Alien Caller (14 page)

“You don’t
understand who or what I am. And that’s good. In my world you’d be
a police officer, trained to defend yourself and your people, but
always to use the minimum force needed to do the job. An honourable
and decent profession. I’m not a police officer. I’m a soldier. A
spy. An agent. Dishonourable and often savage. My training is in
life and death. I kill people, and I do it well. Too well.”

“I was the man
sent in to do the covert work. To go into foreign countries and do
whatever had to be done. And I went in alone. I didn’t have back
up, I didn’t obey laws, and I didn’t have anyone or anything to
rely upon other than myself.”

“Think about
it. In my work if I got caught I died. That was a given, but not
before they tortured me. If I made a noise, I’d die. If I reacted
even a millisecond too slow, I’d die. And if I didn’t take all of
my opponents out, I’d die. Hesitation is death. That’s how I was
trained. That’s how I live.”

“Pretty words.”
She was at least listening, though she didn’t necessarily believe
him.

“True words.
Ugly but true. I am a survivor of things you would call barbaric.”
Which from what little he did know of her people, would be an
understatement. “And I only survived by killing others before they
killed me. By doing things no decent human being should ever have
to do.”

“You’ve never
been imprisoned in a private concentration camp and forced to fight
the other prisoners to the death for months on end. I don’t think
you’ve been captured and tortured by the enemy, until the only
weapons you have left are your body, your mind and your
determination. I seriously doubt you’ve been blinded in a fire
fight, and still had to kill or be killed by armed soldiers with
only your hands. I have been in and survived every one of those
nightmares, and I only succeeded because of the skill and speed of
my reactions. Not only did I survive but I then went on to become
even more deadly.”

For the first
time he knew she was listening. Or at least she’d stopped
struggling, and things became almost peaceful. He allowed her a few
more millimetres of freedom as a reward, and was half surprised
when she didn’t try to beat him to death with them. Perhaps there
was hope after all.

“You’ve been
forced to fight to death?” He sighed, knowing that despite his best
intentions he was letting her get the wrong impression of Earth.
Something else he couldn’t afford to do. Aliens with the secrets of
interstellar travel at their fingertips and who knew what other
technology would be very dangerous foes. But then surely they knew
so much about it anyway? Their mission here was to study the Earth
and this was just recent history. Besides, was it truly the wrong
impression?

“Repeatedly. It
was a long time ago, in another country. There was a dictator, who
was dreaming of getting himself some serious chemical and
biological weapons to do horrible things to his rivals in the
country next door. I was sent in to destroy the weapons, which I
did, but I still got caught. And he was rather mad. Angry mad, as
well as insane. With a love of combat sports and blood. He hunted
people like animals. Sometimes he set them up in arenas to fight
each other to the death, other times he just had them executed as
he had grown bored with the game.”

“He threw me in
his fighting arena as a trophy, and had all his friends watch me
fight for my life. Every day. Like a cock fight.” He wondered if
she even knew the concept, but from where he lay, he couldn’t see
her face to check.

“I got pitted
against everyone he could throw against me, including his own army
troops, all with orders to kill me or die. Sometimes two or three
at a time, and always they were armed with knives or clubs or
similar. I survived, and none of them did. Those I didn’t kill, he
did because they’d failed. It was many months before I
escaped.”

It was the
barest description of the hell it had truly been. He’d had to watch
that madman as with a horrendous grin all over his swarthy face he
shot each and every one of the opponents David had beaten. And then
always, always that bastard would laugh at him, and tell him he’d
survived for another day while the audience went wild, screaming
and foaming at their rabid mouths, enjoying the spectacle and
claiming their money from the gambling. At night, in the dreams he
would rather not have had, David still saw their faces. So many of
them, all young, all destroyed by a madman’s hand, all dead because
of him.

Again silence
ruled as she digested his words, he hoped. His breathing started
returning to normal, and he gave her a few more millimetres of room
while he took in the world around them. His lounge was in a mess,
again. The carpet had been bunched up, furniture knocked over and
some pot plants had hit the deck. But at least it was repairable.
Cyrea he still wasn’t sure of. She lay there on top of him,
relaxing slowly, and he knew the tension was easing out of her, but
that didn’t mean she was accepting his apology. Just her
predicament.

In turn the
tension began easing its way out of him. His heart slowed and his
breathing became more relaxed. Not only couldn’t she attack from
this position, he had the feeling that she wasn’t going to. The
crisis had passed, again. Now it was just a case of negotiating the
truce.

He became aware
of her scent, as he lay there gently breathing her in. A musky
flower scented smell that was all around him. Her fur too made
itself known, as it rubbed softly against the bare skin of his
arms. He finally decided it was really hair. Very fine, very soft
hair, glowing with vitality. It felt absolutely luxurious against
him. Her skin underneath was soft and warm, and she felt like a
woman, with curves in all the right paces. They were really nice
curves. The memory of her as she had come out of the lake, kept
coming back to him, tormenting him with its clarity.

It had been a
mistake relaxing he realized, as once again he started reacting to
her as a man. Every time he relaxed in her presence he started to
think of her as just a woman. An attractive one. He squelched down
on the impulses as best he could, hoping she didn’t notice, and
wasn’t totally successful. He knew he had to get out of this mess
soon. Otherwise she would have something else to be angry
about.

“Let me go.” It
was an order, though finally there didn’t seem to be quite so much
anger in her voice.

“You won’t
attack me?”

“Let me go.” He
knew he would get no answer. She was ordering him to trust her, and
ultimately he had no choice. It was either that or kill her, and he
didn’t want to do that. Slowly he unhooked his arms and legs from
her, allowing her the rest of the freedom she wanted, and she stood
up. Trying very carefully not to antagonize her any further he sat
up but chose not to stand. He needed to let her know he wasn’t a
threat.

“Cyrea I really
am sorry. I didn’t mean to attack you. I don’t want to hurt you,
and despite your fears I don’t want to harm your people either,
though I have to protect mine.” She stared at him coldly. But
though there was still anger smouldering in her eyes, she
listened.

“But you’ve got
to go easy on me. This arguing, watching me, distrusting me. It’s
like a cancer that’s eating away at me. It’s like being behind
enemy lines all over again. Then when you are behind me, it sets me
on edge and makes me jumpy as I really don’t know what to expect
from you. You are very different to anyone I’ve ever known and you
have claws and speed in abundance. I don’t know that you aren’t
going to attack me, so deep down I always have to be ready. And for
God’s sake never, ever creep up on me. Especially if I’m jumpy.
It’s as close to suicide as you can get.” The sudden anger in her
eyes told him he had over stepped the mark again. But it was
true.

“I not bad at
defending self either. You too full of self, too lacking respect
for others. One day maybe I teach you lesson you not forget. Soon
maybe.” And the look in her eyes told him she meant it. Maybe she
believed what he’d said, maybe not, but she doubted his ability
regardless and she hated his casual assertion that he would kill
her. It was a slap to her face, one she would not accept. But there
was an answer.

Knowing she had
to see rather than be told, he got up and walked slowly over to the
kitchen. Then quickly, faster than she could surely have expected,
he brought his right hand down on the kitchen bench in a karate
chop, smashing the two inch thick hardwood into kindling for no
good reason. A second punch a millisecond later with his left hand
turned a steel saucepan into shredded junk. Cyrea jumped, and then
stared at the debris surrounding them. Her eyes bulged as she
surveyed the shrapnel and then his hands. He saw her start mentally
calculating the power and speed needed to commit such vandalism and
knew satisfaction. It was a powerful statement. He knew that
finally she was starting to appreciate the truth of his words. He
was dangerous. But he also saw that she wasn’t going to back off
from her promised lesson. He shouldn’t have expected anything
else.

“If you must.”
He sighed, resigned to his fate. “I don’t want to fight you, least
of all when we’re both still angry. If you force me though, I
will.”

“But promise me
you’ll be open about it. No sneaking around, and never ever creep
up on me. I cannot be responsible for my actions if that happens,
and yes, I might kill you like that. I have so very little control
under those circumstances. Your neck is no stronger than anyone
else’s, you have the same vulnerable points as any woman, and your
bones are just as brittle. Before I even knew it was you I might
have already killed you.”

“Huh!” But her
eyes returned to the pile of shrapnel that had once been his
kitchen bench top. She was finally listening.

“Why do you
think I live alone? Where there’s no-one I could hurt?” The
terrible thing was that it was only the truth. The years of
training and fighting had left a terrible price with him. He was
too dangerous to be around other people. And worse still, that
which hunted him would be even more deadly to his friends and
family. For once something in her stiffness bent slightly, and she
nodded.

“I still must
follow.” In turn he nodded knowing that it was her bottom line. In
her shoes he would be the same. While it might be a pain, he
respected her for it.

“Must be sure.
Do swim, gym, spend days with you. Until know you. Until you know
us, no longer afraid.” Which brought his own heckles back up.
Afraid! Not likely. But he controlled it.

“I understand
that. But that’s not the deal your boss made with me. I live alone.
I need the peace, the calm, the quiet.” Even as he tried to object
he knew it was an argument he was going to lose.

“Not for while.
You have house guest. Sleep on couch here at night, help you
understand my people. Kick backside if ever attack me again.”
Privately he guessed she had to be doubting her ability at the last
threat, but she’d never admit it. Not in this life time. But then
in her shoes he knew he wouldn’t be able to either. Alice was
right. They were two peas from the same twisted pod.

“But -.”

“No but. Elders
say you not threat when you trust us. You trust us when you know
us. But you refuse to come to ship to learn about us as agree. You
prefer ignorance and no trust. Leg too, you won’t trust us to fix.
How can we trust you if you not trust us? Sooner or later all will
go wrong. Will all fall apart. Must break through.”

It was only the
truth, he knew. He had made an agreement to learn about the
Leinians, and had then backed down at every opportunity to meet
with them or see their ship. A huge part of him hated himself for
doing it. He wanted desperately to see their ship, to learn
everything he could about them. But too many years of secrecy told
him it was wrong. To enter the enemy’s fortress openly. It was only
logical he’d kept telling himself, every time he’d thought of being
a captive on their ship. They seemed so nice and peaceful, but that
wasn’t proof. Besides, if he did go then he would learn things, and
the more he learned, the more he might one day be forced to
reveal.

“Okay, okay. I
get the picture. But there is a spare room.”

“Couch is fine.
What matter is that you learn about us, not that you good
host.”

Also, he
guessed, that she had thought that sleeping in the living room was
a tactical advantage as it lay between his bedroom and the front
door. But he said nothing.

Chapter
Six.

“Alice was
right. A rematch might be fun.” Cyrea was sitting casually on the
edge of his kitchen bench, waiting for him as he walked in the
door, his brace of fresh caught fish in hand. There was the most
predatory smile on her face. She caught him once again completely
off guard with her words and by the fact that she was speaking
English perfectly. Apparently while he’d been out fishing, well, in
truth sleeping in the putt putt as it drifted across the lake with
a rod over the side for camouflage, she’d been learning languages.
He started, but only a little. It was the living room that really
caught his attention. All his furniture was missing, the rugs were
gone and instead a white mat covered the entire floor. She had
turned his lounge into a wrestling arena while he was out
fishing.