Aliens Love Curves

Chapter 19 - Casey

T he world blurs at the edges as I pilot the glider through another turn. Everything feels distant, muted, like I'm underwater watching life happen above the surface. Harlan's serum pulses through my veins, trying to turn me into a puppet. But somewhere beneath the chemical haze, I'm screaming.

Fight it. Fight it. Fight it.

My hands move over the controls with mechanical precision. Bank left. Adjust stabilizers. Compensate for wind shear. Perfect execution, no creativity, no joy. Just programmed responses flowing through altered neural pathways.

Through the glider's canopy, I catch glimpses of movement below. Dark-clad figures moving with military precision. Part of me recognizes them as Enforcers, but the serum tries to blur the knowledge, make it irrelevant.

Focus. Remember who you are. Remember you are doing what you’ve always dreamed of—you're racing.

"Excellent performance," Harlan's voice purrs through my comm. "You're everything we hoped for, my dear. One more lap to go."

My fingers tighten on the controls – a tiny rebellion against the chemical restraints. The real me is still here, fighting with every heartbeat. I think of Stryker, of his face when I injected the serum. Use the pain to stay present.

An explosion rocks the western complex. Through my serum-hazed vision, I see Enforcers breaching the medical facility. Alarms blare, their sound distorted by my altered consciousness.

"Maintain course," Harlan commands. "Nothing else matters but finishing the race. I have a lot of credits tied up in this."

My body obeys, but my mind screams in triumph.

They're coming. They're finally coming.

Another glider cuts too close on a turn. Without the serum, I would have executed one of my signature rolls to avoid it. Instead, my hands make textbook adjustments. Safe. Boring. Not me.

Remember the pilots in the pods. Remember why you're here.

The finish line approaches. Below, chaos erupts as the raid continues. I catch a flash of pink in my peripheral vision – Stryker, moving with lethal grace through the complex. The sight sends a jolt through my system, helping me push back against the serum's control.

"Almost there," Harlan's voice holds an edge of tension now. "Just a few more—"

Static cuts him off as I cross the finish line. My glider touches down with perfect precision, even as my mind wages war against chemical bonds.

Hands pull me from the cockpit. Guards, their faces tight with strain. They start leading me toward a secured exit, but sudden violence erupts around us. Enforcers appear like shadows come to life, engaging the guards in close combat.

In the chaos, different hands grab me – cerise ones. For a moment I think it’s Stryker come to save me, until I hear the voice. It belongs to Harlan.

"Come along, my dear," he hisses in my ear. "Time for your next treatment."

The serum makes my body compliant as Harlan drags me through service corridors. Inside, I'm clawing at the chemical chains binding my will. Each step is a battle between programmed obedience and desperate rebellion.

"Such a shame," Harlan mutters, punching in security codes with his free hand. "We could have done this the easy way. You could have volunteered for the enhancements willingly."

We descend into the medical facility's lower levels. The antiseptic smell grows stronger, mixing with something else – something organic and wrong. My stomach turns, but the serum keeps me walking steadily.

"The control serum is temporary," he continues, leading me past rows of empty pods. "Just to ensure cooperation during the initial phase. The real transformation..." He stops at a pod already humming with power. "That comes next."

Through the chemical fog, terror spikes. I see the twisted forms of the other pilots in my mind.

No. Fight harder.

"Your genetic structure is unique," Harlan strokes my face with false tenderness. "Human, but with fascinating adaptabilities. The others couldn't handle the enhancements. Their bodies rejected the changes. But you..." His eyes gleam with obsession. "You're perfect."

My fingers twitch – a tiny victory in the war for control. The serum's hold is weakening, but too slowly.

"Imagine it," he breathes, preparing the pod. "Enhanced reflexes, improved neural processing, perfect integration with any vessel. You'll be the first of a new breed of pilot. My masterpiece."

"She's not your anything."

Stryker's voice cuts through the room like a blade. He stands in the doorway, blood on his claws, his silver eyes burning with fury.

Harlan spins me against him, using me as a shield. "How convenient. I was wondering how to dispose of you." Something cold presses against my temple – a plasma pistol. "One step closer and I'll remove her from the equation entirely."

The serum keeps me still, but my mind screams Stryker's name. He meets my eyes, and I see him read the desperate message there.

"The serum's wearing off," he says calmly. "You're losing control."

"Plenty of time to start the enhancement process," Harlan backs us toward the pod. "Once it begins, there's no reversal. She'll be mine forever."

My finger twitches again. Then my hand. The serum's grip is failing.

"Last chance," Stryker warns, his tail lashing. "Let her go."

Harlan laughs. "Or what? You'll watch her die? Choose carefully, Enforcer."

Everything happens at once.

I feel the exact moment the serum's control snaps. My elbow drives back into Harlan's solar plexus as Stryker launches forward. The plasma pistol discharges, scorching the air where my head had been a second before.

Harlan recovers quickly, inhumanly fast—enhanced, I realize. He's used the process on himself.

We grapple near the pod's edge. Harlan's augmented strength makes him formidable, but his arrogance makes him sloppy. When Stryker joins the fight, it becomes a deadly dance of claws and desperation.

"You could have been perfect." Harlan snarls, landing a blow that sends me staggering. "We could have revolutionized piloting forever!"

"By torturing innocent people?" I duck another swing. "By turning them into monsters?"

"I made them better." He moves with unnatural speed, but Stryker's tail trips him. "Stronger! More than their weak natural forms."

"You made them slaves," Stryker growls, slashing with his claws.

The fight intensifies. Harlan's enhancements give him incredible strength and speed, but he's outnumbered. And he never counted on one thing – my absolute trust in Stryker.

When Harlan lunges for me, I don't dodge. I let him come, knowing what will happen. Stryker's claws tear into him from behind, finding vital points with surgical precision.

Harlan's enhanced body gives out all at once. He crumples, cerise blood pooling beneath him, eyes still burning with madness.

"You'll never understand," he gasps. "The potential... the power..."

"The only power that matters," I tell him, "is the power to choose."

His eyes glaze over, and the monster who tortured so many pilots finally dies.

Stryker pulls me into his arms, his tail wrapping around me protectively. I sink into his embrace, shaking now that the adrenaline fades.

"I'm sorry," I whisper against his chest. "The serum... I couldn't fight it faster."

"Shh." He strokes my hair. "You fought perfectly. You're safe now. We both are."

Enforcement teams flood the facility, securing evidence and freeing the pilots in the pods. Medical personnel begin treatment protocols. Someone asks us questions, but Stryker waves them away.

"Tomorrow," he says firmly. "She needs rest."

As he leads me out of the nightmare laboratory, I lean heavily against him. "Did we do it? Did we save them all?"

His tail squeezes gently. "We did. Every pilot will get treatment, every piece of evidence is documented. Quickening Gliders is finished."

"Good." Exhaustion hits me like a physical wave. "Take me home?"

He presses a kiss to my temple. "Always."

Above ground, Ova's three moons shine down on a changed world. The race feels like a distant dream, the serum's control a fading nightmare.

What remains is this: Stryker's arms around me, his heart beating strong against my cheek, and the promise of tomorrow.

We won. We survived. We're free.

Together.