Page 98 of Border Control
I stride to the door, and Dom keeps up with me. “Stay back, Dom, I've got this. Better yet, put your hands on your head, alright?”
“What will that do?”
“Show you're unarmed and no danger to them.”
He shrugs one shoulder. “I don't need to be armed to be dangerous. If I were the Apex, I could scramble their brainwaves from here.”
“But you aren't the Apex.”
“They don't know that, until they scan my chip or have another Apex read me.”
He's very calm, almost like he's post orgasm and super relaxed, his mind a series of gentle rolling hills.
Or resigned.
No. He's relaxed because I'm in charge, and I am. Even when there's alien shit flying around, I'm in control.
“Open the door, please.”
Dom taps a panel and the door slides to the floor and then out, making a ramp. It settles to the stone with a clank, and alien atmosphere hits me like a truck.
The air in this city steams, hot and close. Sweat instantly stands out on my arms, each breath tasting sticky sweet like candyfloss floating in the heat. I'm a product of a cold climate; I don't appreciate humidity dense enough to swim in.
Fanning the end of the ramp are more Doms. Fascinating. I'm used to seeing the triplets, but there's got to be twenty of them here, and they're all staring at me. Their expressions match, a wide-eyed awe directed square at me, small weapons in their hands raised but not pointing at me.
“Hello. I'm Laura Thomas. I'd like to speak with your All-Mother, please.”
No one moves.
“They can't understand you,” Dom says from the side of the door. His eyes are closed, an uncomfortable stretching sensation tightening between us as he tries to reach as far as he can with his psychic ability.
“Oh. Yes. Right. What do I do now, mime?”
“Speak to them and their nanites will learn,” Dom prompts.
“What about?”
“Anything.”
Beyond the circle of purple aliens are others. There’s so much variety, with all colors of scales from turquoise to sky blue to bright yellow, some with hair, some with spikes. They're all shirtless apart from some willowy types with breasts and long gauzy dresses who stand staring, attended by at least two other bulky colorful varieties. Those must be the females, the ones running the planet. But they aren’t coming toward us or anything useful, they’re stock still staring at me. I suppose I’m the alien invader here.
One of the Parthiastocks barks something in the silence.
“He wants me to come out,” Dom says.
“What'll he do if you did?”
Dom asks the question, and the answer is short in return.
“He'll shoot me,” Dom translates.
“Tell them to bugger off,” I snap.
Dom opens his mouth.
“Not—argh.” I spin to face him, planting my hands on either side of the doorway, heart pounding. “They are not allowed to shoot you. Tell them.”
Dom shouts something back in his language. The silence continues.
