Page 34 of Alien's Eternal Mate

She stood up and walked toward the kitchen.

“Don’t be sorry. I would rather be lifemated with a complete stranger than the real Gro. You do not have to worry. I will fulfill all of my duties as your lifemate.”

She set the plate in the kitchen, then slowly turned toward the steps. Arael put her hand on the railing. She licked her lips, as if she wanted to say more.

But her mouth closed and she continued up to bed. I ran a hand down my face, an alien hand with scales.

Why must these illogical feelings assail me? She is just an alien…

I sat before the fire and wept.

EIGHT

CARTER

Unable to deal with my home life, I threw myself into my work as a Sage. Eventually the number of artifacts which required definition began to ebb, and I was able to return to my explorations of the Precursor ship.

Lo proved invaluable on these treks. I soon grew tired of his constant finagling for food. One day I placed a full Yez in his hand as we met near the edge of the flying island.

“What is this for? Do you want me to go and purchase something for you again?”

“No. That is your payment.”

“Payment?” He stared at the disc in his palm.

“Yes. I’m going to pay you so you can buy your own food. And shelter, too, I would imagine. My point is you don’t need to try and scam me any longer, because I am paying you.”

He pocketed the disc and grinned.

“I would be a fool to turn you down. I must say, though, that it’s kind of taboo for a tribesman to do business with a Shunned such as I.”

My face wrinkled into a scowl. I’d been among the Masari long enough to have learned some things about the people and their culture.

Some aspects of their culture appealed to me less than others. Chief among these were the built in misogyny, and the fact that illegitimate children like Lo were cast aside by society.

Some of the Shunned lived in a rough camp on a steeper, less desirable edge of the island. In addition to illegitimate children, widows who were too old or undesirable to be taken as mates and people stripped of their names resided there.

In Masari culture, the system of justice had little oversight. The Village chief, a man whom I had still not met, would listen to the account of the alleged crimes, and then he would decide on one of three fates: A fine, exile, or being stripped of their name.

Being stripped of the name was considered a worse fate than exile. An exile might find another tribe willing to take them in. Once your name was removed, you were not welcome anywhere but the Shunned camp.

“You look angry, Gro.”

“Never mind. Let us see if we can breach the security door in the southern nacelle today.”

I need not waste my time with outrage over alien injustice. I just need to get back to my body.

We entered through a maintenance shaft, using the rungs of a ladder crafted by hands immeasurably older than our own. Thanks to the strange properties of the emerald metal walls, restoring power to some sections of the ship was possible. We no longer had to rely on lamps to penetrate the depths of the ship.

Once we reached the bottom of the shaft, we diverted through a crew corridor. Our pace slowed as we picked our way past a damaged section. A stream flowed right through the ruptured hallway, emerging from a waist high tunnel and forming a small pool before vanishing down a steep, low shaft.

“Where does the water come from?”

“What?”

I turned to Lo once we crossed the stream.

“There are streams on this flying rock, which form lakes and ponds. Where does the water originate from? There is no aquifer a mile in the sky.”

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