Tapping his toes restlessly inside his boots, Brinald leaned back in his chair and attempted to ignore Seer Doneld’s sonorous voice.  His jumpsuit hugged at his body, adding to the entire unpleasantness.  This space-wear was so unnatural.  He could hardly wait until they were back on Jenera and he could return to his regular wardrobe; a man’s ass could breathe in a chulin.

With an inaudible sigh, he crossed his legs as he sought another, less irritating, line of thought.

Calathus popped into his mind almost instantly.  He’d been worried about his friend for weeks now.  How was Jovi doing?  Was he improving at all?  Ever since the attack on earth he’d seemed trapped in some enveloping melancholy, and it was beginning to worry Brinald more than a little.  None of the others had reacted this way after their visit to the planet, and Jovi had been given a full physical at his request besides, so there didn’t seem to be a biological issue.  But what, then?

His first thought, that it might be a crisis of conscience, was discarded almost immediately.  If Jovi and Amon had done anything on Earth, like injured or—gods save them—accidentally killed a human, they would have reported it.  There was no imaginable alternative, not for two who’d been schooled in the Hall.  Certain standards of responsibility were too ingrained to be ignored.

Which left him as mystified as he’d been before.  What was going on with the man?

“…protested that the choosing is too great a distance from their homes.  Captain Tonathin will be in charge of ferrying the humans in question to the site.  He will need…”

Brinald retreated back into his thoughts as quickly as he could.  A short glance around the table assured him that he wasn’t the only one searching for a mental sanctuary; he saw more than one set of glazed eyes in the Seers nearby.  They were all in the same hell he was, where anything, even soul-eating boredom, was better than listening to more talk about the tiresome humans and their constant whining.

He couldn’t see why any of them needed to be reminded of these people’s repetitive attempts to wriggle free from their promises.  Nothing in their circumstances had changed.  The humans were still screwed on a planetary level if they didn’t comply with Jeneran demands.  So why did the Seers, or the military, continue to discuss this?

“…again.  President Horton reiterated that his people would be much more ‘compliant’ if power is restored to their military bases, as well as the larger spaceports.  He suggests the day before the bride-choosing as the optimum time for such an operation.”

Brinald sneered in his head; the urge to hit something was almost irresistible.  The arrogance involved in even making requests like this was a never-ending source of annoyance.  In one night, on a planet-wide level, Jenera had crippled almost all of Earth’s entire space-going capability.  The leaders of the Terran government had nearly pissed themselves over it, and they all knew it.  Yet these scat still had the balls to start making demands before their thumbprints had even been permanently recorded on the peace accords.

Terrans were truly unbelievable.

And they were going to be forced to follow the exact strictures of the peace agreement, no matter how much they squawked about it.  They’d get their bases’ power back in three years, when the conditions of the peace agreement had been fully met.  Period.  He’d seen for himself what would happen if his own people gave in to their grumbling before then; the humans would go back on their word in a mika-chime.  Seer Doneld had foreseen nothing but tragedy and death if that happened.  Brinald’s Seeings hadn’t been nearly so informative, but then again, his talent was breadth, not depth.

Not that any of their talents made dealing with the humans an enjoyable prospect.  No one, not the political Seers, not the pairing Seers, not even Brinald with his ability to accept visions from all the branches, had foreseen just how…frustrating…these beings could be.  Simply keeping them honest was a constant headache, not to mention a cause of concern for all of them.  If these men and women who connived with such oily ease were the best the humans had to offer—and why put them in charge of the planet if there were not? —then inter-species relations were already in jeopardy.

He could see why this show of force had been required, he thought, his ears catching yet another complaint as Seer Doneld continued to speak.  Even with intense pressure to acquiesce to Jeneran wishes, the humans were remarkably recalcitrant.  They accepted nothing without argument, not even the bride-choosing, which should have been the simplest of all.

Not that it mattered, in the end.  They had no choice.  As with early power-restoration, the brides were a non-negotiable issue.  It was the true reason the Seers had sought peace with this planet in the first place; the future of their species depended on close relations, in all senses of the word, with these humans.  And however much discomfort it might cause, the Terrans would have to accept that some of them would return to Jenera with the invading force.

He wasn’t sure right now what it would take to gain that acceptance.  Somehow, he wouldn’t be surprised if they were still protesting even after the stubborn idiots were on Jenera, looking up at the triple moons.  Truly astounding, the way they howled over their predicament, like children who were denied a sweet before bedtime.  It wasn’t as though they were leaving their homes permanently; the trial marriages were only about three earth-years long.

And as the humans remaining on Earth would include relatives of the newlyweds, Jenera was leaving quite a few of its ships on the outskirts of the solar system for time being, just in case there was an emergency that required space travel, or defense.

In the end, Earth would have all of its people back, if the spouses still wished to return.  The planet would regain power to its crippled ports and bases when Jenera triggered the proper restore to counteract the Power Sever.  In fact, considering that Earth didn’t even know yet where Jenera was, they could simply go back to their lives as though nothing had happened.

As long as a few of them stayed behind on Jenera, which the odds favored, then Jenera would have what it needed: a new addition to the gene pool.

Honestly, he couldn’t believe they were still causing problems.  It should be settled by now, he thought, uncrossing his legs and tapping both his feet this time.  There were only two days left until the choosing, for the love of the gods.

If they hadn’t been so childishly blind, so mired in a stupid inability to confront their own reality, maybe their bluster wouldn’t chafe at him so much.  He might even have been able to muster up a bit of sympathy for the irritating species.  Without Seers of their own, they were lost.  They lacked the ability to determine something as simple as the route to planetary health.  What chance did they have trying to understand the selection of marital candidates?

‘This makes no sense,’ was a constant refrain from their global Senate.

 But, as the saying went, Logic and Sight were poor friends.  A logical evaluation of this type of thing wasn’t possible—no Seeing gave enough details for that. So every Jeneran request for bride choices had been met with goggle-eyed incomprehension or protests.

Even the pool of people for the bride-choosing had been a challenge: every man transferred to the 23rd Terran Space Corps base during the last four years, the eighth-born sons of every Watanabe in Kanagawa Prefecture, all of Spain’s most popular soccer team, and every red-haired female who lived on Kent Road in Cornwater, Nebraska.  Jenerans might not know why they needed these men and women, and thousands of others, but it was very clear that if the humans came from these choices, it gave the best chance at success, both on a personal and global level.

The humans didn’t have any reassurances on that score; he knew that.  But they did know that the Jenerans had managed to kick their asses to the bark, and that should make them wary.  Possibly even pleasant.  Instead, they were so difficult that more than one Jeneran want to snap the ends off their strange, thin hair.

Well, they couldn’t get out of it.  It had been a trial to organize, but the sites for the choosings were finally set up, exactly as the Jenerans had specified.  Soft colors, soothing music, comforting food and drink—everything that would facilitate a pleasant mood for both species to interact would be provided.  Casual dress was requested, although Brinald had already heard more than one Jeneran fretting over their lack of wardrobe choice, and what their potential spouses would make of them.

Not that such talk was new.  The Jenerans who were going to be involved had volunteered before they even left home; they’d been speculating and agonizing over the humans for the entire trip here.  And now Seer Lolen and the others had been hit with a flurry of new Seeings, so it looked like there were going to be even more Jenerans added to the list.  By force, if necessary.

Just what they needed at a time like this: another irritation to add to the pile.  As if the Sight wasn’t always a bitch when something like this came to a head, anyway.  Whoever had Seeings in the pertinent branches got hit hard, and it had been all pairings this time.  Most of the ‘romance’ Seers were worn to the bone.  Just looking at their pale, haggard faces made Brinald wince in sympathy.

For Lolen’s sake, he hoped their own people would be less frustrating to deal with than the humans had been.  The romantic little man was rather popular, so that would be in his favor when he had to inform people of their change in status.  And the Jenerans would all know what they were getting into; that had to help alleviate some fear.  Every Jeneran volunteer would be returning home as one of a couple.  It would only be for a three-year stint, however—they’d all decided the trial marriage would be the best choice.  The humans, on the other hand, had far more people attending than would be chosen.  They would be there for the Jenerans to look over.  Uncertainty over whether they would go or stay, whether they would remain single or paired up with a complete stranger, seemed to prey on them like a biting meer buzzing around their heads.

Yet another trial the prickly humans were unable to weather.  They disliked the ‘principle’ of it.  They were not ‘cattle,’ as they’d said more than once.  Brinald smiled as he remembered Seer Doneld’s reply.

“Obviously not, or we wouldn’t be seeking marriages, now would we?”

Brinald didn’t believe the humans had found it as humorous as he had.

Stilling his fingers that had started to drum out a bored rhythm over his knees in time to his feet, he sighed again.  His eyes flicked over to the timekeeper on the wall.  Good.  The meeting would be over soon.  He should really pay a bit more attention now.  Seer Doneld always addressed the more critical issues at the end.

“…base and the employees from the Houston AckHeart Space Port will be added to the required human spouse pool in Washington, D.C.  Will you need anything before you can be ready to depart, Brinald?”

Oh, damn.  What had he missed?!

“Depart, Seer Doneld?”

“Lolen has determined the need for you at the choosing, Brinald.  Do not think that you can avoid this.”

Brinald felt his insides go icy, barely noticing as Lolen’s deceptively youthful face peeked around the elder with an apologetic look and a silently mouthed ‘sorry.’ He was going to be required to participate in the peace accords as a spouse?!

He closed his eyes, breathing shallowly.  This was not good.  It was terrible, a catastrophe.  Bonding himself in marriage to a young man or woman for three days would be too much time for him to spend around one person.  Three years would be an unmitigated disaster.  Doneld knew that!  Too much time in the office, instead of the field, was what had caused Brinald problems last time!  Someone near him every day, in his own home…?

He couldn’t do it.  If he ever lost his temper…

“Brinald?  Is there a problem?” Seer Doneld’s tone implied that there had better not be, but Brinald couldn’t keep himself from protesting.  His crimson eyes opened at the same time as his mouth.

“Seer Doneld, there must be a mistake.  You know what it might mean if I take a peace-bride!”

—or a peace-husband.” Seer Yenell said with a small smirk.  Brinald glared at her, breathing slowly to control his own urges.

Seer Doneld aimed a repressive look at Yenell and then a reproving one at Brinald.  He shook his head with a smile after a moment.

“I can see you were closely attending, as usual.  You are going to the San Francisco choosing to find the Human Liaison for the Corill area, not a bride.  He or she will be under your guidance during the human’s time with us.”

There was a moment of relief before Brinald’s stomach sank again, still icy.  He’d known his…inappropriate…response to Yenell’s gross stupidity, just before they’d left for earth, needed to be addressed.  But to be assigned a stationary duty, for three years?  How angry were the Head Seers over his loss of control?

Doneld’s smile changed, rueful and laughing at the same time, as he looked at Brinald’s face.

“It’s not a punishment, Brinald.  Your keeping track of this choice is part of the Lolen’s seeing as well.  You may continue, if the liaison remains with us past the initial period, or come back to Hall duties when the three years end.  It will be your choice.”

Brinald nodded bleakly.  It might not be punishment, but the fact that he would have to deal with the same person, day in and day out, was going to be its own kind of hell.

“As I said, this is not a punishment.  Informing all the new, Sight-designated Jenerans that they will be required to participate in the bride-choosing is a punishment.” Doneld reached down the table and handed him a small imprint key.  “Enjoy,” he said cheerfully.

“Lovely,” Brinald muttered, looking at it.  From the size, it probably had hundreds of names on it.  He wouldn’t know for sure until he plugged it in to the ship’s computer.

“You may be excused from the rest of the meeting.  The new volunteers need to be ready as quickly as possible.  Please remind their captains that the choosing is the day after tomorrow.  There will need to be arrangements made for them on the correct shuttles.  I’m sure I can count on you to take care of those as well, can’t I?”

“Of course, Seer Doneld.” He was sure his frustration was quite clear in his voice, especially when Doneld smiled brightly.  The elderly man could look as sweet as a berry, even when he’d just finished another of his legendary, brutal, training sessions.

Brinald stood abruptly and headed out the door.  Lolen smiled sheepishly at him as he passed and Brinald patted his shoulder.  The pairing Seer might be in his thirties, but he never seemed to lose his rather idealistic turn of mind.  He always struck Brinald as almost too fragile for the power of foresight.  Brinald had heard Lolen weeping when something he Saw caused someone pain, even if he knew it would work out for the best in the end.  Remembering that Lolen had been the one behind Brinald’s trip to Earth effectively prevented an irritated mutter under his breath; the man didn’t deserve added guilt.

But once he was out in the corridor, Brinald was letting loose.  Talking to all the newly chosen Jenerans was going to be a right bitch.  They would follow orders—everyone almost always did what a Seer recommended—but he would get the brunt of the whining and the moaning and the constant streams of ‘why, why, why’ that invariably followed an unexpected Seer proclamation.

It was going to test his temper quite a bit.  Doneld had chosen the perfect punishment for Brinald’s losing it in the first place.  With a disgruntled grumbling inside his own head, he headed out the door to walk over to communications room so he could start down the list.

 

Sixteen hours, Brinald thought, groaning as he stood up for a moment and stretched out his body.  He arched back, arms upraised and dark green hair gleaming with a nearly ebony sheen as it shimmied over his back.  The clear gems embedded in his hair twinkled as he righted himself and walked over for a drink.  He only had one more name on the list, but he just knew he was going to need something a bit more fortifying than water for this one.

If only it had been anyone else, he would have finished it already.  The moment he’d seen Jovi’s name on the end of the list, however, he’d been unsettled.  Depressed already, how was the man going to react when he found out he was required to take a bride in a day and a half?

Brinald already knew the answer: not well.  It was the reason he’d decided to finish this off in the privacy of his own room instead of in communications like the others.  Jovi was easygoing for the most part, something Brinald had always envied, but when he blew his top?  He made Brinald’s fury look like pastel fluff on the wind.  What were the odds that this was something that might push him over the edge he seemed to be teetering on already?  Grasping the most alcoholic mil he could find in his room’s cooler, Brinald settled himself back in his chair with an irritated flop.

This last name, and then he could sleep until it was time for him to go down to the choosings.  Only Jovi to deal with.  He took a long draught of mil, savoring the sour edge to it.

The Gods help him on this one.

Keying in the address for Jovi’s personal screen, Brinald waited for him to answer.  His toes began tapping and he stilled them impatiently.  After three delicate gongs, a bleary-eyed face filled the screen.

“Brinald?  Dammit, do you know what time it is?” Jovi yawned loudly, trying to scowl at the same time.

“The official time is ‘too late for any shit,’ I believe,” Brinald felt weary to the cellular level, but still, he’d meant to be a little more relaxed than that.  Damn, his lack of sleep was not helping right now.  He took another quick drink.  “Sorry.  Seer business, Jovi.”

Brinald saw his friend’s body react like every other person he’d spoken to.  A tense wariness took over the man’s face while he waited for the sword to fall.

“What is it?” Jovi asked.  Brinald wished he could ignore the bags under Jovi’s eyes, or the tension around his lips.

“Lolen had a Seeing.  You’re to be one of the peace-husbands,” he said quietly.  Jovi blinked, and Brinald waited for the explosion.

And waited.

And waited.

Jovi was silent and still so long that Brinald began to wonder if he was having a breakdown.

“Jovi?  I said you—

“I heard you,” Jovi’s voice was rough, but his body remained frozen in the same position.

“Ah.  Good.” Brinald cleared his throat.  Jovi’s lack of movement wasn’t as nerve jangling as rage, but it was disturbing all the same.  “You’ll…need to go to the San Francisco site.  Your commander will have the details.  All you need to do is show up and choose one of the human candidates for a trial marriage.”

There was finally a reaction as Jovi’s eyes narrowed.  Brinald hurried before he lost the chance.  Friend or no, Jovi could still manage to shake Brinald’s composure when the man blew his top, and it looked like it was almost that time.

“Male or female, there’s no Seer’s restrictions on that.  And…” Brinald paused as he tried to figure out what his last bit of information might mean, before he passed it on.  Most of the extra candidates today had received a message along with their orders.  Assurances that this would help fill a void in someone’s life, or that one of the humans would be the perfect father to their child, or that they should listen to their inner-voice that had been urging to them to volunteer.

Jovi’s message was a bit more cryptic than most.  It made no sense at all, in plain fact.

“I have plans of my own before we leave Earth,” Jovi finally interrupted Brinald’s thoughts with a firm, angry voice.  “The only time I have is during the bride-choosing.  And besides, I can’t marry right now.  I still need to find...  There’s simply a mistake somewhere.”

“You know you don’t have a choice, Jovi, not with something like this.”

Jovi’s face darkened noticeably and Brinald began speaking as rapidly as he could without revealing that he was trying to outrun the upcoming rage.

 “Seer Doneld added a personal note for you that he thought might help.” Too fast, he thought, restraining a wince.

Jovi was almost growling when he responded.  “I doubt there is anything he could say that would—

“Pink.” Brinald spit out the word with one sharp exhalation, and he stared as Jovi reacted.  He didn’t think he’d ever seen that expression on his friend’s face before.  Stunned disbelief?  Shock?  Desperation?

“I…take it that means something to you?”

“You’re sure that’s what he said?  Pink?” Jovi asked quickly.

“It would be hard to misread it.” Brinald watched him closely, searching for the fury that had been there moments before.  He couldn’t find it.  Instead, Jovi’s eyes lost their focus, and Brinald was startled when he heard him- was that a moan?

“I’ll be there,” Jovi said hoarsely, and he cut the connection without another word.

 

                                                *            *            *

 

Noah moved smoothly over the dusty trail, shaded by the tall pines surrounding him.  His legs hit the ground in a regular, energy-conserving lope as he jogged the last mile before home.  Muscles humming under his tattered black sweats, he tried again to let the rhythm and heat lull his mind into the hazy, exhausted meditation that true fatigue always granted him.

Breathing deep and even, his unconscious slowly overcame his senses.  The soft sounds and shadows around him covered his skin like cobwebs.  He was finally finding some peace, some—

He stumbled on a pebble and reality came rushing back.

Dammit.

He got to go play mail-order husband tomorrow.

Dammit again.

Overcome by a sudden shiver, he almost tripped over another rock and his lack of grace made him clench his fists.  He spotted a side trail that would add another mile onto his run and took it angrily.  His body was under his control; he would make sure it was.

Another shiver combined sensuously with the remembered feel of broad fingers brushing across his skin, and he started cursing in time to the pounding of his feet.

Thud.

“Bastard.”

Thud.

“Prick.”

Thud.

“Molesting Ass.”

Thud.

“Get out of my head!”

He started sprinting but could only keep going for a few minutes before his body complained so strenuously he had to slow to a walk, his sides in agony.  The sun beat down on his head as he panted, limping down the trail.  Sweat ran down his bare chest like rainwater.

This had to stop.  Every time he thought of standing around and letting alien women look him over for some short-term marriage, he imagined him there.  Noah could see him so clearly, head arrogantly peering around as the bastard walked through a room filled with humans, sneering and groping indiscriminately as though he owned them.  Noah would be standing to the side, unnoticed until the Jeneran turned and happened to glance at exactly the right spot.  Their eyes would meet.  Staring at Noah, the ass would be utterly shocked, his face would pale, and Noah would run over and beat the fear of God into him until he pleaded for forgiveness and vowed never to touch another human being again.

And then Noah would kiss him.

He snarled.  That was the worst of it all.  No matter what he did, he couldn’t stop the last image.  The more he tried to avoid it, the longer the kiss lasted, lingering.  He couldn’t stop thinking of kicking the man’s ass for touching him, but the kiss always followed.

If he’d had the opportunity, he would have started trading saliva with anyone who’d have him, to clear the taste and feel of the alien from his lips.  That would have taken care of this strange obsession.  Thanks to Vane, however, that wasn’t possible.  The bastard had resumed his ‘Get Noah’ campaign as soon as he realized Noah had left the Space Corps, starting with smearing his name, as usual, and now no one would come near him.

Who’d be willing to get close if they could contract AIDS, VD, herpes, syphilis, and gonorrhea?  Oh, and crabs as well, he’d almost forgotten that little rag out of Venezuela that Vane had bribed.  The moron was still such an insufferable, self-absorbed ass.  Hadn’t changed a damn bit since high school.

He hadn’t understood why Noah was pissed at the rumors he’d spread back then, either.

Although hell, maybe Noah would have been glad about all the shit Vane pulled, if it had taken Noah’s concentration away from Jenera and the upcoming ‘choosing.’

Changing his stride to a slow jog again, Noah couldn’t stop thinking about what it would mean, to be chosen.  He knew that the Jenerans didn’t necessarily expect sex—they’d made it clear that a trial marriage was intended for two people to get to know each other.  Sex was at their discretion.

Thank God.

But anyone a Jeneran chose would have to leave Earth for the entire three years required for this kind of…thing.  And that meant that once again, Noah would be away from his family.  Not like he had much of one, it was just him and Grandpa left now, but he missed the old man!  They’d been apart for his five years in the corps and he’d been looking forward to spending some time with him.  Then the Jenerans had to go and choose now to make demands.

It pissed him off.  What was worse, being the grandson of one of the senators, there was no way he could truly protest without it reflecting badly on Grandpa.  Elijah Ashfield might tell him to do what he thought was right and to hell with the rest of the world, but Noah couldn’t screw Grandpa that badly.  Hell, since Jenera had ass-fucked Earth’s spaceports, the senators and other dignitaries were busy nearly round the clock.  How could he repay that kind of commitment with running out on Grandpa just to avoid a few years fraternizing with some alien woman?

He wished he’d managed to spend some time with the old man before he had to go to the choosing, though.  The Planetary Senate had been meeting practically every day since the attack, working out how to respond, and what to do about the Jenerans' demands, and how to agree to the demands, and so on and so forth, ad nauseum.  As Grandpa was fond of saying, the old blowhards needed a majority vote and three committees just to take a shit.

Now he had one night left before he might possibly be leaving for a different planet, and he probably wouldn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to the old man.

And it was all Jenera’s fault.  One Jeneran’s face shimmered in front of his eyes again, a mirage that he couldn’t rid himself of, and he focused on it.  The perfect symbol of every damn thing that was going wrong right now.  If only he could pound on it and get rid of the horrible, burning ache in his gut over the entire situation.  No kissing, just knuckles smashing into that sexy face until the lips were so swollen there couldn’t be kissing.

If only.

His feet hit the ground hard as he emerged back onto the main trail—the dirt road up to his cabin—and he halted suddenly as he saw the two men standing in the middle of the road.  The shiny black van behind them looked blurred with sable dust.  He shuffled in place to keep his muscles from stiffening up as he watched them carefully.

Identical black suits, as usual.

One set of blue eyes apologetic, contrasting with the determined ferocity of the other pair.  Again, business as usual.

“I really don’t need this shit right now,” he muttered.

“Vane has a message for you,” the smaller one said, his red braid smooth and sleek over his shoulder.  That was Two for you, always the first to speak.  The larger man by his side nodded emphatically.

And there went One.  If One ever disagreed with Two over something, the world would likely explode.

“There is absolutely nothing Vane could say that would interest me, unless it was news of his imminent death.”

One scowled.  He towered over Two, his dark hair standing up in small, gravity-defying spikes around his head.  “You shouldn’t talk that way about Mr.  Allen.  He—

“Look, we’ve been over this.  I don’t want to talk about Vane.  I don’t want to hear about Vane.  I sure as hell don’t want to see Vane.  So whatever ‘kidnapping attempt of the week’ is being planned here, you’ll have to leave me out of it.  I’ve got an appointment with the Jenerans tomorrow.  There’s nothing Vane can offer that would trump that.”

He didn’t get any closer.  More than words were usually required to dissuade these two.

One nodded, his huge body nearly wriggling with excitement.  “We know.  That’s why Vane wanted us to pass on his message.  He’ll be at the San Francisco choosing, too.  He didn’t want you to worry—he’s taken care of everything.  You won’t be bothered by any Jenerans.  He paid enough to—uh.  Nevermind.  You’ll be safe.  That’s what he wanted you to know.  So you could, you know, say thank you.”

Noah stared at them, his heart slowing to normal as he continued to shift back and forth, keeping his weight on the balls of his feet.

“And he sent you all this way to tell me that?  I’m not quite that stupid.”

“Well, if you’d take his fucking calls, we wouldn’t have to come out here,” Two muttered, yanking at his braid irritably.

“What do you really want?” Noah looked behind them.  He could just see the gate to his property around the edge of a few pines, but it was at least half a mile away.  They could catch him easily if he tried to walk around them and head for home.

Which meant he’d have to deal with them here and now.

So what else was new?

“That’s all!  We’re just delivering the message!” One said earnestly, and Noah sighed.  That damn face of his—the man was like a giant puppy.  A giant, gullible puppy that Vane constantly sent after Noah to ‘invite’ him to dinner, or the theatre, or a cruise, or a gay bathhouse.  Noah’d had to beat the large man so many times it was embarrassing.

He would have preferred to simply let the cops deal with the situation, but the last time he’d tried, it had blown up in his face.  The tabloids went crazy over Noah’s ‘obsession’ with Vane and his vicious beating of the man’s employees.  Damn Paparazzi Bill—he could have sued them all for slander in the old days, but now?  Their lobby was too powerful by half, the bastards.

At least Noah had enough skill of his own to protect himself physically, thank god.  Although he would have thought One and Two would have grown tired of pain and quit Vane’s employment weeks ago.

Even if they hadn’t, he’d figured they would have been fired for so many failures.  Shame they hadn’t been.  They weren’t too bad, for mindless minions to an obsessed, spoiled, ass of a man.

“If that’s all, then get the hell out of my way.  I’ve got a run to finish and then I need to pack for tomorrow.”

“But it’s all arranged.  You won’t be chosen!  You don’t need to pack.” One wrung his mammoth hands unhappily.

“I don’t take charity from anyone, even someone trying to keep aliens off my ass.  And most especially not from Vane the Vain.  Leave, or I’ll call the cops again.  I don’t care if the papers crucify me.  This shit is just too much.”

Two put his hand on One’s massive bicep and after a few whispered words, they both turned and walked back to the car.  Two hopped up into the driver’s side—no surprise there—and the entire vehicle rocked as One got in the passenger side and squeezed himself in.  Noah stepped to the side of the road as they drove by him, tensing in expectation of an attempted grab, and was a bit stunned when they kept going.

That was it?  Vane passing on the message that, as usual, he was doing his best to ensure that Noah had no romantic opportunities…not even with aliens?  Noah shook his head at the thought and walked the last half-mile to the cabin with a slow, sweating tread.  Too bizarre.

That man needed someone to beat the crap out of him.

Laughing shortly, he conceded one small point.  Vane had managed to take his mind off the Jenerans for a moment.  Noah snorted, stamping through pine needles as he walked up to his front porch.

About to open the door, he jumped back defensively as it creaked before his hand touched the knob.  He stared at the attractive, middle-aged man in front of him.  Black hair brushed the collar of a conservative, old-fashioned suit—the man never had liked the skin-hugging body tights that were so popular since body-sculpting had become affordable.

“Grandpa!  You didn’t tell me you were coming!”

He barely got the words out before his face was smothered in the man’s chest as he was enveloped in a bear hug that literally took him off his feet.  When he started pushing at the hard stomach to get a bit of air, he was finally let down just inside the door.

“This may be my last chance to see you for three years.  You think I’m going to miss it?”

“How the hell did you get up here?  There’s no car in the drive.”

“Copter.  They’ll pick me up again in the morning, don’t worry.” Sharp blue eyes looked him over.  “You look tense, son.”

Noah waved his hand as he walked over the wooden floor.  He headed into the living room and began to stretch out his hamstrings.  “It’s nothing.  Dink and Twink were waiting for me on the road in.”

“The Allens?  Damn, I didn’t see them at all.  You have to hurt them too badly this time?” Elijah Ashfield sat down on the rather run-down sofa, leaning back as he watched his grandson begin his cool down.

“They didn’t try anything.  One was very earnestly trying to reassure me that they wouldn’t.  Seems Vane is up to his usual shit, but this time with the Jenerans.”

The senator sat up straight in a heartbeat.  “If that little bastard does anything to ruin the accords, I will hang him up by his balls.”

Noah smiled at the image while he shook his head “I don’t think he’s quite that stupid.  Not to mention he has to go to the choosing himself.  From the little they said, I’m betting on a wall of people between me and the alien incursion.”

Elijah relaxed back onto the couch.  “It’s a poor commentary on our own race, but I don’t think that would take much persuading.  You’d be amazed how many people I’ve seen, asking how to best attract a Jeneran.  Power’s still a potent aphrodisiac, I’m sad to say.” He looked carefully at Noah’s flushed face as his grandson bent over to stretch out the back of his legs.

“How are you doing with this, son?” His voice was soft.

Noah’s body stiffened for the barest second, but he was sure his grandfather caught it.

“I’ll get by.”

“I know you will.  You’re Mathew and Oneera’s son—if anyone could get by, it would be you.  But I’m asking how you’re doing.”

Noah continued stretching with a supple bend and tried to calm before he answered.

“My pride is burning, but it’s nothing anyone else isn’t going through.  We all have to be there or this might fall through.”

Elijah stood up at the same time Noah straightened from a stretch.  He walked over and put his hand on Noah’s shoulder.

“I know one of them will choose you, Noah.” Elijah said seriously.

“Grandpa, don’t be so melodramatic.”

“I know it.  And don’t give me any sass about being a superstitious old man.”

“Forty-one isn’t old.  And you know you just use your status as a grandfather to give yourself cachet as a ‘wise, old senator.’”

Grandpa cracked a brief smile.  “Sure as hell do.  Gotta use every advantage I’ve got.”

Noah smiled back, fully aware that their faces were still tense.  They were too close to fool each other, at this point.

Although some never quite realized what distance there actually was between them.  Their blood connection was tenuous at best—Elijah was more of an age to be his father than anything else.  But the man’s curious habit of taking in strays had landed him first with Noah’s mother, and then his father only a few years later.

Not many men under twenty were willing to take care of another teen, and yet Elijah had done it twice over.  Three times, if you counted the miserable day he’d had to come for Noah, as well.

Grandpa was a damned saint, as far as he was concerned.  “I think you have more brains than the rest of those old farts, anyway,” Noah finally said.  “But you’re worrying about this too much.  Hell, I doubt if the Jenerans will even be able to see me as long as there is someone standing in front of me.  Can’t pick me if they don’t even know I’m there.”

Elijah’s face was solemn.  “They’ll see you.  And however ‘elevated’ these Jenerans might be when it comes to ethics, they’re still affected by beauty, Noah.  Just look at what happened the last time one of them saw you.”

Noah wished he’d never told Grandpa about that.  Damn.  “Somehow, I don’t think this will be quite the same situation.”

“No?  There isn’t some Jeneran coming to pick you up and carry you off tomorrow?”

“Grandpa—you know that’s not what I mean.  And besides, maybe I’ll do the carrying.  For all we know, their women might be teeny.  Maybe I’ll see some green-topped alien and sweep her off her feet and you’ll be stuck with a horde of alien grandbabies.”

Elijah smiled and pulled him in close again.  “I could live with that, as long as you were happy.  Although how the pink and green hair would mix…”

Noah poked him in the stomach, hard, and Elijah grunted out a laugh.

“Shall we just forget about it for the time being?  I brought beer, and I know you have most of your video games up here by now.  We can have a man’s night at home.”

Noah glanced at him, the heavy weight of his grandfather’s arm still covering his shoulders.That sounded…exactly like what he needed right now.  Something to take his mind off of everything, and something to remember for the next few years if he wasn’t coming back home.

“All right.  As long as I get to pick the game.”

Elijah groaned.  “Don’t tell me, I can already guess.”

“Yup.  Zombie Dragon Slayers from Mars.” Noah couldn’t help grinning at the familiar distaste covering the old man’s face.  They went through this every time.

“That much gore isn’t good for the soul, you know.”

“It’ll make me feel a hell of a lot better, though.”

“You could always try something a bit more my speed.”

“Like what, the Ancient Secrets of Sparta?”

“Don’t knock it.  It’s a classic.”

“It was a classic when you were 21.  It’s an antique now.  People are using the game case for coasters in retro clubs.”

Elijah tsked sorrowfully.  “You young people have no taste in video games any more.  It’s a sad, sad lack.”

They made their way into the kitchen to grab the beer, still joking, and made it back to the living room to fold onto the floor, leaning against the couch.

Two beers later, Noah knew he was in trouble.  “You sneaky bastard.  You’ve been practicing on the sly, haven’t you?”

His grandfather grinned, eyes never leaving the screen while his graceful fingers pressed buttons in rapid succession.

“I don’t like to lose.  Now shut up and play, son, the dragon’s about to kick your ass.”

 

                                                *            *            *

 

Noah sipped his water carefully, hoping the gesture came across as bored disinterest rather than a way of stifling his growing irritation.  If anyone was able to see it, of course.  Wedged into the middle of tuxedo-clad humanity as he was, it was likely that no one could.  And considering that every time he managed to push his way through a few feet of crowd the shape morphed until it encircled him again, he didn’t think anyone was ever going to see him.

The entire situation frustrated the hell out of him.  He couldn’t even breathe!  The air around him was choked with body odor and expensive perfume, trapped against his face by the throng.  And the heat—his hair was limp against his face, sticking to the back of his neck like a piece of damp fur.

A man shifted behind him, the slick fabric of his tails brushing against Noah’s bare arm, and even that was annoying.

Didn’t these morons understand the words ‘dress casually?’

Pretentious, rich idiots.

Although, to be fair, everyone else he’d seen, before he’d been surrounded, had been dressed in their best as well.  It was simply that most people’s best was a nice dress or a pair of slacks and a button-up shirt.  He just happened to be stuck among the few wealthy idiots here, the ones that Vane had coaxed or bullied into standing guard.

The twits were obviously perfect for Vane.  They had to know Noah was in the middle of them, and yet as soon as his head was out of sight, they started gossiping.  Did they think he couldn’t hear?

Or had they forgotten what he might do to them?

Either way, it was pissing him off, because just this one night, he couldn’t do anything.  He’d promised Grandpa he would try his damnedest to hold onto his temper, and he would.  He’d sip his lukewarm water and he’d sweat and pretend he didn’t give a damn about what they were saying.  And hopefully he could figure out a way to get out from the middle of them without causing a scene that could affect the choosing.

Not that Noah would even be in this hot mass of humanity if not for Vane.  And like everything else Vane did, it felt like a cheese grater over Noah’s skin.  Dammit, he wasn’t going to take unfair advantage, protected while all the other poor saps were stuck out in plain sight as Jenerans looked them over.  He simply needed to think of a way to get out without causing any permanent injuries.

A braying laugh echoed following the horrified mention of his name and he scowled.  Maybe he should rethink that.  A little pain might do these overfed peacocks a world of good.  At least it would get them away so he could breathe again.  Pulling at his t-shirt with his free hand, he lifted the black fabric from his chest and poofed it a few times to try and make a breeze.  He panted from the heat, choked, and closed his mouth immediately.  The air tasted like sweat.  He wanted to hurl.

“What amazes me is how many women still decided to go through with the pregnancies.”

Noah took a desperate sip from his water as he tried not to vomit, and paused as the strident voice cut through the group’s murmur like a rusted knife.

“Can you imagine deliberately not terminating, knowing that your child is going to be some genetic mutant?”

Anger flared instantly.

He could just imagine the cow’s dramatic shiver.  He’d seen them too often in person.  PureGen freaks like Noah were always a good target, he thought bitterly.  He shoved the pain and anger over her comment down into his gut; he could manage it.  The Jenerans’ choosing husbands and wives might be humiliating, but it was a necessary humiliation if they wanted to survive.  They couldn’t risk anything causing the Jenerans to think they were trying to get out of the accords.  Finding a way out of this group of Vane sycophants, without violence, was the goal, he reminded himself.

 He heard another round of horrified titters and then a familiar voice interrupted.

“But they’re not mutants.  The PureGen alterations were inherited by the kids, that’s all.  I mean, I know the company said nothing could be passed on and all, but that doesn’t make it a mutation.  It’s a genetic alteration that accidentally kept going.  That’s not the same thing, right?  And anyway, a lot of them were really pretty.  Like Ashfield.  I think his hair is really neat.”

Spreading warmth flashed inside Noah’s chest at hearing Mike’s earnest words.  The man didn’t even know Noah was within earshot, and he still defended him.  Noah wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t heard it himself, but he knew Mike was unaware he was nearby.  There were a few of the men from the base here, those who’d been transferred over the last few years, per the Jeneran ‘request.’ Although who knew why the hell the Jeneran’s thought ‘recent transfers’ was a fitting category to pull spouses from; it made no sense.  But he’d heard Mike and the others asking after him, wondering where he might be.  So the man wasn’t speaking from some desire to score points—he legitimately believed what he was saying.  Maybe Noah should have made more of an effort to keep in touch with them.

“I stand corrected.”

Noah scowled this time, the water forgotten.  That facetious tone was so obvious anyone but Mike would pick it up.

“And of course you’re right.  Ashfield’s hair is certainly very… distinctive.  One could recognize it anywhere.”

There were some stifled giggles.  Noah’s stomach burned acidly and he accidentally crushed the cup in his hand.  He didn’t notice the water splattering over his beat-up tennies as he tried to stay still.

Don’t make trouble today, Ashfield.  Do Grandpa proud.

“I know.  It really stands out.  You can pick him out anywhere with hair like that, right?” Mike said happily.  The woman must be hot for Mike to be babbling like that.

The bitch.

Noah’s face slid into blankness as he dropped the cup to the ground.  The snickers were louder now, at Mike’s expense as much as his own, and that was a different thing entirely.  Mike might not be the most adept or aware in social situations, he might not have been a close friend, but he’d still been good to Noah.

Noah didn’t forget that, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let it be repaid with contempt.

With a sharp elbow, Noah began pushing his way towards the sound.  A young man with shoulder-length pink hair, fucked silly by one of the more portly senators, had been showing in all the rags recently, and the pictures of it flashed in his head, one at a time.  Mike never read the things—he hardly even watched TV, from what Noah recalled.

He wouldn’t get the joke.

Not that the joke would be there in the first place if not for Vane.  He owned the damned papers that were running the story.  As if the sexually transmitted diseases weren’t enough.

The thought helped him focus, growling under his breath as he shoved and squirmed and, in two cases, kneed in the groin to get his way through the crowd.  Before the woman could speak again, Noah erupted from inside the herd.  Every empty head listening to her turned, and then paled considerably when they saw him.

Mike’s voice stopped him before he took two steps.

“Noah!  We were just talking about you!  Where the hell have you been?  The guys were lookin’ for you.  I told them you’d be around; you were transferred in just like the rest of us, right?  So that means you’d have to come too.  How are you doing?  No one’s heard from you and…”

While Mike continued blathering, the others were rapidly backing away to try and find less dangerous pastures, and Noah glared at them furiously.  The bluff hand pumping his own in greeting only impinged on his consciousness enough to keep him from moving.  Concentrate on Mike, he told himself, not the bitchy little girls who thought that teasing a harmless rube would be without consequences.  His body shuddered inside as he grappled with his anger and tried to shove it somewhere it couldn’t hurt anyone.  He had to remember the Jenerans, dammit.  A fight in the middle of the choosing could send the entire process to hell, for all they knew.  He had to get a grip.

Breathing hard, he looked past Mike’s head, finally in open space now that everyone was more afraid of him than Vane.  The first thing he saw was Vane scowling at him, slim and crisp in his dark tux.  His black hair curled around his face like some childish, demonic halo.

Noah flipped him the bird and started looking elsewhere to avoid the temptation to stomp the brat.  Everywhere there were humans and Jenerans chatting with each other, clutching drinks or bits of food in limp napkins.  Pastel colors covered newly painted walls.  There was even music, he realized, barely audible over the chattering roar, but sweet and soothing.

He could feel the entire effect on his own system, now that he was no longer trapped.  With a deep breath, he scanned the room again, examining.  The sheer number of green-headed people made a strange impression, as though he were in the middle of a Green Energy pep rally.  But aside from their coloration, they were so…normal.

He hadn’t expected that.  He’d thought his fellow humans would be more wary: a group of nervous, frightened victims, grudgingly complying with this ridiculous farce for the sake of their planet.  But neither the Jenerans nor the humans looked worried at all.  Or maybe they were as good at hiding it as he was.

Not more than a few feet away, a couple wed each other while he stared, bemused.  It was surprisingly banal.  The Jeneran woman unclasped a silver bracelet, one of a pair, from her arm.  With a smile and a soft touch, she clasped it around the wrist of the young man she’d been speaking with.

And that was all it took.

The guy didn’t seem to mind.

Noah watched as they both walked towards the exit, the human blushing slightly.  Still, he truly didn’t look too reluctant to go.  He seemed rather flattered, actually.

Nice to feel wanted, even by an alien.

Although the fact that it all came across as so ordinary made Noah feel small and a bit juvenile.  Some part of him had almost expected a scene from a bad movie: aliens physically overpowering the terrified humans before they carried them off to have their wicked way with them.

The relaxed, easy-going nature of this ‘choosing’ was almost shocking…and it was going to be in the papers.  He’d bet on it.  Good Jeneran PR, in spades.

Maybe these aliens knew what they were doing.

The peaceful feeling smoothing out the spiked edges of his anger, he could finally ignore the last remnants of the Vane Slaves behind him.  He let his eyes wander from face to face.  The Jenerans certainly seemed to have picked from the good side of the gene pool for this, he thought.  They were all extremely attractive.  That curious hair, thick stranded and soft and in every shade from spring green to pine, was past their backsides for every man and woman he saw.  Skin-tight suits of silvery gray covered their bodies, but it made it very clear just what a human was getting beforehand.

And they were getting some prime meat, from what he could see.

He swallowed as a young Jeneran male glanced his way and ran his eyes down Noah’s body.  The other man was a bit sexy, but it didn’t matter.  Earth still hadn’t legalized gay marriage; Noah just had to worry about the women he came into contact with.

He turned his head, noticing out of the corner of his eyes that the young man was coming over despite his subtle signal of disinterest, and he bit the inside of his lip.  Mike was still talking, a meaningless drone in his ear.  Noah was wondering what to say if the Jeneran actually addressed him when his eyes paused as he recognized someone.

Halfway across the room, he caught a glimpse of familiar features.  Broad jaw, deep eyes, and those damn, sensual lips.  The man was scanning the room, his face moving back and forth as he walked slowly across the marble floor.

It was that damn ass-grabbing, molesting bastard.

Noah snarled under his breath, all the irritation and fear and humiliation of the day boiling up in a sudden geyser that overwhelmed everything.  It was him.  He was here!

“He’s dead,” he growled, and his legs began moving, ignoring Mike’s concerned questions behind him as he started to run.  The Jeneran’s movements stilled as he noticed Noah emerging from the crowd, and his mouth broke out in a huge, pleased grin as his eyes met Noah’s.

Bastard.  

Bastard!

I am going to knock you on your damn ass!