Aliens Love Curves

Chapter 20 - Stryker

T he medical facility looks different in daylight. Enforcement teams have stripped away Harlan's sophisticated equipment, revealing the sterile bones of what was once a torture chamber. I stand at the observation window, watching medical staff tend to the recovering pilots. My tail twitches each time I recognize a face from those missing persons files.

"Their neural patterns are stabilizing," Chief Medical Officer Linx says beside me. "The reversal process is slow, but effective."

I watch as Kira Vex – no longer twisted by experiments – takes her first unassisted steps. Her family surrounds her, tears flowing freely. Other families crowd similar scenes throughout the ward. Relief and horror mix in equal measure as they reconcile with loved ones they'd thought lost forever.

"And Casey?" I try to keep my voice neutral, professional. Fail completely.

Linx's expression softens. "The control serum is completely out of her system. No lasting effects detected. She's stronger than any of us expected."

"She usually is." Pride warms my voice.

Movement at the door draws my attention. Casey enters, still in her Enforcement uniform, looking tired but determined. My tail reaches for her before I can stop it – a tell that makes Linx smile knowingly.

"The military connection files are ready for review," Casey says, coming to stand beside me. Her shoulder brushes mine, grounding us both. "You'll want to see this."

The evidence room is crowded with Enforcement analysts when we arrive. Holographic displays show a web of connections spreading across sectors. At the centre: Harlan's smiling corporate photo, now marked with a red "deceased" stamp.

"It goes deeper than we thought," Casey explains, pulling up financial records. "He wasn't just creating enhanced pilots for profit. He was developing weapons for at least three different military organizations."

The displays shift, showing coded communications, bank transfers, genetic research data. My claws extend involuntarily as I read the details of what they'd planned for Casey.

"The enhanced pilots were just the beginning," she continues. "They wanted to create soldiers who could interface directly with battle cruisers. Human consciousness merged with warship systems."

"Using unwilling test subjects." My tail wraps around her waist protectively. "Using you."

She leans into me slightly. "They failed. We stopped them."

"Thanks to you." Chief Zara enters, her presence commanding immediate attention. "The evidence you've gathered will shut down similar operations across three sectors. The military connections alone..." She shakes her head. "The political fallout will be astronomical."

"The victims?" I ask.

"Will receive full compensation and medical care." Zara's expression hardens. "And justice. We've already arrested thirty-two collaborators. More are being identified daily."

Casey's hand finds mine, squeezing gently. "And us?"

Zara actually smiles. "Officially? You're heroes. The Enforcement agency is planning a commendation ceremony next week. Unofficially..." She studies us with knowing eyes. "I think you've earned some leave time. After the ceremony, of course."

LATER, IN OUR QUARTERS , Casey curls against me on the couch. The events of the past days have left their mark – dark circles under her eyes, tension in her shoulders. But her spirit remains unbroken.

"What are you thinking?" she asks, tracing patterns on my chest.

"About that planet I told you about. The one with the ever-changing sky."

She smiles against my skin. "Still planning to take me there?"

"As soon as we're cleared for leave." My tail strokes her back soothingly. "Just us, open skies, no missions or deadlines.

"Sounds perfect." She props herself up to look at me, her large breasts hanging down like two full moons. "But first, we have a ceremony to attend."

My cock instantly becomes engorged. “First, I have to attend to something else.”

THE COMMENDATION CEREMONY is held in the central plaza. Hundreds gather to honour the rescued pilots and the teams who saved them. Casey stands beside me as we receive our medals, her hand steady in mine.

"For extraordinary courage and dedication," the commissioner intones, "Enforcers Peace and Stryker are hereby promoted to Special Operations Division."

Applause thunders through the plaza. In the front row, recovered pilots and their families watch with grateful eyes. Behind them, enforcement teams stand proud, knowing justice has been served.

But I only have eyes for Casey.

She's radiant in her formal uniform, medal gleaming on her chest. When she smiles up at me, I forget about protocol, about propriety, about everything except how much I love her.

I kiss her there, in front of everyone. Her arms wind around my neck as she kisses me back, and the applause grows deafening.

"Ready to be my partner officially?" I murmur against her lips.

Her eyes go wide. "In every way," she answers with a grin stretching from ear-to-ear.

*One Month Later*

The glider responds perfectly as we track our target through Andromeda's asteroid field. Casey pilots while I monitor sensors, our movements synchronized by trust and practice.

"Target banking left," I report. "Trying to lose us in the debris field."

Casey grins, that wild joy of flying lighting her face. "Not happening."

She executes one of her impossible rolls, threading us through a gap that shouldn't exist. My tail wraps around her seat instinctively, but I'm not worried. I trust her with my life, my heart, everything

"Smuggler's going to run out of tricks soon," she comments, taking another impossible turn.

"Unlike you."

Her laugh fills the cockpit. "Keeping you on your toes, partner?"

"Always." I lean forward to kiss her neck quickly. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

As we continue the pursuit, I marvel at how perfectly we fit together – in work, in life, in love. The trauma of Quickening Gliders left its scars, but it also forged something unbreakable between us.

When this mission ends, we'll finally take that vacation. See that planet with the ever-changing sky. Make new memories to replace the painful ones.

But for now, we do what we do best: we fly, we fight, we fuck and we protect.

Together.

And I wouldn't change a thing.