Aliens Love Curves

Chapter 14 – Stryker

O ut of sight of the security cameras, my tech-pad's soft glow illuminates the darkened observation deck as I scroll through another missing person's report. Third one this month, all within a five-mile radius of Quickening Gliders. All promising young pilots.

Kira Vex, age 22. Last seen entering Quickening Gliders' testing facility. "Believed to have left planet seeking better opportunities," according to official records.

Zenn Malax, 19. Disappeared after a "successful" prototype test flight. Body never found.

Lin Serra, 24. Another "voluntary departure" that doesn't add up.

My tail lashes with agitation as I dig deeper. The pattern is too clear, too consistent to be coincidence. Young pilots, all with exceptional skills, all vanishing after involvement with prototype testing.

Like Casey.

The thought makes my blood run cold. I pull up more records, cross-referencing dates with Quickening Gliders' test flight schedules. A pattern emerges – disappearances clustering around major technological breakthroughs, new prototype releases, racing events.

"Accessing restricted files," my tech-pad warns. I override the security protocols, using enforcer clearance codes that will hopefully go unnoticed. A new batch of files appears – medical records, all heavily redacted.

Something about genetic compatibility. Enhancement trials. Failed integration attempts.

My claws click against the screen as I download everything, heart racing. This is bigger than weapons smuggling. Darker. The medical equipment Casey spotted, the missing pilots, these disturbing records...

A sound in the corridor sends me melting into shadows. Two security guards pass, their conversation drifting through the door.

"...another one scheduled for next week..."

"...better results this time..."

"...shame about the last one..."

Their footsteps fade, but their words echo in my mind. Another what? Better results from what?

I need to find Casey.

The hangar is busy with pre-flight checks when I arrive. My eyes scan the crowd, seeking her familiar form. When I spot her, my heart stops.

She's with Harlan, of course. He stands too close, one hand resting possessively on her lower back as he shows her something on a tech-pad. Her head is tilted toward him, a smile playing at her lips – the smile that should be mine.

As I watch, his hand slides lower, and something in me snaps.

Before I can think better of it, I'm striding across the hangar. Harlan sees me coming, his smile turning smug. He deliberately leans closer to Casey, whispering something in her ear.

I reach them in three long strides, grab Casey's hand, and pull her away without a word.

"Stryker" Harlan's voice carries a warning. "We were in the middle of something.

I don't stop, don't look back. Casey stumbles slightly, keeping pace with my longer stride.

"What the hell?" she hisses as I lead her through maintenance corridors. "Stryker, you can't just—"

I pull her into an empty storage room, closing the door behind us. The space is tight, filled with spare parts and the scent of engine oil. And her.

"Have you lost your mind?" She yanks her hand free, eyes flashing. "Do you know how that looked? After everything we've done to make Harlan think—"

"They're killing them." The words burst out, rough with urgency.

She blinks. "What?"

Instead of answering, I pull out my tech-pad, showing her the files. "Missing pilots. Dozens of them. All after testing prototypes. All covered up with convenient explanations."

Her anger fades as she scrolls through the reports, colour draining from her face. "These dates... they coincide with major technological advances in their glider designs."

"Keep reading.

She does, her eyes widening at the medical records. "Genetic compatibility... enhancement trials... Oh stars, they're not just killing them, are they? They're experimenting on them."

"And you're next in line for testing." My voice breaks slightly on the last word.

Casey looks up at me, realization dawning. "The medical equipment transfers I saw..."

"Probably for whatever they're planning to do to you." My tail curls around her waist protectively. "We need to—"

She cuts me off with a kiss, fierce and sudden. Her hands cup my face as she pulls back, eyes shining. "You brilliant, overprotective fool. This is exactly what we needed!"

Before I can respond, footsteps echo in the corridor outside. We freeze, pressed together in the dimness.

"Check every room," a gruff voice orders. "Mertok wants them found."

Casey's heart pounds against my chest as boots approach our door. My tail tightens around her waist as I scan the room for options. A maintenance shaft in the ceiling catches my eye.

Without a word, I lift Casey toward it. She catches on immediately, pushing the panel aside and pulling herself up with practiced grace. I follow just as the door below opens.

We lie still in the cramped shaft, barely breathing, as guards search the room. Casey's body is pressed along the length of mine, her face buried in my neck to muffle her breathing.

"Clear!" a voice calls. The footsteps move away.

Neither of us moves for long moments after the all-clear. The shaft is narrow, forcing us to stay intimately close. Not that I'm complaining.

"We need to get this evidence to the enforcement agency," Casey whispers finally.

"Too risky to transmit from here. They're probably monitoring all communications."

"Then we need a new plan." She shifts slightly, sending sparks through my body. "One that doesn't involve you manhandling me away from Harlan in front of everyone."

I growl softly. "He was touching you."

"That's kind of the point, remember? He's supposed to think he has a chance with me."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it."

She laughs quietly, the sound vibrating through both our bodies. "Jealous, partner?"

"Terrified," I admit, holding her closer. "These records... Casey, if anything happened to you..."

She kisses me again, soft and sweet. "Nothing's going to happen to me. We're going to stop them."

"How?"

"I have an idea." She grins against my mouth. "But you're really not going to like it."

Later, as we make our way carefully back to public areas, I can't shake the feeling that we're running out of time. The weight of the evidence on my tech-pad feels like a bomb waiting to go off.

And Casey's right – I really don't like her plan.

But watching her stride confidently back into the hangar, seamlessly rejoining Harlan as if nothing happened, I have to admit she's our best chance at bringing this operation down.

I just pray we can do it before she becomes another name in those missing persons files.

Another victim of Quickening Gliders' dangerous games.

BACK IN OUR APARTMENT , my tail lashes anxiously as Casey outlines her plan. The evening light streaming through the windows paints her in shades of gold and purple, making her look ethereal – and terrifyingly vulnerable.

"Let me get this straight," I growl, pacing the limited space. "You want to deliberately position yourself as their next test subject?"

Casey perches on the arm of the couch, watching me with those determined eyes I've come to both love and fear. "Think about it. They're looking for specific traits in their victims – exceptional pilots, unique physical characteristics..."

"And you match the profile perfectly." My claws flex involuntarily. "That's exactly why we need to get you out of here, not dangle you as bait."

"Bait catches fish," she says softly. "And we need to catch all of them, Stryker. Not just Harlan, but everyone involved in these experiments."

I stop pacing to face her. "Do you have any idea what they might do to you?"

"Actually, I do." She pulls out her own tech-pad, showing me notes she's taken. "I've been watching their medical transfers, noting patterns. They're not just looking for test pilots – they're specifically targeting beings with unique genetic markers. And as a human..."

"You're unique among their test subjects." The realization hits me like a physical blow. "That's why Harlan's been so focused on you. Your curves, your physical differences from Equanox females..."

"He's not just flirting," Casey confirms. "He's assessing me for compatibility with whatever enhancement program they're running."

I cross to her in two strides, cupping her face in my hands. "All the more reason to get you away from here. We have enough evidence to—"

"To what?" She covers my hands with hers. "Prove they're doing something suspicious? That pilots have disappeared? We need concrete evidence of the experiments themselves. And we need to find out if any of their victims are still alive."

"And your plan is to offer yourself up?" My voice roughens with emotion. "To let them take you into their labs and—"

"Not alone." She rises, pressing herself against me. "I'll have you watching my back. We'll set up emergency protocols, tracking devices, everything. And when they think they have me exactly where they want me..."

"We spring the trap," I finish, understanding dawning even as my heart rebels against the risk.

"Exactly." She slides her hands up my chest. "The annual race is the perfect cover. All eyes will be on Quickening Gliders, security will be focused on the public areas..."

"While their labs continue operating behind the scenes." I wrap my tail around her waist, pulling her closer. "But Casey, if anything goes wrong..."

"It won't." She rises on tiptoes, pressing a soft kiss to my jaw. "I trust you to keep me safe. Do you trust me to do what needs to be done?"

I close my eyes, breathing in her scent. "That's not fair."

"None of this is fair." Her lips find mine briefly. "But those pilots – they deserve justice. And any survivors deserve rescue."

"I hate this plan," I murmur against her mouth.

"I know." She smiles slightly. "That's how I know it's probably our best option."

I pull back enough to study her face, memorizing every detail. "Promise me something."

"Anything."

"If I give you a signal – any signal – you abort. No heroics, no finishing the mission. You get out."

She starts to protest, but I silence her with a kiss. "Promise me, Casey. I can't... I can't lose you to this."

Something in my voice must convey the depth of my fear, because she softens. "I promise. But you have to promise me something too."

"What?"

"Trust that I can handle this. Don't let your feelings for me compromise our best chance at stopping them."

I rest my forehead against hers, conflict raging in my chest. "When did you get so good at asking the impossible?"

"Around the same time you got so good at making me want to keep my promises." She threads her fingers through my hair. "Partners?"

"Partners," I agree, sealing the word with a kiss that tastes of promise and fear and something deeper neither of us is ready to name.

As we spend the next hour planning protocols and fail-safes, I can't shake the feeling that we're playing with fire. But watching Casey work, her face animated as she plots out contingencies, I understand something important:

Sometimes the most dangerous games are the ones we can't afford to lose.