2. Varak
CHAPTER 2
VARAK
T he elevator doors slide open to the top floor. My thoughts drift back to those fierce brown eyes boring into mine. Such defiance. Such strength.
"Miss Thompson, hold all calls."
"But sir, the board meeting-"
"Cancel it."
The mahogany double doors of my office close behind me with a satisfying thunk. Finally, blessed silence. The floor-to-ceiling windows showcase Chicago's steel and glass canyons, but I barely notice the view today.
That small human female. Aileen. The way she planted her feet and crossed her arms.
"This restaurant is my family's legacy," she had said. The fire in her voice. Just like a Vakutan warrior defending their ancestral grounds.
My fingers find the hidden panel under my desk. With a soft whir, the pretense falls away. The "modern art" sculptures retract into the floor. Holographic displays shimmer to life along the walls. My true command center emerges from its camouflage.
The massive central display activates, bathing the room in blue light. Property records, business licenses, and surveillance footage tile across the ten-foot screen. Everything about Papa Marella's Pizzeria and its stubborn owner.
But the data streams blur before my eyes. Instead, I see her standing in that doorway again. Head high. Shoulders back. Challenging me despite knowing exactly who Charles Varakian is supposed to be.
"Computer, enhance image sector four."
The security feed zooms in on Aileen's face as she locks up the restaurant. Such spirit. Such pride. In three hundred years on this planet, I've never met a human quite like her.
I tap my wrist device, dropping the holographic disguise. My true form reflects in the window - seven feet of crimson scales and golden eyes. Tonight I'll have to maintain the illusion of Charles Varakian. But for now, I can be myself while I plan our dinner meeting.
"Sir, your vital signs indicate elevated hormonal activity." Teletran's holographic head materializes beside me. "Shall I prescribe something to dampen these... biological urges?"
"Shut up, Teletran."
"The mission parameters were quite clear. Acquire the property. Locate the weapon. Prevent catastrophic temporal interference."
I snort.
"I know the parameters."
"Then perhaps you'd care to explain why you're reviewing Miss Marella's high school yearbook photos?"
I swipe the image away.
"Background research."
"Of course. And I suppose her social media presence is vital intelligence?"
"The Grolgath weapon could level half of Chicago if activated. One wrong move and-"
"And yet you've scheduled a dinner date rather than implementing standard acquisition protocols."
The truth in Teletran's words stings. Three centuries of maintaining timeline integrity, and now I'm letting myself get distracted by a human female with fire in her eyes.
"Pull up the thermal imaging scans of the sub-basement."
The blueprints materialize in glowing blue lines. Deep beneath the pizza ovens and storage rooms, an anomalous heat signature pulses with alien energy. The Grolgath device, counting down to who knows what.
"The structural integrity of the foundation-"
"I know, Teletran. One wrong move and the whole building could collapse." The thought of Aileen being anywhere near that thing when it activates sends a chill through my scales. "We have to get her out of there."
"The mission requires-"
"The mission requires keeping humans safe. That includes her."
"Your protective instincts are showing, sir. How embarrassingly... organic of you."
I growl and swipe away the holograms.
"Just make dinner reservations. Somewhere expensive. Somewhere she can't refuse."
"Of course, sir. Shall I also compose some romantic poetry while I'm at it?"
"Teletran..."
"Perhaps a sonnet about her eyes? They do seem to have quite an effect on your higher reasoning functions."
"I swear by Ataxia's flames, one of these days I'll find where you actually live, you smug collection of circuits."
"Fascinating threat, sir. I've made reservations at Alinea for eight. I trust even your... limited cultural awareness recognizes it as Chicago's finest restaurant?"
"Perfect." My claws click against the desk as I pull up the holographic disguise options. "What's their dress code?"
"Jacket required. Though I'd suggest the full Charles Varakian business attire. The grey Armani. It complements your imaginary human eyes."
The familiar tingle of the image inducer washes over my scales. Human skin replaces crimson plates, soft and pink. I adjust the tie, studying my reflection. The face that stares back could grace any business magazine cover.
"You know, sir, there are protocols for maintaining timeline integrity that don't involve fine dining."
"Just send the car around at seven-thirty."
"As you wish. Though I feel compelled to point out that your heart rate increases 23.7% whenever you review her file."
I ignore him, instead focusing on the security feed showing Aileen closing up the restaurant. She pauses at the door, looking back at the spot where we had our confrontation. A small smile plays across her lips.
My own mouth curves up in response. Seven hours until dinner. It feels like an eternity.
"Sir, your dopamine levels-"
"Mute."
The blessed silence returns. Though I swear I can still hear Teletran's judgmental hum in the quantum network.
I slump in my chair, letting memories wash over me. Before Earth. Before Veritas. Back when my claws tasted Grolgath blood instead of typing quarterly reports.
The Battle of Rigel Seven. My war-blade singing through scaled flesh as their shock troops tried to breach our lines. The sweet tang of plasma discharge in the air.
"Remember when we actually fought our enemies, Teletran?"
"You mean before you became a keyboard warrior? How droll."
"I led the third assault wave at New Damascus. Now I lead shareholder meetings."
"Your glory days of mindless violence. How tragic to trade them for strategy and cunning."
My fist clenches. The metal desk groans under my grip.
"We knew who our enemies were then. No masks. No pretending."
A data stream catches my eye - Aileen's latest social media update. Just a simple coffee shop photo, but her smile...
"The Precursors work in mysterious ways," I mutter.
"Sir?"
"Nothing."
But the thought lingers. Of all the humans to guard this secret, why her? Why does fate keep pushing us together? The ancient ones were known for their elaborate plans, their cosmic matchmaking.
I shake my head. Best keep those thoughts private. Veritas has enough conspiracy theories without me adding mystical speculation to the mix.
"Sir, about those dinner reservations-"
"Not now, Teletran."
My claws trace the edge of the desk. Three centuries ago, I would have simply stormed that restaurant and seized the Grolgath device. Now I play these delicate games of influence and persuasion.
And yet... watching Aileen's fierce determination, her unwavering spirit. Perhaps there are some advantages to this subtler approach after all.
"Computer, begin mission report dictation."
Teletran's holographic head bobs in acknowledgment. The quantum recorder hums to life.
"Veritas Mission Report Delta Seven Four Nine. Agent Varak reporting. Time index three point two standard cycles." I clear my throat. "My attempts to acquire the property through monetary means have proven fruitless so far. However, I am about to engage in dialogue with a key player in the property management scheme. I believe I can persuade her..." My voice catches. "That is, them, to accept our more than generous offer for the corner lot."
"End dictation. Save and encrypt."
"Report saved, sir." Teletran's pixels rearrange into what I swear is a smirk. "Shall I edit it for accuracy before transmission? Perhaps mention your... personal interest in the property manager?"
"Send it exactly as recorded."
"Even the rather obvious pronoun correction?"
"By the machinations of the Precursors, must you question everything?"
"It is literally my primary function, sir. That and preventing you from making questionable decisions based on biological impulses."
"Just send the report."
"As you wish. Though I do have several suggested revisions that would better reflect your true motivations-"
"Send."
"As you will, Sir."
The AI falls silent, but its holographic expression speaks volumes. I hate being second-guessed by a computer, even one as advanced as Teletran. Especially when it's right.
I study my reflection in the window. Something about the holographic face seems off. Too perfect, maybe? Humans have asymmetries, tiny imperfections.
"Teletran, adjust facial parameters. Add some character."
"Define 'character,' sir. Perhaps a rakish scar? A roguish twinkle in your eye?"
"Just make it more... real."
The hologram flickers as Teletran tweaks the settings. A slight crinkle appears at the corners of my eyes. The jawline softens imperceptibly.
"Better. Increase resolution by twenty percent."
"Sir, higher resolution will drain the power cells faster. You'll only have four hours instead of six."
I tap my chin, watching the holographic duplicate mirror my movement. "Worth it. No one looks that airbrushed in real life."
"The inducer's charge capacity-"
"Up the resolution."
The image sharpens, pores and slight stubble becoming visible. Now that's a face that could charm a stubborn restaurant owner.
"I'll just have to be efficient."
"Of course, Sir." Teletran's holographic head tilts. "If there's one thing that human females value more than anything else, it's efficient seduction..." A pause. "That is, negotiation. Sir."
"Fine. You want me to admit it? I'm attracted to her."
"Finally. I was beginning to worry your cognitive functions were impaired."
I slam my fist on the desk. "Happy now?"
"Ecstatic. Now, according to my research of human courtship rituals via Netflix and various dating websites, you'll need to bring flowers."
"Of course I'm bringing flowers. I'm not completely clueless about human customs."
"Fascinating. And do you know which type of flowers would be appropriate?"
I pull out my phone and open the notes app.
"She works in a restaurant. Baking. Obviously, she'd appreciate some quality ingredients."
"Sir, I don't think-"
"Get Aileen some flours," I type into the phone. "King Arthur's finest selection."
"That's not quite what I-"
"Organic. Stone ground. The works." I pocket the phone with a satisfied nod. "She'll be impressed by my thoughtfulness."
"Sir, there may be a slight misunderstanding regarding-"
"Time to go. Can't keep her waiting."
"But sir-"
I straighten my tie and check the hologram one last time. Perfect. Well, imperfect in all the right ways.
"Car's downstairs. Wish me luck."
"Break a leg, sir. Though perhaps you should google the difference between-"
The elevator doors close on Teletran's protest. I have a good feeling about tonight. This negotiation will go perfectly.
The elevator hums as it descends. I check my wrist display - two hours, twenty-eight minutes of power remaining. Plenty of time to sweep Aileen off her feet.
"Sir, your power cells are at critical-" Teletran's voice crackles through my earpiece.
"Mute all communications."
Blessed silence. Just me and my thoughts of her. The way her eyes flashed when she stood up to me. Such fire. Such passion. A true warrior's spirit in that small human frame.
The display ticks down another minute. Two hours, twenty-seven now. But what's time when destiny calls? Three centuries of waiting, and finally I've found her. My mate. My match.
The elevator doors open to the lobby. My Italian leather shoes click against the marble floor. Everything must be perfect tonight. The restaurant. The wine. The way I'll lean in close and tell her...
Tell her what? That I'm actually a seven-foot alien warrior? That her family restaurant sits atop a weapon that could destroy the city?
No. Those revelations can wait. Tonight is about connection. About showing her we're meant to be together. The rest will fall into place.
The doorman tips his hat. "Your car is ready, Mr. Varakian."
I barely hear him. In my mind, I'm already at dinner. Watching her eyes light up as she talks about her dreams. Seeing that fierce pride soften into something warmer. Something just for me.
Two hours, twenty-five minutes. A mere technicality. By the time the power cells run dry, she'll be mine. Nothing else matters. Not the mission. Not the weapon. Just Aileen.
The car door opens. I slide into the leather interior, my heart racing with anticipation. Tonight, everything changes.