by Lyz Kelley
“In progress.”
Now, all I have to do is find that damn pod.
Myka ducked his head as he walked through the medical bay to the storage compartment and back bay. He keyed in his code and waited for the back cargo door to open, then set the timer. He estimated he had only a couple of hours to find the energy pod, excavate and store the leaking energy source, and then get his ship fixed before someone came poking around.
Barely enough time, and then only if he was lucky.
He released the security switch on the canister and laid down a foaming arc to suffocate the flames and anything in the way. “Now to find that pod and be on my way,” he muttered.
Grabbing the vacuum box, he went to check on the secondary engine. “Not too bad.” He assessed the scorched metal. A couple of hours of repair and he should be good to fly.
He pressed his com button. “Command, this is Special Ops 9er, over.”
“Special Ops 9er, command over.”
“Landed. Engine damaged. Repairable. Over.”
The space commander’s graphic appeared in front of him. “Myka, can’t you do anything without screwing it up?”
He grunted, maintaining tight control of his attitude. “It would have been nice to have intel about the defense satellites.”
His commander's bushy brows folded together as he paused to read a report one of his lieutenants handed him. He gave the computer board back. “Fine. When you get back I’ll assign you to recon. Until then, do your job.”
Myka’s gut tightened, and the fog of his breath swirled away in the night’s air. “This is supposed to be my last assignment. I’ve done my time.”
“Apparently the major doesn’t want you back in his unit. You need to wait for another opening. Next time a major sticks his hand down a woman’s shirt, think twice—at least twice—before you bust his nose.”
“You and I both know there shouldn’t be a next time, and there certainly shouldn’t have been a previous time. These charges are bullshit, and you know it. I should never have been assigned to the outer rim, or to a damn medical research vessel.” There couldn’t have been a worse demotion.
“Suck it up, soldier. Play nice, and you just might get reassigned to a battle unit.”
Defending his planet from invaders or rounding up fugitives would at least give him something to look forward to each day.
“Babysitting a bunch of scientists isn’t what I trained for.”
“Yeah? Well, maybe you need a bit more training, since you can’t retrieve an energy unit without busting up one of my ships.”
Rage made his bio-suit suffocating and tight. “Yes, sir.”
“Get that energy pod and get your ass back here, Special Ops 9er. Command out.”
Asswipe.
Myka tightened his grip on the vacuum box. “Maybe I should shove the energy pod up your butt and fry your ass. That should keep you from sitting around on your lazy bum for a while.”
Ducking his head to round the ship, he froze and locked on a sight he’d never expected to see in his lifetime.
The woman before him was glowing blue with patterns of cascading water. She was stunning. No, she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. He fought to breathe.
The fury in her eyes was spectacular. The rippling designs across her skin undulated in dancing, mesmerizing patterns. She vibrated with anger.
A mate. He gaped in awe. The way her patterns danced told him she was his perfect match.
He tapped on his translator and took a step closer, his hand outstretched.
Was she real? She couldn’t be. Why would she be on this primitive planet? How did she get here?
Mating females were rare, and coveted by his race’s Elite. There was no way a female of worth would have been left stranded on Earth.
“Hello. Who are you? Better yet, where did you come from?”
“Stop!” the petite woman commanded.
Her boldness belied her one and a half-meter frame. She was delicate, yet her don’t-mess-with-me expression suggested something much more fun. He might have laughed at the stern look on her face if he hadn’t been so fascinated by her beauty.
He took another step closer.
Then another.
Then the ground shifted, sending vibrations up his legs. Vines appeared from nowhere and wrapped around his legs and arms and chest and head.
Shiza. Myka tried reaching for his defensive shields, but his arms were trapped against his body. He couldn’t move.
Two beings no higher than his knees, with fluffy white beards and wearing green pants and funny red hats, burst out of the vegetation and attacked.
“Ouch. Stop that.” The tallest of the little people pushed on his leg. “No. Don’t do that. You little scrubrat.” The little man kicked dirt over his shoe and pushed some more. With his feet trapped by the vines, he couldn’t counter the move. His equilibrium failed, and he tipped, then crashed to the ground.
Living on a space station was a particular type of hell.
But nothing compared to this embarrassment.
He hoped to hell his commanding officer never found out he’d been captured by two very small people.
Otherwise he could kiss a transfer back to his home planet goodbye.
Chapter Three
“Vincent. Connor.” Raine marched toward the two gnomes with clenched fists while keeping half an eye on the strange man in a dark leather jumpsuit. “What are you two doing?”
The two gnomes brushed off their hands before plunking them on their hips. “He singed my butt.” Vincent bent over to reveal a gaping hole in his knickers.
“And mine.” Connor followed his older brother’s example.
Raine studied the stranger, who, in spite of muscles any bodybuilder would be proud of, was wrapped in her pumpkin vine. He appeared ready to tear the little men in half...if only he could reach them.
With short blond hair shaved close to his head, the stranger was handsome enough for the cover of any stylish magazine. But his stubble was weird, because for some reason she expected him to be clean-shaven. Maybe because he gave off a military type of feel.
Then there were his eyes. They were the color of the Mexican ocean, with deep blues and teals changing shades every few seconds, without giving any indication to what he was thinking.
Connor, busily sticking a finger through the holes in his shorts, didn’t notice the apparent danger.
“Serves you right,” she said, keeping her distance. “You wouldn’t have gotten burn holes in your britches if you hadn’t been in my field trying to steal my corn.”
“It does taste lovely,” Vincent mumbled and tugged on his ear, his cheeks turning pink.
Connor nodded. “So sweet and crisp.” He kicked a rock before pointing at the sexy man giving Raine the stink eye. “What will you do with him?” The two-foot man ambled over to look down at the vine-wrapped intruder. “He looks rather angry.”
“You would be too, if you were tied up.” Frost said as he put his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Nice work. And I mean Lacey and Raine, not you two poachers.”
At least Connor had the sense to look ashamed.
“Thanks,” Lacey wrapped her arm around her husband’s waist. “But this was all Raine’s handiwork.”
“You’re lucky I didn’t suffocate the bastard.” Raine crossed her arms. “Look what he did to Beck’s pumpkin patch. He smashed my son’s prize pumpkin to bits.”
Lacey provided comfort by tucking her hand through Raine’s folded arms. “I’m more worried about what’s happening to your skin. It’s got this weird pattern-thing going on.”
Lacey’s brow hitched up a few centimeters.
Raine shoved up her sleeves. Sure enough, her skin was tingling as if water droplets were pattering down on it. She glowered at the stranger. “Did you do this?”
The captive just stared.
“First things first.” Lacey squeezed Raine’s arm. “Let’s regenerate Beck’s p
umpkin, and then—”
“I’ve already tried,” Raine huffed with frustration. “Whatever he sprayed on my crops prevents the spell from working.” She placed her hand on her forehead to rub away the twinge of stress. “What will I tell Beck?”
Lacey glanced up at Frost, who stood at least a head taller. “Is he one of yours?”
“A Star Ranger? No. But he’s a soldier of some sort. Look at his equipment,” Frost chuckled. “He’s as surprised as I was to find out this planet is not as primitive as star command reports.”
The stranger was loaded with equipment and looked ready for combat. The belt strapped around his waist had gizmos and gadgets and what looked vaguely like a gun. Raine only guessed a gun, because everything looked similar to a Star Trek prop.
“Good. Then we’ll keep the space invaders guessing.” Raine met the intelligent blue eyes studying her.
The closer she got to him, the more the strange patterns on her skin swirled and rippled. He made her uncomfortable, and for good reason. He looked and smelled like her fields right after a good, cleansing rain. He shouldn’t smell that good. No one should.
“What do you think he’s here for? Is he a bounty hunter?”
“Why don’t you ask him?” Frost offered.
Raine lifted a hand and flicked her wrist, releasing the green vines, but leaving his feet firmly secured to the ground. “Don’t move, or Lacey will turn you into a rabbit,” she warned.
A rickety laughter rolled out of Frost. “She means it, buddy.” The soldier pressed to a seated position, his eyes missing nothing. “Let’s start with your name.”
The guy tapped the unit at his ear, then touched it again, then shook his head.
Lacey huffed and mumbled under her breath. “You don’t need a translator. We can hear you. Just start talking.”
“You can understand me? How? I don’t see any devices.”
“Translator spell. Way better than implanted electronics.” Lacey lifted a brow. “Your name?”
Alien man’s eyes locked in place like he wasn’t seeing, only searching through a list of terms. Eventually, he gave the name “Waterman,” pronouncing each syllable as a separate word.
Raine glanced at Lacey, then at the rather hunky man on the ground. He was covered in black...or was that a blue suit? She couldn’t tell, because the colors kept swirling and shifting. However, his focus didn’t change. The liquid pools of blue never left her face. “Well, Waterman, what brings you to Earth?”
He tested the strength of the vines at his feet. Deciding he still couldn’t move, he jerked his attention back to her. “One of our energy pods is leaking. I was sent to retrieve the unit.”
“Your pods?” Her confusion gathered strength, and she took a step closer to hear the quiet whispers of his voice. The timbre reminded her of the ocean rolling across the sand and then back out to sea. His facial features softened as she moved closer. “Why would you have installed an energy pod here?”
“You would have to ask the Forefathers. What I know is the pods were part of our bio system before the waters receded and we were forced to evacuate.”
“Evacuated? Wait a minute.” She bent her knees to look him directly in the eye. “Are you telling me your race once lived here? On this planet?”
“My great-great-grandfather was the commander of the last fleet.” He puffed out his chest, as if he expected his grandfather should mean something. “Every few thousand years a research ship is sent back to take samples and check on our infrastructure.”
“So you’re human.”
“No. Not exactly. Our races evolved differently. Your race doesn’t have the ability to breathe underwater,” he pointed to the gill slits on the side of his neck. “We prefer to live in water rather than on land.” The slits on the side of his neck flared open, then closed. “Our scientists believe we’ll never be able to inhabit this planet again.”
“Why not?”
“Yeah, Why not?” Vincent placed his little hands on his hips. “It’s nice here. The food’s yummy. Besides, you look like you’re breathing just fine.”
He ignored the gnome and focused on her. “The waters are polluted. We would never be able to breathe properly. Our internal filters wouldn’t be able to process the vile toxins permeating all this planet’s waters.” Waterman droned the information like he was giving a scientific progress report.
“You said your grandfather was the last commander after the waters receded, but that was like a bazillion years ago. How old are you?” Lacey asked.
Waterman scratched his head like his age was a puzzle. “I just had my thirty-second regeneration. Based on your time structure, that would be two years ago.”
“Regeneration?” Raine hesitated. “You mean, like a rebirth?”
He blinked several times, then returned her stare. “Humans might think of it as a rebirth. Based on my calculations, we regenerate every 23.732 years by having our molecular structure reset back to the time of our first birth celebration.” He again stated the fact like the concept was an ordinary occurrence.
Frost crossed his arms with a puff of amazement. “Not every day you meet a being almost eight hundred years old.”
Waterman studied each of them in turn, most likely wondering why they stood there shaking their heads, their mouths hanging open.
“You must be a long way from home.” Frost’s statement sounded more like a question.
“I’ve been assigned to a space station. It’s there,” he pointed to Orion’s Belt. “Just left of Alnilam, the center star.”
“Look at you, showing off your space knowledge,” Lacey tilted her head back. “Still it seems a bit odd that we have the same name for stuff.”
He studied the stars for a few seconds, then selected a small, square unit from his belt and pointed the laser at his forearm, where the vines had sliced through the thin leather fabric. The two-inch cut suddenly disappeared.
“How did you do that?” Raine was electrified, refusing to take her eyes off the tiny unit.
Waterman held up the laser. “The bio-kit does small cell repairs.”
Raine’s mind whirled. “Can your thingumajig do larger cell repairs?”
“I told you, our races are different.” He sounded irritated, but she couldn’t tell what annoyed him more—the hundred-question game, or the fact that he was still anchored to the ground.
A motherly determination made her press harder for an answer. “But you said we originated from the same species.”
Waterman’s expression became contemplative as Lacey grabbed Raine’s arm. “Beck.” Both of them said at the same time.
Frost reached down and helped Waterman to his feet, the men sizing each other up.
“Ladies,” Frost said. “I hope you aren’t going where I think you’re going.”
Lacey whipped around to face her husband. “Okay, big guy. Got a better idea?”
Frost’s eyes turned a crisp shade of crystal blue. “You don’t know if that instrument is calibrated for humans.”
Motherly determination settled into Raine’s soul. “What choice do we have? Beck is dying.”
“Uh, people...I don’t know what you are talking about”—Waterman brushed the dirt off his uniform—“but I have less than three hours to find the pod, repair my ship, and get out of here before whoever fired at my ship comes to find me. Now, if you don’t mind,” he leaned over, and in one swift move sliced the vines with a knife that appeared out of nowhere.
“Not so fast.” Raine twirled her finger in the air as corn roots slithered along the ground.
Waterman tapped his arm and the vines stopped at the edge of his toe.
“A personal force field shield,” Frost grinned. “Man, I gotta get me one of those.”
Lacey elbowed him in the gut. “Do something.”
The giant man glared at his wife. “Like what?”
Myka had enough of waiting around.
He could easily have sliced through the vines holding him,
but had been mesmerized. The stunning creature before him actually caused a momentary enchantment. A bedazzlement that could have gotten him killed in battle.
Her mating patterns were the distraction. He never expected to mate. In fact, mating for a Protector was forbidden.
The Elite council had decreed that his generation of the Protectors must remain celibate, the result of the diminishing female population and the warrior class devoting their lives to the protection of their planet. To some, the council’s ruling made sense, since the Elite were of superior intelligence and had the bulk of the wealth. The upper class argued a Protector’s life was nomadic and dangerous, and at the current time overpopulated for the needs of the race.
Although there were rare instances a female choosing to live outside the Elite circles—his mother being one of those few exceptions.
He envied his father, and there were times when he mourned the loss of an intimacy he’d never experience. Sure, his Protectorate brothers-in-arms were like family, but the intimate connection with a mate couldn’t compare.
When the liquid mating pattern appeared on the woman’s arms, he hesitated, second-guessing the vision. Wondering if fate was playing some trick.
Those few seconds had cost him.
Rule one: mission first.
Rule two: obey rule number one.
The rules had been drilled into him since the day he was old enough to speak. His grandfather was a Protector. His father was a Protector. He had followed the paternal line and was expected to live out his days as a Protector. If his instincts were correct, his mate, the stunning creature before him, needed his protection, and that meant telling no one she existed.
If the Elite knew of her existence, her life path would be forever altered. His mother had fought against living a life dictated by rules and formal decorum. This beautiful woman had no idea that forced lifestyle existed.
He retreated toward his ship to retrieve the vacuum box.
