knife from my leg holster with my right hand and aim for his chest. He manages to leap out of the way. It was a terrible throw anyway. Now you’ve lost your knife!
Keep searching! Don’t focus on the sound, like an army of boots bearing down. I take the right, and scan the room to spot what appears to be a set of transporting pads, with a smaller console.
Joy!
The room also appears to be a dead end. Who cares!
Oh, wait , the dead end is only an illusion. The room just has no wall. It drops off, and I peer down to see that it actually drops for what looks like miles. Holy stars! Separate floor openings are staggered at different projections until the distance is too great and there is only darkness.
I swing around, and rest my decoder in front of the console just as a string of Thell’eons bound into the room at top speed, halting about five feet in front of me, gun-daggers pointed.
“Hold your fire!” rings in my earpiece, not a moment too soon.
The console, which is as high as my neck, is my only protection, so I stand there, panting loudly, not daring to take my eyes off of the mini armada in front of me. I desperately want to search for the charger coordinates so I can send myself back. Sharp needles prickle at me— just sweat . My decoder is silently downloading information from their ship. Will they know?
At least a half dozen Thell’eon are standing in the room, including the guy I almost knifed. I notice they are uniformly big, though some are slightly taller than others. And hot. There’s no other way to describe them. It’s like they represent different variations of ideal facial symmetry. One licks his lips. Another examines me as though he can’t decide whether he will choose me or not. My sex is not lost on them, I realize suddenly, and my general fear crystallizes into one single fear. It is the only reason I have survived this long.
The sea of black and silver guns and uniforms open up to let through a Thell’eon wearing a long dark gray cloak made of what looks like microscopic chain-mail over a thin gray shirt that contours another chiseled chest and stomach. Honestly, they’re commonplace here.
But . . . our eyes meet, and I swear I have never seen a more handsome or fierce or handsomely fierce man in my life. I forget to conceal my facial expression. He’s the definition of man and . . . and . . . sex . Literally, that is his appeal. Its pull is soft and warm and persuasive. I find myself admiring his intelligent eyes, so dark they seem black. Tattoos or markings, or whatever those things are, accent his strong brow, contour his cheekbones, and one on his chin creates a goatee effect. I can tell by his facial stubble that he would have dark brown hair. I notice he’s breathing a little heavy, like he had run to catch up with the others. Given how fit he is, he must have come some distance.
He eyes me carefully, first with disbelief and then disgust. He claps his hands together suddenly, and laughs, meanly, causing me to jump a little. The spell is only partly broken.
“So this is what ESE sends?” His voice is deep and melodic. “A female . . . child,” he adds, eyeing my face.
He’s very angry, though not exactly at me. You can tell he’s trained his anger, like you train a dragon. “Step away from the—”
I’m shocked by his attitude, his mention of spying for ESE, but mostly by his arrogance. Plus, I think his assessment of me is a bit unfair, since I did get this far. But I’m too petrified to protest.
“I know your translator is working. Step! Away! From! The!—” he shouts, enunciating every word with a harsh tone, each word progressively snider.
I shrink, and slowly move out from the console, holding the gun pointed down. Why won’t it work for me? I leave the decoder resting there, quietly downloading information. I rub my hand on the side of my pants to get rid of some of the sweat. Despite my incredible fear, I’m still drawn to him. I finally understand
Keep searching! Don’t focus on the sound, like an army of boots bearing down. I take the right, and scan the room to spot what appears to be a set of transporting pads, with a smaller console.
Joy!
The room also appears to be a dead end. Who cares!
Oh, wait , the dead end is only an illusion. The room just has no wall. It drops off, and I peer down to see that it actually drops for what looks like miles. Holy stars! Separate floor openings are staggered at different projections until the distance is too great and there is only darkness.
I swing around, and rest my decoder in front of the console just as a string of Thell’eons bound into the room at top speed, halting about five feet in front of me, gun-daggers pointed.
“Hold your fire!” rings in my earpiece, not a moment too soon.
The console, which is as high as my neck, is my only protection, so I stand there, panting loudly, not daring to take my eyes off of the mini armada in front of me. I desperately want to search for the charger coordinates so I can send myself back. Sharp needles prickle at me— just sweat . My decoder is silently downloading information from their ship. Will they know?
At least a half dozen Thell’eon are standing in the room, including the guy I almost knifed. I notice they are uniformly big, though some are slightly taller than others. And hot. There’s no other way to describe them. It’s like they represent different variations of ideal facial symmetry. One licks his lips. Another examines me as though he can’t decide whether he will choose me or not. My sex is not lost on them, I realize suddenly, and my general fear crystallizes into one single fear. It is the only reason I have survived this long.
The sea of black and silver guns and uniforms open up to let through a Thell’eon wearing a long dark gray cloak made of what looks like microscopic chain-mail over a thin gray shirt that contours another chiseled chest and stomach. Honestly, they’re commonplace here.
But . . . our eyes meet, and I swear I have never seen a more handsome or fierce or handsomely fierce man in my life. I forget to conceal my facial expression. He’s the definition of man and . . . and . . . sex . Literally, that is his appeal. Its pull is soft and warm and persuasive. I find myself admiring his intelligent eyes, so dark they seem black. Tattoos or markings, or whatever those things are, accent his strong brow, contour his cheekbones, and one on his chin creates a goatee effect. I can tell by his facial stubble that he would have dark brown hair. I notice he’s breathing a little heavy, like he had run to catch up with the others. Given how fit he is, he must have come some distance.
He eyes me carefully, first with disbelief and then disgust. He claps his hands together suddenly, and laughs, meanly, causing me to jump a little. The spell is only partly broken.
“So this is what ESE sends?” His voice is deep and melodic. “A female . . . child,” he adds, eyeing my face.
He’s very angry, though not exactly at me. You can tell he’s trained his anger, like you train a dragon. “Step away from the—”
I’m shocked by his attitude, his mention of spying for ESE, but mostly by his arrogance. Plus, I think his assessment of me is a bit unfair, since I did get this far. But I’m too petrified to protest.
“I know your translator is working. Step! Away! From! The!—” he shouts, enunciating every word with a harsh tone, each word progressively snider.
I shrink, and slowly move out from the console, holding the gun pointed down. Why won’t it work for me? I leave the decoder resting there, quietly downloading information. I rub my hand on the side of my pants to get rid of some of the sweat. Despite my incredible fear, I’m still drawn to him. I finally understand
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