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In fact from what she could tell, the soldiers they’d bunked her up with were basically no different than the guys she’d known growing up on half a dozen Army bases scattered around the globe. Well, with one major exception: They weren’t from this planet. And most of them had golden-red skin, almost Native American in appearance. A few random soldiers she’d seen seemed blonde and fair-skinned, but they were the exception, and her failing eyesight might have misled her about their appearance anyway. |
The soldier who had the quarters next to hers was rowdy as all get out, played his music too loud after hours, and was generally an inconsiderate slob. Like now. There was a sudden uproar of laughter, some shouting of male voices, and that did it for her. She reached around on the dark floor, feeling in the blackness for her shoe, and hurled it at the wall. “Hey! Shut up!” she yelled.
If you lived with the soldiers you had to act like one. In response, somebody banged on the wall and shouted at her in Refarian, then there was some general whooping that she chose to ignore.
She rolled onto her side, held her pillow over both ears and focused on sleep—something that had evaded her ever since she’d arrived at this alien compound. Well, correction, sleep didn’t evade her: Restful sleep was as elusive as her fading eyesight.
She chalked it all up to the dreams. Ever since being drugged back at Warren, she’d been continuing to dream of Scott Dillon. Sometimes he was her husband; sometimes she was pregnant; often they were having dimension-shattering sex. Literally--since apparently what she kept dreaming about and seeing was from some alternate reality. That’s how the only other human in the compound, Kelsey Wells, had explained it to her in the most rational, logical tone. Yeah, it made total sense!
It was as if she’d chosen to step into a living “Twilight Zone” episode the minute she’d hopped on that transport with Lieutenant Dillon—a decision that had upended her world completely, and it definitely didn’t help matters that her eyesight issues were taking a decided turn for the worse. The altitude up in this corner of Wyoming was even higher than back in Denver, where her degenerative retinopathy had already been sliding her into darkness at an accelerated rate.
Maybe this wasn’t the right thing after all, she thought, loneliness choking at her. Maybe I should have never stepped into something I knew almost nothing about.
But she’d made a professional career of walking into the unknown since that was pretty much what working for the FBI translated to. This situation in the alien compound was no different; it was also the right choice after witnessing the Refarians defend humanity when Warren Air Force Base had come under attack. No way was she consigning herself to the outside of this particular alien conspiracy, not now that she understood the stakes. It didn’t take a genius to realize that Earth was in serious danger.
More noise erupted next door, and e nough really was enough already. Leaping out of bed, she tugged on a borrowed pair of jeans, tossed on a military issue t-shirt and stormed into the narrow hallway to find utter darkness. She stood there, listening to the hiss of some sort of equipment. A radiator? A weapon? With her fingertips she felt her way along the corridor wall, locating the door of her neighbor.
She lifted her fist and banged hard. There was mumbling from within, then sudden light, blurred and covered with black spots—the same ones that always marred her fading vision. A tall figure loomed over her which wasn’t that hard when you were only four foot-eleven.
“Listen, buddy”—she jabbed at the air with her fingertip—“it’s almost three in the morning.”
A husky laugh was her answer, then a surly, “Look, human, you’re on our base. This is our home on your outpost, so deal.”
She tilted her chin upward, summoning a look of defiance. “Yeah? Well get this—I work for the FBI. Want me to have your license plate called in some time?”
In half a heartbeat she heard the click of a weapon engaging. “Wanna say that again, human?” Tough Guy threatened. But from behind him a softer feminine voice called out, “Taggart, lay off of her. She just got here. And she’s on our side.”
The smaller figure stepped into the arc of light. “Sorry about that,” the woman said, and slipping an arm about her shoulder, led Hope back toward her own room. “I’m Anna, and he’s a nutcase. I’ll see if they won’t move you tomorrow so you can get some sleep.”
“Not my fault humans need to rest all the time!” Taggart complained, then slammed his door behind him.
Hope could have cried from gratitude. “I shouldn’t have baited him.”
“Actually, you should have.” Anna laughed as they reached Hope’s room again. “He deserves every bit of it.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Listen, are you all right? Is there anything you need?” Anna asked, following Hope into her darkened quarters.
Hope dropped heavily onto the side of her cot. “Just to see someone—anyone—who can help me figure out what I’m going to do around here. I’ve been to visit Lieutenant Dillon a few times, but….”
“He’s not doing very well,” Anna finished, her voice clipped and formal. It seemed to be the way this alien spoke once away from her soldier comrades next door.
“I’m worried about him,” Hope admitted. “Have you heard anything more about his prognosis? The medics won’t tell me a thing.”
“He’s going to recover, but physical therapy will be required. And time. Lots of time.”
“Scott’s my only friend in this place, Anna. He’s the reason I came at all because I knew he was on the right side of things.”
And because I felt drawn to him for reasons I couldn’t begin to understand, she wanted to add, but swallowed the words.
“Well Lieutenant Dillon is nothing if not the right side of things,” Anna said with a quiet laugh.
“What’s that mean?”
“I’m crazy about the lieutenant, even though he rides us hard. He’s a good leader to all of us.”
Crazy about him? Crazy how? Hope wondered, slightly panicked, but shoved the emotion aside. “Is he a high ranking officer?” she asked coolly. “I mean, he’s only a lieutenant, right? I’m not sure what his position is.”
“So, they really haven’t told you anything, have they?”
“Only about the mitres. Kelsey said that some sort of alternate dimension was created by the same device that wiped out all the Antousians back on Warren. That there were… side effects. But nothing about the lieutenant.”
“Well we don’t have the same rankings you’re accustomed to. Anyone in higher authority is called ‘lieutenant.’ Actual hierarchy isn’t so much a part of our system, so that’s the rough English translation. The equivalent, if you will.”
“Then is he high up the chain?” Hope’s heart suddenly sped to a rapid tempo. At last! Some answers about the literal man of her dreams.
“He’s second in command below Commander Bennett over the entire Refarian military.”
“Wow, didn’t see that coming.” Hope shook her head. She’d known he must be important by the deference the night nurse showed him—either that, or the woman had a major case of the hots for the man. One of the two. But one of their military chiefs? That she hadn’t guessed at all.
“Do you have any idea what he looks like even?” Anna asked her seriously. “I mean, can you see much? You wear those thick glasses.”
Here we go again—someone thinking I’m helpless, she thought. “He has black hair and dark eyes and fair skin,” she answered evenly, happy to show Anna just how capable she was despite her vision problems. “He’s about six feet tall, and I gather that he’s pretty darn good looking.”
“How do you know all that?”
“I still see some, it’s just blurry.”
Anna shifted beside her. “No, about the good looking part—how can you tell that much?”
Yeah, like I want to tell you that I keep dreaming he’s making love to me in about five hundred different physical positions, making me scream his name at the top of my lungs and giving me such world-shattering orgasms that I can hardly recover once I wake up.
Hope snorted. “Don’t ask.”
She was thinking of the dream where Scott took her home from some bar to a motel room and had her up against a wall. That one seemed to recur most often, and always left her panties wet when she woke.
“Well, for the record, Scott Dillon is extremely handsome. Every single woman in this camp has a thing for him.”
An ugly shot of jealousy rang out in Hope’s mind. “Oh… well, so then he must have plenty of women.” Her voice sounded falsely peppy, too breathless.
Anna patted her shoulder, and walked toward the open door. “Oh, he has plenty of women, but not around here.”
“Why not?” Hope asked in surprise.
“Because there’s only one kind of woman our good lieutenant likes, and that’s your kind. Blonde, petite, buxom, and”—Anna paused at the door—“human, Ms. Harper. Very, very human.”