TAMMY #2
Cyro stepped forward first, then hesitated.
His magnificent tentacles flowed out behind him, undulating and mesmerizing.
He stared at me through the dusty air, light flowing across his form, his silvery eyes fixed upon me with an intensity that made my knees weaken.
So many emotions crossed his face, too complex for human words.
Kalith and Vantor stood just behind Cyro. If only we could read one another’s minds right now. I waited for one of them to speak again, to say anything at all. I needed to hear their voices; to confirm they were truly standing in front of me. Vantor’s three words were not enough.
Then suddenly Cyro was moving again, crossing the distance between us with that fluid and quick grace that no human could ever truly mimic.
As he approached, his form rippled and shifted, but he did not fully withdraw into a human disguise.
He settled into a hybrid self, with several tentacles extended, undulating with raw emotion.
Those tentacles wrapped around my waist, gentle but insistent as they lifted me effortlessly into the air.
My feet left the ground, and suddenly I was spinning, twirling in circles as Cyro held me against his chest. The motion sent dust motes swirling around us like tiny stars in our own private galaxy.
“You’re really here,” I whispered, reaching up to touch his face—the face he’d crafted to walk among humans but that had become so dear to me. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
“Never seeing you again was a reality that we could not accept,” he replied, his voice soaked in emotion. “So, we corrected our course.”
I smiled widely as a tentacle emerged from beneath his collar, curling to stroke my cheek with exquisite gentleness. The sensation—cool silk against my tear-heated skin—broke everything loose inside me. Fresh tears spilled over, but these weren’t the bitter tears of abandonment.
Joy. Relief. Hope.
I looked up at the wrecked roof of the barn, eyes clamping on innumerable stars.
“Let me down,” I tapped Cyro’s shoulder firmly.
He lowered me immediately but refused to release his hold. Moments later, Vantor was at our side.
“We have missed you deeply, Tammy.” My watchdog alien’s words were low and heated.
There was nothing cold and apathetic about his tone.
The softness inside of him, usually shielded, now existed out in the open.
His body flashed with brightness, communicating other things he perhaps couldn’t speak out loud.
He extended his tentacles, wrapping them tightly around me and Cyro.
Kalith arrived next and completed our circle, his human form the most complete of the three, though his smallest tentacle remained stubbornly visible, reaching to wrap around my wrist in that familiar, comforting gesture I’d missed so keenly it had quickly become a physical pain.
“I missed you too,” I murmured, then gave a soft laugh, “We’re acting like you guys have been gone years.”
“It feels like we left a lifespan ago,” Cyro said, uncharacteristically hyperbolic.
“Ten lifespans ago,” Kalith mumbled, stretching and curving his body so he could rest his head atop mine.
“You abandoned your mission,” I said, the realization striking me with breathtaking force. “Your people, your planet—”
“We sent the samples,” Kalith explained, his voice carrying that slight mechanical echo it always did when he was deeply moved. “The data will reach our world. But we... we couldn’t leave you.”
I looked from one face to another, seeing the truth written in their expressions, in the colors pulsing beneath their skin, in the way their tentacles reached for me as if they couldn’t bear even inches of separation.
“I can’t believe you did that.” My heart thudded. The heat in my belly reached a fever pitch. How could I ever live up to that? How could I be worth leaving a world for?
I tilted my head back, looking up again through the massive hole their ship had torn through the roof.
The night sky sprawled above us, stars scattered across the darkness in patterns I’d stared at for hours since their departure.
But now, with them beside me again, those stars no longer seemed cold or distant. They were simply beautiful.
“I think we should just put in a bunch of skylights,” I said, my eyes fixed on the glittering expanse above. “Let’s not block the stars.”
“Skylights,” Cyro repeated slowly. “Transparent roof sections to allow visual access to astronomical phenomena while maintaining structural protection.”
I’d missed the way he explained the world. The way he constantly looked for answers.
“I can do that,” Kalith said quietly, warm breath pulsing against me. “Custom skylights. Perhaps with automatic shading capabilities for daytime.”
“Of course you’re already improving on my idea,” I laughed, and the sound of it floated around us. “It doesn’t need to be so complicated.”
“Not complicated,” Kalith corrected gently. “Optimized.”
A comfortable silence blanketed us, but only for a heartbeat, before panic tried to seed itself inside me.
“You’re here to stay, right?” I blurted out, feeling like a raw nerve. My gaze roved over their faces, studying their expressions. My Omega scent spiked the air, shifting with anxiety. “You won’t suddenly change your minds later?”
“We will not.” Vantor’s reply was fast and firm. There was no way I could doubt his sincerity. He lifted his human hand, cupping my face. I leaned into his palm.
“Good. Let’s go to the house then. Let’s go home.”
Soon, we were in the living room of my home—our home—and exhaustion, along with the large quantity of liquor I’d consumed earlier, began to do their worst. I swayed, body feeling like it wasn’t my own. My aliens tried to coax me toward the stairs, but I protested.
“I don’t want to sleep. I want to stay awake,” I protested, stumbling in the other direction toward the sofa. “I’m afraid you’ll be gone when I wake up.” I collapsed onto the cushion, shaking my head emphatically, as if they were still trying to get me to go upstairs.
“We left everything behind,” Vantor spoke as he moved to stand in front of me. “Our world, our people, our past. For this. For you. Why would we leave?”
“I don’t know. Maybe your bodies will suddenly de-adapt to Earth.
You’ll get to dry. Or… or—” I sleepily struggled for another stupid reason they might abandon me again— “or you might suddenly realize Earth sucks compared to your real planet. What’s the name of your planet? Did you ever tell me that?”
I was so tired my vision was blurring, but I refused to close my eyes.
“You are being unreasonable,” Cyro moved next to Vantor, and folded his arms across his chest, tentacles hanging down low, ends twitching. “I am not sure how to calm your distress.”
“It is simply the World of Many Waters.” Kalith was the one to answer my question. “But it goes by other names. I am unsure which, if any, we imparted to you.”
I was being stupid. I knew that. Exhaustion always made me irrational.
“I’m tired and still a little drunk,” I admitted, feeling the lingering effects of whiskey softening the edges of reality. “Are you sure I’m not dreaming you?”
Cyro’s tentacle brushed a strand of hair from my face, his touch sending shivers down my spine.
His human hands touched my shoulders and gently turned me.
He gave my upper body a gentle push, and I laid down across the cushions without protesting.
“We will be here when you wake,” he promised.
“And the day after, and all days to follow.”
“We love you, Tammy,” Kalith said the words I needed to hear to succumb to sleep. To trust that this was all real.