Maelstrom: Mermaids of Montana 1: Intergalactic Dating Agency

by Jade, Elsa

  With a curse of her own, she reached over, down between his legs, and yanked back the slide bar.

  He thrust back, avoiding her elbow in his crotch, and the front seat slammed almost into the back seat. He twisted his head to glare at her. She smirked back.

  “You could’ve shown me before,” he said in a wounded voice.

  “I was unconscious. Due to huffing alien love drugs.”

  He started the car. “Due to your reluctance to accept your Tritonan heritage.”

  “How could I believe what I didn’t know I had?”

  “You always knew you were different.” As they pulled out of the circular drive, he spun the wheel hard enough to tilt her toward him. “You told me you always felt alone.”

  “Because I was alone, not because I was alien.”

  “Not alien to me.”

  She was silent as he sped toward the main road out. While sleepy Sunset Falls probably never saw much traffic, at this witching hour between the last wolves of night and the first birds of morning, every earthly being was literally asleep.

  But she wasn’t an earthly being anymore, was she?

  The betrayal she’d swallowed down earlier in the evening welled up again. “Why didn’t you tell me about the gills?”

  “I wanted you to see them—feel them—for yourself. Especially once I saw the DNA sequencing, I thought being able to breathe underwater would cancel your fear.”

  “Instead, I’m worse.” She looked out her window. The dark pines and the deeper shadowed spaces between the trees flashed by like an interference pattern of waves so she had to turn her focus back to Maelstrom before the panic got her. “What is a hai… What did your friend say, hai-aku? Sounded like an insult.”

  “Fathom is not exactly a friend, more like a blaster cannon. Necessary in war, shunned during peace, dangerous all the time.” He let out a slow breath. “But he is Tritonyri, my brother in battle skin and spilled blood. And he wasn’t insulting you. Exactly. Hai-aku are sea creatures native to Tritona. Small, fast, tough-skinned. And sharp-toothed.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You calling me a shark?”

  “I didn’t. Sting did—”

  “You did too. When I was passed out in this very seat, you woke me up, calling me a shark.”

  “Shark?” He pursed his lips. “My universal translator is unclear. But maybe, perhaps. On Tritona, sharks are considered…adorable.”

  “Tough-skinned, sharp-toothed, and adorable?” She didn’t even try to keep the escalating accusation out of her voice. “Maybe your translator isn’t busted. Maybe you are.”

  He winced. “Hai-aku are adored because of their ferocity, their unfailing forward movement. We were at war for so long, losing the tide of every battle. Ridley, I can’t tell you…” He rubbed one hand across his mouth before gripping the wheel again. “A hai-aku will take on prey many times its size, and when it bites, its jaws lock so tight, not even death can escape it. Its name means last bite.”

  Last bite? Okay, she wasn’t going to be charmed by that, she just wasn’t. Still… “On Earth, sharks are considered scary and lethal.”

  “Oh, that too,” he murmured.

  “And many of Earth’s shark species are threatened or endangered.” She paused, head tilted. “Yeah, so as nicknames go, I guess this one sort of works.”

  Maelstrom looked at her, his blue-green eyes dark. “If you are endangered, I will be the one biting.”

  He held her gaze longer than seemed wise, but the car never drifted even though her heartbeat was pinballing all over the place. “Okay.” She cleared her throat. “We also consider sharks mindless eating machines, so let’s see what Thomas packed in our go bag.”

  She pulled out two travel mugs, sniffing at each to identify coffee, and found several still warm breakfast burritos, wrapped in wax paper. Maelstrom glanced at the items curiously as she popped out the cup holder and tucked the wax paper out of the way of his first bite. “Don’t eat that part,” she warned him.

  With a nod of thanks, he deftly handled the burrito and the wheel. She wondered if she would do as well if she had to fly a spaceship. A little fizz of anticipation that wasn’t all from the promise of caffeine perked her up. She’d never actually gone to war, but she’d been on plenty of exercise missions, and if she squinted a little, this could be like those. It had been so long since she had a purpose, an end in sight, that she forgave herself for being excited.

  Maelstrom’s datpad outlined a simple map as it had on their way to Sunset Lake, and while she worked her way through her breakfast, she popped open the glove compartment to find a state map. Yellowstone was almost off the bottom of the page, but she lined up the two maps. “Looks like the Cretarni ship is hiding north of the park itself, still in Montana, actually. Fewer people out there, but we’ll still need to be watchful. No sense running afoul of the closed-world protocols now.” She traced her finger over the maps. “We could park here and walk the rest of the way, assuming their ship’s scans are as limited as yours by needing to conceal themselves.”

  He nodded as he reached for a second burrito. “When the Tritonyri drove the Cretarni off-planet, they were in the same financial difficulties as us. Maybe not quite so bad, since they aren’t trying to revitalize a whole planet. But certainly not good enough to warrant a ship much better equipped than the Bathyal.” He chomped down on the burrito with unnecessary violence, finishing it in three big swallows.

  Obligingly, she pivoted the drinking spout of the travel mug toward him. “Could that be what this is about? Just a shakedown?” When he slanted her a confused glance, she explained, “A shakedown is using a threat to try to get money—space credits or whatever—from someone.”

  “Tritona doesn’t have the resources right now to make it an attractive target. Seems like they would go after richer fish.”

  “Well, I hear a rough tide brings those in.” She peered into the paper bag. “Oh, Thomas packed cream and sugar too. Speaking of richer…” She doctored her mug and took a deep draught, smacking her lips in pleasure at the velvety sweetness. She waggled the condiments at him. “Want to try?”

  He was watching her mouth, the same way he did right before giving her the breath of rising desire. Her lips heated. Just the steam from the coffee, right?

  “Give me all you got,” he murmured. “We’ll need the energy for what’s to come.”

  She tried not to think of all the ways she could come with him. Her attraction wasn’t based on reality. It was just the fear and the pheromones, the shock of learning what she was and then the intensity of racing to save it. It was just…him, being right there and all…strong and shit, trying to help, and failing, but not running away when she was down.

  No, not reality at all.

  She dumped all the sugar and cream into their mugs and kept her mouth shut.

  With breakfast on the road cleaned away, she pulled the mystery bundle into the front seat.

  “Watch out. Sting never bothers powering down his weapons.” When she carefully extracted the blaster rifle, Maelstrom reached over to show her how the controls matched the pistol-sized version. “Longer charge, more firepower, still point the end in the direction you want to shoot.”

  Gratified that their target practice had apparently assured him of her skill, she returned the rifle to the floor behind their seats. “There’s some more stuff in here.”

  “Hopefully no plasma grenades.”

  She wrinkled her nose at him but went through the bundle with even more caution, holding each up for his analysis.

  “Emergency transponder beacon, but we can’t use it without revealing our location to the Cretarni and your Earther radar. Personal mimic shield, really only reliable for a few minutes, even under the best conditions. Oh, reef-weed snacks.” He held out his hand and she fumbled with the strange static-cling zip seal for a moment before pouring a few of the moist, leafy marbles into his palm. “Try one.”

  Tentatively—she liked sushi and seafood, but
her budget had always been more fish sticks and canned tuna—she put one of the small balls on her tongue. It unfurled on her tongue like a salty ocean breeze, and she let out a soft sound of surprise. It tasted like first light at Imperial Beach in the days when catching a good wave was all that mattered.

  Mael glanced over at her. “Good?” When she nodded and popped another one, he grinned. “Keep the rest in your pocket. Makes for a good quick burst of energy. I used to keep them on hand…” His smile faltered.

  “For your fighters.” The ones who had died. She tucked the packet away, and to distract him from the still raw pain, she held up the last item Fathom-Sting had delivered. “And this?”

  “An external gill. It’s a miniaturized filter that expands and collects respiratory gases from water. Tritona’s oceans are deep and vast enough that even Tritonyri need an extra breathing source sometimes. Worse, the climate change and pollution runoff resulted in large dead zones in our oceans. Even we can’t go into those areas without assistance.”

  “There aren’t any oceans around here,” she pointed out. “Why would Sting throw this in your gear?”

  His jaw cranked to one side as he slanted a careful glance at her. “I mentioned your difficulties to my commander. I thought having the visual aid might help you, at least I did before your last blackout.” He hesitated, then added, “You asked me before not to throw you into the deep end. I hope you know I wouldn’t take you under again after your difficulties, not even with this.”

  She fingered the artificial gill. About the size of a harmonica, a bite tab with a hole was centered on one side while a thin, flexible tube came off the back end and connected to a small, soft pouch.

  With a slow exhale, she shoved the breathing apparatus back in the bag. “I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you for not telling me about my own gills.” She rubbed the side of her neck ruefully. “If you had told me, I probably would’ve just freaked out about that instead of holding my breath, toddler-tantrum style, and passing out.”

  He pursed his lips. “You’ve had a lot to freak out about. It’s not been my intent to add to that, whether by telling you things or omitting them.”

  She tucked her hands under her pressed-together knees, scowling. “I’m probably the all-time worst recruit you’ve ever led into battle.”

  “That would be Sting.” He shook his head. “And this won’t be a battle. Not yet anyway. Marisol said we’re spread too thin, but really we’re spread into nothingness.”

  She wanted to disagree with him, or at least offer some inspirational quote of the kind she had rejected before. But she didn’t know any Tritonan sayings, and at the moment, she couldn’t think of any Earther ones either. Maybe Earth had never truly been her home, but she apparently hadn’t really tried to make it one.

  With no traffic on the roads and Maelstrom’s deft handling of the rental car, they sped over the empty Montana highways. Though nothing changed outside their windows, the map showed when they crossed the Yellowstone northernmost boundary. He left the asphalt at an unmarked service road, bumping over rough gravel to park beside a pile of crushed granite, likely for resurfacing the roads between waves of park tourists.

  As he turned off the car, she peered out the windshield. “How old am I and I’ve never been to Yellowstone? Hard to believe that my first trip here will be hunting aliens.”

  “Mine too,” Maelstrom noted. “I’m not sure this is listed on the Intergalactic Dating Agency’s suggestions for first dates.”

  She snorted and gulped down the last of her coffee. “Good thing we never matched, I guess.”

  “Just as well.”

  Collecting their gear from the back seat—Maelstrom had packed extra clothes and drinking water before he’d awakened her—they exited the car on their separate sides and met around the front, staring into the dark trees.

  “There are bears, wolves, bison, and other things that we don’t want to mess with,” she warned him.

  “Not to mention my sworn enemies,” he added.

  “Not to mention.” She flipped up the collar of the heavy coat he’d brought for her, puffing out a breath that hung in the still, cold air. “Out of curiosity, what would be a first date on Tritona?”

  He let out his own breath, which curled upward to dissipate with hers. “I don’t actually know. In more peaceful times, Tritonyri would compete for the honor to dive for the depths where the Tritonesse stay in our citadels. There would be feasts and games. But it’s been hundreds of years of sporadic war since we could spare any warriors to make the dive. All the spawnlings for many generations now have been from Tritonyri who stayed in the trenches while the rest of us fought. I suppose, among many other changes, if Tritona is going to bring in fresh blood—or long-lost tribes—we’ll have to create new rituals, including first dates.”

  She pursed her lips. “Maybe this shouldn’t be one of them.”

  His answering huff was a short morse code of agreement. “Maybe just coffee and reef-weed balls?”

  “Sounds fabulous.” She gestured into the woods. “After you.”

  Chapter 15

  Despite the centuries of degradation, Tritona still had its wild places, even though Mael hadn’t had the leisure to visit them. Even so, he suspected this closed-world wilderness might be some of the most beautiful in the galaxy. The crisp night air made their swift march pleasant, though when they stopped to drink some of Marisol’s special water, they had to huddle close to preserve their body heat.

  As if just looking at his companion wasn’t enough to raise his internal temperature to undersea volcanic vent levels.

  The way she charged into every new challenge, disregarding the barrage of shocks and strangeness that faced her at every turn—how could he not admire her strength and determination? And that was before she’d taken off most of her clothes, exposing sleek muscles and soft skin, to join him in their first dives. As poorly as those had ended, still she’d opened her bedroom door to him, hazy with the remnants of sleep clinging to her, shaking from some evil dreams, but ready, always ready to go.

  With a fleet of fighters like her, maybe he wouldn’t have lost those last battles.

  He wanted to stab himself with his own dive blade for even thinking it. He should warn her away, far away. But he’d told her everything… And she’d not tried to escape him.

  Of course she couldn’t escape. She blacked out every time she tried to dive away.

  At least they were on solid ground, her rock-hard Earth. As they followed the map to where the outpost relay had identified the source of the incoming signal, he was torn between conflicting impulses, like the undersea riptide currents that had ripped apart more than one invading Cretarni ship.

  It wouldn’t come to that, he swore to himself. Anything before that.

  A short ways off from the map pin, he halted them again. “This isn’t a live scan,” he reminded her. “They are shielded strongly enough that the datpad can’t precisely locate them. And we’re running on intel that’s hours old now. My own senses will guide us in when we’re close enough, but that might also be close enough for them to see us, especially if they’ve set any perimeter warnings.”

  “More than the IDA outpost did,” she muttered.

  He nodded. She wasn’t just strong and courageous, she was smart too. Everything she’d been exposed to, she processed it and understood. More than just another Tritonyri fighter, maybe she would’ve made an excellent Tritonesse general if her ancestors hadn’t been sent away.

  “I’ll take the rifle, and you take both pistols.” He paused, half expecting her to object.

  “Since I didn’t have a chance to practice with the rifle,” she agreed.

  As they plunged deeper into the forest, the tall trees almost blocked the sky—black needles seeming to pierce the heavens with tiny points of starlight. There was no risen moon, poor Earth with its lonely satellite. They paralleled a narrow stream, half hidden in the folds of land, that meandered toward the area’s larg
est body of water, Yellowstone Lake to the south. The paper map Ridley had found in the vehicle and even his datpad marked the rivulet as a minor tributary, unimportant, but his Tritonyri senses drew him toward the flow.

  Ridley’s whisper was less than the merest breeze. “The Cretarni ship?”

  “No. Something else.”

  They edged out of the trees, watchful for traps or sensors. A flat, serpentine valley stretched in front of them, the stream glinting between the short shrubs and tall grasses, battered at the end of the season. In a few places across the valley, wider areas, devoid of growth, glowed pale under the faint starlight. From the brighter gleam of water centered in each patch of empty earth rose whorls of steam, slowly unfurling like distant galaxies undone by interstellar winds.

  “What happened here?” He couldn’t hold back a growl. “If those soil-sucking Cretarni bombed your planet…”

  “No, that’s coming from inside this Earth. Those are hot springs, and sometimes they erupt.” Ridley let out a soft, delighted sigh. “I’ve seen pictures of the biggest pools and geysers in the popular parts of the park, but I didn’t realize they were scattered this far out.”

  He glanced at her rapt expression. The ghostly reflection of starlight turned her gray eyes to silver. And she too looked otherworldly. “The sight of the water isn’t bothering you?”

  Her gaze shifted to him, silver flashing with starlight as her eyes widened. “You’re right,” she breathed. “Maybe because they’re so peaceful? So beautiful, almost…otherworldly.”

  “More than beautiful,” he said. “There’s something luring me.”

  The dazzle in her eyes flattened with her sudden focus. “An ambush?”

  “Not from the Cretarni. This feels…closer to home.”

  “Ooh, another mystery. Okay then, let’s get closer.”

  Out from under the trees, they’d be exposed, even to Earther tech. “You have the mimic shield in your pack,” he reminded her as they dropped toward the valley floor. “If anything happens, hide until the danger passes.”