by Jade, Elsa
They all stared back at him. Lana was the first one to squeak out a stunned reply. “You think we’re…aliens?”
“Only partly. While Ridley and I were out, we stopped by my ship”—when the two other women swiveled to stare at her, Ridley nodded—“and I took a preliminary medical scan.” He pulled back his sleeve to display the device on his wrist. “The initial results indicate a partial match for Tritonan genetics.”
In her throne-like chair, Marisol braced herself. “You think the Wavercrest Syndrome is caused by alien DNA?”
“I’m not an astrobiologist, but…I believe there’s no syndrome at all. I think you are the descendants of one of the first exodus ships that left Tritona during the early skirmishes, nearly a thousand of your years ago. And I think the survivors of that ship interbred with Earthers, diluting our heredities. The reason you have troubles here is because you’re not from here. Anyway, part of you isn’t.”
“Part alien?” Lana muttered. “Well, that’s…only partly reassuring.”
Marisol drummed her fingers, though the marble armrests didn’t carry the sound. “You say your medical scan found this genetic discrepancy. How accurate is the analysis?”
“It’s incomplete,” he admitted. “But beyond the scan, I have other evidence.” He cut a look at Ridley.
A zing of alarm went down her spine. “Dude, why you looking at me like that?”
“You are my other evidence,” he said gently. “You reacted to the breath of rising desire—that’s a Tritonyri mating pheromone,” he said in an aside to the others, triggering a hot flush to Ridley’s cheeks as they pivoted again to stare at her. “You said it was like waking up to the real world. A world you didn’t know you were part of.”
She sputtered as the others looked at her with disbelief and concern—and maybe a touch of disapproving judgment? He’d basically confessed to them that she was getting it on with an extraterrestrial. “Not…not like a totally different world. Just because I reacted to an alien drug doesn’t mean I am an alien.”
“True,” he drawled. “But you breathing through gills when exposed to the pheromone seems to point in that general direction.”
Her sputter turned into a horrified cough. “Gills?” With everyone staring at her, including Mael, she couldn’t help but clamp her hands to the sides of her neck. “Gills… Like yours?”
He nodded. “Although less developed than mine. You have what seem like spawnling gills, suited for when our young are still in the shallowest, safest, oxygen-rich waters of Tritona.” With the glow of the fireplace behind him, his blue-green eyes were shadowed, mysterious. “I think that’s why you’re freaking out in deep water. Because your body knows it’s not developed enough yet for bare dives.”
Keeping her hands carefully in place around her neck, she shook her head hard. “I don’t use gills to dive. I have a mask and canned oxygen. Not…bare.”
“But your dormant psyche knows you should be able to dive without those,” he countered. “The disconnect between your upbringing and your subconscious is getting in your way every time you touch or even see the water now.”
“But why now?” She couldn’t keep the lament out of her voice. “I was fine before.”
His steady stare refuted her whine, but he said only, “Could be because you’re aging into darker water, like our spawnlings, but you’re not physically ready because of your Earther heredity. Or maybe there was another trigger in this environment. Like the dive where you were competing with those other males and thought you panicked, almost drowning.” He swept his gaze toward the other two women. “All your so-called symptoms are an expression of whatever Tritonan DNA you inherited. With so many generations passed, and not knowing your ancestors, it’s hard to say what’s left in you or why it’s manifesting now.”
Lana huddled into her chair, as if her curvy body could curl right into itself and disappear. “If this is a problem of our alien blood, there’s no way anyone on Earth can help us. No one would even believe us.”
He strode up to her. “But you’re not alone on Earth.”
When he reached out a hand toward her shoulder, tiny sparks flickered in the air between them, and she flinched back. “Don’t touch,” she cried out. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
He hesitated, then dropped to a crouch in front of her. “Tritona doesn’t abandon its own.” When he glanced over his shoulder at the rest of them, his dark hair flowed down his back, raising a few more sparks from Lana. “No matter how long it’s been.”
As he pushed decisively to his feet, stepping away, Lana uncoiled to gaze at Ridley in fascination. “Can you do it right now, show us your gills like Maelstrom did if we dump water over your head?”
Ridley scowled. “No. Because I didn’t know I was doing it before.”
“It happened both times you blacked out,” Maelstrom told her. “I think it was a stress response, but you should be able to learn to control it.”
“This happened twice?” Marisol’s sharp, dark gaze sliced between them.
Ridley flapped one shushing hand at her, still staring at Mael. “You saw them before and didn’t tell me then?” The stab of hurt and distrust made her voice sound too weak; he didn’t deserve to know that she’d started to believe in him.
He ducked his head, as if avoiding a punch. “I wasn’t sure at first what I saw.” He lowered his head a little more—maybe not avoiding but resigning himself to a warranted hit. “I knew they were gills, but it wasn’t until the genetics analysis that it made sense.”
“So you let me freak out again, just to check your work.” She was proud that this time she managed to keep her voice flat.
His head jerked up, as if she’d connected with a good right hook. “No, I thought the breath of rising desire would help you, as it did when we dove to the Bathyal. I hoped a little longer in the water on the return swim would trigger the gill opening so I could show you.”
She glowered at him. “And instead I completely lost the rest of the day. I almost panicked again just taking a shower.”
“At least panic won’t kill you,” Marisol muttered, uncharacteristically impolite.
“Or kill someone else,” Lana muttered back.
“Gimme a minute,” Ridley snapped. “I’m sure I can work up to it.”
“Ladies,” Thomas said reprovingly. “We’re in this together.” When he all turned to stare at him, he shrugged. “Perhaps not by genetics, in my case, but certainly by proximity and inclination.”
Marisol pushed back in her throne-like chair, as if some invisible pressure of gravity held her down. “Of course,” she murmured, once again in control of her educated diction. “We all have a lot to lose.”
“That being the case,” Maelstrom said, “I’d like to introduce you to my commander.” He unstrapped the datpad from his wrist and set it on the white marble armrest of Marisol’s chair. “With the natural and manufactured interference around Sunset Falls, we won’t be able to reach him via visuals, only audio. But if we’re all in this together, we should all be together.” He flashed a quick smile at Marisol, before stepping back. “Anyway, since the IDA sold him on your match but you don’t know him, it seems only fair that you should have the chance to hear from him.”
Marisol lifted her chin, her olive skin darkening over her cheeks. “I did not consent to be anyone’s alien mail order bride, no matter how many space credits he spent with the fake IDA.”
“Of course not,” Maelstrom assured her. “And who knows, with this Tritonan DNA, you could be long-lost cousins.”
Ridley frowned at him. “I thought you were trying to shield him from breaking any closed-world rules.”
“Now that we’ve identified you as lost Tritonan kin, those rules don’t apply,” he told her. “Your interstellar status might be in question, but you are no longer just an Earther.”
She curled her stockinged toes hard against the cold marble tiles. As a kid, she’d lost her mother and any illusion of safety and stabi
lity she might’ve held through those chaotic years. And foster care and the Navy had both set her loose with little more than a good luck wave. She’d never have guessed that she might lose her home planet too.
For the first time, she had an inkling of what Maelstrom must be feeling with his world at risk. At least her planet wasn’t being marked as condemned by the transgalactic community after devastating wars, economic instability, environmental collapse…
At least not yet.
She scrubbed one agitated hand over her head, flicking off the last water droplets from her shower. The spider-like skitter of the droplets down the back of her neck made her shiver despite the comforting warmth of the fireplace and the alcohol sugars in her blood. “Call him,” she said harshly. “We need to figure this out before it’s over for all of us.”
Chapter 13
When Maelstrom pinged the Bathyal, Coriolis answered the hail immediately. “What have you got?”
“Three Earther females and their guardsman listening in,” Maelstrom informed him.
A single moment of seething silence answered him. “I hope you’ve been taken prisoner and tortured unmercifully to justify this contact.” Coriolis’s grim voice crackled through the datpad.
Mael would’ve had to pour plastcrete in his gills to keep his head from swiveling around toward Ridley. But she was staring down at her fuzzy feet.
Marisol leaned over the datpad on the armrest of her chair. “Not our prisoner, and not our alien mate,” she said crisply. “A capable partner, I hope, in unraveling this mystery that concerns us both.”
Another beat of silence before Coriolis said, “Marisol Wavercrest. Personally, I’d hoped to be halfway back to Tritona with you as my bride by now.
“Nice to meet you too,” she said, her tone edging from crisp to cutting. “I assume there was a good reason you sent someone else to collect your bride instead of coming yourself.”
“I’m shy,” Coriolis said. “And I trusted my former captain.”
Maelstrom winced at the past tense. “Let me explain.”
As quickly and clearly as he could, he relayed what he and Ridley had discovered, what he’d announced to the other Earther women, swapping what Coriolis knew and the Earthers didn’t, until he ended saying, “Whatever happens, the onus is on me.”
“Actually, it’s not,” Coriolis growled. “It’s too late for that.”
“Together for the reward and the risk,” Ridley murmured.
Maelstrom glanced at her. She was still paler than he wanted to see. The shock of her reaction to the pheromone combined with the discovery of her heritage was proving to be too much. If he was right, they weren’t being affected by some bizarre syndrome, but the difficulties of their transition could be every bit as dangerous. “Genetic balancing of the complexity you require is beyond the scope of Earther biotechnology,” he told them. “But depending on the intricacy of your mixed heritage, properly unraveling and re-coding the strands of your DNA might be more complex than even our battlefield fixes.”
“This is a battlefield now?” Lana tightened into a smaller ball, tucking her hands between her knees.
“More like trickery, lies, deception,” Marisol said. “Hardly open warfare.”
“Results seem the same,” Ridley mused.
Marisol gave a sharp nod. “I’ll send a message to my contact at the IDA, whoever they are, telling them to cancel our meeting, that I’m going on holiday with two nice women I’ve met through my grandmother’s foundation. Presumably that will get in the way of whatever it is they planned by handing my profile over to you, Commander.”
“I’ve already informed them that the Bathyal is departing tomorrow,” Coriolis said. “Quite a different message from what you’ll be sending, so presumably they will not suspect that we’ve been in contact.”
“Since we’re not supposed to know anything about aliens,” Lana murmured.
“These IDA frauds have shown no inclination to be violent yet,” Maelstrom said. “But I don’t think we can rely on that if their scheme is challenged.”
Ridley nodded. “I should probably have one of those ray guns.”
With a smirk, he flicked up the edge of his tunic to display the blaster pistols. “We’ll head out back for some target practice when we’re done here.”
“I’d say we’re done here now,” Coriolis said. “Until they contact us anyway. Or make their next move. I’m going to send Sting—”
“Don’t do that,” Mael protested. “I said the situation hasn’t turned violent yet. Let’s not start the countdown on our end.”
Lana tilted her head. “What’s a sting?”
“We don’t have enough Tritonyri for this fight,” Coriolis countered.
Maelstrom turned his head away, though he knew the datpad would pick up his voice. “We never did.”
Though he wasn’t visible, the commander’s frustration boiled through the room. “Sting stays. For now. But if this IDA—if anyone—tries to take what we have left, it will be open war.”
When Coriolis signed off, Mael sent Ridley to get her boots and coat so they could practice with the blaster pistol. He could always take it away if she proved to not have the expertise she’d claimed. Meanwhile, he helped himself to another piece of cake.
Marisol watched him. “Is this commander of yours going to give you a hard time for stepping out of line?”
He blinked at her, careful to keep his second eyelid from flashing his distress. “He’d be right to, wouldn’t have much choice if we were still under wartime protocols. But I didn’t have much choice either.”
Her dark eyes were steady in a way that reminded him of some of the larger predators in Tritona’s deepest oceans. “I have no idea what will happen next, but I appreciate the candor you’ve shown so far. Whatever I can do to reward that, I will.”
“If you can’t save yourself, you can’t save my planet.” As soon as the words were out, he shook his head in his own bitterness. “That was unfair. I’m sorry.”
“But you’re not wrong.” Her lips quirked in a humorless smile. “With any luck we’ll both get what we want.”
“I just want a ray gun,” Ridley announced as she strode into the library, her footfalls thudding hard. Once more, she had herself under control, and for half a second, he remembered the way she’d curled into his arms when he carried her, the way she’d come apart above him with him buried deep inside.
But if he didn’t want followers anymore, he certainly couldn’t harbor a vulnerable innocent under his dubious protection.
And he definitely couldn’t claim a mate.
He held one of the small pistols toward her, grip first. “I have the charge set for stun right now. But don’t shoot me. Or yourself. Actually, don’t shoot anything unless I point.”
She lifted one eyebrow. “We’re just shooting bottles for now.”
“I hate guns.” Lana let out a sad sigh. “But honestly, I’ve never felt more useless. And as a tarot-reading herbalist, let me tell you, that’s really saying something.”
Ridley smiled at her. “That electric shock thing you do. How strong is it? Strong enough to stop an attack?”
The small Earther woman wrinkled her nose. “I think I’d rather be useless.”
“If the moment comes when you need it, that won’t be what you’re thinking at all.” Mael took a step back, gesturing. “Come with us.” He wasn’t being a coward, afraid to be alone with Ridley.
Lana shook her head, making her soft, brown curls fly. “I told you I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
Mael gazed down at her. “You also already told us you can’t stop it. Maybe aiming it will be your only choice.”
“As choices go, that’s not exactly fair,” Marisol said as she pushed to her feet. She swayed, but when Mael reached out to steady her, she waved him away.
“Even in the open ocean, sometimes there is only one direction to go,” he said, trying to channel his commander’s steadfast tone.
&n
bsp; “So that’s the direction I’ll point.” Ridley bared her teeth at him in a decidedly not vulnerable smile. “Point my ray gun, I mean, in case that wasn’t clear.”
With a snort, he swiped one of the mostly empty bottles from the side table and capped it. “All right. Let’s make sure you’re pointing the right end.” Casting a last glance at the other Earthers, he said, “Call for us immediately if the IDA replies.” He focused on Marisol specifically. “I’ll leave the datpad so you can coordinate with my commander.”
The heiress gave him an arch glance. “I have no reason to contact him, but if I did it would be for formulating strategy, not flirting.”
He gave her what he hoped was a guileless look. “The IDA profile was fraudulent. Of course I’d never try to push you toward my commander. His name, by the way is Coriolis Kelyre. He’s a war hero, a good commander. And he is my friend.”
She returned a look as falsely ingenuous as his own. “I am delighted that he matches so well. With you.”
Mael grunted under his breath and turned to follow Ridley out to the backyard. As they crossed the open lawn behind the house, she said, “Maybe it’s different on Tritona, but on Earth, heiresses don’t usually need to go on blind dates.”
“The Tritonesse are also very much in control—and in demand—so I hear you. Since our females were most hurt by the war, that’s one reason why we reached out to the Intergalactic Dating Agency, to bring in new blood.” He flipped the bottle end over end in his hand. “What are the chances that the new blood would be long-lost blood?”
“Zero chance,” Ridley said bluntly. “For whatever reason the fake IDA brought us together, they knew what they were doing.”
He started to set the bottle on a low branch at the tree line. “Speaking of bringing us together—”
“Let’s not.”
Frowning, he glanced over his shoulder at her. “It’s…too late, I think. We were already together. Did the freaking out make you forget? After I pulled you out of the lake onto the shore, you laid under me and we—”
