Page 21 of The Alien's Private Redemption

A knock on the door made her heart jump into her throat. When the guard called, she realized their time was up, and her conversation with Zoric would have to wait.

Chapter 10

Zoric wanted to curse the guards for their interruption but couldn't. He'd heard them coming, smelled the oil of their guns and the polish on their boots, but he'd hoped they'd take just a little longer. The metallic tang of weapon oil mixed with the artificial cherry scent of floor cleaner, creating a uniquely human combination that made his tongue flick unconsciously to process the data.

The panic attack that had risen in Angela had been the first sign he'd asked a question that could trigger her self-destruct. He'd stopped it but the speed with which it had started worried him. It had given him a better insight into how the self-destruct had been implemented and maintained. Her pulse had skyrocketed before he could even register the change in her scent.

Unfortunately, he was going to need help to remove it.

"Are you ready?" Zoric asked, turning to Angela. She licked her lips nervously and nodded. His gaze followed her tongue along her lips and a deep spike of need shot through him. Her scent changed subtly, becoming warmer, sweeter, and he had to force himself to focus on their immediate situation.

He held his hand out for her and fought the need to pull her into his chest and hold her until the world disappeared. They couldn't hide away from the consequences of the last few days, no matter how much either of them wanted to. His scales rippled with suppressed emotion, the tiny movements creating a whisper-soft sound that only he could hear.

Hand in hand, they walked out into the hall and fell in with their escort. The guards' discomfort manifested in minute changes to their posture and the way they gripped their weapons. Zoric couldn't blame them - he'd never enjoyed escort duty. Granted, his charges were usually in some kind of deep distress and going to something worse than a meeting. Angela actually looked happy to be with him, her warmth seeping into his palm where their hands joined.

The conference room assaulted his senses the moment they entered. The stark fluorescent lights bounced off the polished table surface, creating a harsh glare that made his inner eyelids want to close. The air conditioning system pumped recycled air through vents that rattled slightly, creating a constant undercurrent of mechanical noise that grated against his auditory membranes.

Dr. Phillips and Ae-cha were already there, their scents mingling unpleasantly in the enclosed space - the doctor's artificial mint competing with Ae-cha's natural musk. They stopped what looked like a very intense conversation as Angela and Zoric walked in. Colonel Schuh joined them while Zoric was attempting to get comfortable in one of the chairs, the faux leather squeaking against his scales.

The chair was an instrument of torture designed for human proportions. The arms dug into his thighs, the back forced his tail into an uncomfortable position, and the height was wrong for his longer legs. Every shift produced an embarrassing squeak that echoed in the too-quiet room.

Angela looked over at him then addressed the room. "Does anybody have a screwdriver?"

The Colonel took some kind of tool out of his pocket and handed it to her, his face tense as he watched to see what she would do with it. She pulled one of the bars up from the tool, then knelt next to Zoric's chair. The movement wafted her scent toward him - a complex mixture of standard-issue soap, dried sweat, and something uniquely her that made his heart rate increase.

When Zoric saw what Angela was doing, he suddenly understood her purpose and stood. The chair's metal frame creaked in protest as his weight shifted. Careful to not shake the chair more than necessary, he knelt next to her and used his claws in the screws holding the back to the arms of the chair. The familiar scent of metal shavings hit his nose as his claws caught in the screws' threads.

Angela had moved to the back of the chair by the time Dr. Torres joined them, bringing with him that unsettling lack of scent that made Zoric's scales bristle. It was the work of a few more minutes to remove the last of the screws holding the back of the chair on. The small sounds of metal against metal echoed in the quiet room, punctuated only by the soft whisper of cloth as the others shifted in their seats.

He caught the chair back just before it started to fall and placed it against the wall behind them. When he sat back down, his tail fell behind him naturally and the arms moved enough that they weren't digging into his legs. The relief was immediate,though the faux leather still felt uncomfortably artificial against his scales.

Angela took her seat next to him, close enough that their arms brushed. The contact sent a pleasant tingle through his scales, and he could feel her satisfaction through their bond. Everybody else at the table stared at them, their expressions ranging from amused to annoyed. The tension in the room shifted, becoming something more complex than simple discomfort.

"That was an option?" Ae-cha burst out, her scales flickering with what might have been embarrassment.

"Technically, it's destruction of property," Colonel Schuh said with a half smile, his posture relaxing slightly. The fluorescent lights caught the silver at his temples as he tilted his head.

"With respect, sir, nothing was destroyed and I can put the chair back together after this meeting is over," Angela said. The slight tremor in her voice betrayed her nervousness, though her words were steady. "The equipment was strategically adjusted to facilitate our mission, and will be returned to the intended specifications when we're finished."

Colonel Schuh laughed, the sound bouncing off the bare walls, and shook his head. "What was your rank before you were demoted, Private McBride?"

"I don't see how that's relevant," Dr. Phillips cut in, her perfume becoming sharper with her agitation. "Whatever she calls it, she took a chair apart without permission. That is absolutely in keeping with the actions that got her sent here in the first place."

"It is not," Angela responded. Her scent changed subtly, taking on the bitter edge of indignation. Zoric could feel her muscles tensing through their bond, though she maintained her composed exterior.

Through their connection, he could read the layered complexity of her reaction - frustration at being misunderstood,determination to maintain her composure, and an underlying current of fear that Dr. Phillips might be right about her character. He wanted to comfort her but knew any obvious display would only make things worse.

Instead, he let his tail brush against her ankle under the table, sending a wave of reassurance through their bond. The gesture was hidden from the others by the table, but he felt her gratitude wash over him like warm sunshine.

"I'm not sure I can agree with that, Dr. Phillips," Colonel Schuh said, his steady gaze fixing on each person at the table in turn. "There is a great deal of difference between adjusting a chair so someone can be more comfortable and treason."

The overhead lights hummed, a counterpoint to the tension building in the room. Dr. Phillips' frown deepened, the harsh fluorescents emphasizing every line in her face. Her fingers tapped against the polished surface of the table, each contact creating a sharp sound that made Zoric's scales twitch.

"Not in some of the essentials, if you'll forgive me," she said, her voice clipped. "She acted on her own, without orders or permission, to change something she had no reason to change. Whatever her underlying motivations for each action, it shows a blatant disregard for protocol, and a willingness to work outside of a structure she knows is important."

"I didn't realize she would need orders to adjust a chair," Ae-cha said, scales shifting in a pattern that Zoric recognized as barely contained amusement. "That seems a little excessive."

The recycled air stirred papers on the table as the ventilation system kicked in again. Through their bond, Zoric could feel Angela's frustration building like static electricity before a storm. Her pulse had increased slightly, though her exterior remained calm.

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