Page 61 of Close Encounters of the Hot Kind

"Shut up."

"Fascinating. The mighty Varak, hero of the Battle of Horus IV, trembling at the thought of a simple Earth ceremony."

I yank at the bow tie. "The Grolgath were straightforward. You shoot them, they die. This..."

"You could always run."

"Not helping."

Sam pokes his head into the room. "Five minutes, Charles. You ready?"

My image inducer hums against my chest, projecting my human disguise. I nod.

"Good. Because if you hurt my little girl, they'll never find your body." Sam winks and closes the door.

"I believe that was meant as humor," Teletran says. "Though with humans, one can never be certain."

I smooth down the front of my tuxedo. The fabric catches on my scales underneath.

"Sir, perhaps focus on the positive. In mere minutes, you'll be legally bound to the female who captured your heart. The one who accepted you, scales and all."

My chest tightens at the thought of Aileen. Of our child growing inside her.

"Though I still question the logic of mating outside your species-"

"Teletran."

"Yes sir?"

"Mute yourself."

The door opens again. It's time.

The church doors open and I step into a sea of faces. On my right, dozens of Aileen's relatives pack the pews - aunts, uncles, cousins spilling out into the aisles. Their excited whispers echo off the vaulted ceiling.

On my left, my own people sit ramrod straight in their holographic disguises. Captain Pyke nods at me, his human form betrayed only by that militant posture. Even in wedding attire, they look ready for battle.

The image inducer burns against my chest as I walk forward. Its power cells strain to maintain my human appearance. One flicker, one glimpse of red scales, and this carefully maintained fiction shatters.

"Sir, inducer at eighty percent," Teletran whispers in my ear. "Recommend limiting exposure time."

I ignore him and focus on putting one foot in front of the other. The aisle stretches endless before me.

Selene dabs at her eyes with a tissue. Sam gives me a proud father's smile, though his hand still hovers near where I suspect he's hidden a weapon. Smart man.

My warriors watch with barely concealed confusion. Marriage ceremonies aren't part of Vakutan culture. We choose mates through ritual combat. This peaceful joining of families is foreign to them.

But it matters to Aileen. And so I endure the scratchy tuxedo, the endless human customs, the strain of maintaining this facade. For her, I'd endure far worse.

The organ music swells. My heart is going like a racehorse. Any moment now, those doors will open again.

The music changes. My heart skips. The massive wooden doors swing wide and-

Sweet Ataxia.

"Sir, your vitals indicate-"

I rip the earpiece out. Nothing matters except this moment, this vision.

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