Contaminated Read online

  Skynan’s lips part, then her brows pop up at the same time her shoulders make an upright motion. “You know, some women are devastated, if they want a baby. So I think it would be fair to say that some individuals are more affected than others when the, ah, ‘shedding’ happens.” She shrugs again. “But I don’t have a partner. Even if I had the desire to reproduce, I’m missing the other half I’d need in order to be a pair. And that’s just the way it is.”

  CHAPTER 14

  When the darkcycle hits, Skynan is once again lying beside me, sharing my resting place. Where her closeness was soothing before, it’s still that—but it’s more. I feel very aware of her, in the way that a male senses a female, and I know it will be a long time before I succumb to anything resembling sleep.

  It’s made a lot longer when I stare at Skynan.

  I can’t help it; my gaze is drawn to her like my eyes are magnetic and she’s an iron-containing object. Wait, no—like she possesses an impossibly strong external magnetic field.

  She absolutely does.

  My third eyelids snap over my eyes, rehydrating the dry surfaces—dry because I haven’t so much as nictated.

  Erreck, this is unhealthy.

  Yes, but if I feed this compulsion now, perhaps I won’t stare at her all of tomorrow’s daycycle where it will be unhealthy and surely unnerve her.

  Skynan’s thin, strange eyelids twitch.

  I pull back, frowning.

  They twitch again.

  Nooo…

  Why is Skynan *experiencing spasms*?

  DON’T PANIC!

  Carefully, I lay my hand across her smooth, silky forehead.

  She doesn’t react.

  When her twitching continues, I slide my fingers to her cheek, and pat her lightly—and insistently. “Skynan?” I whisper.

  Her lips part, her mouth opening slightly—but she doesn’t speak. And her eyelids are still seizing.

  Fear skitters up my spine.

  She doesn’t have Lʊʊnjaɠ—she doesn’t!

  The odds of her displaying late-onset symptoms of a mutation like or exactly like ours are so infinitesimal, it’s impossible to extrapolate. But logic does nothing to quell my anxiety. “Skynan, I am concerned,” I tell her, raising my voice a fraction higher—but not quite able to rise to my normal speaking voice. It’s the middle of the darkcycle; it seems wrong, somehow.

  I bring my other hand up to her other cheek, and—if she weren’t caught in mid-seizing!—I would like how it feels to… to hold her small, soft face between my hands.

  To stare into her eyes.

  If only they weren’t flickering and twitching. It’s frightening.

  “Skynan!” I whisper loudly, and—and I press inward with both my hands, squeezing her too-soft self very carefully.

  Her face mushes between my hands—as malleable as if she were made of melting wax!—and I nearly draw back in shock.

  But that’s when Skynan’s lids tap open. “Mwhaa… Erreck? Wbahts wrong?”

  “You sound strange, for one thing,” I tell her, searching her features, not moving a muscle as I study all of her with intense focus.

  “That’s becawse yourb squeebing myb faceb,” she points out.

  “Apologies!” I draw my hands up and away from her.

  Immediately, the lost touch makes my chitin tingle.

  Skynan huffs a laugh, and her own hands come up to rub at her cheeks, making the roundness shift and move unnaturally. Well—probably naturally for her, I suppose. “S’alright. There a reason you woke me up?”

  I breathe a sigh of relief. “You were spasming in your sleep, and I—” I shake myself, feeling the tension and anxiety ebb, seeing that she’s looking normal. “I was concerned.”

  I jump when Skynan’s hand is suddenly pressed to my cheek. “Oh, Erreck—no, I’m not coming down with motor function trouble.” To herself, she mumbles, “I deserve an award for being able to say that at the crack-of-whatever-time this is.” To me, she explains patiently, “What you saw was probably rapid eye movement—it’s a stage of the human sleep cycle.”

  My brows are drawn together and I can feel myself frowning as I try to concentrate on the information and not how very much I like the touch of her hand on my face. “That’s strange.”

  She laughs tiredly, and drops her hand from me so that she can shift from her back onto her side, facing me. “Only to you.”

  “I’m certain Simmi would say it was strange too,” I point out.

  She laughs again, before yawning. “Only to your people then, how’s that.”

  I nod. “Fair enough.” Not thinking clearly, I go back to what I was doing before I rudely woke her.

  I stare at her.

  “Erreck?” Skynan says, voice soft and half-asleep.

  “Hmm?”

  Her lips stretch tiredly, and her lids are nearly touching, only barely peeped open enough she can watch me. “I promise I’m fine. You don’t have to watch over me, okay?”

  Forcing a smile, I murmur, “Of course.”

  But when she closes her eyes and drifts off to sleep again, I go back to staring, because the idea of watching over her is more settling to me than even the option of rest for myself.

  CHAPTER 15

  The next morning, I should feel exhausted—but I don’t. I feel strange, I feel closer to Skynan, somehow. I surmise that an entire darkcycle of studying a female’s every movement is bound to elicit a stronger force of attraction.

  And it is attraction that I feel. There’s a tense awareness I’m experiencing at her nearness; it only becomes more pronounced when she removes her skins.

  I’m all too aware of the sexual tract that is centered somewhere between her legs, with its sperm highways and egg storage units, all of her internal equipment dormant until she’s aroused by a swollen-membered male counterpart who has developed enough of a bond to desire to reproduce.

  Or… scratch an internal sexual itch.

  When she steps into the mizzling stall, her fleshy areas jiggling in captivating ways, I squeeze my eyes shut. Because I’m not ogling her as has been my habit of distraction, I manage to sanitize myself today—and I run algorithms in my head until my groin plate feels less pressure to pop open.

  Skynan hauls her heavy skins in with us to wash, and then she drags them onto the drying grid as usual—but very unusually, she doesn’t climb into all of them as soon as they’re dried. Instead, she only re-attaches her thin inner membranes.

  One membrane bands around her suspended organs situated on either side of her sternum, then a larger membrane fits over this, covering her from her wrist to her shoulder on each side, and from her throat to the bottom of her torso.

  From her lower-middle to her ankles, she wears form-fitting leg-huggers.

  But under her leg-huggers, she wears a capping membrane for what I’m almost certain is her groin tunnel. It hides her seal completely. And it shouldn’t be of interest—but oh how it is—the capping membrane has frilled edges. It’s strange, and attractive. But what’s its purpose? If her seal keeps her groin tunnel from being exposed, is the capping membrane a further form of barrier? An anti-breeding seal?

  I’ve never been so curious in my life.

  Most daycycles, when I watch her apply her membranes, it’s all I can do not to pin her down and examine her. Today is more of a trial than normal.

  “Erreck?”

  I start sharply, and jerk my gaze up from where it had been pinned on Skynan’s nether-region. “Sorry, sorry—yes?”

  Skynan’s lips are pressed together, flat—and her cheek-pits are so deep, I wonder if I could put the tip of my tongue in them—

  Where did that thought emanate from? “Sorry!” I repeat again—and wince, because thank the Creator, she doesn’t know my thoughts—but it will seem suspicious if I continue to apologize to her for what seems like no reason.

  Skynan’s really pressing her lips together now—she’s rolled them into her mouth, almost, and it’s an oddly end
earing look.

  I cover my eyes so that I stop staring. “Ah, Skynan,” I gesture blindly up and down at her, “We need to leave soon; time to finish adding your outerskins.”

  “I’m going to leave my suit behind today. Your temperature and air are close enough I can function without it, and the suit gets kind of cumbersome, you know? I move around a lot better like this.”

  “I’m not going to get any work done today,” I moan behind my hand.

  “What was that?” Skynan asks, her tone even more sweet than usual.

  “Nothing,” I mutter, still behind my hand.

  Laughing, Skynan peels my hand away from my face. Feeling her degloved fingers touch my chitin should be grotesque.

  Yet, it’s absolutely the opposite. I want her to press and feather her degloved self all over my carapace.

  When we arrive in the lab and Simmi sees that Skynan’s discarded her outerskin in favor of showing her innards for all the world (thankfully, only us) to be subjected to, he retches.

  Skynan lowers her backflesh sack slowly, studying his reaction.

  “Stop it!” I tell him.

  Skynan glances at him with a curious quirk to her mouth. “What’s his problem?”

  I hesitate.

  Skynan tips back her head to study me. “Is it the no-suit thing? Because that’s so hypocritical.” She turns on Simmi. “You don’t wear suits. You don’t wear clothes at all—you don’t even use blankets.”

  Wincing, I explain, “Being that we don’t wear our innards on our outsides, it is slightly unnerving to us that you—well, we’re essentially covered in a protective sort of skin-shell, see?” I say, tapping my arm, losing even more of my already reluctant momentum at the way Skynan’s lips are stretching up in a disturbingly amused grin. “It’s, ah… disconcerting, to see you walking around, skinned as you are.” I wince again, unsure what to make of her reaction.

  Skynan doubles over and whoops.

  Simmi and I jump back.

  Skynan makes her chuckling sounds for some time, but eventually, after Simmi has pulled some of his desk items closer to himself and further away from where she’s expelling happy sounds and yes—sigh, likely some minute trace amounts of germs and saliva—she calms. “These,” she says, peeling her upper membrane from her sleek innards, “Are clothes. Garments,” she adds, waiting to see if the words translate.

  Simmi makes a face. “Aren’t your tissues fragile? Shouldn’t you keep your… your... soft, unshelled self covered?” He gestures to all of her. “Wouldn’t it be wise to keep your armor on at all times for the sake of your delicate tissues?

  “I am covered,” she starts. “This,” she says, poking her very delicate-looking arm tissues, which depress concerningly-deep under such light contact, “Is my,” she raises both hands now, and displays forked, upright-held sets of forefingers. “‘Armor.’ It’s stuck on me all the time or I die. The clothes and suit are optional, technically, although humans usually require shirts and pants and stuff just as extra protection.”

  “This is what you’re supposed to look like all the time?” Simmi utters, revulsion plain.

  “Simmi!” I say sharply.

  But Skynan takes his reaction well, if her quick grin is anything to tell by. “Yeah, Simmi. Underneath this—” she pokes herself again, and I can’t even blame Simmi; I’m ashamed to say we both shudder watching her do it “—I’m a bag of raw, squishy organs, and muscles, and—ready for it?”

  “No,” he replies, face twisting already.

  “Fluids, Simmi. Humans are full of fluids.”

  Simmi’s limbs have been pulled tightly to his body, even his tail—which he doesn’t normally like to handle because of its unfortunate proximity to the floor, and therefore, germs. “That’s revolting.” He shakes his head, too horrified to say more.

  Skynan turns her attention on me. “You don’t seem as terrified.”

  I shift uncomfortably. “Well, to be fair, I’ve had more time to grow used to your skinned appearance.” I wave at her. “Er—your clothing-less appearance, that is.”

  Skynan gives me an amused look. “It doesn’t bother you?”

  Steeling myself as my reproductive organ attempts to make Skynan’s acquaintance by thudding insistently against my groin plate, I clear my throat. “I find you strangely appealing to my senses.”

  Skynan’s smile widens.

  Simmi shivers. “How?”

  We ignore him. “You’ve never met aliens who wore clothes?” Skynan asks.

  Relaxing, I answer, “We personally have never seen an alien before you. And the outerskin fashions of aliens in bygone eras past was definitely not what was covered in our history texts.”

  I’m relieved to know I’m less deviant than I feared; I’ve not been experiencing lustful urges for a skinless alien, with all her nerve endings and tissues exposed. I wasn’t even certain how one would go about, ah, frolicking with a mate who was entirely skinned. It seemed to me this would be an insurmountable concern.

  Skynan’s gaze stays connected with mine for so lengthy a pause, a strange heat blooms up my spine. The moment is nearly electrifying—if one disregards Simmi’s dry heaves.

  CHAPTER 16

  I’m watching her sleep again.

  And I know I’ve been watching her too much when Skynan wakes up and catches me staring at her—because I don’t feel embarrassed. By now, I hardly register that this is likely inappropriate. “Erreck?” she asks, voice only slightly muffled by the pull of sleepiness.

  “Hmm?” I ask her, still admiring her silky, near-featureless skin.

  “Are you alone here? I mean, besides Simmi.” Her skin-covered muscles bunch as she raises herself on an elbow and twists up in order to look at me.

  “I have no family here,” I answer.

  Skynan’s eyes instantly sheen over, and she sinks her teeth into her lower lip. “I’m sorry they’re gone. Do you—”

  “Oh, no, they’ve not died,” I rush to say, hoping to take the broken look off of her face. “My parents are very much alive. I also have a sister,” I say proudly.

  Her shoulders drop a fraction as she lets out a breath of relief. “You do?”

  “I’ve met her twice,” I share fondly—and I completely miss the way Nancy’s happiness melts to horror. “She’s a Clear; my parents couldn’t love her more. She’s very bright, and when I’ve visited her via holovid, I thoroughly enjoyed discussing the Theory of… Skynan? Why do you appear emotionally disrupted?”

  Skynan’s expression is stricken. “Did your parents kick you out because you’re a Carrier? Is that why they kept your sister but not you?”

  “It’s not quite like that,” is what I manage, as I cast around for a way to explain. “Born a Carrier, my options always face limitation. It’s just good sense to provide the best resources to the offspring with the most potential, so when I came of age, as many Carriers do, I left home to pursue higher schooling and a career…” I pause as her stricken look turns into a wrecked one. “I’m not sure what exactly I need to say in order to convince you this is no cause to grow concerned over, but if you’ll steer me in the right direction, I’ll tell you anything you want to know if it takes that crushed look from your face.”

  Instead of looking less crushed, Skynan attacks me. She wraps herself around my arm, and—unprepared for this somewhat welcome shock—I fall back, and she falls on me, crying, “Erreck, your life is so sad!”

  Her hairs are blanketing over my face very, very fetchingly. It takes me two tries to form words. “It’s a far, far better lot than any Affected has.”

  “I want better for you,” Skynan admits.

  “I’m quite happy in this position,” I assure her—referring entirely to our current one, with her draped over me.

  “How can that be true?” Skynan cries, starting to sit up. “Your dorm is tiny and devoid of—of any personality. You’re not even allowed to have a plant! And you work with plants!”

  “Which is part of the
reason my lack of plant ownership status doesn’t upset me,” I gurgle. The feeling of her hairs trailing over—and away from—my face ignites a strange panic inside me. Without thought, my hand wraps around the back of her cranium, and slides into her hairs, catching her fast. She smells clean here; her hairs hold scent, and what's more—her hairs smell like me.

  Some part of me ruled solely by dormant masculine instinct flares to life and rumbles in pleasure that Skynan has bathed with me in my mizzling stall—because of this, she smells like me. Because she bathes with me alone, she wears no human males’ sticky claiming sperm gel in her hairs.

  As she told me; she isn’t half of a pair. She has no male human to scratch her itches.

  But here… if she wants me, Skynan has me. And I want her to want me.

  I have felt very alone, even though I’m among my people. But with Skynan’s warm body spread over my sternum, with her strange softness melted over me like hot foam curds on well-aged ğurk, lonely is not at all what I’m feeling. To the contrary, with Skynan, I feel as if someone’s plugged a code sequence into my system that I’ve been missing.

  I may not need Skynan in order for me to function, but I want her. I can’t go back to my mindless, rote days pre-Skynan; I’ll never again be able to settle for ordinary. She’s a high-powered source of lumens to my formerly candlelit world.

  “Nancy?” I say softly. She hasn’t moved since I caught her by her hair.

  Her voice is breathy and hushed but not frightened when she replies, “Yes, Erreck?”

  Forcing myself to release my grip on her, I stroke my fingers through her hair strands rather than clutch her so tightly. “When I’m with you, I want something better for me too,” I tell her softly. “I want to join with you. I want to very much.”

  Skynan’s smile turns shy, and her lower lip finds itself captured and taken prisoner by her teeth once more. “I want to ‘join’ with you too, Erreck.”