Aliens Love Curves

Chapter 15 - Casey

S leep eludes me, memories of those missing persons files playing behind my closed eyes. Young pilots, just like me, vanishing without a trace. Their faces haunt me – Kira Vex with her promising career, Zenn Malax barely more than a teenager, Lin Serra who left behind a young family.

Beside me on the bed, Stryker sleeps soundly, his tail curled protectively around my waist even in slumber. We've given up pretending we can sleep apart, though the couch remains dishevelled for appearance's sake. I don’t want to leave his warm embrace, but my overactive mind won’t rest.

As carefully as I can, I extract myself from his embrace. He stirs slightly, making a small sound of protest that nearly breaks my resolve. But those faces won't dissipate.

The night air is cool against my skin as I slip on a dark flight suit. My ID badge needed to gain entrance through most doors here, feels heavy around my neck – a weight of responsibility rather than mere identification.

I pause at the door, looking back at Stryker's sleeping form. He'll be furious when he realizes I've gone investigating alone, but I can't risk his more noticeable presence. Besides, this might be nothing. Just a hunch based on smuggled medical equipment and a too-convenient door I spotted.

The corridors are eerily quiet at this hour, my soft footsteps echoing despite my care. Security cameras track my movement, but my presence shouldn't raise alarms – insomnia is common among test pilots, and late-night walks aren't unusual.

I make my way to the sector where I spotted the medical equipment transfer. In daylight, it's a busy thoroughfare between hangars. Now, in the artificial night of Ova's third moon, shadows create strange patterns across the walls.

The door I'm looking for sits innocently between two maintenance panels, its security pad glowing softly. Nothing about it suggests its hidden nature – I only noticed it because I saw those containers disappearing behind it during the transfer.

My heart pounds as I lift my ID badge. It shouldn't work. It's a basic pilot's clearance, nothing special. But something about those files Stryker found, about genetic compatibility...

The pad chimes softly, the door sliding open with a whisper of hydraulics.

My breath catches. Why would I have access to a restricted area?

Beyond the door, a sterile corridor stretches into darkness. The air carries a sharp, medical scent that makes my skin crawl. My footsteps echo differently here – hollow, as if there's space below.

The corridor opens into a larger area, and I have to stifle a gasp. Medical pods line the walls, their monitors casting a sickly blue glow. Most are empty, but three... three are occupied.

I approach the nearest pod, my heart in my throat. Through the frosted cover, I can make out a form – humanoid, but changed. The limbs are longer than natural, the skin a mottled colour that speaks of genetic manipulation.

A soft sound from the pod makes me jump. Are they conscious? Aware? The thought turns my stomach.

"Fascinating, isn't it?"

Harlan's voice freezes me in place. I turn slowly, finding him standing in the doorway, his cerise skin almost luminescent in the pod-light.

"What have you done to them?" My voice comes out steadier than I feel.

He approaches with that liquid grace I once found attractive, now sinister. "Done to them? My dear Casey, we're saving them."

"Saving them?" I gesture to the twisted form in the pod. "They're deformed!"

"They're evolving." He reaches past me to stroke the pod's surface almost lovingly. "There was an accident in one of our prototype tests – a virus that attacks pilot genetics, attempting to enhance them for better performance. These brave souls..." He sighs dramatically. "Their families begged us to help. With our advanced medical facilities, we're their only hope."

The lie is beautiful in its construction. Plausible, even. But I've seen the files, the pattern of disappearances going back years.

"And you just happened to have facilities equipped for genetic manipulation?" I keep my voice curious rather than accusatory.

"Quickening Gliders believes in being prepared." His hand moves from the pod to my arm, the touch making my skin crawl. "Your concern for your fellow pilots is admirable, Casey. It's one of the things that makes you so... special."

The way he says 'special' confirms my suspicions. This isn't about helping anyone – it's about creating something. Or someone.

"Speaking of special," he continues, his thumb drawing circles on my arm, "the shareholders were extremely impressed with your last test flight. The way you handled those gravitational anomalies... it was almost as if you were genetically predisposed to excel."

I force myself to lean slightly into his touch, playing my part even as bile rises in my throat. "You really think I have what it takes?"

"Oh, my dear." His smile shows too many teeth. "I think you have exactly what we need. Your unique physiology, your natural talents... with just a few small enhancements, you could be extraordinary. Come. Let’s get you out of here and back to bed. You have a busy day tomorrow.”

“Yes,” I nod, my reply barely audible as I drag my eyes away from the lifeless bodies in the pods.

Harlan’s hand cups my elbow and guides me in silence back to the door my ID pass allowed me access into. I glance at his profile, his face is emotionless, but I can see his brain ticking behind his eyes. I just hope I haven’t messed things up by coming here. My mind swirls as I try to think of a reason for my snooping as the door swooshes open.

I open my mouth, hoping whatever comes out of it will sound plausible, but before I speak, movement on the other side of the doorway catches my eye. Stryker stands there, his expression carefully neutral despite the tension evident in his tail.

"There you are," he says, his voice carrying just the right note of exasperated concern. "Sleepwalking again?"

I blink, catching on to his improvisation. "Was I?"

"Saw her leave the apartment so I quickly dressed and followed at a distance," Stryker explains to Harlan, moving closer. "Didn't want to wake her – heard somewhere it's dangerous to wake sleepwalking humans."

Harlan's hand tightens briefly on my arm before releasing me. "How fascinating. I wasn't aware humans exhibited such behaviour."

"Oh yes," Stryker continues smoothly. "Quite common, especially under stress. Competition anxiety, I expect."

"Indeed." Harlan's eyes narrow slightly. "Well, we can't have our star pilot wandering into restricted areas in her sleep. Perhaps we should both escort her back to her quarters?"

"I'll handle it," Stryker says quickly – too quickly.

Something dark flashes in Harlan's eyes. "I insist on helping. After all, we wouldn't want her to... get lost again."

The walk back to the apartment is tense, each alien man flanking me like prison guards rather than protectors. Harlan's solicitous comments about my "condition" carry an undercurrent of suspicion that sets my nerves on edge.

At my door, Harlan catches my hand, pressing a kiss to it. "Sweet dreams, my dear. Do try to stay in bed this time."

As soon as he's gone, Stryker all but shoves me inside, closing the door with more force than necessary.

"What were you thinking?" he hisses, his tail lashing. "Going in there alone—"

"I saw them," I cut him off. "The missing pilots. They're alive, but Stryker..." My voice breaks. "What they've done to them..."

His anger melts into concern as I describe the pods, the mutations, Harlan's smooth lies about a virus. When I tell him about the genetic enhancement comments, his tail wraps around me protectively as he pulls me into his strong arms.

"He's planning to use you in his experiments," Stryker growls. "That's why he's been so focused on your physical differences."

"Not just use me," I realize, the truth clicking into place. "He wants to perfect whatever they're doing. The others were practice runs, but me... I'm supposed to be their masterpiece."

Stryker pulls me closer, his heart thundering against my cheek. "We need to get you out of here."

"We need to save them." I look up at him, pleading. "Those pilots are still alive. We can't just leave them."

"Casey—"

"Please." I cup his face in my hands. "We have to try."

He closes his eyes, leaning into my touch. "Why do I get the feeling this is going to be even more dangerous than your last plan?"

"Because you're learning," I attempt a smile. "Besides, now we know why my ID worked on that door. They've been planning this all along."

"Which means we're running out of time." His tail tightens around me. "Promise me you'll be more careful. No more midnight explorations without backup."

"Promise." I rise on tiptoes to kiss him softly. "Partners, remember?"

His response is to kiss me harder, pouring all his fear and frustration into it. When we break apart, his eyes are fierce with determination.

"Partners," he agrees. "Now tell me everything you saw in there. Every detail could be important."

As we spend the rest of the night planning, I can't shake the image of those twisted forms in the pods. Harlan's words echo in my mind: "With just a few small enhancements, you could be extraordinary."

The truth is twisted indeed – but not as twisted as the man behind it all.

And I'm done playing his game.