by Cara Bristol
Helena had found the similarity in their appearance significant and hilarious. When Rhianna would have slunk away in mortification, Helena’s boisterous, slightly inebriated bonhomie had pulled her into her inner circle that afternoon. They’d bonded as friends and had become roomies.
Yes, despite her kindness, Helena could be clueless in a let-them-eat-cake sort of way. Born and raised in luxury, she had no idea how difficult life could be for ordinary people. Giving, when it cost nothing, required little effort or fortitude.
All of which made this ultimate sacrifice crazy. It wasn’t Helena’s nature to be so selfless. Rhianna herself wasn’t that noble. Nobody would expect the only child of the nation’s leader to throw herself on the grenade.
Maybe I should shake her. Didn’t a slap to the face calm hysterical people? Except Helena wasn’t hysterical—just the opposite. What could you do for someone acting uncharacteristically stoic?
“Maybe they won’t attack.” Rhianna paced over a beautiful oriental rug, the faded colors showing its age but not diminishing its beauty. “Maybe diplomacy will work.”
“Maybe—but maybe not. Can we afford the risk? My family has had a long history of service to this country. It’s my turn to step up.”
Rhianna swung around. “You can’t become a virgin sacrifice to save the world!” She planted her hands on her hips. “It’s not right, and then, there’s the obvious.”
“Virginity isn’t required.” Helena laughed. “Besides, he’d never know. Maybe if I was a dragon, he’d be able to tell, but since I’m a human with corresponding anatomy, he’ll believe anything I tell him.”
“You’d go that far? You’d sleep with him?”
“Well, no. Unless he’s hot—pun intended.” Helena grinned.
“This isn’t funny!” she snapped. First Helena acted almost deadpan, now she joked around like this was a big lark. Shock. Has to be shock.
“They mate in human form,” Helena said.
“Humanoid,” Rhianna said. There was a big difference. Like almost everyone else on Earth, she had seen them on the news, and once, a long time ago, up close and personal. Back then, as a young, naïve child, she hadn’t realized the threat they represented. She’d believed adults when they said dragons were friendly. Earth officials had been duped. She hugged herself and glanced around the opulent bedroom. If not for Helena, she’d be huddling in a basement or underground garage like everyone else.
Dragons could walk on two feet, but they didn’t look, act, or think like humans at all. Their faces were grayish green and scaly, their eyes a malevolent yellow. Smiling did nothing to lessen their scariness—just the opposite. They had sharp, fang-like teeth. Frills flapped around their long necks. When they got angry, they swished their barbed tails. No, they weren’t human—or humane. “They have a different mindset and sensibilities. They’re brutal, vicious predators.”
“You don’t need to worry. I’m not going to get physical. This is to buy us time for diplomacy to work. There will be months of pomp and circumstance before the ceremony with the prince occurs.”
“The prince?”
“Uh-huh. Prince K’ev.”
Rhianna gasped. “Are you kidding me?”
“What good would it do to mate with any old dragon? It has to be with a creature of the royal Draconian court for it to do any good.”
If she’s going to become his consort, she probably shouldn’t be thinking of him as a creature. But, what else could you call them? Not animal, not human, they were something else—an extraterrestrial race of fire-breathing, shaping-shifting aliens.
Helena peered at her out of the corner of her eye. “You met him once, didn’t you?”
“A long time ago. In school. Before we knew they couldn’t be trusted.”
When she’d met the prince, he’d been in demiforma, a shape halfway between human and his natural state, but she’d seen him in full form on television once. Nearly as large as the president’s private plane, with a wingspan to match, he’d swooped into the royal pantheon in a blaze of fire and lethal grace. In front of everyone, he’d transformed into his man shape. Ugly, yet beautiful. And naked. The image had been etched into her brain.
“He’s going to know you’re not sincere,” Rhianna said.
“No, he won’t. And by the time he does, a new treaty will be in place.”
“And you don’t think jilting the prince will be considered a violation of the treaty?”
“No, trust me. We’ll work it out.”
“Like we worked this out?” Rhianna said skeptically. “We thought the dragons were friendly—now we’re on the verge of war, and we don’t know why.”
Draco had reached out to Earth first. Officials omitted that historical detail when they dismissed them as “space lizards,” but she remembered the facts even though she’d been a child during the first contact. The dragons had traveled the galaxy while humans hadn’t ventured beyond the moon and Mars.
Relations between the planets had been tentative at first then more open and amicable. A contingent, which had included Prince K’ev, had toured Earth. That had been followed by Earth ambassadors going to Draco, where special accommodations had been constructed since the planet’s temperature and atmosphere could be harmful to humans. The two worlds had formed a friendship, a political and galactic exploration alliance. Everything seemed to be going so well.
And then, inexplicably, Draco had broken off diplomatic relations and threatened to attack. “What could we have done to offend them?” Rhianna said for the umpteenth time. There had to be some provocation, didn’t there?
“Nothing. Dad and other leaders are as mystified as everyone,” Helena said.
She believed her. If anyone would know, Helena would. Just as she’d graduated college, her father had been elected president and appointed her as a special liaison in his administration. As one of his close advisors and a member of the first family, she was privy to information not shared with the public.
Still, it defied common sense that allies would threaten to attack without cause. On the other hand, those allies were dragons. Predators. They may have become civilized over the millennia, but aggression had been bred in their nature.
You can’t trust them, most of her professors had warned in her Draconian Relations classes at the university. A wild animal raised as a pet might appear tame, but it could attack without warning.
How true that had proven to be.
“Helena, please don’t do this. Tell your father no. Earth’s governments will find another way to work this out. Once you’re on planet Draco, you’ll be at their mercy. If this situation doesn’t improve, you’ll be trapped there.”
“Well…that’s where you come in.”
“Me? What are you talking about?” Rhianna’s heart rate spiked.
“We want you to accompany me.”
“What? Are you crazy? No, I can’t.” She shook her head.
“You’re the perfect person. You’re a member of the State Department—”
“By a technicality.” She’d been hired by the State Department, but hadn’t started yet when the global situation had changed. The president, other government officials, and world leaders had gone into hiding along with everyone else of financial means. The masses were sheltering in basements and garages.
“You’re one of the few with a degree in Draconian Relations.”
“Only my master’s. My bachelor’s is in social work.” Which she now wished she had pursued, although she wouldn’t have been working anywhere, given the current state of emergency.
Draconian Relations hadn’t existed as a discipline of study when she’d begun college. As the two planets strengthened their alliance, universities cobbled together degree programs. Rhianna had been approached by the government with an offer she couldn’t refuse: her master’s paid, followed by a guaranteed job with the State Department, if she completed the program. You can do more good for the cou
ntry and the planet, yada yada yada.
“You’ve met the Draconian prince,” Helena said.
“For two minutes as a fifth grader! That doesn’t count.” When Earth and Draco had been in the getting-to-know-you phase, all the nation’s schools had entered a competition for the chance to meet the dragons. Rhianna’s essay had won the visit for her school. At the assembly, the students had been super excited until the visitors had stepped onto the stage. In demiforma, they’d terrified the kids, who’d panicked and stampeded from the auditorium.
As PR events went, it had backfired. Outraged parents had phoned and stormed government offices, several State Department officials lost their jobs, the principal got fired, and the entire school board was voted out in the next election.
Rhianna had been seated in the front row. As the essay author, she’d been promised she would get to meet the dragons personally and have her picture taken with them. The principal had announced they would appear in their “humanoid form.” The curtains over the stage had drawn back to reveal shocking huge, horned scaly lizard-people. Later she’d looked up humanoid in the dictionary to verify she’d understood the word. The other kids had been terrified, but the prince’s slouch and smirk had reminded her of her older brother, Reagan. Rebellious, sullen, bored. Their dad had threatened to “knock the chip off his shoulder,” but she adored him. Reagan called her Sprite and always had time to talk to his little sister.
Knowing him made the prince…not scary. He seemed…lonely. Awkward.
As the other kids fled the cafeteria, she had remained. The prince had beautiful cat-like eyes. Even though his teeth were sharp, his smile seemed shy.
He’d bounded off the stage right in front of her. His English had been accented, his voice rough like gravel, but he’d conversed like a regular person. His yellow eyes had mesmerized her. He’d looked like fire burned inside him, which she supposed it did. She’d guessed he was probably a little older than her brother who was graduating high school that year.
He’d seemed surprised she hadn’t run from the auditorium with the rest of the kids.
“You’re not afraid of me,” he’d said.
“No.”
“You should be. I’m a dragon.” He’d grinned, making a joke. “I could eat you.”
She’d laughed, but the principal almost had a cow right there in the aisle. He’d hustled her back to class, and she never got her photo. Until recently, she’d believed the prince had been kidding, and the principal had overreacted. She’d been a child, the prince a near-adult alien dragon, but in her recollection, they’d established a rapport. That was partly why she’d allowed herself to be coaxed into getting a degree in Draconian Relations—she’d hoped to see him again.
Not anymore. Given recent events, she’d reevaluated everything that had happened that day. The prince had revealed the Draconians’ true colors—fiery red, like the flames flickering in the gold of his eyes, like the fire that would burn everything on Earth if they attacked. If the principal hadn’t hustled her out of there, she might have gotten toasted.
Dragons were the enemy.
No amount of “Kumbaya” singing, live-and-let-live do-goodism could change reality. The dragons intended to conquer Earth. If she’d realized that sooner, she never would have pursued a diplomatic career, no matter how much the president cajoled. What good was diplomacy with people you couldn’t reason with? She rarely shied away from a challenge, but negotiating this peace treaty exceeded her skills and confidence. What if she failed? Too much was at stake to risk making a mistake.
“I can’t go to Draco,” Rhianna said. “Neither should you. The fact we’re hiding in a bunker ought to tell you what a bad idea that is. If they attack Earth, we’re going to be stuck in enemy territory. We won’t be guests, we’ll be hostages—prisoners of war.”
“The whole point of us going is to prevent war. This is a goodwill gesture on our part to demonstrate we’re willing to talk this out, we mean them no harm.”
“They intend us harm!”
“War should never be entered upon until every agency of peace has failed,” Helena said.
“You say that, but—”
“I didn’t say it, President William McKinley did.”
“Well, well, here’s a quote from another president: ‘No man can tame a tiger into a kitten by stroking it.’ Franklin Roosevelt.” If that didn’t describe the situation, what did?
“I know of one president who is requesting your assistance,” Helena said in a quiet voice.
“No…” She shook her head against the inevitable. “Don’t do this to me.”
“Dad will be approaching you with a formal request, but if you can’t do it for your country and your planet, could you do it for me? Please? Don’t leave me to go there alone.” Helena’s voice quivered. For all her bravado, she was scared, Rhianna realized.
Helena would never say, “You owe me,” but Rhianna did. Her acceptance by the other students at the university, the contacts she’d developed, the scholarship for her master’s degree, the job offer at the State Department—so many opportunities had come about directly or indirectly because of Helena’s friendship and the association with the powerful Marshfields. Of course, opportunities and jobs would become meaningless if Earth got scorched into cinders and ash. But her parents, her brother would be safe because they were in a government bunker, thanks to the Marshfields.
She owed them for that, too.
If she could avert a war by going to Draco, didn’t she have to do it?
“Ask not what your country can do for you—ask what you can do for your country.” John F. Kennedy, another dead president had said that, and Rhianna believed in the premise with all her heart. What kind of a person would she be if she spouted patriotic platitudes then ran and hid when called upon to serve?
Her stomach fluttered as she recalled the prince’s teasing golden eyes. I could eat you. Not playful. Calculating. He’d been like a cat toying with a mouse before pouncing and killing it. And not any old cat, a tiger that couldn’t be tamed into a kitten. A dragon.
Speak softly and carry a big stick. She hoped the government would heed President Theodore Roosevelt’s advice. If this plan to mollify their enemies by providing the prince with a consort didn’t work, hopefully Earth’s plan B included military action. Would it be enough? Could they fight and win?
“What are the plans for getting us off Draco if the situation goes south?”
“So you’ll do it? You’ll come with me? Thank you! Thank you!” Helena grabbed Rhianna in a boa constrictor hug.
She patted her friend’s back. “Before I say yes, I have to know there are rescue plans.” That I can come home if I want.
“Yes, there are rescue plans. The security advisor will brief you on everything you need to know. Thank you. Thank you.”
If they survived, this time Helena would owe her.
Chapter Three
I can’t believe I’m going through with this. Rhianna dragged her feet, trudging in front of Helena. A lifetime ago, she’d tearfully kissed her parents and brother goodbye. Please don’t let it be for the last time. Please.
Before she left Bunker One, a member of the president’s staff had pressed a tiny communication unit into her palm. “After you board the ship and get to a safe location, put this in your ear. You’ll receive instructions, and we’ll be able to contact you. You’ll need this in the event an emergency extraction is required.”
If an “emergency extraction” was required, she doubted they could get to her fast enough. But at least she and Helena wouldn’t be totally cut off from Earth. “Why not put it in my ear now?” The tiny flesh-toned unit resembled a hearing aid.
“They might notice it,” he’d said. “Scrutiny will be the greatest when they first meet you.”
She’d slipped it into her pocket, and then an armored limousine had driven her to the spaceport. In another layer of security, she and Helena had
traveled in separate vehicles leaving at different times, taking different routes. She had arrived to find her friend waiting in the secure launch observation building, its glass reinforced to be impenetrable by most conventional weapons.
Was it dragon proof?
“Co-inky-dink!” Helena had shouted and pointed. They both wore sleeveless blue jumpsuits, nearly identical except Helena had accessorized hers with a gold chain belt.
“I love your outfit!” Rhianna had grinned, amusement momentarily relieving the stress.
“Great minds think alike,” Helena had replied. “We couldn’t have gotten any closer if we’d called each other and coordinated.”
Levity had evaporated when they departed the secure area to cross the open field to the launch pad. Why had they worn such a bright color? Why not something in camo, or, better yet, flame retardant? Rhianna envisioned a dragon fighter craft locking on their royal-blue jumpsuits. Of course, that wouldn’t happen—or at least the odds were very slim—because the purpose of this venture was to prevent such an attack. The only ship on the tarmac waited to transport them to Draco.
“So your son had a bouncy house? How fun! I always loved those as a kid,” Helena was saying. “I pretended I walked on the moon.” Her friend chatted with the agent assigned to protect her, asking him about his son’s fifth birthday party like this was an ordinary day instead of a moment that would live in infamy. Rhianna envied her calm demeanor. Partly her natural personality, partly the result of being in politics and being no stranger to enemy fire, Helena masked fear and nervousness with chatter.
While no shrinking violet, Rhianna got quieter the more serious a situation became so she could better pay attention and act if necessary. She hadn’t said more than two words to the Secret Service agent attached to her like a conjoined twin. Plus, she didn’t want to distract him. What if he missed something important while she prattled?
