Countdown to Alien Refuge - 2 Days

Father Stephen leaned towards her as she sat on the opposite end of the lounger.  “Iris, we understand there was a bit of trouble out here yesterday.  Blaine Middleton’s shuttle was impounded by the Kalquorian security force and his piloting license revoked.”

Iris managed to keep her voice even.  “After he nearly ran down Thomas.”

Hoover’s bushy brows squished down over his eyes.  “Wasn’t your son at fault?  After all, he was standing in the middle of the road.”

Iris didn’t spare the man a smile, though she maintained a polite demeanor.  “He panicked when my snow blower broke down and made a noise that frightened him.  He’s extremely sensitive to loud sounds and can’t control his reactions.  That’s why there are warning beacons on this lane and why the limit is slower here than anywhere else on the colony.”  

“I see you have a containment border.”

“It was just installed today.  The Kalquorian security head loaned it to me since I couldn’t afford one myself.”

Hoover scowled.  “This is a very big problem, Mrs. Jenson.  Blaine is a hardworking man with large loads of supplies and cargo to transport.  He needs his license and shuttle to take care of a family larger than yours.”

Iris’ temper rose.  Hoover’s intimation that Middleton’s family was more important than her son had her ready to swing again.  “And I need my son to be safe.  If Blaine is determined to hurt people by disabling his warning indicators so he can run over a small child, then I don’t want him to have his damned shuttle.”

Hoover’s eyes widened.  Women had not been allowed to use profanity on Earth, and it was obvious he was affronted by her utterance.

Father Stephen remained cool and diplomatic.  “Blaine Middleton is most definitely in the wrong here, but we don’t want Kalquorians in our business.  We are trying to govern ourselves, to rebuild our lives after Armageddon.  We want independence, not alien masters who have no idea what it means to be Earther.”

Iris forced herself to be calm.  “So what do you want from me?”

Hoover drew himself up.  “We need you to testify to Governor Ospar that what happened was not entirely Blaine’s fault.  That you do not hold him liable for an injury that did not even happen.”

“But I do hold him accountable.  Thomas wouldn’t have been merely injured; he would have been killed.  The only thing that saved him was that Governor Ospar’s own Nobek came to his rescue.  I can’t lie against the head of security.  Not when he put his life on the line for a small boy he didn’t even know.”

Hoover’s jaw clenched, making him more bulldoggish than ever.  “You are putting the Kalquorians ahead of your own people?”  His voice rose angrily, and Thomas looked up from his toys.

Iris gazed right in the man’s eyes and did not waver.  “I am putting my son’s welfare ahead of Blaine’s stupidity and disregard for the wellbeing of others.  If you can get his piloting license re-instated and his shuttle back, more power to you.  But I will not help.”

The governor stood.  He didn’t try to hide his anger.  “You cannot turn your back on your own.  It is unconscionable.  There are people on this colony who won’t stand for collusion with the Kalquorians.”

Iris stood as well.  “This has nothing to do with turning my back on anyone or siding with the aliens.   I am my son’s sole protector.  It doesn’t matter if it’s Kalquorian or Earther; if anyone endangers Thomas, I become their worst enemy.”

Even her husband Conrad, with his ready fists and kicks, knew better than to challenge Iris’ instincts when it came to Thomas.  He must have; he had never raised a hand to the boy.  Iris had been the sole receiver of her husband’s abuse.

Father Stephen rose.  His tone was placating, gentle enough that Thomas went back to his toys and was quickly re-absorbed in his make-believe world.  “I think emotions are running too high right now for us to accomplish anything productive.  Iris is a conscientious parent, and she had a bad scare yesterday.  Governor Hoover only wants the best for all Earthers on Haven.  These are not matters in opposition to each other.”

Hoover’s forehead smoothed, and he managed a conciliatory smile.  “Of course not.  I apologize if I seem less than sympathetic to the fright you had.  It’s just I have so much pressure with the Kalquorians always trying to enforce their rule over us.  They do not trust us to govern ourselves, and many chafe under their dictatorship.”

Iris had never seen any evidence of a dictatorship.  Even if the Kalquorians had been more controlling, Haven was within their empire’s borders.  Who were the Earthers to challenge that?  However, it was probably best to meet the temperamental governor halfway.

Countdown to Alien Refuge - 3 Days

“Slippery trees,” Thomas declared.   He was still touching each pillar they passed, tugging hard against Iris.  He had finally decided he wanted to pull free and explore.

Iris said, “Stay with me, Thomas.  You can’t run wild in here.”  

“Actually, he can,” Rivek said.  “He can’t harm anything of real value.”

He reached within his robe and brought out a small com unit.  Rivek brought it to his lips.  “Copin?”

A bright voice issued from the device.  “Yes, Master Rivek?”

“We have a young visitor who requires a chaperone while his parent speaks with me.  Are you available?”

“Yes, Master Rivek.  I am approaching your location now.”

Iris waved her hand at the priest.  “That’s not really necessary.”

Thomas jerked hard.  “Thomas run in trees!” he shouted.  His voice echoed in the peaceful quiet, making Iris wince.

Rivek gave her a look that spoke of infinite patience.  “Of course it’s necessary.  The boy needs to run.  If he did not, he wouldn’t insist on it.  Hello, Copin.”

Iris jerked her head around to see a younger Kalquorian joining them.  He beamed, radiating cheerfulness at her.  His hair was arranged like Rivek’s with the braids swinging before his ears and the rest of his tresses reaching knee-length.  His layered robes were the rich brown of earth, the fresh green of new growth, and sunlight yellow.  He was a blast of color in all the whiteness surrounding him, like the first growth of spring after a long winter.

He bowed before them.  “Good day.”  He gave Iris that brilliant smile, his face that of a young male just reaching maturity.  Then he knelt before Thomas.  “Hello, little one.  What is your name?”

Their eyes met.  Thomas froze and took a step back.  Then, apparently eased by the smile before him, he stepped closer to Copin again.  He pointed at the temple’s interior.  “Run!”

Copin nodded encouragingly.  “I would be happy to run with you, but first I need your name.  What is your name?”

Thomas blinked.  “Thomas?” he said uncertainly.  

Copin gave him his biggest grin yet.  “I am glad to know you, Thomas.  My name is Copin.”  He looked up at Iris, who hovered in case Thomas decided he’d had enough conversation and took off.  “Shall we run now?”

“Yes,” Thomas said firmly.

Iris looked at them all.  Rivek was just as patient as ever, Copin looked expectant, and Thomas was straining to get away.  Not sure she was doing the right thing, Iris said, “Um ... okay.  I guess.”

Thomas knew to take advantage when she wavered.  He pulled free of her, yelling, “Run!”  He took off, his legs stretching in an all-out sprint.  Copin laughed, pulled his robes up to his knees, and ran after the child.  Iris watched nervously as the pair wove in and out of pillars.

Countdown to Alien Refuge - 4 days

The end of the day found Jol at home in the kitchen with his clanmates.  Three times a week, they gave their house staff the day off.  That meant cooking for themselves, a task the trio enjoyed.

The room was massive, as befitting a colony governor who might have cause to entertain visitors and dignitaries.  Banks of prep tables, ovens, coolers, and kitchen tools spanned an area as large as Iris Jenson’s entire home.  Yet the three men worked close together, preferring close companionship after being apart all day. 

Jol found himself relaxing into the sociable quiet as he fed chunks of seasoned beef and pork into the grinder.  He was in charge of the main dish tonight, a meat pie.  A Native American Earther named Quinn who lived at the far edge of the colony had given them the recipe, along with instructions on how to make the corn soup Ospar was preparing and the fried bread Rivek mixed dough for.  Quinn practiced a traditional belief system remarkably similar to the Kalquorian Book of Life’s philosophies.  He was one of the few Earthers who wasn’t guarded around Kalquorians.  He indulged in long discussions with Jol’s Imdiko, who happened to be the head priest for Haven’s Temple of Life.

Thinking about Earthers made Jol reflect on his afternoon.  Saving the boy Thomas from being run down had been on the edge of his consciousness all evening.  Thomas and Iris Jenson.  A most captivating pair.  Two people he hadn’t been able to put out of his mind no matter how many distractions had demanded his attention since leaving their home.  Thomas, with his big brown eyes that riveted with such precise attention on whatever claimed his fancy.  Iris, her ocean blue eyes swimming with tears that came far too easily as she watched her son.

His tone mild, Jol said, “You will be receiving a complaint from Governor Hoover tomorrow, Ospar.”

Standing on Jol’s left, the Dramok snorted.  “I receive complaints from him every day, my Nobek.”

Jol smiled.  Earther Governor Hoover was Kalquorian Governor Ospar’s least favorite part of his job.  The uneasy mix of an Earther colony within the Kalquorian Empire had the two leaders at each others’ throats more often than not.  Hoover was always insisting on less Kalquorian influence over the Earthers, even when such would be detrimental to his people.  

Ospar unleashed a theatrical sigh as he measured spices to go into the soup.  “What will be his particular issue this time?”

“I had an Earther’s shuttle impounded and his permit to pilot revoked.  The fool nearly ran down a child.”

He sensed both his clanmates pause in their work.  Ospar turned to him.  “A child?”

Jol switched off the meat grinder and regarded his clanmate of 26 years.  Ospar’s handsome face was missing its easy smile, the smile that so often disarmed opponents during his long political career.  Ospar not wearing his charming expression was always a bad sign.  It usually meant he was only moments from finding someone to throw across the room.

A flicker of anger warmed Jol’s chest, thinking about the afternoon’s close call.  “A six-year-old boy.  One with sensory impairments that led to him being in the middle of a travel lane.  The area is clearly marked to all traffic that a child with a disability lives there.  The offender was driving his shuttle too fast with all warning devices disabled.”

Ospar’s bright purple eyes narrowed, his wide nostrils flared, and his square jaw tightened.  “Did you happen to pound some sense into the offender’s head while you were at it?”

“I thought for the cause of peace between the colonists and ourselves that it was best to refrain.”

The Dramok grimaced.  It never failed to amuse Jol that a man whose career hinged on compromise had to be reminded often to do so.  But in this instance, Ospar’s instinct to squash bad men could be excused, what with a child involved.

“Pity.  But a wise decision,” Ospar finally said, clearly hating his own words.  He raked a hand through his shoulder-length black hair.

To Jol’s right, their Imdiko spoke up.  His mild tone betrayed none of the concern he no doubt felt.  “Where were the child’s parents?”

“There is only the mother.  Iris Jenson.”  Jol was profoundly aware of how his mouth formed the woman’s name.  He saw again her tear-bright blue eyes, her pretty but too worried face, the strands of golden hair escaping from its messy ponytail and the woven brown cap on her head.   He swallowed, wondering what she was doing at this moment.

He made himself meet Rivek’s sharp eyes, eyes that were usually soft and warm.  His Imdiko’s strong, chiseled features were framed by braids twisted into the forward part of his ankle-length hair.  Even out of his long temple robes, any Kalquorian would know instantly they were speaking to a priest.  What they wouldn’t realize was they were dealing with a man who was every bit as dangerous as most Nobeks.  Fortunately, Rivek didn’t have to display that side too often.  For the most part, he was a gentle Imdiko whose very presence could calm most agitated minds.  

Jol told him, “She was present and looking out for her son, but unable to retrieve Thomas in time.  It was no fault of hers.”

“I’m sure she was appropriately grateful for your help.”  Ospar’s sarcasm came out with little bite.  They were all used to Earthers, particularly women, keeping as much distance as possible between themselves and Kalquorian men.

“She thanked me profusely.”

“Really?”  That brought back Ospar’s smile as he returned to his cooking.  It made him look boyish, even younger than Rivek who was ten years his junior.  “Sometimes they surprise me.”

Shalia's Diary Monday Post

Comfort in the arms of an alien.  http://shaliasdiary.blogspot.com/

Sunday’s Serving – Countdown to Alien Refuge

Five days to go!  And because I’ve started getting irritable with being contained to only six sentences, Sundays will now offer bigger servings of story...our appetites need more than what six sentences can offer, right?  Enjoy this meatier tease:

Ospar couldn’t help but smile at Iris’ gasp when he opened the door and pulled her into the room.  Her ocean eyes were huge as she took in her surroundings.

It wasn’t a large room, certainly not in comparison to the rest of the house.  In fact, it had originally been intended as a storage closet for linens and the staff’s cleaning supplies.  However, Jol had immediately seen the possibilities for the space and outfitted it for more nefarious delights.

A stretch of black heavy-duty fabric hung hammock-like at one end of the narrow room, its ends secured by metal chain links to the walls on either side.  Soft tethers, meant for wrists and ankles, were also attached to the walls and ceiling, allowing a person lying on the hammock to be tied helpless.  At the end of the hammock was a padded bench, suitable for sitting and playing with the person bound to the hammock.  It was just as good for bending a lover over for a round of discipline or fucking.

Nearby shelves held implements of pleasure and pain, keeping everything within easy reach for amorous participants.  The ones who weren’t bound, at any rate.

Ospar, Jol, and Rivek watched Iris as she took in the amazing room.  Her eyes were wide as she looked around.  The Dramok noted the tremor that ran through her body, the way her respiration sped up.  He also saw how her eyes dilated and how her nipples became blatantly obvious against her shirt as they tightened in reaction.

Anxious and aroused.  A response very much to his liking.