He—almost fell over his own feet as he tripped to a stop.
Liam stood on the flight field.
Their eyes met…and held.
CHAPTER 7
Except for the eerie, ever-present circular shadow carved out of the sunlight by the threatening alien spaceship, the sun above looked normal. The sky gleamed the crystalline blue of an Oregon summer through which the clouds drifted, fluffy and white, and with languid ease. Sure, months from now everything would be covered in the Big Gray, but not right now. Right now, things were gorgeous.
Raptors flew above the tall pine trees, waterfowl paddled and quacked in the nearby river, and squirrels chased through the grass.
Engines and voices rumbled from the near distance. A light breeze swept the line of soldiers standing with regimented discipline on an area of cleared ground, perfection in every squared body and jaw.
The equipment before each pair of polished boots gleamed.
Liam stood among his fellows and felt like a giant ass.
As the platoon sergeant droned his welcome speech, he considered his plight. The look on Mike’s face when they’d made eye contact moments ago hadn’t been one of welcome. In fact, it was better described as shocked, maybe even horrified.
Christ, it was looking like this coming year was going to suck.
He’d clearly made a dumb decision. He was not welcome.
What the fuck had he been thinking to come all this way, to push himself into an alien military company? Then to make the tragic decision to volunteer for the military flight detachment. Why?
Because of a kiss?
One hot kiss, sure, as well as a world-changing one, but it seemed of little importance to anyone other than him. First Sergeant Mike, AKA Gorgeous, was indifferent, perhaps even uncomfortable.
That sucked. Maybe that explained his humongous mood swings. Moments ago, he’d been riding high and ready to dance on air. Man, he was feeling godlike. Flight, never his comfort zone, didn’t scare him today. He was ready to leap into the skies and do that Superman thing.
Man, just think about it. Powered flight without a plane?
Amazing. But now? He thought he might puke, which was a feeling he was more familiar with when faced with flight. Where had that excitement come from? Had someone loaded his breakfast foods with sprinkles of idiocy?
Furthermore, what had he expected upon his arrival? For Mike to surge forward and pull him into a bear hug? Okay, yeah, he’d imagined that. While the guy was in active ranks? Probably not realistic, but hell, a smile would’ve been nice.
Clearly, the guy wasn’t interested.
“…flight outside a machine will be unique for your people,”
Mike was saying. “The Urilqii understand the challenges you will face, as well as the time needed to acquaint yourself with the sensations and the equipment.”
“Indeed.” The platoon sergeant, a guy named Phil, nodded his agreement. “In truth, fledgling Urilqii don’t just leap into the air either. They need training. They get training. They get comfortable and then they get good. Look around you.”
He swept an arm in an arch. Liam, as well as his fellow flight volunteers, followed the gesture. Behind them, garbed in flight gear, ranks of alien infantry stood at ready. Four vehicles idled quietly at the very back of the half circle. Liam counted helmets and discovered each machine contained six Urilqii. They watched and waited in silence.
“What you see,” Phil continued, “is the number of troops who will assist your training and acclimation. Your equipment”—he pointed with a long index finger at the bundles at the volunteers’ feet— “will be in observation mode upon your first lift. It’s for your training and protection.
“Your suits are controlled by the sleds”—the finger now stabbed at a higher angle to indicate the machines— “so you may go aloft and maintain altitude with absolute confidence.”
A desert sandstorm slammed into existence inside Liam’s mouth.
“The individuals behind you,” said Phil, “are there to assist in the event one of you loses altitude, which can happen when a first time flyer panics from the newness. New flyers are unstable. That’s a reality.”
He shrugged before he continued.
“The suits you will use are battle-tested and have passed safety inspections. Equipment failure is a remote possibility. I’m not gonna lie, but the expectation of it happening are so minimal as to be near incalculable.”
Liam coughed. Was that a burp or a gag?
Mike stood with feet braced and arms crossed, radiating authority. “If you tumble, we will catch you. We will do two things. One, link the suits so the more experienced flyer can take control and stop the drop, and two, give the new flyer something to hold onto. That gives an immediate negation to the feeling of freefall.”
Liam coughed again. It tasted like puke. Not a good sign.
“If,” Mike plowed on, “for whatever reason, both suits fail, you will not fall alone and we will ensure we hit the ground first. You’ll land on our trooper to spare you as much of the impact as possible. We won’t like doing it, because it fucking hurts, but we’ll do it anyway.”
Wild, synchronized roars ripped across the area and were followed by repeated bass hoots. Hoo…hoo…hoo…
Liam clawed his heart from where it’d lodged into his throat and concluded that was the Urilqii call of solidarity. His first clue was the lack of reaction from Mike or Phil at the sound. In fact, they offered expressions of knife-sharp approval when it split the air.
“Okay, let’s suit up and fly.”
Mike’s robust conclusion, full of cheerful enthusiasm, was an obvious ploy to ease any insecurities. It didn’t help Liam, however.
In fact, he was feeling woozy. He was sweaty and hot.
Phil stepped up and took command of the instructions from Mike, who didn’t protest. Mike, however, slanted a glance toward Liam. His brows gathered over his nose and his eyes narrowed with a squint.
Liam thought about figuring out a good time to consider what the expression meant, but he was busy paying attention to his stomach. It
