Page 14 of Alien Attachment
The implications turn my stomach, cold and sour like bad protein rations. “A slave.”
He frowns slightly, as if the word doesn’t quite fit his understanding. “Not... entirely. Bond requires compatibility. Mutual resonance. Cannot force. Cannot maintain with unwilling host.” His eyes meet mine, steady and unflinching, and I feel the truth of his words through our connection. “You opened the container. You met my gaze. The bond formed because part of you... recognized part of me.”
I want to deny it, to reject the idea that any part of me could have invited this connection, this invasion of my carefully maintained solitude. But there’s a ring of truth to his words that I can’t dismiss, no matter how much I want to. In that first moment, when our eyes met, there had been something—a flashof recognition, of rightness that I’ve been running from ever since.
“I didn’t ask for this,” I say, but the words lack their earlier heat, coming out more tired than angry.
“No,” he agrees, his voice gentle in a way that makes my chest tight. “Neither did I. But it is. And it cannot be undone without great cost.”
There’s something in the way he says “great cost” that makes alarm bells go off in my head. “What kind of cost?”
He’s quiet for a long moment, his gaze dropping to where the tentacle connects us. “The bond... it is more than psychic link. It has become part of my essence, my life force. To sever it completely...” He looks up at me, and there’s something almost peaceful in his expression. “It would likely destroy me. Return me to the void.”
The casual way he says it, like he’s discussing the weather instead of his own death, makes my blood run cold. “You’re talking about dying.”
“I am talking about choice,” he corrects softly. “Your choice. If being tethered to me brings you only pain, only fear... then I must offer you freedom, whatever the cost.”
The resignation in his voice, the complete acceptance of whatever I choose despite the pain it will cause him, stirs something in me I can’t quite name. Not pity—he’s too powerful, too alien for that. Something closer to respect, perhaps. Or recognition of a fellow survivor who’s learned that sometimes the only control you have is how you face the inevitable.
“I’m not going to kill you to get rid of a psychic bond,” I say firmly, surprised by how much the idea disturbs me. “And I’m not letting ApexCorp take you back either. But I need to know what we’re dealing with. What can you do? Besides the...” I gesture vaguely at his tentacles.
A flicker of something—hope? relief?—passes through our bond like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. “Strength beyond human norm. Accelerated healing. Sensory perception enhanced, especially regarding bonded partner. Limited empathic abilities. Physical adaptation to various environments.” He pauses, then adds quietly, “Designed to protect. To serve. To... please.”
The last word hangs between us, laden with implications I’m not ready to examine too closely. The way he says it, the flush of awareness that flows through our bond, makes heat rise in my cheeks.
“Right. Well, those could be useful while we’re running for our lives, I guess.” I take a step back, suddenly aware of how close I’ve moved to him, how the small space seems to amplify his presence. “The drive should be ready soon. We need to plan our next move.”
He rises in that fluid motion that still unnerves me, unfolding to his full height like some kind of graceful predator. “Where will we go?”
The “we” should bother me. A few hours ago, it would have sent me into another spiral about independence and autonomy. Now, it just sounds... natural. Like something I don’t have to fight anymore.
“I know a place in the Fringe,” I say, moving toward the door and gesturing for him to follow. “A trading post called Haven’s Rest where questions cost extra and answers are rarely worth the price. We can restock there, maybe pick up some information about ApexCorp’s movements.”
He nods, accepting my lead without question. “I will help however I can.”
I believe him, that’s the thing. Despite everything, despite the unwanted bond and the invasion of my solitude and the way he makes me feel things I’m not ready to feel, I believe that hemeans exactly what he says. He will help. He will protect. He will serve.
The question is whether I can trust myself with that kind of devotion.
“Come on,” I say, turning toward the door and trying to ignore the way his presence behind me feels less like a burden and more like... something I don’t have a name for yet. “Let’s get back to the cockpit. I want to be ready to jump the second the drive is operational.”
He follows, a silent shadow at my back. The tentacle connecting us seems less restrictive now, moving with me rather than against me. I’m not sure if that’s a change in him, in me, or in the bond itself.
I’m not sure if I want to know. But as we walk through the corridors of my ship—our ship, some traitorous part of my mind supplies—I find myself thinking that maybe, just maybe, being alone isn’t the only way to be safe.
Maybe sometimes the most dangerous thing you can do is refuse to let someone catch you when you fall.
5
My Light My Purpose
Jhorn
Thesilencebetweenusfeels fragile, like the diamond structures in the quantum core—one wrong vibration and it shatters. Kaylee stands before me, arms crossed, her expression a fortress with hairline cracks I want desperately to explore. She released me from the small medical chamber, drawn by my song, my calling to her. The bond between us pulses with her conflicted emotions: relief, wariness, curiosity, fear—and underneath it all, a thread of something warmer that she’s trying very hard to suppress.
At least she didn’t leave me there, trapped in that sterile box that reminded me too much of—
Darkness. Containment. Failure.
