Primal Estate: The Candidate Species (33 page)

BOOK: Primal Estate: The Candidate Species
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“Linked to each name is a summary of their specific missions and overall goals. I will, of course, be keeping track of their progress, but I want you to handle their intermittent contact. Do you think you can do that?”
Nwella looked at him. She didn’t know if she had acquired some kind of exotic virus, had some strange genetic mutation, or was just plain twisted. What prevented him from understanding her state of mind? She had divorced herself of all concern for his project. She was essentially an outcast among her own people. Had he lost his mind asking her to handle these humans for him? Was he still clinging to some ill-conceived hope that he had not completely severed their relationship with his assault on her? One of them had gone mad, and she wasn’t sure which one it was.
“I think I will be able to handle it very well,” Nwella replied confidently with her sweetest daughter voice. “You have my guarantee.”
“Excellent. This will free me of much of the concern I’ve had with these individuals. I believe they are all convinced to cooperate and remain fully committed.”
“This will require regular transport to Earth,” Nwella clarified, trying to sound responsible. “Am I to assume the funds for this are available through the Project account?”
“Yes, they are. That is not a problem.”
“Very well. I shall return to my quarters and begin studying their histories. Am I dismissed?”
“Yes,” Synster replied. “Report to me at the standard interval. And Nwella, thank you.”
She nodded at him and exited. She felt the smallest twinge of remorse because of the way he said “thank you.” But she knew he said it because he was glad to get rid of the duties, not because he appreciated her. If he only knew what she would do with her new assigned duties, he’d probably kill her in a rage.
The evening was cool but not cold, and Rick was sitting by the fire pit designed into the pavers of his patio. He’d put everyone to bed and come outside for a little fresh air. He needed to think and to listen to the sounds of the night before turning in. Nwella arrived, cloaked, around the side of the house, and moved slowly and silently to the back of Rick’s patio. She didn’t expect any interactions with humans, so she was still wearing her public gown, rather than the standard, ugly gray operational clothing. She looked around quickly for the dogs and, not seeing them, moved closer, studying as an anthropologist might observe a primitive tribe.
He looked so much younger now without the hair, though he’d lost some of the wild look that she admired. If he would take that silly looking hat off, he would almost look like a Provenger, except for his smaller stature. Both times she’d seen him he hadn’t been standing. The first time he’d been sitting. The second time, of course, he’d been on his back. She wanted to see him stand. She walked around him curiously, hoping he’d do something, but he just kept staring off into space. For a moment, he raised his head, as though he’d thought of something and might get up, but then settled back down again. She circled silently to his side, sat on a wall bordering the patio, and waited.
Rick had been deep in thought, trying to calm himself from all the issues coursing through his head. If he failed in some way, he’d never forgive himself for the destruction that would follow, either to his small family, his friends, or the world in general. His biggest problem was that he couldn’t bring himself to define what failure or success would actually be. Obviously, the greatest failure would be him and Carson on a slab with the Provenger’s damned pain machine hooked up while being eviscerated. That was the main thing he was trying to avoid. But obviously, preventing that was not the most ambitious of his goals. Rick knew he had to stop thinking about it. It would drive him insane.
He was just about to go inside, make sure Shainan was really in bed and wasn’t up looking for wine, when he realized he wasn’t alone. And he knew exactly who he wasn’t alone with. He could smell her. She had either gone upwind of him on purpose or by mistake. Either way, he was struck with fear. He knew he couldn’t react. His first idea was to try to get some kind of revenge, to kill. For once, he had an advantage. He knew she was there while she believed herself to be concealed. Then he realized a better way to use his advantage. He spent no more than a moment considering this ruse and jumped into it.
“Nwella,” Rick said aloud with the most passion he could muster. He waited.
Nwella’s mind raced. She was fairly certain he hadn’t seen her. She’d scanned him for the tag he had that might disrupt her cloak, and it seemed to be absent. She was sure the cloak had stayed intact. She’d been completely silent. While searching in vain for a response, she was completely off balance.
“I think I love you, Nwella,” Rick continued, again with all his heart, punctuating the profession with a woeful look toward the heavens. That should twist her up a little, he thought. I have no idea where I’m going with this, but it’s better than doing nothing.
Nwella was immediately relieved as she realized that he’d been thinking aloud. She was simultaneously thankful she hadn’t replied. She was about to. Her mouth was open, but no sound was there. What a catastrophe that would have been. Then she thought about how she could use this to her advantage. This human had just professed his love. This sounded like something from samples of the great human literature she browsed with the considerable free time she’d had since they arrived. Maybe this could be another version of her run on the beach with the wild man. She thought about how free she’d felt, how warm and wild that day had been, until it ended so badly.
With that thought, she started feeling warm considering the possibilities right here, now. Could she take him again? Would he have her, here, of his own accord? She thought he might. Had this been what she came for?
Getting caught was now a greater concern. This was not a trip for adventure and she was here on Project funds. Her motions and location could be tracked, though it was unlikely. Then there was the family and the dogs. It was late and they were all inside. She looked around. At the far edge of the yard, another building, she believed for the purposes of keeping animals and their feed. She would lead him there. If things didn’t work out, she would stun him and figure out a plan from there.
Come on, you little flesh-eating bitch, Rick thought. What’re you gonna do now? Now you think I’ve fallen for you? You’re either going to tuck that away and pull it out some day when you think you can use it, or you’ll assume I’m a little more of a whack job than I am. Either way, you’ll be wrong. Advantage Rick.
Nwella, still under cloak, walked out in front of Rick about twenty yards away with the barn beyond her at the edge of the yard. While still cloaked, she stepped out of her sandals and slipped out of her gown. What warmth it had provided was now gone, and her skin began to tighten in the cool night temperatures. Her hairless pores tensed with the genetic memory of goose bumps as her body adapted to its exposure to the stony high desert air. She dropped her gauntlet on her gown and stepped out of the mechanism’s cloaked perimeter.
She appeared before Rick, wearing nothing but the leisurely breeze that fondled her, standing gracefully on her toes, leg muscles and abdomen flexed, arms slightly separated from her postured torso, elbows and wrists delicately bent, neck straight and slender, chin raised, and eyes wide. It was the pose she’d been taught for seducing and manipulating Provenger males. The low moonlight glared off the left length of her figure, from her bald head to her smooth heal. She presented herself for Rick to take, knowing full well that if he did not act, she would.
Oh shit, Rick thought. The plastic cup of cheap red wine dropped from his hand as he looked upon something that only dreams can conjure. Was it to be a wonderful dream or a nightmare? When she sat on Synster’s desk that first day he’d seen her, she looked almost naked and he’d almost lost control. Now she was genuinely naked, and Rick did find himself losing control. He could smell her scent again. The way she was standing, it was obvious what she had in mind. I must be in hell, he thought, again. So much to deal with, so much stress and confusion, and this goddess that I want to hate so badly continues to play with me like a toy.
He found her so attractive, and yet she also appeared evil, with her bare scalp and no eyebrows. It was difficult to get around. It was a strange look. It was exciting. And she appeared so young, probably in her late teens, Rick thought. He realized the absurdity of the statutory rape laws in this situation but still thought it best to cover the issue before things got too serious.
With their Recombinant keeping them looking young, he estimated she was probably sixty years old. He then realized he had absolutely nothing to base this on. His mind raced over the consequences and he figured, what the hell. She raped me first. Now, will I end up making love to her, or will she throw a tag on me? Then I’ll wake up on a slab being fileted to the delight of school children. Will she treat me well, or will I get heated up as tomorrow’s leftovers?
At this point, Rick didn’t care anymore. She was beautiful and she was his if he wanted her, maybe. At that moment, “maybe” was good enough. His rejuvenated body had been trying to deal nobly with Shainan in his bed all these nights, and he was growing tired of restraint. At times, Shainan’s beauty and her immediate availability made him feel like he was going to explode. Now Nwella was here, his for the taking, equally as beautiful if not more so, precisely because she was so different, freaky different, glowing in the moonlight.
Looking at things strategically, if he did not respond and she somehow compelled him or punished him, he would relinquish all power. If he did respond, he would also relinquish power but could perhaps make up for that during the sex act. The very act gives the man power, he reasoned. If they became lovers, well, then the door was completely open to whatever opportunities he could arrange, but only if things worked that way with Provenger. Let’s face it, he thought, we’re treading in uncharted territory.
He slowly rose from his chair and walked toward her. She turned to walk away. Rick could immediately tell she was leading him toward the barn. Good enough place for sex, he thought. Or to kill me and suck the blood from my body, he conceded. She wouldn’t go through all this drama to just walk away from me. That was for sure. Something was going to happen.
She was moving with such poise and elegance. Rick knew she’d probably been trained for all this, no doubt to lure males a lot more intelligent than him to submit to her influence. And she must know she looks good. Damn, Rick thought, mouth slightly agape.
But Rick suddenly realized there was a flaw in her plan. She was unaware that between her and the barn, on the ground in the bone dry desert dust, where the sprinkler didn’t reach and no grass grew, were desiccated pieces of the Opuntia Fragilis, or Potato Cactus, an especially nasty succulent whose small fragile sections littered the edge of the yard. They perpetuate and distribute themselves by having their thin and villainous thorns of about an inch long stab into the flesh. They stay there along with a trillion microscopic barbs that don’t want to come out and seem to want to inflict pain. The entire cactus pad breaks off from the larger plant and follows the thorn, and the victim, wherever they may go. And with every bump and movement, other additional thorns take root in the flesh. The dogs know where they are and avoid them. They even learn how to carefully pull them off their paws with their teeth; at least, the smart dogs do.
Though completely enraptured, his basic human practicality and compassion took over. “Nwella, don’t. Stop! Don’t go over there,” he said, trying to project a whisper. Rick wasn’t sure what to say, as he didn’t want to ruin things by giving her the wrong impression. How do you tell a sexy naked alien in mid-seduction that she might step on a cactus? So he didn’t. Instead, he added, in another quick whisper, “It’s not that I don’t want…”
“Eee!” A squeak came from Nwella. To her credit, she continued her graceful waltz toward the barn but with a little less grace, quicker, and with a slight limp. Rick lost her form as it moved out of the moonlight and into the darkness of the outbuilding. He imagined her throwing herself to the ground once she reached the interior, wondering how the hell she was going to save face on this one.
Once inside, he found her reclined, elegantly, in a fresh pile of alfalfa hay, the result of numerous bales broken open, beckoning him with her outspread arms. Rick looked down at her feet, knowing what he would find, but couldn’t see in the dim light. Taking in a full draught of the sexual feast before him, he knelt at her feet, held and examined them, and, much to her relief and embarrassment, slowly, carefully, began to pull out the potato cactus.
He could barely see that she had one cactus pad on the bottom of her left foot and a crumpled dried one under the toes on her right. And who knows how many isolated thorns were elsewhere that he couldn’t see. It must have been extremely painful, Rick knew. He couldn’t take her inside for more light; it would alert the others. Shainan would go berserk. The dogs, because of their natural hatred for the Provenger and Shainan’s likely fear or anger, would probably attack Nwella, and Carson would witness an extremely poor example of fatherhood.
Rick took the easy way out. He worked carefully in the dim reflected moonlight, barely able to see. When the large pieces were pulled off and only the deeper thorns remained, he gently blew on her feet, removing the desert dust as best he could.

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