“Oh, he’s not speaking to us, at least not anything we can understand. He sends us mental images. It’s like playing a game of telepathic charades. We have to figure out what he’s trying to tell us to do. When we do, he, ah….” He seemed embarrassed. It was a new look for him.
“What?”
“He stimulates the part of the brain that registers pleasure.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“He does that to you too, Jane?”
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 mutual 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 technology. 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, intentionally 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 concealed 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 badly. 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.