have very many thoughts to write
down, I like to make up tales of how some of the constellations might have
gotten their names, or how they came to be stars.” She picked her favorite
green mug up from the shelf and set it on her counter before fetching the wet
food for Momo from the next cupboard.

            “I enjoy reading them,” Faer replied, closing
the book delicately and setting it back on the table where it was left with a
sort of reverence that Anne Claire was confident she could never be worthy of
no matter what she achieved in her life.

            “Would you like something to eat or drink?
Or...” she tilted her head in contemplation at a thought that occurred to her.
“Is there anything in my house that would be safe for you to even consume?”
Faer smiled, eyes shimmering an emerald green.

            “I am able to eat human food, but I am not
hungry. Thank you for the offer. Although,” their smile grew almost sheepish,
like they were about to ask her for a horrifically inconvenient favor. “I do
enjoy hot tea. It has always been enjoyable, no matter what planet I get it
from. May I have a cup with you?”

            “Of course.” She nodded, pulling a second mug
out of the cabinet. “Other planets have tea?” She asked as she set the mug next
to hers. “Though now that I think about it, I guess that's not really all that
surprising. Brewing leaves in water is probably a thing every self aware
species has tried at least once.” Plopping one tea bag of simple black tea in
each mug, she leaned against the counter as she continued to wait for the
kettle to finish boiling. When she strained her hearing, she could hear the
faint simmering of the water at the bottom of the kettle – shouldn't be too
much longer now for it to be done.

            “That is not far from the truth,” Faer said as
they rose from the armchair and joined her in the kitchen. They stopped in front
of the sink counter opposite from where Anne Claire was leaning against, giving
her a respectable distance. “There are many things in life that are very
similar in many civilizations that have never even met each other before,” they
smiled almost wistfully. “Life has its own unbreakable patterns.” The silence
between them was a comfortable one, broken only by the shrill whistle of the
kettle demanding their attention after a few more moments. Anne Claire clicked
off the stove top and poured the steaming water into the mugs to allow the tea
to steep.

            “Just need to wait on it to steep and cool a
little. Don't want to start working today with burned tongues. That would just
drive me to distraction,” they shared a laugh at the thought, but Faer seemed
to trail off in thought soon after. Anne Claire picked up on the tonal shift in
the room and tilted her head with an inquisitive stare, waiting for Faer to
speak what was on their mind in their own time. It didn't take long for them to
realize that she was asking for clarification, and a sad smile graced their
face.

            “I am simply worried about how our work will
progress, and whether or not we would be able to discover a cure. Or at the
very least, a treatment for the illness.” Anne Claire nodded.

            “You never did tell me about this illness,” she
commented, wanting to tread carefully with such a sensitive topic. “What are
the symptoms? What-?” Faer placed a long finger against her lips, gently
silencing her.

            “I can show you everything to do with the
illness, my people, and every pertinent piece of information about our anatomy
and physiology that would help you understand everything that you need to,”
they beamed proudly down at her. “I am one of the leading experts in the field.
You will be receiving the highest level of education in the subject.”

            “That could take years for me to fully
understand, though!” She exclaimed, her eyes wide. “Would I really be able to
help anyone by then?” Faer remained calm.

            “I can share all of the information that you
would require with you in the same way that we shared our more intimate details
with each other last night.” She felt herself flush in spite of herself. “You
would learn everything in a matter of moments.” She nodded in understanding.

            “Alright, let's do this, then,” she held out her
hands, palms up. “I want to help save as many of your people as possible.” Faer
regarded her warmly.

            “I knew there was a reason that we chose you,
Anne Claire.” They stepped closer to her, lacing their fingers between hers.
The sensation of their hands laced together was steadily becoming as familiar
to her as her own heart beating in her chest, she realized with a smile. The
warmth that flooded her body as Faer began to gently ease them back into the
link was akin to their soul pressing a kiss to her own, and she felt confident
that she would never be warm again without Faer's presence, in her mind or by
her side.

            Unlike the last time that they made the
connection, it felt more like a one way channel that Faer was traveling through
to reach her mind. In spite of this, Anne Claire still felt at ease, knowing
that this was most likely the best way for her to receive this much information
in such a short amount of time. She could feel Faer in her mind fully now,
trying to introduce concepts to her as easily and slowly as possible. She
physically shook her head; touched though she may be that they were still
looking out for her well being, she knew that time was of the essence, and the
sooner that she had every tool at her disposal that she could, the better.

           
'No need to go slowly, Faer,'
she
thought, and she heard them gasp quietly in front of her.
'I trust you. I'm
not afraid. Give me everything you think will help as quickly as you safely
can, okay? I know you won't let me get hurt.'
She sensed an odd warmth
swell in her heart from Faer, evidently touched at her words. It was the last
sensation she felt before she was suddenly submerged in a sea of knowledge that
Faer was pouring into her mind.

            Though the sensation was alarming, she took a
calming breath and reminded herself that this was her chance – she could either
sink under the weight of it all and let down an entire species, or she could
swim, and absorb every drop of information available to her. And swim, she did;
once she managed to settle her mind and let the information flow into her,
understanding it all became surprisingly easy; it was almost like she was in
some sort of temporal time anomaly, where her mind was taking its time, the
years that she would have needed to absorb all of this naturally, and
condensing it into the mere seconds that ticked by.

            She learned, through detailed indexes and charts
that Faer's species was named the Hakimme, and that their race was a malleable,
adaptable sort, to some degree; though they could heal from injuries fairly
quickly with little aid, their immune systems were a little less robust,
requiring treatments for even the most benign ailments. In the last year of
their calendar, they had seen an alarming increase in the same symptoms in
hundreds of their race: inability to keep adequate weight on their bodies,
anemia, and growths in the body on their equivalent to the colon. She felt the
breath leave her lungs at the pain that these symptoms caused, how intensely she
felt it in her body.

            Though they had scientists a plenty, there were
few enough doctors to treat all of the people, and fewer still that even had an
inkling as to what to do with this new epidemic. Research at first suspected
that this illness was a disease that was contagious, but after initial testing,
it was ruled out as a possibility. Because the Hakimme had bodies that were
constantly in flux from having to adapt to the environments that they either
traveled to, or lived in, as there were colonies on several other planets in
the system, studying the effects of these symptoms and understanding the cause
proved difficult, and there were few willing to be test subjects in the pursuit
of a cure.

            Same as before, Faer eased them out of their
shared link, though she noted that they were slower to pull away this time, as
if they were mindful of the fact that they just sent her through the most
intensive cram school ever devised. Even still, the sense of loss as Faer
drifted out of her mind left her feeling strangely more hollow than the last
time they connected. She felt her hands clenching the edge of the counter top
behind her for support, and it was only then that she realized that her legs
were shaking.

            “I am sorry if that was too much,” Faer was
beside her in an instant, their hands gently but firmly supporting her until
she nodded in silent confirmation that she stood more firmly on her feet. As
she righted herself, she smiled reassuringly at her newfound partner. “How do
you feel?” They asked with a tilt of their head as their hands fell back at
their sides.

            “No need to be sorry,” she shook her head
lightly. “I'm okay. It's just a lot to process all at once, but I think I've
got it down.” She repeated all of the information that she had absorbed to confirm
that nothing had been muddled or misconstrued in their transfer. As she recited
it, Faer nodded along approvingly until she had divested everything they had
shared with her.

            “That's everything, succinctly put.” Faer
regarded her proudly. “You did so much better than I had anticipated. You are
constantly surprising me, Anne Claire.” She couldn't help but flush under their
praise, their warm regarding gaze. “Do you think that we could begin to work
today? I do not mean to rush you, but I confess, I am eager to find a solution
to the issue sooner rather than later.” She nodded.

            “That's alright, I'm eager to help your people,
too. I have a few ideas I would like to put to the test once you show me this
lab of yours. For now,” she plucked the two mugs from the counter and handed
Faer one. “We drink our tea. Once we're done, we begin our noble work, Faer.”
She lightly clacked her mug against theirs in a quiet toast.

            “Why did you do that?” Faer questioned. “I have
never seen that done before.” She giggled.

            “It's called a toast,” she explained. “You clink
your glasses together in good cheer, or to celebrate something. It's usually
done with alcohol, but tea is my choice of beverage more often than not.”

            “You are a strange human, Ann Claire.” Faer shook
their head. “And yet...a charmingly intriguing one.” She smiled, and the two of
them lapsed into a companionable silence as they sipped at their tea. Anne
Claire hummed low as the aromatic drink sank into her belly and enjoyed the
hushed warmth that flooded through from the hot liquid. Though this warmth that
suffused through her was nothing like what they had shared when their minds
were linked to one another, not even remotely close, they both quietly agreed
that it was still a pleasant feeling that soothed the soul.

            Soon, the tea was drained, the mugs were cleaned
and put away, and Faer was idly stroking Momo in greeting when he came to
investigate the newcomer again once he was finished feasting on his wet food.
Though it was still strange to her to think that Faer had so faithfully
recreated her house in merely one room of their home, she still relished in the
comfort that it provided, and noted with no small amount of happiness that
Faer, for all their otherworldly qualities, never once felt out of place in the
space. Curiosity got the better of her, and she walked over to her window in
the living room beside the armchair Faer had occupied when she first emerged
from her room. Parting the curtains, she smiled as she took in the orchid
colored skyline of Faer's home planet, Arret. She took in the muted lavender of
the clouds that hung overhead, of the deep amaranthine sea of water that swayed
and sloshed below.

            “Does this skyline make you uncomfortable?” She
heard Faer ask hesitantly from the kitchen. She turned away from the gorgeous
scenery to face them. “If it would make you comfortable, I could project
Earth's scenery outside instead. Or the stars, if it is preferable.” She shook
her head, her smile widening.

            “I think this is perfect.” She let the statement
and all of its many meanings in that moment hang there, and walked toward them
with a determined grin. “Shall we get started? I want to take a look at the
equipment you taught me about.” Faer nodded, taking her hand in theirs and
guiding her away.

            With a parting scritch on Momo's chin, they
exited Anne Claire's space, and returned to the clean, pristine white and
silver of the rest of Faer's home. It felt surreal, stepping out from a space
that so perfectly mimicked her home into the rest of the building, a stark
reminder that she was far, far from home. Still, she was impressed by the vast
expanse of the home, and how immaculately cleaned that it was in spite of that.
Faer led her out of the hallway, away from her area, and led her up a flight of
stairs that seemed to hover in place rather than be bolted to the wall or
attached to the floor. And yet, they felt as solid as if they were firmly
attached to something.

            Once they were on the next floor, Faer guided
her through the foyer of the floor and to a door that she noted seemed more
secure than the others; there was a green digital panel beside the door that
Faer placed their hand on. It was familiar enough to her security measures back
at her lab on Earth that it felt strangely comforting to see. They motioned for
her to enter the lab, and she did so, looking around Faer's laboratory in awe.

            Pearl white walls were only marred by the green
and orange digital displays that all showed the recent test results of
experiments that they had been running before her arrival. The tables and
panels with computers and equipment that she recalled being shown in Faer's
instructions, and she mentally ticked off which ones she would need to make use
of to test out her ideas as to what it could be. She walked into the lab and
sucked in a deep, slow breath. How strange, she noted – even a lab in another
galaxy smelled familiarly of antiseptic, and latex, and even the sounds of
whirring machines and the occasional soft beeping from the computers there made
her feel like she had stepped into her own lab.

            “Do you think that you can work in these
conditions?” Faer asked curiously.

            “This feels like home to me.” She cracked her
knuckles. “Almost as much as my actual home.” She turned to look at them. “I
think we're gonna do
great
work here, Faer. Let's get started,” she said
with a broad grin as she walked over to the main computer against the wall.

            “Where do you want to start?”

            “I want to see what you've done already, so I'm
not retreading old ground,” she explained as she tapped away at the keyboard
with the muscle memory of someone who had used this technology for years. “Like
I said, I have a few ideas, but I want to make sure they haven't been ruled out
already.” Faer walked up beside her.

            “I am ashamed to admit this, but there is little
that I have tried thus far.” They sighed and folded their arms across their
chest. “With so few volunteer test subjects, there is little to draw from.”

            “I thought about how to combat that,” she said
with a nod as she looked through their meticulous notes, few as they may have
been. After finishing, she turned to face them. “I was wondering if you would
let me take a sample of your blood, Faer.”

            “My blood?” They parroted with a tilt of their
head, surprised. “I take no issue with it, but I wonder what use it could have
– my people's blood is one of the few things not affected by the illness.”

            “Exactly!” She nodded. “I want to take a sample
of your blood, use it to generate a set of cloned organs – your generative cell
apparatus allows for organs to be grown in a matter of minutes based off of
your genetic make up and a sample of your blood. Using these organs, I want to
try and recreate the illness, see what its growing and feeding off of, and use
them to draw samples from to test. You carry the illness, so it's an ideal
sample to take!” She knew that she was rambling horribly, and she also knew
that that last part was probably a thousand levels of inappropriately harsh,
but she was so caught up in her train of thought that she was only peripherally
aware of the impact of her words until she had stopped talking.

Now she wanted to crawl into a hole.

            “How,” Faer asked incredulously. “How did you
know that I carried the illness, Ann Claire?” She smiled apologetically and
gently stroked their arm soothingly.

            “You told me.” They stared at her with wide,
silver shimmering eyes, clearly alarmed at the thought.

            “I do not recall...” She could see in the
shifting colors of their eyes that they were wracking their brain to try and
find the exact moment that they disclosed this information.

            “You didn't
exactly
say it outright,” she
said, her smile growing sad. “But I felt the pain of the symptoms that the
illness had. Your species is telepathic, but the things that are shared second
hand are more of an...” she scrunched her face up as she sought the words to
describe her experience. “More of an echo of the original. It gets the message
across, but it doesn't
feel
as intense as if you were channeling the
original feeling.” She stared up into their eyes. “I
felt
your pain. I
felt
what you're going through, if only for a moment.” She reached out with both
arms and held their hands in hers. “I don't want you to feel that. I don't want
anyone
to feel that. It's the whole reason I got into medicine in the
first place.”

            “You are far more astute than I gave you credit
for,” Faer was quiet as they listened. “But that is a good thing. Both because
it will help us find the solution and...” they hooked a long finger under her
chin to bring their faces closer together. “...And because it only makes you
more endearing to me.” They let their hand fall. “Very well. Draw a sample of
my blood, and I shall prepare it for the generative apparatus.” She nodded
firmly and stepped over to an examination counter. She searched the drawers
beneath the pristine metal counter to find the needle and vials that Faer had
been using to take samples.

The artificial familiarity of
these machines and procedures was still strange to her, to a degree; while her
mind lined up everything that she planned on testing out of information that
shouldn't have felt as natural as it did, her hands moved with the genuine
practiced grace that only came with years of repeated motions in her own lab,
on her own planet, with her own knowledge gained after years of dedicated
study. Perhaps that was why she was able to handle such a large transfer of
information so easily; she had a basis to work with, something to compare the
differences with, and something to build off of in order to help even more
people than she already had. The thought comforted her, and as she turned to
face Faer with the equipment necessary to take a sample of their blood, she
found them seated beside the generative apparatus waiting patiently for her to
begin.