Aliens Love Curves

Chapter 7 - Casey

T he prototype glider gleams in the morning sun, its pearl-white surface almost liquid in appearance its sleek lines promising speed and power. My fingers tingle with the urge to touch it, to learn its secrets. Beside me, Lyra runs through the specs, but I'm barely listening, too captivated by the machine before me.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" Lyra says, catching my expression, running her hand along the glider's wing. "The SkyDancer X1 - our most advanced model yet. Want to take her for a spin?"

"Gorgeous," I breathe, circling the craft. Every line is perfect, promising speed and manoeuvrability beyond anything I've ever flown.

"Are you serious?" My heart leaps at the opportunity.

"The test pilots say she's ready for advanced trials," Lyra explains. "And after seeing you fly yesterday—"

“Want to take it for a spin?”

My heart leaps at Lyra's offer, but before I can respond, a familiar voice cuts in.

"It's too dangerous." Stryker's voice cuts through my excitement like a blade. He stands with his arms crossed, tail swishing in agitation. "The stabilizers haven't been fully tested."

I feel yesterday's anger resurface. "I can handle it."

Stryker’s eyes narrow, as if challenging my decision. "Casey—"

Lyra nods. "True, the stabilizers still need to be gaged correctly, but the prototype has passed all our initial safety checks. We just need experienced pilots to help with the fine-tuning now."

I meet Stryker's concerned gaze with a defiant tilt of my chin. "Sounds perfect. When can I start?"

"Casey," he repeats stepping closer, his voice low. "This isn't some training exercise. Prototype gliders can be unpredictable."

"Good thing I'm not predictable either," I reply sweetly, already reaching for the flight suit Lyra offers. "I'm doing it. Where do I sign?"

As I suit up, I can feel Stryker's disapproval radiating off him in waves. Good. After last night's lecture about my "hormones" clouding my judgment, let him stew. I'm done trying to prove myself to him.

The cockpit embraces me like a lover as I slide in, everything positioned just right. Through the crystal-clear canopy, I spot Stryker watching from the observation deck, his face tight with concern, his muscled form stock still and tense. Something twists in my chest, but I push it aside. He made his feelings clear last night.

"Control, this is Peace," I say into the comm. "Ready for takeoff."

"Cleared for takeoff," Lyra's voice responds. "Remember, this is just a test run. No need for—"

Cutting off her words. I engage the engines, feeling the prototype hum to life beneath me. The takeoff is smooth as silk, lifting me into Ova's lavender sky. Gunning the engine, the prototype leaps forward like a living thing, eager to fly. Banking left, I purposely pass the observation platform. I catch Stryker's anxious expression – a mixture of worry and frustration that sends a perverse thrill through me.

I push the throttle forward, testing the glider's acceleration. It responds like a dream, shooting through the air with barely a whisper. Each turn is sharper, each dive deeper as I push the craft to its limits.

"Casey," Stryker's voice crackles through the comm, "don't get reckless."

A wicked smile curves my lips. Want something to really worry about, partner? Watch this. I'll give you something to worry about.

I push the glider into a steep climb, feeling the G-forces press me into my seat. The engines sing with power, responding to my every touch. At the apex of my climb, I pause for a fraction of a second before diving into a spiral.

"Peace!" Stryker's voice crackles over the comm. "What are you doing? This isn't a stunt show!"

I switch off the comm. The SkyDancer moves like an extension of my body, responding to my slightest touch, better than any glider I've ever flown. I push it harder, testing its limits with increasingly complex manoeuvres. Each successful move feels like a personal victory over Stryker's doubts. Rolling into a steep dive, the ground rushing up to meet me. At the last possible moment, I pull up, skimming the landing pad before rocketing skyward again.

When I finally land, my heart is racing with adrenaline and triumph. The prototype performed beautifully, exceeding all expectations. I'm barely out of the cockpit before Stryker storms over, his face thunderous.

"Have you completely lost your mind?" his tail is lashing violently. "What the hell were you thinking?" he demands. "Those manoeuvres were completely unnecessary. You could have—"

"They were spectacular—simply magnificent!" Harlan's voice booms across the landing pad. He approaches with a broad smile, clapping enthusiastically. "Casey my dear, you are even more talented than I imagined. You handled her beautifully.”

I beam at the praise, from the corner of my eye, I watch Stryker's jaw clench. "The SkyDancer is incredible. The response time, the handling... it's unlike anything I've ever flown."

"Join me for lunch?" Harlan asks. "I'd love to discuss your impressions of the prototype."

Stryker steps forward. "We'd be happy to—"

"Actually," Harlan cuts in smoothly, "I was hoping to speak with Casey to myself, "Business matters to discuss. I'm sure you understand."

I feel Stryker stiffen beside me. A low growl rumbles in his chest, and his tail lashes once, hard. “But I’m her manager.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Casey will relay all the important business side of our discussion back to you.”

The look that crosses Stryker's face makes my heart stutter. Hurt, anger, and something else flash in his silver eyes before he spins on his heel and stalks away, his tail swishing violently.

Guilt tugs at my heart as I watch him go, but Harlan's warm hand on my arm distracts me. "Shall we say thirty minutes? Give you time to change?"

"Yes, thirty minutes will be fine. Shall I meet you there?" My reply is quipped as I try to ignore the knot forming in my stomach.

“No, my glider will collect you.” He smiles, his eyes twinkling and I notice dimples form at the corners of his mouth. My pussy clenches. Damn. Why did he have to be so handsome? I watch him turn on his hells and stride away.

I’m relieved Stryker isn’t in our quarters. I quickly shower and trade the flight suit for a flowing dress that shows off my curves. When I emerge, Harlan is standing outside holding the door open to his glider. His eyes greedily take in my outfit, and I quickly step into the glider to hide the blush creeping onto my cheeks.

Harlan's chauffeur-driven glider is the epitome of luxury, all plush seats and gleaming chrome. As we soar through the Ovan sky, the city spreads out below us like a jewelled tapestry, finally docking at The Celestial Crown - a restaurant suspended in a crystalline bubble, offering panoramic views of Ova's spectacular landscape.

All eyes are upon us as I’m guided towards steps taking us up to a floating platform with a domed glass ceiling above the other diners. A gasp escapes my parted lips. The panoramic views take my breath away.

"Impressed?" Harlan asks as he pulls out my chair.

"It's amazing," I admit as I sit down. The restaurant interior is all crystal and starlight, intimate tables floating on individual anti-grav platforms.

Our table offers a perfect view of the sunset, the Ovan sky painted in shades of purple and gold. As we settle in, Harlan's eyes catch the light, swirling with those mesmerizing gold and green patterns.

"You flew beautifully today, very impressive," he nods at a waiter hovering nearby and he steps forward and pours us glasses of something that sparkles like liquid starlight, before disappearing. "Your instincts for the machine are remarkable. You have a natural feel for the glider, an instinct that can't be taught."

"You're too kind," I reply, warming under his intense gaze. “The prototype is incredible. The response time, the manoeuvrability—it’s the glider, not me."

"Not at all. In fact..." He leans forward, those mesmerizing gold-green eyes capturing mine. "The way you handled those turns," Harlan interjects, leaning forward. "It was like watching a dance. Tell me, have you ever considered racing professionally?"

My heart skips a beat. "It's always been a dream, but—"

"But what? With your talent?" He reaches across the table, his fingers brushing mine. "You were born to race, Casey."

The touch sends a shiver through me, not entirely unpleasant. We fall into an easy conversation about flying techniques and favorite races, our shared passion evident in every word. I find myself relaxing, enjoying his charm and attention.

"You know," Harlan says, his voice dropping to an intimate tone, "we have our annual championship race coming up. The prototype you flew today will be ready by then. I think you might be exactly what we need for the Annual Sky Race."

My eyes widen. I nearly choke on my drink. "The Sky Race? But that's the most prestigious event in the sector! Are you suggesting—"

"Indeed. And I believe you could pilot the SkyDancer to victory." His hand brushes mine as he reaches for his glass. "Of course, I'd need to convince the shareholders..." he adds quickly. "But I think they'll be as impressed with you as I am."

We spend the next hour discussing racing strategies and sharing flying stories. Harlan is charming, knowledgeable, and his passion for flight matches my own. Yet I can't help but notice how different his attraction feels compared to Stryker's. Where Stryker's gaze burns, Harlan's caresses. Where Stryker's presence makes my pulse race, Harlan's merely warms.

I’m about to agree, when a server appears at Harlan's side, whispering something in his ear. Harlan's expression flickers, his eyes darting to a corner table where two men sit in shadows. Something in their posture sets off warning bells in my enforcer training.

"My sincerest apologies," Harlan says, standing abruptly. "A business matter requires my attention. But please, consider my offer about the race. I think you could be exactly what Quickening Gliders needs."

As I watch him leave, I can't help but notice how he bends close to the mysterious men, their conversation intense but inaudible. The enforcer in me itches to investigate, but the pilot in me is still soaring from his offer.

The ride back to campus gives me time to think. About the prototype, about Harlan's offer, about Stryker's reaction to my reckless flying. I close my eyes, seeing again that flash of hurt in his silver gaze before he stormed off. But something bigger is happening here, something beyond corporate competition and racing glory. Something more important than my mixed-up emotions.

Maybe I took things too far. Maybe I let my anger over last night push me into unnecessary risks. But then I remember Harlan's words – "You were born to race" – and my resolve strengthens. I'm tired of playing it safe, tired of trying to meet everyone else's expectations.

Still, as I enter our shared apartment, I can't help but hope Stryker's there. We need to talk, to clear the air. But the apartment is empty. I spend the next few hours pacing, chewing on my bottom lip as I contemplate the day’s events. Before I know it, it’s dark outside, except for the glow of Ova's moons through the windows.

I change for bed, pulling on the same satin nightdress that caused such tension last night. As I slip between the sheets, I hear Stryker's familiar heavy footsteps pause outside the apartment. I quickly turn off the bedside light. For a moment, I think he might walk away, but the door open and close softly.

He pads softly into the open-plan room, pausing for a moment as he passes the bed. My eyes desperately want to open to see what emotion is registered on his face, but I keep them firmly glued together. I hear his retreats, followed by the sound of him settling onto the couch. My heart hammers against my sternum and I lie awake in the darkness wondering if he can hear it. I’m unsettled, my mind full of prototype gliders and racing dreams, of the real objective for being here—our mission, of Harlan's charm and Stryker's concern.

I realize I'm walking a dangerous line. Between duty and desire, between Stryker and Harlan, between the thrill of racing and the growing certainty that something sinister lurks beneath Quickening Gliders' gleaming surface.

The question is, which line will I cross first?

Tomorrow will bring new challenges, new choices. But for now, I let the memory of today's flight carry me into dreams, where I soar free above it all, unburdened by expectations or complications.

If only real life were so simple.