Page 43 of Alien Haven

Charity found his nose and tweaked it. “Don’t sell yourself short. Since I’ve solved the mystery of strong, silent Detodev, I’m still attracted to you. Don’t sell Mitag short either where your pacifism is concerned. A guy who does event planning for human farmgirls must have an open mind.”

“I suppose it’s possible.” He sounded far from convinced. Charity imagined she heard regret in his tone again.

Detodev likes Mitag. He’d be lost without his insisting on hanging around. I wonder if he realizes it. He’s so determined to stay walled off from everyone, he might have lost touch where his feelings are concerned.

“Now I’m down to finding out what’s up with Ilid,” she said, discerning it would probably be a bad idea to press the subject. For the moment.

“Mitag will. Ilid agreed to have drinks at his home. One step in that Imdiko’s lair, and it’s pretty much finished. He’s as determined as you.”

“Imagine him and me as a team.”

“I shudder.”

She rubbed against him. “I don’t feel fear saying hello down low, do I? A couple of hungry boys are waking up. Come on. I want to guarantee you spend your workday too satisfied to be miserable from a lack of sleep.”

Detodev proved he was up to the challenge.

* * * *

Ilid opened his eyes and discovered he was frozen on a medi-bed. He couldn’t budge an inch. His breath caught as the spyship’s medical department swam into clarity. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out.

Dr. Umen moved in view. He cocked his head to one side, his hooded eyes narrowed in fascination. Ilid had little interest in the man’s broad features, however. An indistinct blob sat on Umen’s wide shoulders, its shadowy tentacles curled around his throat and chest.

“Awake, are we? Fine, fine. I’ve completed all the tests I can while you’re living, and it’s time to dissect you. Of all the waysto kill a Kalquorian, this is my favorite. Don’t die too quickly please. It takes all the fun out of it.”

He raised a laser cutter so Ilid could see it. He switched it on.

He pointed it at the trapped man’s abdomen.

The agony hadn’t begun, but Ilid screamed in anticipation of it. This time, his horror opened its voice, and it pealed loud, drowning Dr. Umen’s maniacal laughter.

“Ilid! Wake up! Ilid!”

Ilid’s eyes flew open. Hovering over him, an Imdiko orderly named Darir was shaking him, his gaze terrified.

Darir? But he was dead, killed by the Darks as the spyship had blown up.

The nightmare finally loosened its hold. It wasn’t Darir calling his name, but Mitag.

No Dr. Umen. No Dark. No fleet spyship medical department. Ilid was on Haven.

“Ilid!” Mitag shouted.

The Dramok’s shriek cut off. He lay gasping, staring up at the young man he’d come home with. He’d fallen asleep on Mitag’s lounger. He reached up, his hand shaking, to touch Mitag’s face. Mother of All be praised, he could move. Better still, Mitag’s cheek was warm. Solid. Real.

“Fuck,” he groaned. He closed his eyes as the sting of tears from mortal terror transformed to tears of relief.

“No kidding.” Mitag trembled too. “I ran down the hall from my sleeping room, convinced a murderer was in here killing you. It must have been a hell of a nightmare.”

“You have no idea.” Shame washed through Ilid. He wondered how Mitag would take it if he simply got up and left. Probably not well.

“Why don’t you tell me about it? Expose it to the light so it doesn’t seem so bad.”

Ilid barked a harsh laugh. “It wouldn’t work.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” Ilid opened his eyes.

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