Fluency (20 page)

She looked down and clutched the sheet a little tighter. The memory of the erotic dream in which Alan had played a starring role came vividly to the front of her mind. Her cheeks felt hot. She hoped she wasn’t blushing.

He huffed. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

She searched for something to say that would obviate their m
utual embarrassment. “What does that mean? What has he told you?”

“He convinced us to stay in the storage room for a while. That was the first thing. That
…I didn’t…that was….” He was clenching and unclenching his fists. His eyes were hard and hot on her.

“Why?” she whispered. Her voice sounded husky to her own ears.

“We think he released a gas in the hallway. We heard a lot of noise. It sounded like they were climbing the walls and killing the shit out of each other. Then it got quiet and the doors opened. When we walked out there, they were mostly dead or dying. That’s not to say more haven’t hatched by now, I’m sure, the stinky little bastards. One of ‘em got me in the leg. I couldn’t walk on it for two days. We’re going to have to deal with that shit eventually.”

“How did he convince you to stay there?”

His jaw worked. “I told you. He showed us images of stuff. We talked about it. Ajaya put it all together.” He didn’t seem to want to say any more about it, so she decided to drop it for now.

“He told you where I was?”

“Yes. And how to find you.” His lips tightened. “We didn’t know what was going on. I thought—I thought you were dead at first. It took us a while to figure out what was happening to you, and to Compton. We decided, eventually, to put Walsh in there too. That decision wasn’t made easily. Ultimately, we let Ajaya make the call.” He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly.

He was so intense.
More so than usual. His eyes would probe hers, then travel down hungrily before he would twitch them away self-consciously. She felt a thrilling feeling growing inside her, settling low, and throbbing. It seemed they were safe now. She wanted to trust that, but she needed to hear more.

“What have you been doing all this time?” she asked him.

“Learning.” He smiled, his eyes lit up with enthusiasm. “Ajaya and Gibbs have been learning the language—they go down to a language lab on level 15 and spend a large part of every day there. Ajaya knows some Latin, but we’re all just limping along. It’s not coming as easily to us as it did to you, Jane. Ajaya says she can almost get the gist of what the alien dude is saying to us now.”

“But you haven’t been studying the language? What have you been doing, Alan?”

“I’ve been studying it some. But I go down to Engineering. He shows me stuff, amazing stuff. How it all works. This ship is so much more than we ever could have imagined, Jane. This is going to change everything.”

She smiled at his expression. This was the side of him that she could understand. Their interests weren’t the same, but they shared the same kind of enthusiasm for them, nonetheless. She wanted to reach out to him, to touch him, but she didn’t know how to uproot herself and get closer to him, without feeling silly and forced.

“You mentioned a printer, earlier—what did you mean by that? Some kind of food machine?”

“Oh, yeah.” He picked up the green container from the bed and held it out to her. Inside was a small mound of speckled, tan cubes. “The closest thing we have to this back home is 3-D printing tec
hnology. You pour in the raw material—the stuff we found the first day in those tubs—and it spits out these things.”

She wrinkled her nose. “The stuff that looked like cat litter?”

“Oh, yeah. Yep. That’s exactly what it looks like.” He laughed his raucous laugh. She liked the way he laughed. Unfettered. It was so true to his personality, to the way he lived his life.

She tittered and took the container from him, slowly, intentio
nally letting her fingers brush his. He scooted closer, clearly interpreting the gesture as an invitation.

She felt flushed.

“Yeah. You pour it in and make selections and it configures the crystals to taste different ways. We’ve been experimenting with it. Some of it’s pretty weird tasting. Most of it’s palatable.”

“What does it taste like?” she asked hesitantly.

His smile turned mischievous. “I’m not saying. You’ll have to see for yourself.”

She looked down into the bowl, sure she was grinning like a loon. “Are they all the same? They look the same.”

“I didn’t know what you’d like. Each one is different. You tell me what you like.”

Somehow he’d gotten closer when she wasn’t looking. She felt pleasantly unfocused. He was so
near, she could feel his warmth on her bare arm.

She selected one at random and nibbled at a corner of it. It was moist and dense. Her first thought was that it was bland, barely
palatable, but as she chewed, flavor burst from tiny granules imbedded in it. There were fruity elements—no single fruit came to mind, though. It was pleasantly acidic and slightly sweet and there were floral notes that made it seem really refined and lovely. It was somehow the essence, the very best of fruit.

“Which one is that?” he asked, light dancing in his eyes as he watched her chew.

“I think it’s some kind of fruit. I like it.”

“Yeah, that one’s ok. Try another one.” He seemed to come to himself with a start. “Oh, sorry. You probably want something to wash it down with. Here.” He pulled a limp object from a co
ncealed pocket on the loose tunic he wore. It was a tube, made from a soft version of the ubiquitous greenish plastic. It was warm, from being close to his skin. “It’s a water pouch. Works pretty much just like ours. Just stick that thing in your mouth and slurp.” He leaned in close to point at the outlet of the pouch and his other hand snuck behind her to rest on her back. It felt like a hot brand. It was all she could think about.

“So, we haven’t talked about the fact that you’re wearing a dress,” she said with a soft snort. She felt giddy. She sipped the water, eyeing him slantwise, like a teenage girl.

He seemed to like that. He leaned closer, amused. “It was this or the bathrobe.” His hand slid up to cup her bare shoulder and pull her closer. “I like what you’re wearing, though,” he murmured in her ear.

Oh, God.
He was good at this.

This was probably a really stupid idea. It would surely end ba
dly. But she didn’t want it to stop.

She couldn’t say anything to him. What could she say? She couldn’t think.

She just sat there, head bowed, waiting for him to make his move. Her chest heaved and fell. The sheet was slipping and she wanted it to.

He wanted her. Her—frumpy Jane Holloway. This gorgeous, genius of a man wanted her.

So, his nose was too big. So, he needed a shave. So, he laughed too loud. So, what?

He smelled divine.
Musky, masculine. A hint of sweat. The good kind. He’d been exercising or something.

“Aren’t you hungry, Jane?” His breath was hot on her ear and his hand was already taking the dish and pouch away.

She managed a tremulous smile. She was going to let this happen. It would be ok. He might hurt her later, when they finally got back to Earth. He might find someone younger, prettier. But she wouldn’t worry about that now. That would take all the fun out of this.

This. This moment was all that mattered, right now.

He was hovering so close, just a breath away from kissing her. He was teasing her, drawing it out. The anticipation was delicious.

He was panting softly too. His hands roamed over her back, bare now; the sheet had slipped down.

She looked into his eyes. They were boring into hers, hungry and questioning. He was waiting for her to say this was ok.

She leaned into him, just the slightest movement, her hands finding their way to touch him, his bearded face,
his shoulder. He reacted instantly, pulling her hard against him, covering her mouth with his.

Kissing wasn’t nearly enough. She clutched at him, trying to get closer. The angle was
all wrong. Sitting perched on the edge of the high mattress was awkward.

His hand slid up to her bare breast and she gasped against his mouth. Gently, reverently, he kneaded and squeezed and lightly brushed his thumb over her nipple.

She pulled ineffectually at the filmy tunic that was keeping his skin from her.

He broke off the kiss and stood, pulling the tunic over his head. He dropped it to the floor, and came back to her, pushing her back and scooping her legs up onto the bed in a swift, practiced motion.

He rested his hip on the bed, his hand skimming her skin. His eyes roved over her body. They seemed to devour her. It was a heady feeling.

The evidence of his desire pressed firmly against her thigh.

She experienced a moment of disquiet. The only man she’d ever been with had been Brian and that was a long time gone now. Alan was athletic. His body was firm. She was out of practice, out of shape, and accustomed to a mindless succession of uneventful missionary. She wondered if she could be the kind of lover he wanted.

He dispelled her fears instantly. He touched his nose to hers playfully and kissed her hard and deep, his tongue swirling around hers, while he slowly ran his hand up her thigh, pushed her leg aside, and cupped her. His touch wasn’t greedy or callous, but re
verent with an aching sweetness that seemed counter to his nature.

She arched against his hand and let out a whimper. His caress was gentle, insistent and, precisely targeted for maximum impact. Leave it to the engineer to know how things worked.

Was this an indication of the kind of care and sensitivity she could expect from him? If so, she’d underestimated him utterly. She was so overwhelmed that she was unable to do much more than cling to him, as his fingers and lips played over her, until she was at the very edge of it, trembling and gasping with it.

She opened her eyes to find him contemplating her unguarded expression with a hint of a smug smile on his lips. A giggle bu
bbled up out of her, unbidden. She ran her hands over his back, restlessly, putting pressure on him, trying to pull him into position.

He resisted, his fingers sliding in her slippery wetness, his tongue rasping over a nipple. She put her hand over his, stilling its movement and the incipient waves that were imminent. She ca
ptured his mouth in a kiss and took him in her hand to increase his sense of urgency. “I’m so close,” she moaned against his lips. “Please, Alan, come with me.”

He moaned against her neck, a guttural sound that made her pulse race even faster, then complied without further prodding. It was just the two of them. There was nothing else.

His eyes locked with hers as he slipped inside. It felt entirely new, more intensely gratifying than ever before. He held his body high and, glancing between them, slowly moved, the length of him dragging over her sex.

Her legs trembled. She arched, crying out, heedless to who might hear, as she shuddered with potent, chaotic spasms.

She gasped for breath. Still, he watched, nostrils flaring, jaw set, sharp eyes penetrating. He picked up the pace.

She rocked to meet each thrust, every sensation heightened, building already, again, to the next peak.

He buried his face in the hollow of her shoulder, clasping her closer, grunting, pumping, tracking her ascent, until he drove them both over the edge, together.

He stayed in place, his weight pleasantly pressing on her, and kissed her fervently. He rested his forehead against hers and choked out, “We thought
…I thought. Oh, fuck, Jane. I thought I’d lost you before I could ever even have you.”

Anguish? From Alan Bergen?
Over her?

He smoothed her hair. She searched his bloodshot, watery eyes and saw truth staring back at her.

She didn’t know what to say.

“Alan, I’m ok. Everything’s going to work out. We just have to trust him. It’s the only way.”

His lips tightened and he slid to her side, one hand left possessively at her waist. “Yes. I see that. At what cost, Jane? What does he want from you?”

“I—I’m not sure what you mean. He’s trying to protect us, keep us alive.”

His expression turned fierce. “He wants more than that and you know it! What’s he telling you, right now? Did he just…?” His expression shuttered down and he sank heavily onto the bed, one hand capturing one of hers, squeezing hard.

She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see his angst. It didn’t look right, didn’t settle right over his features. She didn’t
like seeing him so uncertain. She wanted to see him smirking, confident, strong.

“He’s not here right now,” she murmured, shrugging self-consciously. Why did she feel guilty? Ashamed?

“Tell him to take us home, Jane.” There was a plaintive note in his voice that didn’t belong there, not when he seemed so sure of himself half an hour before.

“He can’t. It’s not possible. Can’t you and Gibbs figure out how to fly it?”

“I wish. I’m in fucking alien-preschool, Jane. That’s not happening. Some of this shit’s organic or something. We could die of old age before I figure this shit out. We brought a fucking lot of computing power, but I don’t have a clue where to begin to interface it.”