Rachel

Night, late: A good, black darkness. The moon is hiding, so I slip past the night patrol more easily this time. I duck behind the East line of empty cages, images flashing: the young ones that fought back and paid for it, the old ones that wore out quickly.

Wait. Watch. Move.

Pause again at the small shipyard, crouch between the second and third rows of sleeping probes.

Wait. Watch. Move.

Move as the shadow moves: no feeling, no breath, no weight. Now over the encampment borderline and into the trees.

I let my breath go slowly, silently. I listen. A soft breeze rustles the leaves and brushes the side of my face. I think of her hands, softer still than the night wind. I close my eyes, let my memory have its moment: She smiles up at me, her towering spirit squeezed into a small and fragile frame. But it feels so real, she says, hand on my cheek. It is, I reply.

A branch creeks and claws me from my reverie. To not be able to control one’s thoughts: such a disadvantage. I stretch my hearing as far as it will go. Just a branch, just trees—the forest being. I have exactly one Earth hour before they notice my absence. I close my right hand around the heart-shaped locket hanging from my neck. One hour to find her.

____________

Before our true presence was made known to them, I was embedded. When I was given a human form, I became a teenager, some near equivalent to my own age. Male parts, American, English-speaking: it was not what I requested. Now though, because of her, I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Each of us had been given all of the Earth languages. Still, I spoke only English until I discovered what else the other students practiced. As soldiers, we were never given all of the available information: a game for those at the top, billed as protection. Some of the university population spoke rudimentary versions of other Earth languages. I chose child-Spanish as my second.

I called myself Brian; it sounded innocent, stupid, nice. It’s best if one does not draw attention to oneself. I had enough information to blend in, to fool everyone—everyone except her.

What surprised me - what no one prepared me for - was how much pleasure the human form can experience. Just sitting in this body, unmoving, is a near constant cascade of physical pleasure. It was overwhelming at first; I spent days adjusting in solitude, then enjoying gluttonously. Finally, I learned to push it down, compartmentalize. Properly adapted, this body seems to respond well to the focused attention of the mind.

My body buzzed just being near her. Her energy was warm and generous, thick with a sensuality our kind has never known. The word ‘sensual’ - in any language - had no meaning until I met Rachel.

I was there to gather on-the-ground intelligence, subjective experience. Thousands like me were placed across the planet. The probes had been collecting data for hundreds of Earth years, preparing for this phase. I’m still not convinced of the mission’s relevance, considering what came next. Why get closer to a species before annihilating it? We not only torture them but also ourselves—those of us embedded, anyway.

When Earth governments admitted the existence of our probes, command accelerated the plan.

____________

Rachel had - has - dark green eyes, clay-soil hair, cheeks that love to laugh. She laughed at me often, my strange demeanor, my many questions. She said I smelled faintly of orange candy; she smelled intensely of the sea. We found each other in the library, passing in opposite directions. Her gaze grasped mine with a gentle force I still do not fully understand. She was suddenly inside me, rummaging around. The air thickened, and everything slowed down.

Human feeling can change one’s sense of time; it can diminish one’s grip on logic; it can lift or bury in an instant.

She found me later that day, on the steps of the main lecture hall. She asked me to walk her home - a charming social relic. Some part of me processed it properly, objectively, but the rest of me was clouded by human things: my heart rate and hormones, my sweat glands and breath. I wondered if the others were having similar issues.

As the school year passed, we grew closer, spending almost every evening together. When she kissed me for the first time I felt all my plans dissolve like watered salt. Without making a decision, I knew I would risk everything for her.

One night, together in her dormitory bed, I told her everything.

At first, she laughed, her cheeks rounding, her eyelashes tiny wings. Of course you’re from another galaxy, Brian. I’ve always known that. She touched my cheek with her small hand and kissed me. I almost lost my will; her kisses can break down little parts of me—or build them back up.

____________

She is close; I made sure of it. I chose the location, I volunteered for transfer to this sector. Walking North I pick up my pace, looking for my tree markings. Will they still be here one year later? Admittedly, it was not a perfect plan, but it was an inconspicuous one. I push forward and the forest thickens, making it harder to be quiet or see much of anything. I stumble a few times, climb over fallen logs and invisible rocks. So many problems with the human form: it tires easily, its vision is extremely limited, its sense of direction - without a celestial reference - is dismal. Choosing a moonless night was necessary for stealth, but now I have sacrificed my bearings. Minutes, and I am lost.

Why would they hide us in human bodies and not give us the ability to retain the best parts of our true selves? Was it not possible? If we can bring with us language, memory, and most of our identity, why not our sight, our hearing, our full mental capacity? Perhaps that was the point: to fully understand their weaknesses. I feel further from my old self by the day, more and more human.

I hear a distant scream: a human test subject. Or perhaps one being tortured for entertainment. The hair on my neck stands up, chills ripple down my spine. At least I don’t have to watch, tonight.

The wind picks up and the forest moans mournfully. I hear something else behind me and turn to look, tripping on another rock and falling to my knees. The wind subsides and my breath takes its place—loud, panting, risky. I look around, squinting into the darkness; I wouldn’t be able to see a mark on a tree if it were right in front of me. Useless emotion wells up and into my throat. I swing my legs around and kick the rock that took me down, but it doesn’t budge—my ankle buckles instead. Reaching out blindly, I find the rock with my hand.

But it’s not a rock.

It’s her.

____________

All human cities were destroyed at once along with military bases, subaquatic weapons, pesky nuclear bombs—anything that might mount a defense. It was even swifter than I’d imagined, a flick of the wrist, a mere moment. Governments, communications, power grids: all destroyed in minutes. The plan was simple: kill the majority of the species, enslave the rest, let the planet recover to its former balance.

We who were embedded were recalled to safety beforehand, of course; we had a warning. Just enough time for me to make my move.

____________

“This is our only option,” I told her.

“Can’t we escape? Go somewhere?” she pleaded.

I shook my head.

“Not yet. I can’t risk using one of our ships. They’ll know. We’d be caught before we got out of the system.”

Tears welled up in her eyes and I touched her arm. Loving Rachel feels like physical pain—physical pain I would not live without. It is as if my insides are scraped with something dull and heavy while my entire being is made lighter.

She wanted to know why, of course, why it was happening. The short answer was that Earth - though not unique - was easy to take. There are countless Earth-like planets, but most of them are spoken for or fully spent. Humans were not the only species to destroy their own home, but this planet, if saved now, still has time. The human race was not prepared to save or defend it.

“Everything? Everyone…gone?” she asked. A strand of her hair slid down her forehead.

“Almost. But those spared will suffer far worse. I can’t let that happen to you. Either one.”

Her tears flowed freely and silently, a faraway look in her eyes.

“Trust me,” I whispered, unable to make full sound.

She nodded, her lip trembling. If I could have sacrificed my own life for hers, in that moment, I would have. She did trust me, incredibly, despite everything. Rachel never once thought to run from me, hide from me, hurt me, or hate me. I can’t say that for many of my kind.

“Okay,” she managed, calming herself. “So, what is this thing—this…pod?”

The pod is standard-issue emergency tech for all embedded soldiers. If we cannot make it back to our ships before a catastrophic event, we can deploy it and get picked up later. It is egg-shaped with a completely smooth surface and a peach-pink hue. Once engaged, it burrows itself deep underground. There are two modes of operation: one for brief stays and a second, cryogenic-like function that will preserve life for many Earth years.

“It will feel like sleeping,” I told Rachel, squeezing her hand.

“So I won’t know what’s happening around me?”

“Right. You’ll be sort of frozen. And the pod can withstand extreme heat, cold, and almost any weapon set upon it. It won’t allow the…the destruction to harm you in any way.”

Rachel let out a long exhale and looked at me. There was so much layered into that one look—so much love and fear and hope and trust and sadness. I thought my feeble, temporary, human heart would shatter then and there. I don’t know. Maybe it did.

“Why can’t you be with me?” she asked. “I want you to be with me.”

I willed my throat to open enough to speak.

“I know. I want to be with you. But I must make sure no one finds you. I’ve disabled the tracker and emergency broadcast field. No one, except me, will know you’re down there. But I need to be sure.”

Rachel looked down.

“My love,” I said quietly, “I promise I will come for you.”

She pulled the locket from her neck and placed it around mine. Then she touched my cheek, her lips parting slightly.

“I know you will.”

____________

I risk lighting my flashlight for a moment and confirm: it’s the top of the pod, poking out of the forest floor. I turn the light off quickly and sigh with relief. I have her.

Relief lasts moments before I begin to worry. Rachel is essentially exposed now; I have to get her out of there - and out of here - before she’s discovered.

I notice my hand unconsciously rubbing the top of the pod, as if it is Rachel’s arm or back. I can almost smell her sea salt skin. I close my eyes and focus my energy through my hand and into the smooth, pink surface. I’m here, I think to her. I’m right here.

A stick breaks, leaves rustle, my eyes snap open.

Looking down at me are two guards from the night patrol. One of them narrows his eyes.

“You’re not supposed to be here, soldier.”