The mountainous landscape is even hard for me to keep my footing on, so I do not envy the less-coordinated humans. They are not made for such cold and such increasingly high altitudes. The quick pace we held for a time begins to slow, but it is to be expected. The cold weather gear seems to be holding up at least. Stacy still wears hers dutifully, unwilling to call attention to herself, but her pink cheeks are a secret combination of her being a touch over-warm … and the looks of hungry lust I keep throwing her way.

My cock hardens anew every time I think about stripping her of the thick material and trailing my tongue and teeth over her soft, warm, fragrant skin. Lifting her, holding her easily in my battle-toughened arms, wrapping her thighs around my waist. I grit my teeth hard.

A normal human would die in such temperatures within half an hour without proper protection, and though she no longer needs it, if she ever needed it to begin with, there is no easy way to explain it to the rest of our group without delving into what we were up to last night. Neither of us are ashamed or anything like it—I am confident that Stacy’s blush each time she meets my eyes is from pleasure, anticipation for the next time we have a moment to ourselves.

Relations in this group have been strained from the beginning. There is no need to knowingly make things more complicated with the news of our mating. Perhaps we had been overheard last night despite the snowstorm wailing around us, but still, it seems a blatant act of instigation to actually mention it.

The men are flagging, most of them too exhausted at this point to even bother complaining about the cold, though Vince does still manage the occasional joke about the icicles hanging from his nostrils or how impressive it is that he has not been able to feel his fingers in an hour. Despite this, the cold weather gloves keep steadfastly warding off frostbite. Stacy and I could have run rings around them under normal conditions, but as we continue, the footing grows ever more treacherous. After a time, I am the only one not losing my balance every few minutes, as the ground grows more and more icy. Stacy looks disgruntled each time I pause to help her up.

“Stupid human feet,” she grumbles. There is a slight edge of amusement in her eyes even then, and I marvel at her good humor. “How are you not falling?”

“The tail,” I answer, looking back. “It’s remarkably helpful when keeping one’s balance.”

Vince sighs. “Never thought I’d be jealous of a man with a tail, but I’m certainly wishing for one right about now.” Just after stating this, he slides a few feet down the incline he is walking up and sighs.

“We should be close,” I say, but judging from the silence of the others, I haven’t exactly inspired them.

Stacy is the first to help the others when they stumble, even the scientists who have spoken to her so cruelly throughout the past few days. The thought makes my steps pause momentarily. Surely it can’t have been just a few days since we first spoke. It seems impossible that she could have grown to occupy the entirety of my mind in such a short time.

Then again, perhaps such things are normal with mates. With the sparse population of my species, it is rare to see such unions, and I know little about them, aside from things said in stories. It must be normal, the way my gaze keeps drifting to her across the snow, even though this means sometimes turning around and staring quite obviously.

I have never felt happiness in the manner that I did last night with her in my arms, with her lips and her hands trailing over my body—the smile she gave me this morning after we mated a second time. The happiness has not lost any of its intensity, and it flares up again each time our gazes meet. She may be an alien to me in all but blood, with strange looks and stranger habits, but that only makes her more beautiful to me. The bright intelligence in her eyes and the kindness of her soul is evident even with our difference in species.

My thoughts are broken off when there is a sharp cry of alarm from my right. I turn toward it instinctively, eyes fixing on Darwin, who has lost his balance yet again. It wouldn’t normally be cause for a commotion, but the man has let the wind and his own tired feet carry him too close to the edge of the ledge we stand on. It is more than wide enough to be safe for travelers, but only so long as they pay attention, which Darwin’s exhaustion hasn’t allowed.

Luckily the drop does not start out as a steep one. It inclines slightly at first, growing more dangerous slowly but inexorably, before finally dropping off into a crevasse. The snow slows his fall, giving me plenty of time to reach him before he reaches the point of no return. My feet are familiar with the terrain, and find purchase easily. I snatch Darwin by the back of his coat and pull him to his feet. Hands shaking, he grips at my arm as he steadies himself.

“Are you hurt?” I ask.

His heart is pounding so hard that if not for the wind, I may have been able to hear it. He looks below him, at the great crack in the icy surface of the mountain perhaps two feet away. Fear is evident in every line of his body, but slowly, he manages to release my arm.

“No,” he says. “I’m fine. Thank you.” The ‘thank you’ is the most genuine thing Darwin has said this far, and I nod in acknowledgement. Standing behind the man, I start to usher him up the hill he fell down, when Stacy’s voice stops me.

“Wait!” she says. “Look to your left.”

I do as she asks, and there, in the path that Darwin’s tumble had carved through the snow, is a flowering plant that looks familiar. Though his face is still white with the fright he just had, Darwin now wears the ghost of a smile.

Stacy takes a few tentative steps down the hill, her human feet careful, and uses the device at her wrist to pull up the 3D hologram of the plant they are here for. The silvery, translucent leaves match, as does the snow-white bloom, with a dot of ice blue in the center.

“That’s the one,” she says with a brilliant grin, as blinding as the sun reflecting off the snow. She starts down the hill, the soldiers coming after her, excitement infecting all of them. The scientists come as well, though they move with more caution. Stacy beats them there. Slate calls a warning after her, but she stops without so much as skidding.

I kneel next to her in her snow, watching as she examines the flower carefully. “Velorian DNA kicking in?” I whisper, remarking on her speed.

She smirks, two high points of color on her cheeks, though I cannot guess if they are from the cold, her exertion in it, or simple joy at the sight of the cure within reach of her fingertips.

“You’ll warn me if I start to grow a tail?”

I laugh, delighted by her sweet humor, the sound loud even over the wind that whistles its way up the mountainside. With smiles on everyone’s faces as they begin to dig through the snow, it doesn’t seem terribly out of place. We have stumbled upon the perfect spot. Each swath of land cleared by our sweeping hands yields another handful of flowers.

“This would go a lot faster if you two would stop making eyes at each other and help,” Vince jokes, but it is only a joke. His smile is just as easy as everyone else’s. Truly earned victory can settle even the bloodiest of disputes, and I know that from experience.

I move in closer, and begin helping Stacy gently pry the flowers from the earth and into the containers that Darwin holds out.

“We’re missing Richards,” he points out, though this hasn’t damaged his enthusiasm.

“I can find him,” I say, starting to stand.

“Nah,” Vince says. “Leave it to Slate and me. I’m not much use at this science shit anyway.”

I won’t argue with that, and neither will Stacy. The men have already damaged several of the flowers in their careless enthusiasm. They head back up the rise. “Be vigilant,” I call after them. “Waelef are known to make dens in this sort of environment.”

It takes no small amount of time to extract the flowers. They must be moved and packaged carefully to avoid killing them and thus rendering them useless before they even arrive on Earth. Darwin says that we should take most of what they can find, but leave a few.

“This way, on the off-chance that this is one of only a few locations in which they still grow, they will have a chance to multiply. If we have trouble replicating the plant and extracting its DNA, someone may have to return here.”

It is the first time I can recall hearing him sound like a man of science, and I feel a slight pang of regret at some of the uncharitable thoughts I’ve had toward him. Not all men are made to be warriors. The man obviously dislikes Stacy—or most likely the role she has been called to play in this group—but it seems to be slowly abating into something like tolerance.

“I think we have plenty,” Stacy says. Darwin agrees and Cole sets to work closing the containers and packing them away with the rest of the equipment. We will each carry a few of the containers in our packs. There would be more comfort in dividing them more evenly, but with three members of our party having wandered off, there are only the four of us to work with.

Cole is staring back up the hill.

“Where on Earth could they have gotten to?” Stacy says.

“Where on Earth?” I echo.

Stacy smirks. “What? You don’t say ‘where on Veloria’?”

“No.”

“Vohx,” Cole says. It is the first time I’ve heard him speak without some sort of annoyance in his voice. Now, there is only worry. “I see someone coming.”

I stare into the still falling snow. While not as dangerously thick as the previous night, it is still snowing hard enough to obscure even my vision momentarily. I can see only an indistinct figure for a long second, but then recognize the shape of Richards, walking forward, hunched against the cold.

“It’s only Richards,” I say. “The soldiers aren’t with him.”

“They must have searched in the wrong direction,” Darwin says, rising from the crouch he had been working in and taking a few steps up the hill, planting his feet carefully on the slippery surface. He lifts a hand, waving in signal to Richards.

Blaster fire these days, with all the advancements, is nearly silent. When Darwin falls, clutching at his side with trembling fingers, the smell of seared flesh is strong in my nose and I know the weapon was not set to stun.

“Nobody touch their guns,” Richards says, his voice cold and sharp enough to cut through the wind.

The man is visible within another few steps, his gun trained on the group at large. I don’t move, and caution the others to do the same with a gesture. Any such situation merits being careful, and, perhaps if we give him the chance to speak, an opportunity will arise to take the gun safely without risk to the others. Stacy is the only one who doesn’t heed the advice. She moves forward, kneeling next to Darwin even as Richards waves the gun with as much menace as he is capable of, which isn’t much. She has one hand in her pack, searching for a medical kit.

“Don’t move,” Richards warns.

“You didn’t say don’t move,” Stacy counters, venom leaking into her usually friendly tone. “You said don’t touch your guns.”

“Well, I’m changing my mind,” Richards says. His voice is still more nervous than commanding, as though he is unsure of what he is doing. With luck, that means he can be swayed.

For a moment, Stacy keeps rummaging through the bag. Richards follows through on his threat and begins to edge the blaster he holds in her direction. I catch her eye, and slowly she removes her hands from the bag and folds them in her lap. On the ground in front of her, Darwin moans.

“What the hell are you doing, Richards?” Cole asks, looking more shocked than the rest of us put together. It seems in my estimation that the men have barely been more than an arm’s length from each other throughout what I have seen of the mission, and yet Cole’s surprise seems real enough. His voice is nothing but shocked anger.

“It’s nothing personal,” Richards says, to Cole and not the rest of us. He moves his gaze once this disclaimer is out, looking over the remaining members of our group, including Darwin lying writhing in the snow. “The Xzerg offered me money … a lot … to keep humans from getting the cure. Specifically, they want to prevent any kind of alliance between us and the Velorians.”

So it was just as I’d thought, but with Richards thrown in as a complication.

“The money they offered was too good to pass up,” he says. “It’s more than enough to cut you in, Cole,” Richards continues. “I could use the help with the others.”

“Fuck you, man. A good paycheck is a good paycheck, but I’m not screwing over humanity for one,” Cole replies vehemently.

Richards looks torn, trying his hardest to wear a confident snarl, but it is more like a grimace. His focus is solely on Cole now. Stacy has taken the opportunity to grasp Darwin’s searching hand, whispering a barely audible reassurance about how the blast seemed to have missed anything truly vital.

I use my opportunity for something different, slowly moving forward, feet silent on the ice that I was born to. The blaster fires a second time, this time shooting Cole in the upper leg. He is reduced to panicked yelling, clutching at the wound. Richards stares at him, expression almost wincing. It is clear that he isn’t used to wielding a blaster for such a purpose. The traitor switches the gun to stun for long enough to shoot Cole once more, and then looks strangely relieved. Cole will still die of the wound if it isn’t treated, but perhaps it feels easier for Richards to take this lesser step. It is almost impossible to harm someone you’ve fought beside, no matter the reasoning. The reward must truly have been eye-watering.

I move forward, quicker now, hoping he will stare at the prone form of Cole a while longer. The whole situation feels like more of an annoyance than any real danger. I could ruminate on Richards’ weakness for years; I don’t understand how a man can let greed and hatred cloud his motivations so badly.

My hand is on my blaster and I am perhaps three steps away, when Cole moves, easily snatching Stacy from where she still knees with Darwin. Richards grabs her by the arm and hauls her several steps up the hill with him, his blaster jammed into her back as they go. I start to reach for her, but he has turned so that I cannot see what the blaster is set to.

“I’m taking the ship,” Richards says. “If I even suspect that you’re trying to follow me, I’ll kill her.”

Kill, he says. Not shoot. It’s an important distinction. I am fast—all Velorians are—but not faster than a finger squeezing the trigger of a blaster ray.

Stacy holds up a hand, willing me to step back. Her face is carefully blank, nothing showing aside from the usual determination in her warm brown eyes—the same stubbornness that brought us together. Hopefully it keeps us together as well. The threat is underscored by Richards’ cowardice. After the look on his face at shooting Cole and then the quick switch to stunning him, I am not sure that the man has cold-blooded murder within him. Not all people do. Part of me does not think that he is the sort of man that will kill Stacy outright, but the rest of me knows that the risk is too high to rush him as I’d like to.

I have just met my mate. The dragon inside me rears up, crashing, roaring in my mind at the prospect of not having forever with her.

As he turns, something compels me to call after him.

“Is this the plan? Leave us all here to die?”

“Exactly,” Richards says. “Had my doubts that an ice lizard would be smart enough to figure it out. I’ll take the ship back to Earth, tell everyone that the members of the mission were slaughtered by Velorians when we landed here. There will be no alliance.”

I nod. “And the Xzerg will keep their power.”

It was just like them, to do their work with a human chess-piece rather than accomplishing it themselves. I meet Stacy’s eyes, still feeling the absurd urge to follow, despite how much danger it places her in. She shakes her head, once, eyes holding mine for as long as they are able.

A quivering smile appears on his chapped lips. “It’s handy, for me, that you decided to lust after a human woman, disgusting as it is. So thank you for that.”

I don’t know what to say. The dragon form my people tend to avoid utilizing threatens to burst from my skin, but I can’t. I breathe in … breathe out.

“Stay put,” Richards warns again, before grabbing Stacy harder still and propelling her up the hill with the blaster still jammed into her spine.

I feel fear for the first time in years as she leaves my sight.