Aehako’s big body is a few steps behind mine, and each movement makes the floor shake and rattle, as if a hundred metal plates are upended with every step. I cringe at each movement, worried the floor won’t hold us both.
The track lighting in the floor stops in front of a yawning archway with a seam down the middle. It looks as if it might be double doors. It looks like part of the wall, but there’s writing of some kind on one side, and a control panel on the other. A broken light flickers overhead and then goes dark.
The moment it does, the chirping sounds in my earpiece again. Report back on what you see. Are the stasis pods intact?
“Please, open up,” I say, pressing my hand to the door. “I need this thing out of me!”
The metal is warm under my hand, which surprises me. It gives a small shiver and creaks open, and I step inside.
“Kira?” Aehako asks as I enter. “Be careful.”
The time for being careful is past. I just want this thing gone. I put a hand to the translator and walk into the room, gazing at my surroundings.
I’m not going to lie, it looks a bit like a laboratory. That’s scary. There’s tables, and a few benches, and a row of space-like cots jutting from a wall in the distance. Another wall is nothing but screens and monitors. As I step inside, they fire up one by one, scrolling unintelligible words across the screens.
I swallow hard. I don’t like the looks of this, but I’ve never been a fan of the doctor’s office. “Do you have something that can remove foreign objects, computer?”
“There is a self-assisted surgery compartment,” the computer intones. “I shall activate it.”
Self-assisted surgery? Not high on the list of things I want to have done. I’m even more alarmed when one of the walls opens up and spits out a long bed. Monitors flicker and dance with messages.
“Please enter the surgical compartment.”
I swallow hard and walk slowly toward the bed. I can do this. It’s just like getting a CAT scan back home, right? No big deal. I’m sure these people have – or rather, had – some sort of anesthesia or pain numbing sort of thing. Even if they don’t, it still has to come out.
I still have nightmares of when the aliens implanted the thing in my head. Of being held down and strapped down to a table, their voices chirping around me. Of the cool metal object placed against my ear…and then things burrowing into my brain, sending blinding pain through my body. I’d had a migraine for a week after it was implanted.
I can’t imagine what the extraction is going to be like.
Mouth dry, I sit gingerly on the edge of the bed.
“Please lay flat upon the indicated pallet.” The computer’s voice is changing, turning into a gentle, soothing counterpart. Bedside manner, perhaps. Whatever it is, I relax a little and start to lie down.
Aehako immediately appears at my side and grips my hand in his. “Kira.”
“What is it?”
He looks at the walls, full of monitors and flashing lights and computerized technology that I can’t comprehend. He looks…more than a little alarmed. This must be terrifying for him. His hand squeezes mine. “You do not have to have this thing removed. I will protect you from the aliens with my life.”
I give him a wan smile. “Aehako, they have laser guns and technology that both you and I can’t even comprehend. Spears and slings won’t do much against them. If they want to take me, there’s nothing I can do to stop them. I’m trying to get rid of this thing because I want to hide, not because I think you can’t protect me.”
His broad face studies me, and I can see the worry etched in his ridged brow and the set of his jaw. He doesn’t like this, not one bit. It’s startling to see in one as easygoing as Aehako.
“You can let go of my hand now,” I tease, trying to keep my voice light.
“Kira,” he says, and his voice is low and husky. Instead of moving away, he leans in. He clasps my hand tighter in his and presses it against his breast. “Be my mate.”
I stare up at his big body in shock. Was that…the alien version of a marriage proposal? “Your mate? But I thought we had to resonate—“
He shakes his head, big horns cutting through the air. My hand is pressed against his thudding heart, the tough, platy ridges covering it. “We will not be resonance mates. Just mates.”
“What’s the difference?”
He stares at me, so intent and serious. His other hand reaches out and brushes lightly along my jaw in a tender caress. “We choose to be mated to each other until we are separated.”
“Separated?”
“By death or by khui.”