Page 12 of Topping Off the Alien

“So. A different planet, huh?” He lies back down, putting a little more space between us. “How come you speak English?”

The pivot is clumsy, but I go along with it.

“We’ve been visiting Earth for some time. We document the languages of charted worlds, and English is one of them.”

“You and your entire crew speak English?”

“The crew’s uniforms carry implants that map local languages on contact. Standard equipment for any crew that travels.”

Weston’s gaze sweeps down my naked body, one eyebrow raised. “You’re not wearing a uniform.”

“Prasinus royals are educated in the languages of charted worlds.”

A crease forms between his brows. “How long exactly have you guys been visiting us?”

“Longer than your recorded history.”

“That’s... vague.”

“I can’t tell you more.”

He rolls onto his side, propping his head on his hand again, studying me. “And you need to open a new wormhole every time?”

“Yes.”

“How often is that?”

“It varies. Wormholes are unstable. They require substantial energy to open and maintain. Unless—”

“Unless?”

I look at him. “Unless a wormhole becomes an anchor.”

“Anchor,” he repeats. “What’s that?”

“A permanent wormhole between two places. If the bond is strong enough.”

“Bond between?”

“A Prasinusian capable of conduit work and someone on the other side. If the connection is deep, it holds the wormhole open.”

“I see,” he digests it, his gaze drifting over my shoulder. “So you learned English yourself, huh?” he says finally.

“Yes. As well as roughly twenty other Earth languages.”

He chuckles. “Of course you did.” His eyes meet mine. “That’s very you, Sol.”

It lands like a touch, my name cut down to three letters, falling from his mouth as if he’s known me for years. Goosebumps rise along my arms, and I suppress the shiver that wants to follow.

“On Prasinus,” I say, keeping my voice level, “only intimate lovers shorten each other’s names. It’s... significant.”

His grin widens. “Well, we’re on Earth, so, you know. Earth rules.” He leans closer. “You should call me Wes.”

The goosebumps intensify, spreading across my chest and down my spine. I breathe through it and say nothing.

Wes studies my face for a long moment. Then his gaze drops to the marks on my chest.

“Are you strong enough now to open a wormhole?”