Switch: Alien Invasion/Violence&S*x-Chapter 150: ‘You will do fine, Father’

"Damn, that was good. Is it always like that with you, or are you using your ability on me?" Her tone is half breathless, half clinical.

"I haven’t used a switch on you, I promise."

Her eyes grow large as I tell her that. She looks down to where we’re connected, and I do too. I can see slight blood from where we broke her hymen and a fair bit of her natural lubricant. "Then how...?"

I know what she’s asking, and instead of answering, I kiss her. It’s our first kiss, and despite the fact that we’re already this close, she’s hesitant. I don’t let up, though, as I press my tongue against her lips. After a second, she allows me passage, but only to the front of her teeth. I use my hips again, and when she moans, my tongue finally slips in to meet hers.

She comes again, and when she recovers, she’s fully engaged in the kiss, moaning and grinding her body against mine for all it’s worth.

Her enthusiasm finally does it for me, and I begin releasing myself deep inside her, making us both cry out in unison.

Gravity slowly reasserts itself as we come down from our shared ecstasy.

I find that I’m still hard, but Leslie gingerly gets up and grimaces. She notices my still-eager arousal and smiles weakly.

"Looks like the light did its job. The true experiment is a success. Unfortunately, you’re going to need to have someone else take care of that. I’m going to be sore for a week!" She shakes her head slowly. "The things I do for science."

She starts to head for her clothes, but thinking quickly, I turn the yellow light on her, and she freezes mid-step. Standing up, I wait until I’m certain she’s fully healed, then move in behind her. She moans in pleasure as her hand reaches back to the back of my head and pulls my lips down to hers.

"I’ve created a monster," I hear her say before we begin again in earnest. My hand at her center easily notices how sensitive she’s become.

⸻

"Where are Vage and Harana?" I ask my sister as I walk into the compartment the two aliens are usually in. The door slides open with a soft hiss, and the familiar scent of clean metal and faint ozone greets me. The room feels warmer than the corridor outside, quieter too, as if the walls themselves are meant to cradle something precious.

"Vage is talking with the other ship captains, and Harana is taking care of your kids." She pauses and looks at me for a bit, sucking in her bottom lip, and I know she wants to say something. Her eyes flick toward the nursery door and then back to me. There’s hesitation there, but also resolve.

"Out with it, Loveth. If we can’t be blunt and honest after everything we’ve done, then we’re more screwed up than I thought." I lean against the wall, folding my arms, bracing myself for whatever she’s about to say.

"You never really spend any quality time with your kids." The words rush out of her, and now I understand her trepidation. I have been avoiding them. It’s not like I’ve left the room when they’re there, but I haven’t gone out of my way for them either. I have spent some time with them, but she’s right about it not being quality time. I have stood nearby, watched from a distance, allowed others to handle the feeding and rocking and soothing. They are from my flesh and blood. Sure, they’re not entirely human, but doesn’t that mean they need both parents all the same? If anything, doesn’t that mean they need more?

Ha! Both parents. As if I know anything about that. My dad was never there, so what do I have as a role model? Hank Hill? Homer Simpson? What about Clark Kent’s dad? Oh, sure, I know they’re all fictional, but those are all I have. I know nothing about taking care of babies. Nothing about lullabies or swaddling or the right way to hold them so they feel safe. Maybe they’ll be better off if Vage takes care of them. Maybe I’m just the genetic contributor with a god complex and too much power.

"No, Nick," Loveth says forcefully. Damn my broadcasting mind! I’ll bet the Green Lantern never has these problems. Well, maybe when he’s— "And don’t change the subject. Those are your kids in the other room. I’m not going to let you be a father like ours was. Now march your ass in there and get to know them."

To say I feel shame would be to call the Atlantic a pond. It presses down on me, thick and suffocating. She’s right, of course. I make sure my thoughts are my own, clamping down on the stray ones that try to leak out. Just because I had a bad example doesn’t mean I can’t become a better one. If I can rewrite reality, surely I can rewrite myself.

Harana is rocking one of the girls when I walk in. She only glances at me for a moment, then returns to her task. Her movements are precise and economical, almost mechanical in their efficiency. I remember how Vage told me that her race doesn’t care for their kids the way humans do, and I can see that in the clinical way Harana manages them. There is no cooing, no soft humming, no instinctive sway. Just measured care. I think the only reason Vage takes such care with them is because we made them together, rather than them being made by her alone. There is something personal about them to her. To both of us.

"Can I have a moment with them?" I ask, my voice quieter than before, and Harana lays the girl down on the soft blankets. She leaves the room without comment, the door sliding shut behind her with a muted sound.

I just stare down at the six half-human babies. They are arranged in a loose semicircle, tiny bodies wrapped in soft fabric, small chests rising and falling in uneven rhythms. I don’t know what to say. Can they even understand me? Of course not! They’re too young. Their brains are still forming connections, still learning light from shadow.

I pick up one of the boys, this one with hands like his mother’s but a skin tone more like mine. His fingers curl reflexively as I lift him. He is small enough to fit comfortably in both of my hands. He opens his too-large eyes and looks at me intently for a few moments, as though studying my face, memorizing it. Then he reaches his tiny hand out to me and smiles. It is not a gas smile. It is deliberate, focused.

My heart melts, and I feel hot tears stream down my cheeks. I did not expect that reaction. I have faced demons without flinching, reshaped matter without blinking, but this... this undoes me.

"I’m so sorry," I murmur. "I should have come sooner. I should have spent more time with you. The demons are coming next week, and I don’t know what to do about them. I brought you all back to life, and for what? To witness your father’s failure?" The words spill out in a rush, heavy with doubt. I shake my head, and the tiny boy looks at me, confused by the movement. "And here I am, talking to a baby not even a month old as if you can understand."

The baby boy reaches out his hand again and, this time, grips my thumb. His grasp is surprisingly strong. Warm. Anchoring.

’You will do fine, Father.’

The words don’t appear the way they do when the nanites are used, but instead seem to enter my mind in a chorus of voices, all speaking in unison. They are clear and layered, like six tones harmonizing into one certainty.

Shocked, I look at my other five children. They’re all looking back at me, serious expressions on their faces. Not the unfocused gaze of infants, but something aware. Something ancient and new at the same time.

....

"I don’t hear anything," Loveth says as we look down at my six half-human children. They’re sleeping peacefully right now and haven’t made any more sounds after that one sentence. Their faces are serene, as if nothing extraordinary has happened.

’You will do fine, Father.’

That one sentence still reverberates in my head. Sometimes it drowns out all other thoughts, even though they only spoke to me that one time. It echoes in the spaces where fear used to sit. It leaves no room for doubt, and somehow I know I will be able to defeat the demons. Not because I am the most powerful being in the room. Not because I have alien technology or divine allies. But because six small voices believed in me without hesitation.

"They’re too young to talk," my sister continues, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "You must be exhausted from working with your ability so much. Why don’t you go get some rest? Using the healing light without any real rest can’t be good for you."

She studies me carefully, concern replacing her earlier frustration. I realize I must look worse than I feel.

Nodding, I leave the room and mentally ask Harana to take me home, since Vage is still on one of the other angel vessels. The transition is smooth, space folding in on itself for a brief instant before reforming.

There is just something that helps reset your frame of mind when you walk into someplace as familiar as my room is to me. A feeling of nostalgia sweeps over me, even though I’ve only been gone a couple of days. The air smells faintly of fabric softener and old books. The carpet feels the same beneath my feet.