Tempted by Celestial Bodies

Chapter 3

chapter three

eve

The returning ache chased me back to consciousness. I lay still, feeling my heart beating heavily, barely aware of the warmth of the air or the comfortable covers. He had painkillers. I needed them. He wasn’t giving them to me. Where was he?

As if summoned by my thoughts, his sleek purple form passed by a window.

His steps were quick and his movements hurried when he appeared before me, kneeling low and offering me a dropper full of a bright blue liquid. “For your pain,” he said.

I opened my mouth and took the drops gratefully. The taste was something like blueberries, and also like nori. I’d had worse things. I collapsed back in the bed, the pain a bone-deep ache that set my teeth on edge and rattled my brain in my skull.

“It’ll take a few moments to work,” he told me.

I didn’t try to respond. He got up and moved around and I just drifted, waiting for his alien juice to work.

Relief came like the pull of the tide, slowly and surely. I struggled up and ate the soup-like substance he’d put beside me. Salty and a little spicy, it was filling, and by the time I’d finished it I felt much more human.

Meanwhile, he’d seated himself at a table, his legs folded together to one side, a screen of some sort in front of him. His feet were some sort of variation of flippers, arranged to look graceful as hell. His tentacle fingers wiggled through the air deftly, rearranging images and streaks that looked like a bunch of tiny barcodes among icons.

With some difficulty, I manoeuvred myself up, curious. But he glanced up as if he’d forgotten I was there, blinking at me. He wasn’t wearing his glasses. “I regret my distraction,” he said, with a flick of a bunch of tentacles that made it all vanish. “Is your body comfortable?”

“My body is comfortable,” I told him, which wasn’t too much of a lie now the painkillers had kicked in and my belly was full. “What were you doing?”

“Current type exodus pattern interpretation Aquatic Species Native To This Planet,” he said, in answer. “Distraction will happen for some days, I am socially sad, reminder it is central to the unending achievement of existence.”

I tried to sift through that, but all I got was that he had a problem. “What’s happening?” I asked, thinking about global warming and plastic pollution and the state of our oceans on Earth. I hadn’t seen any litter here, but I wouldn’t necessarily see it at home, either.

It surprised me to feel a twist of regret at this strangely calm little patch of purple ocean being under threat. I wasn’t a monster, but I was accustomed to living under the mantle of constant dread of the future.

“The state is complex,” he said, hesitantly, not in a patronizing way but with a concerned glance that made me wonder how many people had ignored his interests in the past. “It is not my wish to tire you with additional information not required.”

“I get tired fastest from doing nothing,” I pointed out. I doubted he’d like me when I was bored. “And I’m interested, anyway.” Imagine my luck to accidentally find myself freed from a doubtless predatory situation, only to crash-land in the middle of a trash-fire of a planet. That sounded like exactly my style.

He hesitated, looking up at me from his seat at the table. “I could explain it to you, but I need to travel below the surface to my laboratory.”

I remembered the deep-dive and those cute-ass fish he had all over the place. And how I’d seen him staring at me in the reflection of the glass.

Trash-fire planet with hot alien was probably still an upgrade from where I’d been.

“Can I come?” I asked him, and when he just nodded I assumed the accidental double entendre hadn’t worked with the universal translator. That probably was a good thing, really. I had no idea how his anatomy worked, whether he was single or if he’d eat me afterwards.

His lips were unsmiling as he turned his face toward me. I didn’t stare at their shape, mostly because navigating the sandy surface on crutches was a pain in the ass. If he was impatient at how slowly I moved toward the water, he didn’t indicate it. I kind of liked the slow, relaxed way he strolled alongside me, his shoulder-length black-green hair ruffling in the wind and his expression thoughtful, bordering on sexily brooding.

Maybe the soup was full of aphrodisiacs. Maybe I’m high . I didn’t hate the idea.

“If you remain calm, you will find the descent simpler,” he advised me, seriously, as we approached the water. “I will need to remove your mobility devices to wait above the high tide mark. It is safest if you sit.”

I let him take the crutches without complaint, glad to see the back of them. My poor clothing was still ever so slightly damp from the last trip down, however many hours ago. It was lucky it wasn’t cold.

I followed his advice and sat, wondering if I could get a fresh change of underwear and a new bra at some point, or if I’d need to hope they had size 18E coconuts. And if I didn’t get out of these jeans, I was going to need medical treatment for thrush, as well as the killer chafing I was doubtless going to feel once I sobered up.

“Do those painkillers make you, uh, think differently?” I asked him, as he hurried back to me, his large feet steady on the sand. He basically had snowshoes, except for sand. Their splayed shape tightened as he entered the water, so he didn’t even have the downside of flippers. I had anatomy envy.

“The medication should not impact your thoughts,” he said, frowning. “Are you experiencing side-effects?”

Hell, if it was from the soup, I wasn’t complaining. “I feel somewhat inebriated,” I admitted. “Not badly. My thoughts are just more weird than usual.”

He paused, looking down at me, puzzled. “I will complete an analysis of your body. It may be the food I provided was not ideal.”

“It felt pretty ideal,” I disagreed, grinning. “So, you were telling me about how your planet is also about to go up in flames? Do you have orcas, by any chance? I hear they do good work.”

His frown deepened and he reached down. Without thinking, I held up my hands, and felt those tentacles wrap firmly around me. They caught hold of my arms, each little cup sucking lightly on my skin. Delight rippled up my spine. “We have many marine creatures who are apex predators and hunt in packs, yes, and they are important to maintaining the balance within the ecosystem.” I stood on my unbroken leg, keeping my butt out of the thick, gritty sand, knowing I didn’t look half as sexy as I felt. The cold water lapped around me as he pulled me a little deeper, until I was floating entirely in his arms.

I held onto him, wondering why this entire situation wasn’t freaking me out more. The soup must’ve been good shit. “On my planet, orcas sink the boats of billionaires,” I explained, generalising for the sake of speed. “It’s kind of a joke.”

He paused, treading water with me, frowning. “Why were marine mammals damaging property, and why is that good?”

It was all very far away. He was warm under my hands, his skin bumpy and comfortingly resilient. His eyes were a dark green and I felt like I was falling into them. At least if I was tripping, it wasn’t a bad one. “There are no good billionaires.”

His mouth moved slowly, his brow furrowed. “Why do you have money hoarders?”

I blinked. “Don’t you have billionaires?”

He shook his head, lips unmoving.

I looked around, realising suddenly how far out we were. Last time I’d been in too much pain to notice much of anything. His little shack on the shore seemed an impossible distance, though I could swim, if I wasn’t too off my face to stay on task. The pain wasn’t a barrier. At all. “Weird world,” I mused aloud.

“We come from different places,” he agreed, the words polite. “We were both Called, though, because this is where we belong.”

My hackles rose. I’d never liked being told what I ought to do. I’d learned to accept it occasionally as an adult, but only due to trial and error—emphasis on error . And I didn’t believe in fate and magic and shit.

“You dislike that,” he said, frowning a little. “But I am concerned for your mental state and sobriety, so we must prioritise getting you to the bioscanner. Fill your lungs to receive my gratitude.”

The waves carried us through a dip and swell, but never came near my mouth. My hair was going to be ruined by all the salt, but I wondered if I looked like some sort of cute, fat mermaid with it fanning out in the water. I liked the idea.

I barely had time to suck in air before he was taking us under.

“You do not have air for conversation underwater,” he told me, as he swam. “I advise questions be asked after we arrive. But if you look to your right you will see one Power Source As Yet Unnamed In Your Language glowing.”

I kicked along with him and followed his outstretched arm. My eyes caught on the tentacles and a shiver of delight rippled through me as I remembered feeling them tugging delightfully against my skin.

He’d be the best hugger.

Beyond his arm, though, or whatever the fuck those limbs were called, there was a bright pink glow that made something deep inside me twist and ache, like when I listened to one of those songs that was a gut-punch, or a good, misty sunrise spent blissfully alone.

“Do not expel your air,” he said, and the alarm in his tone made my attention snap back to his worried expression. The green of his hair danced around his face and his eyes turned forward. They held so much awe as he took in his future that it made my heart hurt to see. “It calls to us. The Vibration of Energy Particles In a Method Not Yet Identified In Your Language makes our bodies hunger to find our place, keeping us unsettled until we are in our role.”

And here was me thinking I just had undiagnosed ADHD.

Why not both?

“The Small Fish Not Yet Identified In Your Language interact with The Vibration of Energy Particles In a Method Not Yet Identified In Your Language every twomoon.” His lips were still moving. I didn’t see any gills, though? And how did that work under water, anyway? I just stared at him, drinking it all in. “There was a storm last twomoon, and we lost many Small Fish Not Yet Identified In Your Language.”

That was it? That didn’t sound like the worst trash-fire. I wanted to ask if there was only like fifty of them left in the wild, but my lungs were burning and I just kept on kicking as he guided me around the big rock and toward where his lab glowed in welcome.

“Population would recover in a few years if they were left,” he added. “However, any small proceedings can commence a chain of events that can have catastrophic impacts.”

A stitch in time saves nine. I recalled words from a hazily remembered educator at my before school care program when I was little. I couldn’t remember the woman’s name, but she’d smelled of lanolin, and she’d been patient. I’d wondered if I’d acquired her love of crocheting simply because she’d existed alongside me at the right time in my life. What would’ve happened if I’d hung out with someone who liked hedge funds?

We surfaced in the peaceful pocket of his lab and I looked around again, little details jumping out at me that I hadn’t taken in last time. The soft shape of the glowing lights, the clinical but not cold tanks that had clean sand and colourful vegetation, the bits of driftwood hung up like decorations or hooks against the smooth stone walls.

I probably wouldn’t be here if I’d got good at hedge funds instead of wool. He waited, watching me with worry, while I processed whether that would be a good thing.

“You don’t have billionaires?” I asked, looking around. “But you do have people, right? And money?”

“We do not have wealth hoarders,” he confirmed. “We work for the Heart, here.” And I remembered that pink glow that made something deep inside me tighten. “And we all benefit from the bounty.”

Maybe I was stoned, but it did make sense that billionaires would tell us anything to continue to exploit us—including that aliens would eat us. And I’d known the program was predatory. I’d basically signed up to move to a colony alongside a bunch of other non-billionaire folks to fuel the corporations that made Original Earth less liveable by the day.

Maybe working for this Heart wasn’t so bad, when I thought about it.

I boosted myself up, wishing I knew smart questions to ask to figure out if this was a legit alien utopia or just a good trip.

“We have many people who have access to currency used to trade for goods and services.” He pulled himself out of the water beside me, and my mouth went dry to see how graceful he was. That seemed unfair. How come he was so coordinated underwater and above it? I couldn’t even manage one of those two. “The Heartland Refugee Support Services.”

Was that the second time he’d said that? I accepted his help to stand and leant on him as I hobbled over to the examination table where I was pretty sure I’d got my first dose of whatever these drugs were.

“What does that mean for me?” I asked him, worry sparking as a myriad of situations ran through my head, each worse than the last.

“You will be provided with a building to shelter you, and food to nourish you, and aid to repair you.” He laid me down and fiddled with some technical looking, glowy stuff, but I was stuck on this idea of all the free assistance. “They will provide you opportunity to find what Calls you.”

I watched the gadget hover over my body, those images scrolling above it. Most of his attention seemed to be on the information it was projecting.

They were going to feed me, house me, fix me up, and find me a job that made me happy, huh?

“What’s the catch?” I asked, feeling sick.

He was interacting with the information with his tentacles. “I do not know what you will be snagged on,” he said, absently. “Whatever obstacles cause you delay, the Reps will assist you to overcome. It is their Calling, and they are accomplished at their roles.” He was frowning at the information. “It appears a combination of four foods and Trace Mineral Not Yet Identified In Your Language has a unimportantly exciting effect on your form.”

I didn’t think excitement was unimportant, but what the hell. “What’s the side effects, doc?”

His head cocked a little to one side. “The short-term variations seem to be restricted to influence on your meditation. Modification of decision-making capacity, coordination, or physical health in any way is a low chance. Additional opportunity is required to construe long term impacts, but no momentous warnings are attention attaching.” He peered down at me. “Do these results sit beside your interpretation of your comfort?”

He stood, his hand still buried in that small, colourful projection of data as if it was his keyboard. Maybe it was. And, as if any of that had made sense, he reached over and lazily snagged glasses, settling them on his nose with a practiced flick before peering at me again.

It did make him look more trustworthy.

“You’re a vet?” I asked, slowly. “Or…a marine biologist?”

His brow furrowed. “These terms are close to my role. Your people have a similar ecosystem to protect?”

“Probably,” I said with a sigh. “But we fucked it up.”

Colour rose up his throat. “I do not think the universal translator works for this phrase.”

His neck was thickly corded, compared to his other wiry limbs. Why hadn’t I ever noticed that? And it darkened so much when I swore.

“My planet,” I explained. “My people didn’t care for it.” That was a fair summary, and saved me misrepresenting science I didn’t really understand to someone who probably would’ve. He looked at me over his glasses and my legs went soft. Hot alien nerd. Jesus. “Is there a way we can communicate better than the translators allow?” Flirting was going to be hard with the synonyms getting all messed up all the time.

He hesitated, then turned his head and showed me the vague blue outline at his temple and raised a single tentacle. “The device has the ability to be turned off for language learning purposes. I require my attention on other tasks, my regret.” And, to underscore the disappointment in his tone, his eyes lingered for just a moment on my lips.

I sighed, surprised that it was my regret, too.