Xenomorphilia
-1-
Something impossible snapped subject 18X-2987 from her sleep in the corner.
The door began to open.
It was impossible because the door never opened. Only the vaguest of instincts told her what its purpose was at all, or that other creatures might live beyond it.
Strange things had been happening lately. She had woken from a slumber she couldn't recall falling into, to find a strange metal thing encircling her neck. Now this. Something was coming, and in her limited experience, she could only assume it meant death.
Her eyes focused hard on the door, head tipping slightly to better hear. Every muscle in her body tensed as she crouched, ready to spring. The tip of her long, leathery tail twitched. There was nowhere in her bare room to hide. She would have to fight.
The bulky metal door slid open with a buzzing noise. In stepped a creature that walked on two legs, like her, but straight. There weren't enough bends to the leg, or perhaps the feet were just too small, and were walked on flat? It was covered in loose white material. Was it skin, hanging so loose?
Atop it all sat a head. She stared at it. Quickly, she touched her own face, checking and matching up the parts. Two eyes, a nose, a mouth, ears. Yes, this b**st must have been something like her. Though, atop its head, dark, silvery hair was slicked back. Hers had always been bare. She wondered what it felt like.
The thing's piercing blue eyes stared back at her, softly. It smiled pleasantly, and noises came out of its mouth.
She stepped back. It put one of its hands up in a gesture of peace, but encroached further into her room. Closer to her. She hissed angrily, and leaped back, encircling him from a distance. Soft noises continued to tumble from its lips, as she circled, sniffing the air. It spun, boldly facing her, keeping its eyes fixed on hers.
Cold piercing eyes.
Something primal welled up inside of her-- his stare seemed to challenge her, his intrusion onto her territory, unforgivable. The smell of the blood in his veins, tempting.
She snarled. A leap for his throat was cut off suddenly by sharp, blinding pain around her neck. The traitorous metal thing! Him-- this white, straight-legged creature came into her room, and set off this torture device. Once the pain subsided enough for her to move, she roared, springing for the villain a second time. She saw a small metal device flash in his hand, just before being cut down by burning pain yet again.
This time, it was more than she could handle.
She didn't know how long she had been in this room, how many times she had cried herself into oblivion, how many times she had cried again on waking to find she was still in this cold, barren place. Now her imprisoning home wasn't even safe. Pain throbbed through her skin. She didn't bother to get up off the floor this time. She scrambled away, and pressed her face into the furthest corner. She tried to press her whole body into the corner, as if, perhaps, it could swallow her up in its protective darkness and whisk her away to some other world.
She could hear the creature's footsteps behind her, and tried to drown them out with her own sobbing. She pressed herself further and further in, curling nearly into a ball, wrapping her tail tightly around herself.
She felt the shadow of the monster fall over her, but she didn't care. Sobs wracked her body and hot tears flowed down her face. Just let death come, she thought. She could sense it crouch beside her. She hissed through her tears.
It kept making those damned noises. Something like, “It's ok. It's ok.” over and over. She couldn't understand, exactly, but there was something comforting, almost musical about it. It felt like a balm sweeping over her frayed nerves, loosening some of the tension. The ball of her mass uncoiled just slightly, and her tears began to flow more freely, born less of panicked fear, and more of something else. Something she wasn't quite able to grasp.
Suddenly, a hand pressed lightly against her shoulder. She gasped, flinching away, screaming into the wall. The monster continued to sit by her in the corner, a warm, comforting entity. Soon, it tried again to rest a hand on her. She flinched, less dramatically this time, and allowed the hand to stay there.
Her racing heart slowed as the hand radiated warmth though her shoulder, seeming to warm her whole body. She had never felt a sensation like this before. Skin touching skin. The heat of another living body.
Suddenly, she recognized what she had been missing these few weeks of her life. What it was that she cried for.
A little too forcefully, she grabbed the hand, and brought it to her face. The attached creature startled, and nearly fell forward with the force of the tug. It softened, however, when she tenderly nuzzled into the hand, smelling all the exotic scents it carried from the land outside her room. She purred with delight. This is what it's like to be touched.
Feeling bolder, she opened her sharp, toothy jaw over his palm, and gleefully made to bite down-- but instead of feeling soft skin tested under her nip, she felt the hand roughly retracted. Wide, icy eyes stared at her sharply, as the metal pain device lifted in his opposing hand.
She shrieked, and flew back into the corner, shuddering as she cocooned herself in her tail, bracing herself for the pain. Betrayed. Of course this monster only ever meant to bring her pain. She should never have let her guard down.
But the pain didn't come. Over the sounds of her own hard breathing, she thought she heard the monster catching his own sharp, panicked breath. He was frightened too, was he? Though she was stung by his sudden betrayal, she felt an ache in her heart for the touch of his hand. Her skin had been without touch for too long. It now begged for it, like an itch demanding to be scratched.
Longing quickly overpowered both fear and indignation. He had begun to coo low, comforting words at her again, and she crept slowly from her corner toward the sound. A little more warily this time, he reached a hand out to her. She accepted the touch greedily, resuming nuzzling and exploring his flesh as if there had been no interruption. Soon again, her instincts told her she simply must taste him. And again, as soon as her mouth opened, displaying her dangerously sharp teeth, the man pulled away, raising up his weapon defensively.
She scurried back, and they both stared at each other, wary and wide-eyed. Tears formed behind her eyes once more. Already today she had cried of fear, and then of loneliness. Now she felt she was losing the one friend she had ever met. Now that she had felt the contact and warmth of another creature, she knew she was desperate for a companion. Yet this creature behaved so erratically, offering her a world of tactile discovery, then rejecting her the next moment.
The creature in white frowned deeply, and lowered the metal device that could cause her body to erupt in pain. Relief washed over her. He seemed to think of something. He raised up his hand to his own mouth, and dramatically snapped his teeth at it. Then he raised the pain device in his other hand. She gasped, and scrambled back, touching the metal ring around her neck. Then he put both his hands down. She relaxed. Again, he raised a hand and snapped his teeth, lifting the pain device again in response. He raised both eyebrows at her, expression willing her to understand.
Realization washed over her all at once. He's afraid of my teeth. He doesn't want me biting him. The tension coiled in her muscles melted away, and she smiled, understanding. He smiled back at her, expression proud, victorious. They were communicating.
Cautiously, she crept toward him. She took his hand, and held it to her face once more. This time, quite deliberately, she opened her mouth without exposing any teeth, and extended her tongue. She studied his face carefully for signs of disapproval as she licked him, tasting the salty skin. Disapproval was not among the strange series of expressions that marched across his face, one following the other. Surprise, tender realization, and deep blushing were swallowed by a choked snort and irrepressible laughter as her wet tongue tickled his skin.
Oral fixation was a term she knew nothing about. If she had, she would know immediately what would pepper his notes about her.
18X-2987 hoped this strange man in the white lab coat would never leave her side, and indeed he didn't. She hungered for more, nuzzling her way down his arm, exploring thoroughly with all five senses. She discovered the white material covering him was not part of his body at all. The fleshy skin of his arm continued, uninterrupted, inside the sleeve of fabric. Though she assumed the fabric of his clothing to be inanimate, like the walls, she still dared not bite it. She liked this warm-bodied creature with the soft, salty skin, and foreign smells. She craved his closeness. She wouldn't risk upsetting him again.
Every new bit of information she absorbed and memorized eagerly. Now she knew there were two living things in the world, and she suspected there were more. More like her, or more like him, she didn't know. At the moment, it didn't much matter.
She had been alone all her life, and now she had a friend.
Reaching the base of his arm, she found herself tucked up against his chest. She smiled contentedly at the low thumping of his heart. This feels even safer than the corner, she thought. Exhausted from crying and doubling her knowledge of the universe, she sank against him, and purring, drifted to sleep.
-2-
When Dr. Jonathan Gediman finally returned to 18X-2987's isolation cell, he was out of breath. He had been having horrible visions through half the night that his callous boss, Dr. Mason Wren, had decided to enter the subject's cell as Gediman himself had yesterday.
In his first encounter with her, Gediman had found the alien hybrid easily spooked, wild, and ultimately a very sensitive creature. He had managed to earn its trust after hours of sitting with it, as it recovered from the shock he'd had to apply twice to avoid being maimed by her.
She had attacked, likely out of fear, and responded with such terror to the shock collar that he almost regretted using it at all.
Almost.
Gediman valued his own hide, and didn't want to see it punctured.
In his nightmares, however, Mason Wren terrorized his nervous creature, applying the shock collar over and over as she writhed on the floor in tears. He had sprung out of bed early in order to get to her first, hoping that nothing had happened over the night shift.
First, however, he had to get every hair slicked perfectly back into a neat ponytail, and clasp it firmly in place with a metal clamp. He was nothing if not fastidious about his appearance-- even if it risked his ward's exposure to his brutish boss. This was one of many things Gediman knew he ought to feel guilty about, but didn't.
Thankfully, when he arrived at the observation lab directly outside of the subject's cell, and worriedly glanced into the monitors, he found her unharmed and alone. She was staring toward the door with unsettling confidence. Her sharp black eyes were focused intently, as if willing the steel to give way, and the very tip of her spiked tail twitched impatiently back and forth.
He smiled. She missed him.
As he rested his hands on his knees, waiting for his breath to catch up with him, Dr. Carlyn Williamson walked into the lab.
“Gediman!” she started, mildly surprised, “You're here early. Worried about our little princess in there?”
He wanted to ask what she meant, but found he could only pant and tip his head, asking the question with his eyes. He was too old to be running around like this.
Carlyn gave a laugh at her out-of-shape colleague, and answered “Well, she isn't the queen we'd all hoped to create. You've seen the scans, she probably won't be productive at all. Still, we tried, so I like to think of her as our princess.”
He liked the thought of her as a princess. Yet, he knew that was not to be her fate, and it never was.
Originally, the military wanted her as a broodmare, using her to breed or surrogate as many aliens as possible. That fell through, however, when she emerged from the development tubes without a fully functional reproductive system. Now, she would likely be trained for combat purposes, or disposed of. Perhaps experimented on, to see what medical advances could come from her hybrid immune system.
He had been fine with that, up until yesterday. Carlyn might be the only one of his colleagues to understand. She, like Gediman, was a scientist through and through, willing to set aside traditional “ethics” in the name of progress. If the suffering of one lab rat will save the lives of a thousand human beings, then so be it. Yet, the two of them, more than any of the other members of Auriga's science team, felt a profound empathy for their subjects, and often commiserated when progress called for something particularly gruesome to be done.
This time, his emotions were clouding his judgment more than they ever had. After his bonding session with the creature the other day;--“socialization,” he had antiseptically called it-- after feeling the warmth of her body pressed against his, seeing the way she longed for human interaction, how she came to trust him-- he could no longer stomach the thought of anything hurting her.
Carlyn would understand, he thought. If he could get her on his side. They may only have a short time to socialize his creature before the United Systems Military took her away. If she could be taught to speak, to act human, the others might see her as human. She might stand some chance.
Who knows what those rough soldier types might do to her? She was partially alien, true, but her face and torso were that of an adult human woman. And, while her internal reproductive organs were not fully formed... He blushed a deep red unfitting a detached physician.
If she was voiceless, she would be defenseless. Carlyn was a linguistic expert-- if she could teach 18X-2987 English, then... well, he thought darkly, it likely wouldn't make much difference anyway. That was how it was out here, beyond the reaches of controlled space. But he could try.
*
When he had finally cleared the security locks, and the door hissed open, 18X-2987 nearly knocked him flat with the enthusiasm of a puppy that had been waiting for its master. Her sharp tail wagged dangerously back and forth as she buried her head in the folds of his white lab coat, making soft squealing noises. He cringed as her clawed fingers dug into his sleeves too tightly, as if she thought he might vanish if she let go.
“It's alright. I came back.” he purred, patting her on the head. It was... endearing. He had never had anyone react to him with so much undisguised adoration. It was only because she was starving for attention, he knew, but he was almost just as starved.
Forgetting himself, he wrapped his arms around her, pressing her to him. She responded by making satisfied throaty noises and nuzzling into his neck. His face flushed hot under the onslaught of her affection-- a flush that only grew hotter as he felt her warm tongue testing the skin of his neck. She's just exploring, he told himself, she knows nothing of human taboos, and she's merely using every available sense.
With a lurch, he realized he couldn't so easily brush off the feelings she was stirring in him. It was not a mere paternal concern for her well-being that he felt. Her constant need for closeness, her bold touches, made with no sense of indecency, startled and thrilled him at the same time. How could any man react to a fiery young creature writhing about him, tasting his skin, worshiping his body like a holy idol? How could he convince himself that the brushing of her soft breasts against him was as innocent a thing as it seemed to her? Her soft, naked flesh pressed temptingly against him now, as she began exploring him yet again, tugging his clothes, playing with the hair he had so recently straightened away.
Perhaps she should be given clothes, he thought, gritting his teeth. None of the scientists had ever thought to do so. Why would they? To the others, she wasn't human. She was a lab a****l.
She was somewhat a****listic, it's true, and c***d-like in her behavior... yet her body was that of a grown woman. The deep intelligence he saw behind her dark eyes only confirmed the brain scans he had taken during her development. She was not at all sub-human. If anything she was a little more.
Now she was awakening desires in him... ones that made him no better than the hypothetical soldiers whose abuses he sought to protect her from.
He reminded himself that she couldn't help that her genetically engineered body would mature so quickly, or into so pleasing a form. She would have no ideas about sexuality. He chastely reprimanded himself for even thinking such predatory thoughts. Still, her immodest touches were arousing parts of him not so easily contained by thoughts alone. He had to get out of here, somehow.
“So...” he began. She stared at his mouth attentively, tipping her head as he continued, “You remember me from yesterday. That's good. That's excellent. Now...” he disentangled himself from her, “I think it's time you met some of the rest of the team.”
She frowned, and tipped her head to the other side. She had no idea what he was saying, of course; though her brow was knit in concentration, as if she knew there was some distressing meaning behind his words that she was trying to puzzle out.
He pressed his lips together in a half-smile, took her clawed hand in his, and took a few steps back to the door. 18X-2987 jerked to a stop and stared incredulously.
“I'm going to bring you out with me. Do you think you're ready for that? It's just Dr. Williamson out there. She's nice, I promise.” he raised his eyebrows at her, then slowly entered his security data, and let the door slide open.
His creature crouched in a small, defensive stance. He would have thought she would be eager to explore other areas of the ship, having been confined to that one room so long, but she stood at the open doorway as if it were a coiled snake.
He stepped through the door first, confidently, and turned to show her he was okay. “See?” he encouraged, “It's alright. Come on.” He held a hand out to her. He could see the panic in her eyes-- desperate to rejoin him, but terrified of the unknown beyond her little observation room. Perhaps it's too soon, he thought. Its too much for her in this state. Just then, she rushed through the doorway like you might rip off a painful bandage, and reclaimed his hand with her trembling one. She gave a pitiful squeak as she clung to him, panting hard, as if she'd just sprinted down the ship's corridors too.
Then came the flood. As she looked about the little lab outside her observation cell, every smell of human musk, of rubber and steel hit her like a tidal wave. She twitched, squeezing his hand until it hurt. Every sudden beep of every computer spooked her. Her eyes darted wildly about the room, and she sank further and further down toward the floor.
Carlyn appeared beside them. She bent down, and murmured in a motherly tone, “Oh you poor thing--”
That was the breaking point. The frightened creature shot away from his side, wailing, desperate for something to hide under. With a crash and pop of electricity, her thrashing tail knocked out a computer screen, sending glass shards tinkling over the floor. She flew away from the ruined computer with a panicked leap, slipped, and sk**ded across the hard floor, slamming into every chair and delicate machine around the lab in a frantic attempt to regain footing.
The shock collar control was in his pocket; the thought of using it before she broke everything flashed in in mind.
“Enough!” he shouted, anger fraying the edges of his voice. He stomped over to the panicking creature that had just demolished his lab, and likely set his work back by several days. She froze, and then backed under the nearest table. “Oh no, you get out from there.” he hissed.
She didn't listen, of course, so he got down on his hands and knees to drag her out. She met his eyes with a pitiful, desperate whimper.
Sigh. He couldn't stay mad at her.
He took her arm, and gently tugged the quivering mess out and to her feet. “Now.” he said firmly, “We're going to say hello to Dr. Williamson, and we're not going to freak, OK?”
She cast a guilty, sideways glance to him, whimpered softly, then looked down. He walked her up to Carlyn, who gave her best, slightly frazzled, smile. “Hello, princess.” she said sweetly, and offered a hand.
18X-2987 pouted, snubbed the hand, and tried to hide behind Gediman. It was a start.
Slowly, she adjusted to her new surroundings. Gediman showed her monitors, buttons-- everything in the lab he pointed out and tried to name for her. She listened, and observed, but stubbornly refused to go near Dr. Williamson. Gediman wondered why. Carlyn was roughly the same age as him. They wore the same lab coat. She even had similar dark-with-grey-streaks hair.
“Carlyn...” he began, hesitating, “Would you... mind taking her for a while?”
She gave a high, sharp laugh-- which spooked 18X-2987, causing her to laugh again, more softly. Gediman didn't return the laugh. He shifted, frowning, as if bearing a heavy weight. “You're serious?”
“She needs to be socialized, Carlyn. I know, it's moving fast, but... It's better if we get her used to people. Once I'm gone, she'll probably take to you right away. I only met her 12 hours ago myself, and...” he gestured down his torso, which was covered in clinging alien hybrid.
Gediman explained to her his hopes and plans for saving their “princess” from horror with no escape. How language could provide her some defense, even make them consider her for purposes besides combat. Carlyn took even less convincing than he expected. In fact, she admitted, she already had prepared a full curriculum.
And so, Dr. Williamson set up her training room, complete with virtual training modules, and old fashioned flash cards.
18X-2987 didn't take well to being left. When she figured out Dr. Gediman's intention to leave her alone with a new tutor, he had to pry her off of him. She whined shrilly, and tried to follow him from the room. He took a stern tone, sat her down on a chair, and commanded, “Sit.”
She shot him the most wrathful look he had ever seen. Her black eyes narrowed sulkily, like a c***d being denied dessert. “Ssssss it.” she hissed, her mouth tasting the word, sounding it out, while keeping her eyes locked on to his. He brightened, heart swelling in pride to hear her first word-- though spoken in defiant anger. “Yes! Exactly! Good girl!” he beamed, finding himself back at her side. He caressed her face with pride, and she nuzzled into his hand, soft flesh warm against his skin. This brought a flush back to his face, which immediately snapped him out of it. He pulled back, “Good job.” he said stiffly. “Now. You stay here and show me what you learned when I get back.” He retreated from the room, leaving his pouting alien girl behind.
*
A few hours later, after trying to get some work done, worrying, and gluing himself in front of video monitors for the rest of the subject's training session, it was finally time to gather her up again.
When the door hissed open, a fidgety and annoyed looking 18X-2987 looked hopefully toward the door.
“Papa!” she cried out, springing to his side.
“What's this? Something you taught her?” Gediman asked, uneasily, as the creature nuzzled herself into him.
“I taught her about families, today.” Carlyn said, impressed, “I never taught her to call you that. Though it does fit. She's clever.”
Of course she thinks of me as a father, he thought. I am the closest thing she's got to one. I helped create her. He frowned uncomfortably. This just twisted the knife. If he had felt wrong for contemplating her breasts earlier, he felt like an absolute pervert now.
He'd always had... unusual tastes. But, being seen as a father crushed any hope of-- well-- not that he had had any hopes. Yet it still felt like the world was crashing down around him.
Even now, she looked up at him with those big, black eyes and pouting lips. Then she cried, “Papa-- we go. Want go! Bad place, bad lady. Go home.” She tugged his sleeve pleadingly. Her sweet, petulant attempts at speech flooded his chest with warmth. He shook off any conflicted feelings he had, and smiled, placing a fatherly hand on her shoulder. “Alright, we're going, it's ok.” he told her, gently. Then, glancing back at a perfectly good mother-figure, “Why didn't she take to you like this?”
Carlyn chuckled lightly. “Seems she's like a baby bird. Imprinted on the first face she saw. Sorry, looks like you're going to be stuck with her.”
He smiled at that, a bit proudly. As if having a monopoly on her affection was any kind of burden. At least I have you all to myself, he thought, and glanced down at his beautiful charge.
“I raised two girls, myself,” Carlyn continued, “That was hard enough, and they weren't bloodthirsty aliens. Good luck, Gediman.” she grinned.
He had never had c***dren, or a family of his own. He had never even considered it. He was married to his work, and never wanted the complications that came with love. His attachment to 18X-2987, therefore, was something he had no idea how to deal with. It was disturbing, yet attractive. Paternal, and yet more than that. These feelings blossomed up like a seed that had laid dormant in the desert, waiting only for a little rain. He had no idea what that they might grow into.
-3-
Forewarning: this chapter gets smutty. And in a weird daddy-issues kind of way.
----
She was crying again. The hot tears spilled down her face in a familiar, almost comforting way. Her corner hugged her, almost like him. Familiar, and surrounding, yes, but without any of the warmth. Without feeling.
She was so angry with him.
That man who came into her lonely existence and made it less lonely. Who took care of her. Who taught her what it was like to be touched. To be held. To be loved.
She dubbed him “Papa.” That woman had shown her many things the other day, teaching her about the world outside her walls. Only one thing had really stood out as familiar. There was a picture, with a mama, a papa, sister, and brother; a family. She had no sisters, no mama, no brother… but the grey-haired man in the picture who protected and loved the others, that seemed right. That was her only family.
So she thought.
Every day the door whooshes open, and there he is. And each moment with him is happiness. Every moment she is not alone, when she can feel safe, and warm, and learn about new things, and explore new places by his side, it's like the world is finally in color. Even the other crew members don't seem so scary, so long as he's there.
And then he leaves her, every night.
“Home” is the word the female researcher wants her to use for the grey, bare room she is confined in. Once it had felt like that, before she knew the pleasure of company. If she truly understood what these words were meant to imply, she thought another word suited it better: prison.
Wherever he went at night, that's where she would like to call home.
Would always be like this? Every day he would come for her, and every night abandon her again. At least that meant he would always come back. Yet the fear remained, each time, that this time he might not come back.
Tears start spilling out again.
She wondered, feeling betrayed, if he even missed her at all the way she did him.
Then, at last, she heard the scr****g of the door across the floor as it slid open. There he stood, wearing such an expression that she knew he had felt her absence too. She looked up from her corner, sniffling. He has missed me. He feels the same way. He hurried to her side and knelt beside her. A frown etched worry across his face, though his eyes were sparkling. She smiled as his gentle fingertips brushed a tear from her eyelid.
His frown quickly melted away as he saw her brightening.
“Good morning, 18X” he said to her.
“Good… morning, Papa.” she attempted in reply.
He sat on the floor beside her, leaning against the wall. This was their favorite position. She loved to crawl all over him, ultimately cuddling up in his lap, sighing contentedly.
As usual, he brought with him many new scents from around the ship. Some were people he'd encountered. She was learning that individual people had different smells, and that each individual might smell differently depending on what they're feeling. She could recognize the damp salty smell that came from someone recently crying, and she could smell the adrenaline on people she made nervous.
Most of the scents he carried would seem unpleasantly antiseptic to a normal person, raised in normal circumstances. But to 18X-2987, they smelled the most like him.
She was beginning to grasp the nature of what he did… that he could create new life somehow out of those bitter-smelling chemicals and test tubes; that he created her. There were others who helped, but they were of little concern. As far as she cared, the entire world revolved around her Papa.
With a smile, she realized the shock controller was gone. She rifled mischievously through all his pockets just to be sure-- he hadn't even brought it with him this time. He trusted her. In truth, the urge to bite him had not gone away. She longed to find out how his skin would feel under her teeth, but she was careful to restrain herself. The metal circling her neck was an unneeded reminder to behave.
Affectionately, she nuzzled against his cheek. His smile spread beneath her face. Leaning in further, she lightly ran her lips over the shell of his ear, then traced down his jaw. Suddenly, his skin became flushed and hot. She didn't understand why, precisely, her touch had that effect; did not understand the intimacy of this gesture. The concepts of “platonic” and “romantic” had not yet been distinguished in any of her few lessons, and if they had been mentioned, they held little meaning.
His breath was becoming hitched and shallow.
Strange, she thought. I wonder what it means. She continued trailing her mouth over his face and neck, and noted the reaction of his skin and breathing.
This behavior appealed to her, somehow. He seemed distressed, but rather than worry her, she liked it. She couldn't pinpoint why, exactly, but as she had come to understand concepts like touching, and words, and leaving rooms, she trusted it would make sense with time. She simply had to explore the idea.
She crawled onto his lap, straddling him, and twined her arms up behind his neck, disheveling his perfect hair. Having none herself, she knew little about hair, but she could tell it irked him to have his disarrayed… That's why she loved messing it up, just slightly, to see him try to disguise his grimace. He hated it, yet he let her do it anyway, and tried to pretend he didn't mind. She smiled impishly as she curled her clawed fingertips through his silky strands.
She could feel a hard bulge growing in his pants. It pressed against her thigh through the rough linen of his lab coat. She had no idea what it was, or what it meant, but something about it sent shivers of excitement through her skin.
Something about his scent was changing. It was almost like she was making him nervous.
His usual grimace at having his hair tampered with seemed different, too. His eyes were wide, and hungry. They glanced down, sweeping across her body. Then he looked away. Jaw clenching, he stared desperately at some invisible point across the room. She pursued him, nuzzling under his chin, brushing his neck with her nose. The usual soft thumping of his heart had grown wild, beating madly against his ribcage.
Part of her wondered if she should be worried for him; this strange behavior… but a stronger part told her to keep going. Her soft lips nibbled at his neck, and she tasted the tangy saltiness of his skin. She slowly worked her way across his sharp jawline, savoring each taste, and each quiver of her Doctor's body under her touch. What did she like so much about this? What was she hoping to get out of him?
She found out when in one sudden movement he turned his head, and pressed his lips against hers.
For a precious moment, time stood still. Her heart stopped beating. His mouth felt warm, wet, and tender against hers. It felt like her body was melting into him. As if the rest of existence had disappeared, and all that remained was this moment with his soft mouth on hers. His hands had found their way up her back, cradling her neck, drawing her into a warm embrace. Why hadn't they done this before?
Then, as quickly as it began, his hands dropped from her, and he jerked away. She whimpered in protest.
“I...I'm sorry!” he stammered quickly, “That was... inappropriate.”
“What?” she started, confused, “Why?”
He ran a hand through his hair, and let out a shaky sigh. “You wouldn’t understand. That's half the problem. I am taking advantage of you, and you're too inexperienced to even know why this is bad.”
“I don't know why this bad.”
“I… I can have Dr. Williamson explain the concept of authority figures, and--” Her grip on him firmed.
“But, I like it. If it make good feeling, then, how bad? I want. Want more.” she growled sultrily, kneading her claws into his arm. He stared back at her, blue eyes wide with inner turmoil. A battle of conscience and lust. She knew she could tip that battle in the right direction. She could see her own desire reflected in his eyes. She could smell it on him.
The desire he was awakening in her was another door, and she needed find out what was behind it. She could still feel the mysterious bulge still pressing between her legs, and it sent flares of warmth through her.
“Please, Papa?” she begged.
For a long moment, he stared back into her pleading black eyes. “I'm going to hell” he whispered to himself, and pulled her against him to kiss her again.
His hands wandered over her body, lighting a fire under her skin wherever they went. Each caress over the spines of her back drew a moan from her lips; every touch over the leathery ridges of her legs a sigh, or squeal of delight. He blazed a trail down her neck with fierce, rapid kisses, as if he was racing time to get out the entirety of his pent-up desire. She found her body moving of its own accord, her hips rocking over his. Spurred on, his hands left her leathery ridges, and dove boldly for the soft parting of her legs. Jolts of electricity surged through her body from the point of his touch, like a thundercloud bursting inside her. Soft, helpless cries spilled from her lips as he teased her tender flesh, filling her with want, with building heat.
Desire overwhelmed her self-restraint. Her mouth closed on the meeting of his neck and shoulder, and bit down. She purred with delight as the sharp points of her teeth gently raked against his tender flesh. She expected him to pull away and reprimand her at once-- but instead he growled hungrily, and nipped her back, sucking at the pale skin of her collarbone. Electricity seemed to hum in her veins as she rubbed herself against his fingertips, reveling in their mutual passion. The chorus of their shared moans mixed together like music, reaching into a crescendo…
The door whooshed open.
“Gediman! You know there are active monitor cameras in here, don't you?!”
Gediman shot up with a sharp cry, dumping 18X-2987 off his lap. She tumbled to the floor with a soft thud, and an indignant grumble.
It was the obscenely tall Mason Wren. His stature was intimidating enough, and he had a hard personality to go with it. An alpha who would fight his way to stay on top, she thought, unlike her Papa, who seemed always to act without ego.
He looked angry.
She retreated behind her doctor, clutching his sleeve and wrapping her tail loosely around one of his legs. He was stammering and babbling something to Wren-- so frantic, she could hardly make out what. What was wrong? What was happening? Mason frightened her on a good day, and now Papa seemed frightened, too. The pleasures of a moment before had vanished. She could feel her body starting to shake. Her grip tightened on Gediman's sleeve.
Alarmingly, instead of comforting her like he usually would, he turned around, and pried her off of him. Hastily, he turned and left with Wren, still looking upset.
She stood, trembling. In the echo of their retreating footsteps, she could feel her world collapse.
She waited.
He did not come back. Nobody came back. She watched the door until, exhausted, she sank to the cold floor of her tiny, empty cell.
-4-
Dr. Jonathan Gediman sat in front of a microscope, head buried in his hands. The clean laboratory he hunched in was filled with beakers, tubes, computers, and genetic samples. He should be working, but his mind weighed so heavily, he could do nothing but groan miserably and sigh.
He had been caught, on camera no less, in the middle of a sexual act with his own test subject. There would be laws against that kind of thing if they were in regulated space. Of course, half the activities on the ship broke Earth laws. That's exactly why they were operating on the edge of the solar system, to eschew the confines of morality on progress.
Why should he feel ashamed, then? Everyone on the science team is a weirdo in their own way. Normal people who balk at indiscretion don't find themselves on covert military bases orbiting Pluto. Because, while everyone had their own quirks, they all held to an unspoken rule, and Gediman had broken it.
The six other science personnel he worked with already found it weird how attached subject 18X-2987 had grown to him. They cautioned him not to get too close. A scientist must always maintain objective distance from their subjects.
Objectivity. That's the key.
He had written in his notes about how “fascinating” this imprinting behavior was. How it could lead to insights into alien ecology and behavior.
He had never written down how strongly he reciprocated those feelings that his alien ward so eagerly gave. That he had imprinted on her as strongly as she did on him. He hadn't written about how he worried when he had to leave her, or how his heart filled with pride whenever she learned something faster than a human ever could. He especially did not mention how he couldn't help notice her womanly figure, and that her alien traits attracted him all the more.
Or the way he looked forward to the excitement in her eyes when she greeted him at the door to her cell.
Though he had neither written nor spoken of any of this, the others must have noticed. Scientists could act like gossipy school c***dren when confined on a vessel together for long enough. There were whispers about the professionalism of his conduct. That he was going soft, and this little pet project of his was more personal than about results.
He couldn't argue. It was.
The whole point of engineering a human-xenomorph hybrid was to advance their understanding of the xenomorph species. To try to create something as close to a xenomorph as possible. Something that would be reproductively viable, so that they could recreate the species via selective breeding.
This thing they had made was pointless. That was the hard, objective truth. The alien parts of her genome were largely dormant. He suspected they might be environmentally activated, but he was loathe to try inducing her with various chemical exposures. Because he liked her.
So, with the alien parts of her anatomy seeming largely superficial, there was only a limited amount they could learn from her.
They learned that xenomorphs mature rapidly, and that their ability to learn is proportional to their physical development-- but that had already been well-documented in first hand accounts from 200 years ago. It was exciting to see this confirmed in the modern age, but not groundbreaking.
They may have learned that xenomorphs could be imprinted on human individuals-- useful knowledge if they ever found a complete set of DNA for a queen, and could quickly and cheaply produce alien babies to imprint onto USM generals. Gediman pictured General Perez commanding a battalion of xenomorphs, all as biddable to his will as 18X was to Gediman's.
However, there was no way to know whether the imprinting was an alien trait, a human one, or simply a genetic dice-roll.
Most disappointing of all was the subject's complete lack of reproductive potential. She was a dead end. They would have to start over from scratch.
And now, thanks to his little indiscretion, everyone knew once and for all that Gediman was done researching. He was simply playing with a favorite toy. Thanks to his foolish emotional attachment to a failed experiment, he was likely to lose his job. It was bad enough that he had shown bias toward the subject before. Now his real motivations were laid bare for all to see, and they were the dirty motives of a sexual deviant, not a scientist. Ugh, he groaned. What had he done? Why did I go and cross that line?
Compulsively, he glanced over at a monitor. Though he had stayed well away from her for the past few days, trying to preserve what little reputation he had left, he couldn't help but keep one monitor in his lab tuned to her containment cell.
His heart sank. She was still despondent. At least she had stopped beating herself against the doors. I shouldn't have looked. I shouldn't even have this monitor. Right now, I need to focus on my work. She's just another test subject now.
He had repeated that to himself often, but neither of them were eating.
Just then, Mason Wren's giant frame filled the doorway. Gediman turned scarlet and quickly tried to hide the monitor. Wren ambled casually into the room.
“Calm down, Gediman, it's just me, Jeez.” Wren laughed patronizingly.
Yes. That is just the problem, Gediman thought, while readjusting his outward appearance into a pleasant smile. He still couldn’t quite look Wren in the eye, since he had burst in on him… “Sorry, I was… lost in thought.” he said as amiably as he could muster.
“Yes. You've been getting lost a lot lately, haven't you?” Wren frowned. “It's disappointing. What happened to you, Gedmian? You used to be one of my most reliable men.”
Gediman's pleasant mask slipped. He eyed Wren with suspicion and not a little indignation.
“No sense in beating around the bush, then. Subject 18X-2987 is scheduled for termination. I thought you should know.” Wren stated flatly. Gediman leaped to his feet.
“What? Termination?”
“That's what I said, isn't it?” Wren scoffed, annoyed. “Lethal injection. Painless.”
Gediman felt his chest tightening. “If- if this is because of me-- if this is some kind of punishment, then I can assure you--”
“Nobody gives a shit! Do you really think anyone cares if you’re fucking an alien?” Wren snarled. “Yes, it's unprofessional. Yes, you’ve clearly lost all objectivity. But do you think that would matter if you were getting results? Frankly, I’d have you do whatever you’ve gotta do off the cameras. Hell, I'd fuck her myself. No. Gediman, you’ve been working with this subject for weeks now. You've even got Dr. Williamson pinch-hitting for you, teaching her all kinds of useless shit. You've seen no progress whatsoever, have you?”
“That isn't true! She’s shown rapid development in vocal communication, reasoning—“
“—and nothing in the way of aggression, or physical development. Tell me, has she ever shown the slightest inclination to fight anything?”
“Well,” he huffed, “she was very keen on biting at first, that's in my notes. I needed to apply the shock collar to—“
“I’ve read your goddamn notes, Gediman, you said yourself the biting was just exploratory behavior. She’s only ever reacted out of fear, and then, what-- one time she tries to attack, and she gave up on that with almost no resistance. The military doesn't need little bunny rabbits. They need aggressive, strong a****ls. She’s skittish. Timid. Weak.”
Gediman just stared, disbelieving.
“Look,” Wren softened, “I'm sorry if this one was your special favorite, but the United Systems Military pays our bills. We have to deliver what they want.”
“Then... then just give me time. I can alter her training to focus on... ”
“It’s already been decided.”
“...military purposes”
“I’m sorry. Perez agrees, we’ll gain more from a full necropsy than we will from any further behavioral study.”
Gediman froze. “He agrees?” he repeated coldly. “Then I suppose you were the one who suggested this.”
Wren merely laughed, “You think I would do that to spite you?” Shaking his head, he continued in a syrupy tone, “Why bother speculating on who said what or why? We're scientists, we focus on the facts. And the fact is, the decision is made. The only way to recoup our losses it to dissect this one, figure out where we went wrong, and try again. Don't worry,” he laughed heartlessly, “I'll make sure the next one has a great pussy, just for you.”
Gediman's eyes blazed with fury, and he barely held back the urge to punch his boss square in the face. His jaw muscles twitched slightly as his blue eyes burned coldly into Wren's. Wren took an u*********s half step away from him, and, wetting his lips, continued.
“Now, since you’re so attached to the thing, I’m willing to allow you to take care of it yourself.”
“I won’t do it.” Gediman snapped.
“Then I will.” Wren replied flatly. “As I said, the decision is made.”
Gediman thought about how frightened 18X was of Wren. She used to cower behind him, when Wren was around, tugging at his lab coat. Wren was right about one thing, she was a timid, easily spooked girl. He wouldn’t have her put down frightened and confused.
“Fine” he relented with a painful sigh, “I’ll do it.”
“Good. Glad to see you come around.”
A blanket of numbing fog seemed to fill the room. sleepwalking, he followed Wren through the haze, out of the room to go gather up, say his last goodbyes to, and then kill the closest thing he had to family. The closest he had come to feeling love in years, since he had learned to quiet those passions for his career.
Part of his heart blew out of the airlock, froze, and shattered into a thousand pieces he knew he would never see again.
***
When the door to 18X-2987's cell swung open, she flung herself into his arms from halfway across the room, nearly plowing him off his feet. “Papa! Papa!” she cried. Tears soaked through his lab coat as she pressed her face into his chest.
He told himself to keep his emotions in check, to be as distant as he would have to be, but that notion vanished the minute he saw her flying towards him. The realness of her weight against him, and the vibration of her plaintive sobbing in his ears shattered the daydream he wanted to pretend he was in. Heat pressed the back of his eyes, and though he tried to swallow, he could not. He couldn't be objective, not with her in front of him like this.
“Papa!” she sobbed, “Why you go away? I… I hate you! Why would you leave…?”
She was so heartbroken over him, curling and uncurling her clawed fists around the fabric of his lab coat, making wistful, angry, longing mewling noises. She needed him so desperately, and he loved her for it.
He loved her.
When she was gone, no one would ever need him like this again.
“I… I'm sorry, princess.” he said, stroking her head buried in his chest. His vision blurred, and he choked out, “I had to, to take care of a few things. But I'm never going to leave you alone again.”
She looked up, wet eyes sparkling hopefully, “Really? You mean it? I get to stay with Papa?”
“That's right. From now on… you can stay with me forever.” his tears began to fall down as hers began to dry. She hugged him, purring, “Forever...”
He gave a wavering smile, and all but whispered, “First, we… we're going to go outside, to a lab, where I… I'm just going to need to run some tests, alright?”
She looked up, brows furrowed in innocent concern, like she had just realized there was something wrong. Her eyes studied his face with an almost protective look, trying to figure out why he seemed uneasy. She nodded in assent, and embraced him so tenderly, as if to say, “whatever is wrong, it will all be okay now.”
***
At least she'll go peacefully, he thought, sitting her down on a cold, steel medical table. Above, he knew Dr. Wren and General Perez were watching through the two-way glass, making sure he would go through with it.
Blissfully unaware, 18X-2987 kicked her dangling clawed feet back and forth over the edge of the slab. She's never had to experience any of the horrors life can bring. No cruel tests. No training to be a killer. She'll die smiling, never knowing pain. If only it were so easy for me. He stifled a macabre laugh as he picked up the syringe that would slowly shut down the ticking of her brain. The irony clawed up his intestines- his attempts to tame her may have caused this. He should never have coddled her. If only he had let her grow into the wild, violent monster the military wanted…It wasn't the life he wanted for her, but at least she would live.
He forced his leaden legs carry him to her. They weakly sc****d the ground in resistance, but delivered him to his victim.
He faked the best smile he could manage, and looked into her eyes for the last time. From a distance they might be mistaken for brown eyes, but on closer inspection the irises are as pitch black as the pupils themselves. The expression they made was quite human though, full of curiosity and nothing more. How those eyes didn't see the dark clouds on the horizon, why she didn't turn and run from him now, he didn't know. The way the blood had run from his face, he must look like the grim reaper.
“I'll just need your arm,” he requested softly, the needle in his other hand like a venomous fang waiting to strike.
She gave it to him without question.
The air hung heavy between them, like a rolling tropical storm only Gediman could feel. The skies were blue and clear for her. He would kill her, and she wouldn't even struggle.
He took her soft and yielding hand. Gently, he flipped it palm-up, and stretched her arm until he found the cubital vein.
The next step was the last one.
His heart beat a furious protest against his chest which he could not quite swallow.
“You trust me, don't you?” he asked.
“Of course I do. I love you, papa."
That was all his heart could take. His lip trembled just slightly, then all at once, he drew back, and smashed the syringe into the ground. “No! I won't do this!” he screamed, raging at the reflective viewing window. Behind the mirrored glass, there was movement, a shuffling of personnel. He looked back to his gentle, innocent ward-- she was spooked by his sudden outburst, leaping from the table as if this was her first clue anything was wrong.
He quickly took her shoulders, and rested his forehead against hers. Desperation edging his voice, he hastily explained, “Look at me. Some men are going to come through those doors, and… I… Just- just stay behind me.” He placed a kiss on her forehead, as the door banged open and two armed soldiers stormed in. She squeaked shrilly and jumped back up on the medical slab, cowering behind him.
“Get out of the way, Dr. Gediman.” the first one ordered, rifle gleaming in the florescent lighting.
“Go to hell.” he snarled back.
The soldier stomped his heavy boots forward, and tried to push Gediman away. Everyone expected the docile, middle-aged scientist to yield, but surprising even himself, he would not. He dug his heels into the floor, and shoved back. The soldier barely budged, but Gediman's blue eyes were blazing.
“Last warning!” the soldier barked, “Stand down!”
Rushing forward, the soldier went for 18X-2987 once more, but Gediman moved to intercept a second time. This time, instead of pushing the soldier back, Gediman felt the sharp sting of the butt of a rifle against his skull. He could hear a blood-curdling scream from behind him as he crumpled to the floor, and the room swam dizzily, and went black.
**
A deep guttural scream tore her throat, and she could feel her blood red hot and pulsating in her veins. It pounded her skull and darkened her vision until the world seemed a tiny pinprick of light at the end of a long, dark tunnel. And through that tiny pinhole she saw him fall. She saw the man who did it sneer an ugly contemptuous sneer. They hurt him. They hurt papa.
She sprang from the table at once, crashing hard upon the first soldier. Her fangs sank deep into his neck and she could feel the warm metallic tang of his blood gush into her mouth. She bore down harder until she felt the pop and gurgle of his trachea collapsing. The blood flowed freely, caressing her tongue. It felt almost as good as her papa’s kiss.
She dragged him to the floor where he convulsed and gurgled. A primal instinct told her he was not going to get up again.
Electricity crackled about her neck, like a thousand stabbing needles setting her skin on fire. Her body spasmed of its own accord, ripping a scream from her red covered lips. She hissed, turning to face the remaining soldier. This younger one had a shock collar remote control in his hand, and was pressing it continually. The crippling pain felt strangely dull, drowned out like a tiny white light in a world bathed in red. She fought through the spasms and stared him down, teeth dripping with blood that fell and splashed into the spreading pool circling his comrade. The soldier's eyes widened in fear. He had expected her to crumple on the floor in tears, but that creature was gone. Xenomorph instincts had finally surfaced, and there was no weakness or pity left in her.
With shaky hands he lifted his rifle and fired. Three bullets whizzed over her shoulder shattering glass lab equipment. The fourth bullet grazed her tail, sending acid blood spilling over the floor. It hissed and sizzled where it touched the ground. 18X-2978 smiled a bloody, vicious smile.
Before another shot could fire, she whipped around, flicking the end of her tail at the frightened soldier. The acid hit its mark. Agonized screams rang out through the small lab room as the blinded young soldier sank to the floor, clawing desperately at his own face. The knife-like tip of her tail raised up, and shot back down between his eyes, silencing the screams forever.
Hissing victoriously, she scanned the room for more enemies to destroy. She would tear through anyone they sent through that door. Her gaze fell upon the crumpled scientist on the floor, pale skin stained with blood.
The rage flooded out of her at once.
“...papa?”
Not wanting to hurt him by accident with her hazardous tail, she licked the oozing blood from it. The wound closed up before her eyes, stemming the corrosive flow. Safe, she rushed to his side, fear gnawing her gut. He was still u*********s, but would he recover?
Whining softly, she nudged him. He's intact, she sighed with relief, not hit with a stray bullet or droplet of acidic blood. Still, he wasn't moving. Had her blood always been like that? This was a question she hoped he could answer. There were so many questions she would want to ask him, not just now, but as she went through life. Whenever she was puzzled by some new discovery about the world, he had always been there, quick with knowledgeable answers. Who would she turn to if he were gone? Tears filled her eyes.
Carefully, she placed her head to his chest. A low, steady thud-thud, thud-thud greeted her ear. He will get up again, her instincts whispered.
She nuzzled him gently, licking the red that dripped from an open cut on his temple. It didn't have quite the instantaneous effect she hoped for, but the bleeding stopped. She pressed her red lips softly to his pale ones. Like a fairy tale, he stirred and awakened.
The tears barely held back behind her eyes broke, making relieved trails down her face. She squeezed him protectively in her arms. As he slowly came to, she felt his strong arms reciprocate her embrace. His breath tickled her ear as he rasped, “You're alive. What… what happened?” Propping himself up on an elbow, he woozily surveyed the room. His eyes stopped and froze on the two mangled guards.
“Oh.”
The door opened again, but instead of soldiers in combat gear, a dark haired main in a crisp Class A dress uniform strode in. General Perez held an air of firm authority as he came, unarmed, unto the room.
18X protectively mantled over Gediman, bristling. She showed her dripping teeth and let out a challenging snarl. The man raised a gun to her. His hands did not shake. Gediman tugged her back. “No!” he pleaded. She wasn't sure which one of them he was addressing, but she sunk down in submission and held her ground. The man lowered his weapon. Then, he spoke in a friendly tone.
"Calm down, calm down both of you. I'm here to extend you an offer. That was some very impressive work, miss. Just the sort of result we're after. We'd like you to continue your service with us. How would you like to remain with the program, with Dr. Gediman as your sole warden? She'd be fully your responsibility, Doctor."
"I get to stay with Papa?" she asked, perking up at the prospect
Gediman's body tensed against hers, and his breath came slow and shallow. He was all caution, even though to her, the General's words seemed wonderful. She didn't know what was happening, but she trusted Gediman and prepared for the worst.
"The military isn't known for being magnanimous. When your crew refuses orders, you're not usually the forgiving type. She just killed two of your men. How do we know you're not getting us to let our guard down so you can kill us? It isn't like you to let something like this go.”
“No, it isn't” he muttered, “and under normal circumstances, I'd have you thrown right out the airlock. But we've sunk far too much time and resources into cloning these hybrids with little success-- until just now. Whatever you're doing, it's apparently working, and I'm not going to fuck it up and waste six months of effort. That, just now, was an ideal demonstration of the qualities we're looking for in this project. A loyal and deadly bodyguard that can be imprinted on a soldier, or private client. I want to see if this can be replicated, and I want a full case study on this specimen.
You're in charge of her from now on, Doctor. The project belongs to you. You're our official expert on alien bonding. Now don't make me regret the decision. Go, clean yourself up.”
And that was it. The General turned on his heel and left them. The pair, now awkwardly entwined on the floor as their mutual protective gestures became moot, stared in disbelief. 18X-2987 understood most of what was said. Mainly that she would get to stay with the gentle man whose arms she was wrapped in.
Was it true? This day had been a confusing whirlwind that shook her whole world. She had never felt that way before-- the blood pounding in her ears, her instinct to bite inflamed far beyond the joyful nipping she gave her sweet doctor's skin.
It felt good. The taste beneath the skin, once punctured, was luscious, and the delicate skin tore as easily as tissue. She trembled in its wake. It was another visceral awakening, a door that once open, couldn't be closed. Never to papa, she repeated to herself, suddenly frightened by her own lust for killing. Never to him.
“T...thank you, General!” Gediman stammered after the man, far too late to be heard.
Smiling, 18X squeezed his arm, and helped him to his feet. He stumbled, and she let him fall against her, supporting his weight. He looked up into her eyes and gasped.
“Your eyes!” he exclaimed, narrowing his with medical curiosity. He stretched her lids up, and then down, tipping her head as he inspected them.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Strange. They've gone black. This shouldn't be possible, but I think your iris has dilated over the sclera.”
Alarmed, she looked down at her hands. Her claws seemed longer and sharper somehow, too.
What was happening to her?
Something impossible snapped subject 18X-2987 from her sleep in the corner.
The door began to open.
It was impossible because the door never opened. Only the vaguest of instincts told her what its purpose was at all, or that other creatures might live beyond it.
Strange things had been happening lately. She had woken from a slumber she couldn't recall falling into, to find a strange metal thing encircling her neck. Now this. Something was coming, and in her limited experience, she could only assume it meant death.
Her eyes focused hard on the door, head tipping slightly to better hear. Every muscle in her body tensed as she crouched, ready to spring. The tip of her long, leathery tail twitched. There was nowhere in her bare room to hide. She would have to fight.
The bulky metal door slid open with a buzzing noise. In stepped a creature that walked on two legs, like her, but straight. There weren't enough bends to the leg, or perhaps the feet were just too small, and were walked on flat? It was covered in loose white material. Was it skin, hanging so loose?
Atop it all sat a head. She stared at it. Quickly, she touched her own face, checking and matching up the parts. Two eyes, a nose, a mouth, ears. Yes, this b**st must have been something like her. Though, atop its head, dark, silvery hair was slicked back. Hers had always been bare. She wondered what it felt like.
The thing's piercing blue eyes stared back at her, softly. It smiled pleasantly, and noises came out of its mouth.
She stepped back. It put one of its hands up in a gesture of peace, but encroached further into her room. Closer to her. She hissed angrily, and leaped back, encircling him from a distance. Soft noises continued to tumble from its lips, as she circled, sniffing the air. It spun, boldly facing her, keeping its eyes fixed on hers.
Cold piercing eyes.
Something primal welled up inside of her-- his stare seemed to challenge her, his intrusion onto her territory, unforgivable. The smell of the blood in his veins, tempting.
She snarled. A leap for his throat was cut off suddenly by sharp, blinding pain around her neck. The traitorous metal thing! Him-- this white, straight-legged creature came into her room, and set off this torture device. Once the pain subsided enough for her to move, she roared, springing for the villain a second time. She saw a small metal device flash in his hand, just before being cut down by burning pain yet again.
This time, it was more than she could handle.
She didn't know how long she had been in this room, how many times she had cried herself into oblivion, how many times she had cried again on waking to find she was still in this cold, barren place. Now her imprisoning home wasn't even safe. Pain throbbed through her skin. She didn't bother to get up off the floor this time. She scrambled away, and pressed her face into the furthest corner. She tried to press her whole body into the corner, as if, perhaps, it could swallow her up in its protective darkness and whisk her away to some other world.
She could hear the creature's footsteps behind her, and tried to drown them out with her own sobbing. She pressed herself further and further in, curling nearly into a ball, wrapping her tail tightly around herself.
She felt the shadow of the monster fall over her, but she didn't care. Sobs wracked her body and hot tears flowed down her face. Just let death come, she thought. She could sense it crouch beside her. She hissed through her tears.
It kept making those damned noises. Something like, “It's ok. It's ok.” over and over. She couldn't understand, exactly, but there was something comforting, almost musical about it. It felt like a balm sweeping over her frayed nerves, loosening some of the tension. The ball of her mass uncoiled just slightly, and her tears began to flow more freely, born less of panicked fear, and more of something else. Something she wasn't quite able to grasp.
Suddenly, a hand pressed lightly against her shoulder. She gasped, flinching away, screaming into the wall. The monster continued to sit by her in the corner, a warm, comforting entity. Soon, it tried again to rest a hand on her. She flinched, less dramatically this time, and allowed the hand to stay there.
Her racing heart slowed as the hand radiated warmth though her shoulder, seeming to warm her whole body. She had never felt a sensation like this before. Skin touching skin. The heat of another living body.
Suddenly, she recognized what she had been missing these few weeks of her life. What it was that she cried for.
A little too forcefully, she grabbed the hand, and brought it to her face. The attached creature startled, and nearly fell forward with the force of the tug. It softened, however, when she tenderly nuzzled into the hand, smelling all the exotic scents it carried from the land outside her room. She purred with delight. This is what it's like to be touched.
Feeling bolder, she opened her sharp, toothy jaw over his palm, and gleefully made to bite down-- but instead of feeling soft skin tested under her nip, she felt the hand roughly retracted. Wide, icy eyes stared at her sharply, as the metal pain device lifted in his opposing hand.
She shrieked, and flew back into the corner, shuddering as she cocooned herself in her tail, bracing herself for the pain. Betrayed. Of course this monster only ever meant to bring her pain. She should never have let her guard down.
But the pain didn't come. Over the sounds of her own hard breathing, she thought she heard the monster catching his own sharp, panicked breath. He was frightened too, was he? Though she was stung by his sudden betrayal, she felt an ache in her heart for the touch of his hand. Her skin had been without touch for too long. It now begged for it, like an itch demanding to be scratched.
Longing quickly overpowered both fear and indignation. He had begun to coo low, comforting words at her again, and she crept slowly from her corner toward the sound. A little more warily this time, he reached a hand out to her. She accepted the touch greedily, resuming nuzzling and exploring his flesh as if there had been no interruption. Soon again, her instincts told her she simply must taste him. And again, as soon as her mouth opened, displaying her dangerously sharp teeth, the man pulled away, raising up his weapon defensively.
She scurried back, and they both stared at each other, wary and wide-eyed. Tears formed behind her eyes once more. Already today she had cried of fear, and then of loneliness. Now she felt she was losing the one friend she had ever met. Now that she had felt the contact and warmth of another creature, she knew she was desperate for a companion. Yet this creature behaved so erratically, offering her a world of tactile discovery, then rejecting her the next moment.
The creature in white frowned deeply, and lowered the metal device that could cause her body to erupt in pain. Relief washed over her. He seemed to think of something. He raised up his hand to his own mouth, and dramatically snapped his teeth at it. Then he raised the pain device in his other hand. She gasped, and scrambled back, touching the metal ring around her neck. Then he put both his hands down. She relaxed. Again, he raised a hand and snapped his teeth, lifting the pain device again in response. He raised both eyebrows at her, expression willing her to understand.
Realization washed over her all at once. He's afraid of my teeth. He doesn't want me biting him. The tension coiled in her muscles melted away, and she smiled, understanding. He smiled back at her, expression proud, victorious. They were communicating.
Cautiously, she crept toward him. She took his hand, and held it to her face once more. This time, quite deliberately, she opened her mouth without exposing any teeth, and extended her tongue. She studied his face carefully for signs of disapproval as she licked him, tasting the salty skin. Disapproval was not among the strange series of expressions that marched across his face, one following the other. Surprise, tender realization, and deep blushing were swallowed by a choked snort and irrepressible laughter as her wet tongue tickled his skin.
Oral fixation was a term she knew nothing about. If she had, she would know immediately what would pepper his notes about her.
18X-2987 hoped this strange man in the white lab coat would never leave her side, and indeed he didn't. She hungered for more, nuzzling her way down his arm, exploring thoroughly with all five senses. She discovered the white material covering him was not part of his body at all. The fleshy skin of his arm continued, uninterrupted, inside the sleeve of fabric. Though she assumed the fabric of his clothing to be inanimate, like the walls, she still dared not bite it. She liked this warm-bodied creature with the soft, salty skin, and foreign smells. She craved his closeness. She wouldn't risk upsetting him again.
Every new bit of information she absorbed and memorized eagerly. Now she knew there were two living things in the world, and she suspected there were more. More like her, or more like him, she didn't know. At the moment, it didn't much matter.
She had been alone all her life, and now she had a friend.
Reaching the base of his arm, she found herself tucked up against his chest. She smiled contentedly at the low thumping of his heart. This feels even safer than the corner, she thought. Exhausted from crying and doubling her knowledge of the universe, she sank against him, and purring, drifted to sleep.
-2-
When Dr. Jonathan Gediman finally returned to 18X-2987's isolation cell, he was out of breath. He had been having horrible visions through half the night that his callous boss, Dr. Mason Wren, had decided to enter the subject's cell as Gediman himself had yesterday.
In his first encounter with her, Gediman had found the alien hybrid easily spooked, wild, and ultimately a very sensitive creature. He had managed to earn its trust after hours of sitting with it, as it recovered from the shock he'd had to apply twice to avoid being maimed by her.
She had attacked, likely out of fear, and responded with such terror to the shock collar that he almost regretted using it at all.
Almost.
Gediman valued his own hide, and didn't want to see it punctured.
In his nightmares, however, Mason Wren terrorized his nervous creature, applying the shock collar over and over as she writhed on the floor in tears. He had sprung out of bed early in order to get to her first, hoping that nothing had happened over the night shift.
First, however, he had to get every hair slicked perfectly back into a neat ponytail, and clasp it firmly in place with a metal clamp. He was nothing if not fastidious about his appearance-- even if it risked his ward's exposure to his brutish boss. This was one of many things Gediman knew he ought to feel guilty about, but didn't.
Thankfully, when he arrived at the observation lab directly outside of the subject's cell, and worriedly glanced into the monitors, he found her unharmed and alone. She was staring toward the door with unsettling confidence. Her sharp black eyes were focused intently, as if willing the steel to give way, and the very tip of her spiked tail twitched impatiently back and forth.
He smiled. She missed him.
As he rested his hands on his knees, waiting for his breath to catch up with him, Dr. Carlyn Williamson walked into the lab.
“Gediman!” she started, mildly surprised, “You're here early. Worried about our little princess in there?”
He wanted to ask what she meant, but found he could only pant and tip his head, asking the question with his eyes. He was too old to be running around like this.
Carlyn gave a laugh at her out-of-shape colleague, and answered “Well, she isn't the queen we'd all hoped to create. You've seen the scans, she probably won't be productive at all. Still, we tried, so I like to think of her as our princess.”
He liked the thought of her as a princess. Yet, he knew that was not to be her fate, and it never was.
Originally, the military wanted her as a broodmare, using her to breed or surrogate as many aliens as possible. That fell through, however, when she emerged from the development tubes without a fully functional reproductive system. Now, she would likely be trained for combat purposes, or disposed of. Perhaps experimented on, to see what medical advances could come from her hybrid immune system.
He had been fine with that, up until yesterday. Carlyn might be the only one of his colleagues to understand. She, like Gediman, was a scientist through and through, willing to set aside traditional “ethics” in the name of progress. If the suffering of one lab rat will save the lives of a thousand human beings, then so be it. Yet, the two of them, more than any of the other members of Auriga's science team, felt a profound empathy for their subjects, and often commiserated when progress called for something particularly gruesome to be done.
This time, his emotions were clouding his judgment more than they ever had. After his bonding session with the creature the other day;--“socialization,” he had antiseptically called it-- after feeling the warmth of her body pressed against his, seeing the way she longed for human interaction, how she came to trust him-- he could no longer stomach the thought of anything hurting her.
Carlyn would understand, he thought. If he could get her on his side. They may only have a short time to socialize his creature before the United Systems Military took her away. If she could be taught to speak, to act human, the others might see her as human. She might stand some chance.
Who knows what those rough soldier types might do to her? She was partially alien, true, but her face and torso were that of an adult human woman. And, while her internal reproductive organs were not fully formed... He blushed a deep red unfitting a detached physician.
If she was voiceless, she would be defenseless. Carlyn was a linguistic expert-- if she could teach 18X-2987 English, then... well, he thought darkly, it likely wouldn't make much difference anyway. That was how it was out here, beyond the reaches of controlled space. But he could try.
*
When he had finally cleared the security locks, and the door hissed open, 18X-2987 nearly knocked him flat with the enthusiasm of a puppy that had been waiting for its master. Her sharp tail wagged dangerously back and forth as she buried her head in the folds of his white lab coat, making soft squealing noises. He cringed as her clawed fingers dug into his sleeves too tightly, as if she thought he might vanish if she let go.
“It's alright. I came back.” he purred, patting her on the head. It was... endearing. He had never had anyone react to him with so much undisguised adoration. It was only because she was starving for attention, he knew, but he was almost just as starved.
Forgetting himself, he wrapped his arms around her, pressing her to him. She responded by making satisfied throaty noises and nuzzling into his neck. His face flushed hot under the onslaught of her affection-- a flush that only grew hotter as he felt her warm tongue testing the skin of his neck. She's just exploring, he told himself, she knows nothing of human taboos, and she's merely using every available sense.
With a lurch, he realized he couldn't so easily brush off the feelings she was stirring in him. It was not a mere paternal concern for her well-being that he felt. Her constant need for closeness, her bold touches, made with no sense of indecency, startled and thrilled him at the same time. How could any man react to a fiery young creature writhing about him, tasting his skin, worshiping his body like a holy idol? How could he convince himself that the brushing of her soft breasts against him was as innocent a thing as it seemed to her? Her soft, naked flesh pressed temptingly against him now, as she began exploring him yet again, tugging his clothes, playing with the hair he had so recently straightened away.
Perhaps she should be given clothes, he thought, gritting his teeth. None of the scientists had ever thought to do so. Why would they? To the others, she wasn't human. She was a lab a****l.
She was somewhat a****listic, it's true, and c***d-like in her behavior... yet her body was that of a grown woman. The deep intelligence he saw behind her dark eyes only confirmed the brain scans he had taken during her development. She was not at all sub-human. If anything she was a little more.
Now she was awakening desires in him... ones that made him no better than the hypothetical soldiers whose abuses he sought to protect her from.
He reminded himself that she couldn't help that her genetically engineered body would mature so quickly, or into so pleasing a form. She would have no ideas about sexuality. He chastely reprimanded himself for even thinking such predatory thoughts. Still, her immodest touches were arousing parts of him not so easily contained by thoughts alone. He had to get out of here, somehow.
“So...” he began. She stared at his mouth attentively, tipping her head as he continued, “You remember me from yesterday. That's good. That's excellent. Now...” he disentangled himself from her, “I think it's time you met some of the rest of the team.”
She frowned, and tipped her head to the other side. She had no idea what he was saying, of course; though her brow was knit in concentration, as if she knew there was some distressing meaning behind his words that she was trying to puzzle out.
He pressed his lips together in a half-smile, took her clawed hand in his, and took a few steps back to the door. 18X-2987 jerked to a stop and stared incredulously.
“I'm going to bring you out with me. Do you think you're ready for that? It's just Dr. Williamson out there. She's nice, I promise.” he raised his eyebrows at her, then slowly entered his security data, and let the door slide open.
His creature crouched in a small, defensive stance. He would have thought she would be eager to explore other areas of the ship, having been confined to that one room so long, but she stood at the open doorway as if it were a coiled snake.
He stepped through the door first, confidently, and turned to show her he was okay. “See?” he encouraged, “It's alright. Come on.” He held a hand out to her. He could see the panic in her eyes-- desperate to rejoin him, but terrified of the unknown beyond her little observation room. Perhaps it's too soon, he thought. Its too much for her in this state. Just then, she rushed through the doorway like you might rip off a painful bandage, and reclaimed his hand with her trembling one. She gave a pitiful squeak as she clung to him, panting hard, as if she'd just sprinted down the ship's corridors too.
Then came the flood. As she looked about the little lab outside her observation cell, every smell of human musk, of rubber and steel hit her like a tidal wave. She twitched, squeezing his hand until it hurt. Every sudden beep of every computer spooked her. Her eyes darted wildly about the room, and she sank further and further down toward the floor.
Carlyn appeared beside them. She bent down, and murmured in a motherly tone, “Oh you poor thing--”
That was the breaking point. The frightened creature shot away from his side, wailing, desperate for something to hide under. With a crash and pop of electricity, her thrashing tail knocked out a computer screen, sending glass shards tinkling over the floor. She flew away from the ruined computer with a panicked leap, slipped, and sk**ded across the hard floor, slamming into every chair and delicate machine around the lab in a frantic attempt to regain footing.
The shock collar control was in his pocket; the thought of using it before she broke everything flashed in in mind.
“Enough!” he shouted, anger fraying the edges of his voice. He stomped over to the panicking creature that had just demolished his lab, and likely set his work back by several days. She froze, and then backed under the nearest table. “Oh no, you get out from there.” he hissed.
She didn't listen, of course, so he got down on his hands and knees to drag her out. She met his eyes with a pitiful, desperate whimper.
Sigh. He couldn't stay mad at her.
He took her arm, and gently tugged the quivering mess out and to her feet. “Now.” he said firmly, “We're going to say hello to Dr. Williamson, and we're not going to freak, OK?”
She cast a guilty, sideways glance to him, whimpered softly, then looked down. He walked her up to Carlyn, who gave her best, slightly frazzled, smile. “Hello, princess.” she said sweetly, and offered a hand.
18X-2987 pouted, snubbed the hand, and tried to hide behind Gediman. It was a start.
Slowly, she adjusted to her new surroundings. Gediman showed her monitors, buttons-- everything in the lab he pointed out and tried to name for her. She listened, and observed, but stubbornly refused to go near Dr. Williamson. Gediman wondered why. Carlyn was roughly the same age as him. They wore the same lab coat. She even had similar dark-with-grey-streaks hair.
“Carlyn...” he began, hesitating, “Would you... mind taking her for a while?”
She gave a high, sharp laugh-- which spooked 18X-2987, causing her to laugh again, more softly. Gediman didn't return the laugh. He shifted, frowning, as if bearing a heavy weight. “You're serious?”
“She needs to be socialized, Carlyn. I know, it's moving fast, but... It's better if we get her used to people. Once I'm gone, she'll probably take to you right away. I only met her 12 hours ago myself, and...” he gestured down his torso, which was covered in clinging alien hybrid.
Gediman explained to her his hopes and plans for saving their “princess” from horror with no escape. How language could provide her some defense, even make them consider her for purposes besides combat. Carlyn took even less convincing than he expected. In fact, she admitted, she already had prepared a full curriculum.
And so, Dr. Williamson set up her training room, complete with virtual training modules, and old fashioned flash cards.
18X-2987 didn't take well to being left. When she figured out Dr. Gediman's intention to leave her alone with a new tutor, he had to pry her off of him. She whined shrilly, and tried to follow him from the room. He took a stern tone, sat her down on a chair, and commanded, “Sit.”
She shot him the most wrathful look he had ever seen. Her black eyes narrowed sulkily, like a c***d being denied dessert. “Ssssss it.” she hissed, her mouth tasting the word, sounding it out, while keeping her eyes locked on to his. He brightened, heart swelling in pride to hear her first word-- though spoken in defiant anger. “Yes! Exactly! Good girl!” he beamed, finding himself back at her side. He caressed her face with pride, and she nuzzled into his hand, soft flesh warm against his skin. This brought a flush back to his face, which immediately snapped him out of it. He pulled back, “Good job.” he said stiffly. “Now. You stay here and show me what you learned when I get back.” He retreated from the room, leaving his pouting alien girl behind.
*
A few hours later, after trying to get some work done, worrying, and gluing himself in front of video monitors for the rest of the subject's training session, it was finally time to gather her up again.
When the door hissed open, a fidgety and annoyed looking 18X-2987 looked hopefully toward the door.
“Papa!” she cried out, springing to his side.
“What's this? Something you taught her?” Gediman asked, uneasily, as the creature nuzzled herself into him.
“I taught her about families, today.” Carlyn said, impressed, “I never taught her to call you that. Though it does fit. She's clever.”
Of course she thinks of me as a father, he thought. I am the closest thing she's got to one. I helped create her. He frowned uncomfortably. This just twisted the knife. If he had felt wrong for contemplating her breasts earlier, he felt like an absolute pervert now.
He'd always had... unusual tastes. But, being seen as a father crushed any hope of-- well-- not that he had had any hopes. Yet it still felt like the world was crashing down around him.
Even now, she looked up at him with those big, black eyes and pouting lips. Then she cried, “Papa-- we go. Want go! Bad place, bad lady. Go home.” She tugged his sleeve pleadingly. Her sweet, petulant attempts at speech flooded his chest with warmth. He shook off any conflicted feelings he had, and smiled, placing a fatherly hand on her shoulder. “Alright, we're going, it's ok.” he told her, gently. Then, glancing back at a perfectly good mother-figure, “Why didn't she take to you like this?”
Carlyn chuckled lightly. “Seems she's like a baby bird. Imprinted on the first face she saw. Sorry, looks like you're going to be stuck with her.”
He smiled at that, a bit proudly. As if having a monopoly on her affection was any kind of burden. At least I have you all to myself, he thought, and glanced down at his beautiful charge.
“I raised two girls, myself,” Carlyn continued, “That was hard enough, and they weren't bloodthirsty aliens. Good luck, Gediman.” she grinned.
He had never had c***dren, or a family of his own. He had never even considered it. He was married to his work, and never wanted the complications that came with love. His attachment to 18X-2987, therefore, was something he had no idea how to deal with. It was disturbing, yet attractive. Paternal, and yet more than that. These feelings blossomed up like a seed that had laid dormant in the desert, waiting only for a little rain. He had no idea what that they might grow into.
-3-
Forewarning: this chapter gets smutty. And in a weird daddy-issues kind of way.
----
She was crying again. The hot tears spilled down her face in a familiar, almost comforting way. Her corner hugged her, almost like him. Familiar, and surrounding, yes, but without any of the warmth. Without feeling.
She was so angry with him.
That man who came into her lonely existence and made it less lonely. Who took care of her. Who taught her what it was like to be touched. To be held. To be loved.
She dubbed him “Papa.” That woman had shown her many things the other day, teaching her about the world outside her walls. Only one thing had really stood out as familiar. There was a picture, with a mama, a papa, sister, and brother; a family. She had no sisters, no mama, no brother… but the grey-haired man in the picture who protected and loved the others, that seemed right. That was her only family.
So she thought.
Every day the door whooshes open, and there he is. And each moment with him is happiness. Every moment she is not alone, when she can feel safe, and warm, and learn about new things, and explore new places by his side, it's like the world is finally in color. Even the other crew members don't seem so scary, so long as he's there.
And then he leaves her, every night.
“Home” is the word the female researcher wants her to use for the grey, bare room she is confined in. Once it had felt like that, before she knew the pleasure of company. If she truly understood what these words were meant to imply, she thought another word suited it better: prison.
Wherever he went at night, that's where she would like to call home.
Would always be like this? Every day he would come for her, and every night abandon her again. At least that meant he would always come back. Yet the fear remained, each time, that this time he might not come back.
Tears start spilling out again.
She wondered, feeling betrayed, if he even missed her at all the way she did him.
Then, at last, she heard the scr****g of the door across the floor as it slid open. There he stood, wearing such an expression that she knew he had felt her absence too. She looked up from her corner, sniffling. He has missed me. He feels the same way. He hurried to her side and knelt beside her. A frown etched worry across his face, though his eyes were sparkling. She smiled as his gentle fingertips brushed a tear from her eyelid.
His frown quickly melted away as he saw her brightening.
“Good morning, 18X” he said to her.
“Good… morning, Papa.” she attempted in reply.
He sat on the floor beside her, leaning against the wall. This was their favorite position. She loved to crawl all over him, ultimately cuddling up in his lap, sighing contentedly.
As usual, he brought with him many new scents from around the ship. Some were people he'd encountered. She was learning that individual people had different smells, and that each individual might smell differently depending on what they're feeling. She could recognize the damp salty smell that came from someone recently crying, and she could smell the adrenaline on people she made nervous.
Most of the scents he carried would seem unpleasantly antiseptic to a normal person, raised in normal circumstances. But to 18X-2987, they smelled the most like him.
She was beginning to grasp the nature of what he did… that he could create new life somehow out of those bitter-smelling chemicals and test tubes; that he created her. There were others who helped, but they were of little concern. As far as she cared, the entire world revolved around her Papa.
With a smile, she realized the shock controller was gone. She rifled mischievously through all his pockets just to be sure-- he hadn't even brought it with him this time. He trusted her. In truth, the urge to bite him had not gone away. She longed to find out how his skin would feel under her teeth, but she was careful to restrain herself. The metal circling her neck was an unneeded reminder to behave.
Affectionately, she nuzzled against his cheek. His smile spread beneath her face. Leaning in further, she lightly ran her lips over the shell of his ear, then traced down his jaw. Suddenly, his skin became flushed and hot. She didn't understand why, precisely, her touch had that effect; did not understand the intimacy of this gesture. The concepts of “platonic” and “romantic” had not yet been distinguished in any of her few lessons, and if they had been mentioned, they held little meaning.
His breath was becoming hitched and shallow.
Strange, she thought. I wonder what it means. She continued trailing her mouth over his face and neck, and noted the reaction of his skin and breathing.
This behavior appealed to her, somehow. He seemed distressed, but rather than worry her, she liked it. She couldn't pinpoint why, exactly, but as she had come to understand concepts like touching, and words, and leaving rooms, she trusted it would make sense with time. She simply had to explore the idea.
She crawled onto his lap, straddling him, and twined her arms up behind his neck, disheveling his perfect hair. Having none herself, she knew little about hair, but she could tell it irked him to have his disarrayed… That's why she loved messing it up, just slightly, to see him try to disguise his grimace. He hated it, yet he let her do it anyway, and tried to pretend he didn't mind. She smiled impishly as she curled her clawed fingertips through his silky strands.
She could feel a hard bulge growing in his pants. It pressed against her thigh through the rough linen of his lab coat. She had no idea what it was, or what it meant, but something about it sent shivers of excitement through her skin.
Something about his scent was changing. It was almost like she was making him nervous.
His usual grimace at having his hair tampered with seemed different, too. His eyes were wide, and hungry. They glanced down, sweeping across her body. Then he looked away. Jaw clenching, he stared desperately at some invisible point across the room. She pursued him, nuzzling under his chin, brushing his neck with her nose. The usual soft thumping of his heart had grown wild, beating madly against his ribcage.
Part of her wondered if she should be worried for him; this strange behavior… but a stronger part told her to keep going. Her soft lips nibbled at his neck, and she tasted the tangy saltiness of his skin. She slowly worked her way across his sharp jawline, savoring each taste, and each quiver of her Doctor's body under her touch. What did she like so much about this? What was she hoping to get out of him?
She found out when in one sudden movement he turned his head, and pressed his lips against hers.
For a precious moment, time stood still. Her heart stopped beating. His mouth felt warm, wet, and tender against hers. It felt like her body was melting into him. As if the rest of existence had disappeared, and all that remained was this moment with his soft mouth on hers. His hands had found their way up her back, cradling her neck, drawing her into a warm embrace. Why hadn't they done this before?
Then, as quickly as it began, his hands dropped from her, and he jerked away. She whimpered in protest.
“I...I'm sorry!” he stammered quickly, “That was... inappropriate.”
“What?” she started, confused, “Why?”
He ran a hand through his hair, and let out a shaky sigh. “You wouldn’t understand. That's half the problem. I am taking advantage of you, and you're too inexperienced to even know why this is bad.”
“I don't know why this bad.”
“I… I can have Dr. Williamson explain the concept of authority figures, and--” Her grip on him firmed.
“But, I like it. If it make good feeling, then, how bad? I want. Want more.” she growled sultrily, kneading her claws into his arm. He stared back at her, blue eyes wide with inner turmoil. A battle of conscience and lust. She knew she could tip that battle in the right direction. She could see her own desire reflected in his eyes. She could smell it on him.
The desire he was awakening in her was another door, and she needed find out what was behind it. She could still feel the mysterious bulge still pressing between her legs, and it sent flares of warmth through her.
“Please, Papa?” she begged.
For a long moment, he stared back into her pleading black eyes. “I'm going to hell” he whispered to himself, and pulled her against him to kiss her again.
His hands wandered over her body, lighting a fire under her skin wherever they went. Each caress over the spines of her back drew a moan from her lips; every touch over the leathery ridges of her legs a sigh, or squeal of delight. He blazed a trail down her neck with fierce, rapid kisses, as if he was racing time to get out the entirety of his pent-up desire. She found her body moving of its own accord, her hips rocking over his. Spurred on, his hands left her leathery ridges, and dove boldly for the soft parting of her legs. Jolts of electricity surged through her body from the point of his touch, like a thundercloud bursting inside her. Soft, helpless cries spilled from her lips as he teased her tender flesh, filling her with want, with building heat.
Desire overwhelmed her self-restraint. Her mouth closed on the meeting of his neck and shoulder, and bit down. She purred with delight as the sharp points of her teeth gently raked against his tender flesh. She expected him to pull away and reprimand her at once-- but instead he growled hungrily, and nipped her back, sucking at the pale skin of her collarbone. Electricity seemed to hum in her veins as she rubbed herself against his fingertips, reveling in their mutual passion. The chorus of their shared moans mixed together like music, reaching into a crescendo…
The door whooshed open.
“Gediman! You know there are active monitor cameras in here, don't you?!”
Gediman shot up with a sharp cry, dumping 18X-2987 off his lap. She tumbled to the floor with a soft thud, and an indignant grumble.
It was the obscenely tall Mason Wren. His stature was intimidating enough, and he had a hard personality to go with it. An alpha who would fight his way to stay on top, she thought, unlike her Papa, who seemed always to act without ego.
He looked angry.
She retreated behind her doctor, clutching his sleeve and wrapping her tail loosely around one of his legs. He was stammering and babbling something to Wren-- so frantic, she could hardly make out what. What was wrong? What was happening? Mason frightened her on a good day, and now Papa seemed frightened, too. The pleasures of a moment before had vanished. She could feel her body starting to shake. Her grip tightened on Gediman's sleeve.
Alarmingly, instead of comforting her like he usually would, he turned around, and pried her off of him. Hastily, he turned and left with Wren, still looking upset.
She stood, trembling. In the echo of their retreating footsteps, she could feel her world collapse.
She waited.
He did not come back. Nobody came back. She watched the door until, exhausted, she sank to the cold floor of her tiny, empty cell.
-4-
Dr. Jonathan Gediman sat in front of a microscope, head buried in his hands. The clean laboratory he hunched in was filled with beakers, tubes, computers, and genetic samples. He should be working, but his mind weighed so heavily, he could do nothing but groan miserably and sigh.
He had been caught, on camera no less, in the middle of a sexual act with his own test subject. There would be laws against that kind of thing if they were in regulated space. Of course, half the activities on the ship broke Earth laws. That's exactly why they were operating on the edge of the solar system, to eschew the confines of morality on progress.
Why should he feel ashamed, then? Everyone on the science team is a weirdo in their own way. Normal people who balk at indiscretion don't find themselves on covert military bases orbiting Pluto. Because, while everyone had their own quirks, they all held to an unspoken rule, and Gediman had broken it.
The six other science personnel he worked with already found it weird how attached subject 18X-2987 had grown to him. They cautioned him not to get too close. A scientist must always maintain objective distance from their subjects.
Objectivity. That's the key.
He had written in his notes about how “fascinating” this imprinting behavior was. How it could lead to insights into alien ecology and behavior.
He had never written down how strongly he reciprocated those feelings that his alien ward so eagerly gave. That he had imprinted on her as strongly as she did on him. He hadn't written about how he worried when he had to leave her, or how his heart filled with pride whenever she learned something faster than a human ever could. He especially did not mention how he couldn't help notice her womanly figure, and that her alien traits attracted him all the more.
Or the way he looked forward to the excitement in her eyes when she greeted him at the door to her cell.
Though he had neither written nor spoken of any of this, the others must have noticed. Scientists could act like gossipy school c***dren when confined on a vessel together for long enough. There were whispers about the professionalism of his conduct. That he was going soft, and this little pet project of his was more personal than about results.
He couldn't argue. It was.
The whole point of engineering a human-xenomorph hybrid was to advance their understanding of the xenomorph species. To try to create something as close to a xenomorph as possible. Something that would be reproductively viable, so that they could recreate the species via selective breeding.
This thing they had made was pointless. That was the hard, objective truth. The alien parts of her genome were largely dormant. He suspected they might be environmentally activated, but he was loathe to try inducing her with various chemical exposures. Because he liked her.
So, with the alien parts of her anatomy seeming largely superficial, there was only a limited amount they could learn from her.
They learned that xenomorphs mature rapidly, and that their ability to learn is proportional to their physical development-- but that had already been well-documented in first hand accounts from 200 years ago. It was exciting to see this confirmed in the modern age, but not groundbreaking.
They may have learned that xenomorphs could be imprinted on human individuals-- useful knowledge if they ever found a complete set of DNA for a queen, and could quickly and cheaply produce alien babies to imprint onto USM generals. Gediman pictured General Perez commanding a battalion of xenomorphs, all as biddable to his will as 18X was to Gediman's.
However, there was no way to know whether the imprinting was an alien trait, a human one, or simply a genetic dice-roll.
Most disappointing of all was the subject's complete lack of reproductive potential. She was a dead end. They would have to start over from scratch.
And now, thanks to his little indiscretion, everyone knew once and for all that Gediman was done researching. He was simply playing with a favorite toy. Thanks to his foolish emotional attachment to a failed experiment, he was likely to lose his job. It was bad enough that he had shown bias toward the subject before. Now his real motivations were laid bare for all to see, and they were the dirty motives of a sexual deviant, not a scientist. Ugh, he groaned. What had he done? Why did I go and cross that line?
Compulsively, he glanced over at a monitor. Though he had stayed well away from her for the past few days, trying to preserve what little reputation he had left, he couldn't help but keep one monitor in his lab tuned to her containment cell.
His heart sank. She was still despondent. At least she had stopped beating herself against the doors. I shouldn't have looked. I shouldn't even have this monitor. Right now, I need to focus on my work. She's just another test subject now.
He had repeated that to himself often, but neither of them were eating.
Just then, Mason Wren's giant frame filled the doorway. Gediman turned scarlet and quickly tried to hide the monitor. Wren ambled casually into the room.
“Calm down, Gediman, it's just me, Jeez.” Wren laughed patronizingly.
Yes. That is just the problem, Gediman thought, while readjusting his outward appearance into a pleasant smile. He still couldn’t quite look Wren in the eye, since he had burst in on him… “Sorry, I was… lost in thought.” he said as amiably as he could muster.
“Yes. You've been getting lost a lot lately, haven't you?” Wren frowned. “It's disappointing. What happened to you, Gedmian? You used to be one of my most reliable men.”
Gediman's pleasant mask slipped. He eyed Wren with suspicion and not a little indignation.
“No sense in beating around the bush, then. Subject 18X-2987 is scheduled for termination. I thought you should know.” Wren stated flatly. Gediman leaped to his feet.
“What? Termination?”
“That's what I said, isn't it?” Wren scoffed, annoyed. “Lethal injection. Painless.”
Gediman felt his chest tightening. “If- if this is because of me-- if this is some kind of punishment, then I can assure you--”
“Nobody gives a shit! Do you really think anyone cares if you’re fucking an alien?” Wren snarled. “Yes, it's unprofessional. Yes, you’ve clearly lost all objectivity. But do you think that would matter if you were getting results? Frankly, I’d have you do whatever you’ve gotta do off the cameras. Hell, I'd fuck her myself. No. Gediman, you’ve been working with this subject for weeks now. You've even got Dr. Williamson pinch-hitting for you, teaching her all kinds of useless shit. You've seen no progress whatsoever, have you?”
“That isn't true! She’s shown rapid development in vocal communication, reasoning—“
“—and nothing in the way of aggression, or physical development. Tell me, has she ever shown the slightest inclination to fight anything?”
“Well,” he huffed, “she was very keen on biting at first, that's in my notes. I needed to apply the shock collar to—“
“I’ve read your goddamn notes, Gediman, you said yourself the biting was just exploratory behavior. She’s only ever reacted out of fear, and then, what-- one time she tries to attack, and she gave up on that with almost no resistance. The military doesn't need little bunny rabbits. They need aggressive, strong a****ls. She’s skittish. Timid. Weak.”
Gediman just stared, disbelieving.
“Look,” Wren softened, “I'm sorry if this one was your special favorite, but the United Systems Military pays our bills. We have to deliver what they want.”
“Then... then just give me time. I can alter her training to focus on... ”
“It’s already been decided.”
“...military purposes”
“I’m sorry. Perez agrees, we’ll gain more from a full necropsy than we will from any further behavioral study.”
Gediman froze. “He agrees?” he repeated coldly. “Then I suppose you were the one who suggested this.”
Wren merely laughed, “You think I would do that to spite you?” Shaking his head, he continued in a syrupy tone, “Why bother speculating on who said what or why? We're scientists, we focus on the facts. And the fact is, the decision is made. The only way to recoup our losses it to dissect this one, figure out where we went wrong, and try again. Don't worry,” he laughed heartlessly, “I'll make sure the next one has a great pussy, just for you.”
Gediman's eyes blazed with fury, and he barely held back the urge to punch his boss square in the face. His jaw muscles twitched slightly as his blue eyes burned coldly into Wren's. Wren took an u*********s half step away from him, and, wetting his lips, continued.
“Now, since you’re so attached to the thing, I’m willing to allow you to take care of it yourself.”
“I won’t do it.” Gediman snapped.
“Then I will.” Wren replied flatly. “As I said, the decision is made.”
Gediman thought about how frightened 18X was of Wren. She used to cower behind him, when Wren was around, tugging at his lab coat. Wren was right about one thing, she was a timid, easily spooked girl. He wouldn’t have her put down frightened and confused.
“Fine” he relented with a painful sigh, “I’ll do it.”
“Good. Glad to see you come around.”
A blanket of numbing fog seemed to fill the room. sleepwalking, he followed Wren through the haze, out of the room to go gather up, say his last goodbyes to, and then kill the closest thing he had to family. The closest he had come to feeling love in years, since he had learned to quiet those passions for his career.
Part of his heart blew out of the airlock, froze, and shattered into a thousand pieces he knew he would never see again.
***
When the door to 18X-2987's cell swung open, she flung herself into his arms from halfway across the room, nearly plowing him off his feet. “Papa! Papa!” she cried. Tears soaked through his lab coat as she pressed her face into his chest.
He told himself to keep his emotions in check, to be as distant as he would have to be, but that notion vanished the minute he saw her flying towards him. The realness of her weight against him, and the vibration of her plaintive sobbing in his ears shattered the daydream he wanted to pretend he was in. Heat pressed the back of his eyes, and though he tried to swallow, he could not. He couldn't be objective, not with her in front of him like this.
“Papa!” she sobbed, “Why you go away? I… I hate you! Why would you leave…?”
She was so heartbroken over him, curling and uncurling her clawed fists around the fabric of his lab coat, making wistful, angry, longing mewling noises. She needed him so desperately, and he loved her for it.
He loved her.
When she was gone, no one would ever need him like this again.
“I… I'm sorry, princess.” he said, stroking her head buried in his chest. His vision blurred, and he choked out, “I had to, to take care of a few things. But I'm never going to leave you alone again.”
She looked up, wet eyes sparkling hopefully, “Really? You mean it? I get to stay with Papa?”
“That's right. From now on… you can stay with me forever.” his tears began to fall down as hers began to dry. She hugged him, purring, “Forever...”
He gave a wavering smile, and all but whispered, “First, we… we're going to go outside, to a lab, where I… I'm just going to need to run some tests, alright?”
She looked up, brows furrowed in innocent concern, like she had just realized there was something wrong. Her eyes studied his face with an almost protective look, trying to figure out why he seemed uneasy. She nodded in assent, and embraced him so tenderly, as if to say, “whatever is wrong, it will all be okay now.”
***
At least she'll go peacefully, he thought, sitting her down on a cold, steel medical table. Above, he knew Dr. Wren and General Perez were watching through the two-way glass, making sure he would go through with it.
Blissfully unaware, 18X-2987 kicked her dangling clawed feet back and forth over the edge of the slab. She's never had to experience any of the horrors life can bring. No cruel tests. No training to be a killer. She'll die smiling, never knowing pain. If only it were so easy for me. He stifled a macabre laugh as he picked up the syringe that would slowly shut down the ticking of her brain. The irony clawed up his intestines- his attempts to tame her may have caused this. He should never have coddled her. If only he had let her grow into the wild, violent monster the military wanted…It wasn't the life he wanted for her, but at least she would live.
He forced his leaden legs carry him to her. They weakly sc****d the ground in resistance, but delivered him to his victim.
He faked the best smile he could manage, and looked into her eyes for the last time. From a distance they might be mistaken for brown eyes, but on closer inspection the irises are as pitch black as the pupils themselves. The expression they made was quite human though, full of curiosity and nothing more. How those eyes didn't see the dark clouds on the horizon, why she didn't turn and run from him now, he didn't know. The way the blood had run from his face, he must look like the grim reaper.
“I'll just need your arm,” he requested softly, the needle in his other hand like a venomous fang waiting to strike.
She gave it to him without question.
The air hung heavy between them, like a rolling tropical storm only Gediman could feel. The skies were blue and clear for her. He would kill her, and she wouldn't even struggle.
He took her soft and yielding hand. Gently, he flipped it palm-up, and stretched her arm until he found the cubital vein.
The next step was the last one.
His heart beat a furious protest against his chest which he could not quite swallow.
“You trust me, don't you?” he asked.
“Of course I do. I love you, papa."
That was all his heart could take. His lip trembled just slightly, then all at once, he drew back, and smashed the syringe into the ground. “No! I won't do this!” he screamed, raging at the reflective viewing window. Behind the mirrored glass, there was movement, a shuffling of personnel. He looked back to his gentle, innocent ward-- she was spooked by his sudden outburst, leaping from the table as if this was her first clue anything was wrong.
He quickly took her shoulders, and rested his forehead against hers. Desperation edging his voice, he hastily explained, “Look at me. Some men are going to come through those doors, and… I… Just- just stay behind me.” He placed a kiss on her forehead, as the door banged open and two armed soldiers stormed in. She squeaked shrilly and jumped back up on the medical slab, cowering behind him.
“Get out of the way, Dr. Gediman.” the first one ordered, rifle gleaming in the florescent lighting.
“Go to hell.” he snarled back.
The soldier stomped his heavy boots forward, and tried to push Gediman away. Everyone expected the docile, middle-aged scientist to yield, but surprising even himself, he would not. He dug his heels into the floor, and shoved back. The soldier barely budged, but Gediman's blue eyes were blazing.
“Last warning!” the soldier barked, “Stand down!”
Rushing forward, the soldier went for 18X-2987 once more, but Gediman moved to intercept a second time. This time, instead of pushing the soldier back, Gediman felt the sharp sting of the butt of a rifle against his skull. He could hear a blood-curdling scream from behind him as he crumpled to the floor, and the room swam dizzily, and went black.
**
A deep guttural scream tore her throat, and she could feel her blood red hot and pulsating in her veins. It pounded her skull and darkened her vision until the world seemed a tiny pinprick of light at the end of a long, dark tunnel. And through that tiny pinhole she saw him fall. She saw the man who did it sneer an ugly contemptuous sneer. They hurt him. They hurt papa.
She sprang from the table at once, crashing hard upon the first soldier. Her fangs sank deep into his neck and she could feel the warm metallic tang of his blood gush into her mouth. She bore down harder until she felt the pop and gurgle of his trachea collapsing. The blood flowed freely, caressing her tongue. It felt almost as good as her papa’s kiss.
She dragged him to the floor where he convulsed and gurgled. A primal instinct told her he was not going to get up again.
Electricity crackled about her neck, like a thousand stabbing needles setting her skin on fire. Her body spasmed of its own accord, ripping a scream from her red covered lips. She hissed, turning to face the remaining soldier. This younger one had a shock collar remote control in his hand, and was pressing it continually. The crippling pain felt strangely dull, drowned out like a tiny white light in a world bathed in red. She fought through the spasms and stared him down, teeth dripping with blood that fell and splashed into the spreading pool circling his comrade. The soldier's eyes widened in fear. He had expected her to crumple on the floor in tears, but that creature was gone. Xenomorph instincts had finally surfaced, and there was no weakness or pity left in her.
With shaky hands he lifted his rifle and fired. Three bullets whizzed over her shoulder shattering glass lab equipment. The fourth bullet grazed her tail, sending acid blood spilling over the floor. It hissed and sizzled where it touched the ground. 18X-2978 smiled a bloody, vicious smile.
Before another shot could fire, she whipped around, flicking the end of her tail at the frightened soldier. The acid hit its mark. Agonized screams rang out through the small lab room as the blinded young soldier sank to the floor, clawing desperately at his own face. The knife-like tip of her tail raised up, and shot back down between his eyes, silencing the screams forever.
Hissing victoriously, she scanned the room for more enemies to destroy. She would tear through anyone they sent through that door. Her gaze fell upon the crumpled scientist on the floor, pale skin stained with blood.
The rage flooded out of her at once.
“...papa?”
Not wanting to hurt him by accident with her hazardous tail, she licked the oozing blood from it. The wound closed up before her eyes, stemming the corrosive flow. Safe, she rushed to his side, fear gnawing her gut. He was still u*********s, but would he recover?
Whining softly, she nudged him. He's intact, she sighed with relief, not hit with a stray bullet or droplet of acidic blood. Still, he wasn't moving. Had her blood always been like that? This was a question she hoped he could answer. There were so many questions she would want to ask him, not just now, but as she went through life. Whenever she was puzzled by some new discovery about the world, he had always been there, quick with knowledgeable answers. Who would she turn to if he were gone? Tears filled her eyes.
Carefully, she placed her head to his chest. A low, steady thud-thud, thud-thud greeted her ear. He will get up again, her instincts whispered.
She nuzzled him gently, licking the red that dripped from an open cut on his temple. It didn't have quite the instantaneous effect she hoped for, but the bleeding stopped. She pressed her red lips softly to his pale ones. Like a fairy tale, he stirred and awakened.
The tears barely held back behind her eyes broke, making relieved trails down her face. She squeezed him protectively in her arms. As he slowly came to, she felt his strong arms reciprocate her embrace. His breath tickled her ear as he rasped, “You're alive. What… what happened?” Propping himself up on an elbow, he woozily surveyed the room. His eyes stopped and froze on the two mangled guards.
“Oh.”
The door opened again, but instead of soldiers in combat gear, a dark haired main in a crisp Class A dress uniform strode in. General Perez held an air of firm authority as he came, unarmed, unto the room.
18X protectively mantled over Gediman, bristling. She showed her dripping teeth and let out a challenging snarl. The man raised a gun to her. His hands did not shake. Gediman tugged her back. “No!” he pleaded. She wasn't sure which one of them he was addressing, but she sunk down in submission and held her ground. The man lowered his weapon. Then, he spoke in a friendly tone.
"Calm down, calm down both of you. I'm here to extend you an offer. That was some very impressive work, miss. Just the sort of result we're after. We'd like you to continue your service with us. How would you like to remain with the program, with Dr. Gediman as your sole warden? She'd be fully your responsibility, Doctor."
"I get to stay with Papa?" she asked, perking up at the prospect
Gediman's body tensed against hers, and his breath came slow and shallow. He was all caution, even though to her, the General's words seemed wonderful. She didn't know what was happening, but she trusted Gediman and prepared for the worst.
"The military isn't known for being magnanimous. When your crew refuses orders, you're not usually the forgiving type. She just killed two of your men. How do we know you're not getting us to let our guard down so you can kill us? It isn't like you to let something like this go.”
“No, it isn't” he muttered, “and under normal circumstances, I'd have you thrown right out the airlock. But we've sunk far too much time and resources into cloning these hybrids with little success-- until just now. Whatever you're doing, it's apparently working, and I'm not going to fuck it up and waste six months of effort. That, just now, was an ideal demonstration of the qualities we're looking for in this project. A loyal and deadly bodyguard that can be imprinted on a soldier, or private client. I want to see if this can be replicated, and I want a full case study on this specimen.
You're in charge of her from now on, Doctor. The project belongs to you. You're our official expert on alien bonding. Now don't make me regret the decision. Go, clean yourself up.”
And that was it. The General turned on his heel and left them. The pair, now awkwardly entwined on the floor as their mutual protective gestures became moot, stared in disbelief. 18X-2987 understood most of what was said. Mainly that she would get to stay with the gentle man whose arms she was wrapped in.
Was it true? This day had been a confusing whirlwind that shook her whole world. She had never felt that way before-- the blood pounding in her ears, her instinct to bite inflamed far beyond the joyful nipping she gave her sweet doctor's skin.
It felt good. The taste beneath the skin, once punctured, was luscious, and the delicate skin tore as easily as tissue. She trembled in its wake. It was another visceral awakening, a door that once open, couldn't be closed. Never to papa, she repeated to herself, suddenly frightened by her own lust for killing. Never to him.
“T...thank you, General!” Gediman stammered after the man, far too late to be heard.
Smiling, 18X squeezed his arm, and helped him to his feet. He stumbled, and she let him fall against her, supporting his weight. He looked up into her eyes and gasped.
“Your eyes!” he exclaimed, narrowing his with medical curiosity. He stretched her lids up, and then down, tipping her head as he inspected them.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Strange. They've gone black. This shouldn't be possible, but I think your iris has dilated over the sclera.”
Alarmed, she looked down at her hands. Her claws seemed longer and sharper somehow, too.
What was happening to her?
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