Wait…did the Geneva Convention even matter in a war against hostile aliens? Christ. This situation was reminiscent of a cheesy Ed Wood movie.
Anxiety settled onto his shoulders and stayed there with every step he took alongside his platoon as they marched into the unknown. Jeez, what were they doing? “Embedded” meant nothing. They would be of no more use than the journalists in the Iraq-Afghanistan action had been. This was a reach-around, no question about it. Furthermore—
A hiss-sputter of engines to his right cut into his thoughts. Liam looked up and over. To his surprise, a squad of Urilqii dressed in powered armor descended from the sky and landed on the quad nearby. The last man down landed a bit away from the group, as though he observed the unit for discipline and acumen.
Liam didn’t see anything of the man other than his backside, nor did he see the bug that buzzed by his head loudly enough to cause him to wince. He flinched and waved his hand by his ear as it buzzed past him again, hoping to scare it away. It didn’t buzz off. In fact, it made another determined flyby.
Liam tried to locate the bug, ideally to slap it dead, but it must have slipped behind his head or something. Waving his hand all the while, he glanced back toward the Urilqii squad and discovered the observer had turned to face him.
The helmet sported two designs across the forehead, probably alien letters that indicated rank or role. The black visor concealed eyes and nose, leaving only the lower jaw visible. A scruffy line of mustache sprouted above the upper lip. The body hugged by the self-flight armor displayed every luscious muscle, as well as the tattoo on his right breast, that of the E’ssennet, through a transparent section.
Electricity sizzled along the pathway of Liam’s nerves with enough force that he gasped. He gasped again when the soldier tapped the side of his head to retract the dark visor and it slid up to reveal Sergeant Mike’s face. The now-dangling chinstrap revealed a short box beard.
At last, Liam thought. Here was Sergeant Mike, star of his jack-off fantasies. Unless it was the other guy? He realized he was grinning like a goof, but didn’t give a rat’s ass. He waved hello.
He didn’t know if the greeting was returned or not because a scant second after he gestured, a roar of “Eyes front” split the air.
Liam snapped his attention back to the collar of the guy in front of him and found his discipline and rhythm for the march.
He hoped Mike was as happy to see him as he was to see Mike.
Otherwise, the coming year was gonna suck.
* * *
Mike watched the platoon of volunteers as they headed toward receiving. More specifically, he watched Liam. Sure, he’d assumed the guy would show up, especially considering the Envoy’s agenda on the topic, but the actual moment of realization had felt like a kick to the chest.
He’d lost his breath and his balance momentarily upended.
When Liam had caught his eye and smiled a greeting, obviously delighted to see him, Mike had had to fight the urge to lunge over there and wrap his arms around the guy.
So not good , he told himself.
Delight surged through his awareness, coming from Steve or maybe the Envoy. Both of those two fuckers thought this situation hilarious. What had Steve said? “Welcome back to the game of life?” Fuck him. And the Envoy? What had he said, “I’m confident it will be a beautiful blend.” Fuck him, too.
The most astonishing thing about the situation was how Liam gave indications of sensitivity to mind-link communications. Every time a cabal member near him sent a thought, Liam reacted. He waved his hand, as though trying to brush away an errant bug. But it wasn’t the sound of insect wings; it was the mind-speak.
Mike evaluated the situation and concluded that humanity was amazingly adaptive. An astonishing development, really, since this appeared to be a result of nothing more than Mike’s tongue and his sexual pheromones.
He wondered who would take Liam under his wing. It wouldn’t be him. No, he’d sworn never again to take an adnama. The loss was still too deep. Someone else would get to enjoy those hot, hot, hot kisses and tight body.
Steve’s distant laughter drifted to him via the mind-link.
::Fuck off.::
Their commander broadcast orders to his leadership personnel.
::Volunteers are on base. Deploy to the assembly hall. Prepare for orientation and upcoming integration testing. Fifteen cycles on the click.::
Mike watched Liam twitch and wave his hand again.
Interestingly, he also noticed seven others with similar reactions.
That boded well for the embedded project, but the four arrivals that displayed the necessary sensitivity did beg a question. Had other Urilqii danced with tongue and body with a member of Earth’s dominant species? If so, they’d managed to avoid notice. He’d been the only one on the firing line.
::They’re called humans,:: Steve mentioned.
::Dudes,:: corrected the Envoy, ::the goal is to get close, not to force distance.::
Liam brushed at a non-existent flying insect again, which encouraged a feeling of satisfaction to ease into Mike’s awareness via the Envoy. He bit the inside of his cheek to avoid sending the words that threatened and swiveled back to the team standing behind him.
He jerked his fist in a fast pumping action, the gesture that ordered dismissal.
::Fall out, :: he commanded. ::Secure your gear and clean off the dirt. Fall in at the assembly hall in no less than fifteen.:: They broke smartly and double-timed it to the nearest armory.
Mike followed at a slower pace. Like the men ahead of him, he disarmed and peeled away his personal flight suit, then stepped into the BioClean unit. It rumbled and groaned. Dirt and airborne detritus swirled down the drain in a brownish whirlpool. When it switched off and released him, Mike stepped over to the sink and washed his face and hands because the
