by Leslie Chase
3
Gillian
What the fuck do I do with this? Gillian's heart pounded as she walked closer to the motionless body of the dragon. There was no doubt in her mind that he was dying, or that he had saved her life. The other dragon had almost been on her when her savior struck, and she knew that she'd be remembering the sight of those dagger-sized teeth bearing down on her in her nightmares for years to come.
But whoever the attackers were, this dragon had driven them off. And he'd suffered for it. Would die for it, if she couldn't do something about that — but she couldn't think. Her mind was in a fog of fear and shock.
"Gillian! Are you alright? Answer me!" Harry's voice was high pitched, desperate, and Gillian realized her brother had been speaking for a while. How long had it been since the attack? Shakily she looked at the time display. It couldn't have been more than a few minutes, at most, since she'd seen the dragons flying towards her. It felt like a lifetime.
I guess it could have been, she thought, drawing a deep breath and trying to calm down. If this one had been a second later, I wouldn't be here.
"I'm fine," she said, surprised to find that her voice sounded steady. A lot steadier than she felt. "Nothing to worry about, Harry."
"Nothing to worry about? You screamed, sis," Harry said, almost shouting over the radio. "What happened? I thought..."
He trailed off, and Gillian suppressed a shudder. If something had happened to her out here, she knew her brother well enough to know he'd have come out to rescue her. Or rather, to try. There wasn't any chance that he'd have made it in time, but he might have managed to get himself killed too.
"I'm okay, Harry," she said again, not knowing what else to tell him. "I'll be back as soon as I can, I just hit a snag."
Understatement of the year, Gillian. She resisted the urge to laugh at herself. If she started, she wasn't sure she'd be able to stop — and dissolving into hysterics wouldn't help anyone, no matter how tempting it felt.
"A snag? What does that even mean?" Harry asked, but rather than answer, she muted the channel. Immediately, the comm link lit up red as he tried to get through anyway, but Gillian needed to think and talking to Harry wasn't helping.
The dragon in front of her steamed as the ice melted under him, and she wondered if he was even alive. There was no way to tell — his chest didn't rise and fall, there was no breath from his nostrils. But this was Mars, and there was little air for him to breathe anyway. What signs of life was she supposed to look for?
Gillian had heard of dragons, had seen pictures of them in the news, but this was the first time she'd seen one of the shifters in real life. It was an overwhelming sight, filling her field of view and making her doubt her senses. The red, scaled body was so big it almost didn't seem real. Even through the insulation of her suit, Gillian could feel the heat radiating from the dragon's body.
She took a step closer, reaching out with one hesitant hand to touch the dragon's flank. The scales were surprisingly smooth under her fingers as she traced her gloved fingers across them to the wound her attackers had torn in his side. Crimson blood dripped from his injuries, steaming where it struck the ice, and clouds of white vapor rose around him, surrounding them both.
Why did you save me? Or did you even care? Gillian looked the dragon over, trying to suppress her awe. Maybe it had nothing to do with her. Maybe this was a fight between the dragons, and she'd just happened to be there. They were, after all, warriors. They'd come to the solar system to conquer the Earth, that much everyone knew about them. Since they'd woken from their long sleep they'd been a constant menace to humans on the red planet. Dragon pirates roamed the Martian deserts, and the Dragon Emperor claimed all of Mars as his own.
Probably this was just a fight between gangs, Gillian told herself. Two factions of dragons killing each other over God-knows-what. Like the violence her family had fled Earth to avoid. She remembered it too well, the chaos of New York where the gangs ruled the streets and the corporations looked down from their secure enclaves. Mars had seemed like a welcome escape, but now they had to deal with aliens fighting each other instead.
It wasn't fair.
Gillian sighed. Fair or not, none of that changed the fact that this alien had saved her life. It didn't matter if that had been his plan: if he hadn't swooped in to attack the other dragon, she'd have been lunch. So, I need to do something for him. I can't just abandon him out here. Then I'd be no better than the gangs.
She might not know whether he was alive or dead, but if she left him out here he would certainly die. At least if she brought him home, she could give him a proper burial. If dragons did burials? She didn't know that, either, but there must be some way to find out.
Turning back to the wandering mining robot, Gillian swore quietly to herself. The return journey had been a long, slow drive anyway. Now she had this dragon to deal with too? At least I don't have to worry about freezing anymore, she thought, looking at the temperature readout. His body radiated enough heat that her suit's heater had shut down and the ice under him was melting.
Okay, let's do this. There was only one way she could imagine moving the huge creature, and she wasn't sure if it would work. But she had to try.
Unwinding the robot's metal tow cables, she pulled them out to the dragon's body. They were meant for pulling other machines, or for anchoring the robot in place. Pulling an unconscious dragon was far from their design, but it could work. Nothing else would.
It wasn't a dignified way to bring her savior home, but he'd just have to put up with that. If he lived long enough to complain about it then Gillian would be happy with the result.
Dragging the cables around his huge, imposing body, she tried to find a place to attach them to him. It turned out not to be easy — there was no way she was going to loop them under him. Why can't dragons come with handy towing attachments, like cars? Biology can be so inefficient.
Trying to loop the cables around his limbs wasn't easy either, and the metal kept slipping off. Frowning, Gillian tried to look for another solution. The cold was setting in and if they didn't get back soon, it might be too late. The Martian day didn't last long this far north, and the nighttime chill could be deadly even with her suit heater. Perhaps the dragon's warmth would keep her from freezing solid, but Gillian didn't want to chance it.
Eventually, she managed to get the cables wrapped around the base of his wings. That seemed to be secure, though she didn't know how safe that would be for him. Gillian hoped that they wouldn't tear off, but she couldn't find a better place to fasten the cables and she had to try something if she was going to get him home.
It has to be better than leaving him here, she told herself again. No matter what damage she did to him getting him back to the farm, it would be better than leaving him to die in the wilderness. I don't care what he says later, I'm not leaving the man who saved me to die out here. Enough delay.
"Okay, Number Five, let's get this show on the road," she said, setting the machine in motion again. The robot's tracks scrabbled on the ice and the cables tightened, straining. But the robot was designed to haul far greater weights, and Gillian had set the cables well. With a groan, they tightened and held, and the dragon dragged along behind her as she set course for home.
The journey wasn't easy or quick as Number Five dragged the dragon across the ice field. He kept getting caught on rough patches, and while sometimes Gillian could get him loose easily, other times there was nothing for it but to pull him across them with brute force. Gillian winced at the way the cables dug in when she did that, but there wasn't much choice.
Eventually, they reached the ice farm and Gillian could relax a little. Guiding the robot into the vehicle bay, she managed to get the dragon inside and the doors shut before collapsing against the wall and shaking. Holding in her shock for the long journey had not been easy, and as soon as air filled the chamber she pulled off her helmet to suck in deep lungfuls.
It all felt a lot more real now th
at she'd dragged the dragon into her home. Here he was, taking up half the maintenance bay. The space where the crawler her father had taken to Fuller would have been was instead full of dragon, and she didn't know what to think about that. Staring at her new guest, she tried to get her breathing under control.
I nearly died out there. What the hell happened? Did he drag this trouble here, or did he just appear in the nick of time to save me?
"Hey, sis, why did you cut off the radio—" Harry's question cut off unfinished as he stepped into the bay, and Gillian almost laughed at the sight of him. Her brother's eyes went wide and his mouth opened and closed silently a couple of times. Tentatively he stepped into the room.
"Cool," he whispered as he reached out to touch the dragon. "Is he dead?"
"No!" Gillian snapped. At least, I hope not, she added silently. "Come on, help me untie these cables."
Harry nodded, for once not interested in arguing. Together they unwound the cables from the dragon's wings, and Gillian winced at the sight of the damage they'd caused digging in. Taking off her suit's gloves, she touched the dragon's scales with her bare hand. They felt solid but soft at the same time, surprisingly smooth and pleasantly warm to the touch.
"Where'd you find him? Why's he on our farm? Did Number Five dig him out of the ice? Is he going to wake up? Is he dangerous?" Harry's litany of enthusiastic questions didn't let up, and Gillian let them wash over her as she steadied herself. Then she turned to him and smiled.
"I'll tell you the details later," she promised, not sure how to tell the story now. "But no, he wasn't buried in the ice, and no, I don't know what he's doing on our lands. Go get some blankets down here and we'll wrap him up."
"No fair, I want to have a look at him," Harry objected. "You get the blankets."
"I've just been—" Gillian cut herself off before she could get too far into an argument with her brother. It would be a waste of time and she needed to change anyway. Getting away from the weirdness she'd dragged home could only help. "Alright, fine. I'll go, but you be careful until I get back. No touching him, understand?"
"I promise," Harry said, not taking his awestruck eyes off the dragon. Gillian frowned, unsure if she could trust her brother. No, Harry's not stupid enough to try and climb on him or anything, she told herself. At least, I hope not.
Her worries proved unfounded. When she returned to the vehicle bay after a quick shower and change of clothes, he was still standing there staring. Gillian wasn't even sure if he'd moved.
"I think he's breathing," Harry said excitedly without looking round.
"God, I hope so," Gillian answered, dropping the pile of blankets she'd brought. "I didn't drag him all the way back here just so that he could die on us."
Harry spared her a quick look before turning back to the dragon. "Why did you bring him here? What happened out there, sis?"
"I'll tell you later," Gillian answered, shaking her head and stepping closer to the mighty creature. "I need to get it all straight in my head, first."
The whole situation was overwhelming, and she really didn't want to think about it, much less be interrogated for details by her eternally-curious little brother. There were so many things she didn't know. What were the dragons fighting over? Why were they doing it here?
Would the others be back to finish the job?
She tried to put that last thought out of her mind. There wasn't anything she could do about homicidal dragon shifters descending on her farm, so there wasn't any point in thinking about it. But it wasn't easy to put it away. What have you gotten me into? she silently asked the dragon, stepping closer to look at his wounds. They were no longer bleeding, at least. That was a good sign, because the medical supplies on the ice farm weren't great for a human injury.
For an alien dragon, they might as well not exist.
"What do we do now?" she wondered aloud, feeling a flicker of annoyance at their giant patient. "How are we supposed to look after him?"
"I don't know," Harry said, shaking his head. "I guess we get ready to feed him when he wakes up. What do dragons eat anyway?"
Humans, Gillian resisted the urge to answer. She shivered at the memory of a giant mouth open wide, just feet away from her when this dragon swooped in to the rescue. Suddenly she felt guilty about blaming him for any of this. No matter what happened, he had saved her life. Even if it turned out that he'd brought the danger with him, that was still worth remembering.
Pressing her hand to space between the dragon's eyes, she took a deep breath and whispered a little 'thank you' to him.
To her surprise and shock, the dragon moved. Gillian leaped backward with a shriek. Harry will never let me live that down, an irreverent part of her mind thought, but most of her was concentrating on the sight in front of her.
The dragon was shrinking.
It happened quickly, almost too quickly to follow. The dragon folded in on himself, limbs shortening, scales shrinking, wings pulling back as his body straightened. Before she could catch her breath, the giant alien lizard shifted into something nearly human.
If humans had deep red skin, a light coat of scales, and large leathery wings, anyway.
A whimpering scrambling noise from the doorway told Gillian that she didn't need to be worried about Harry mocking her reaction. He was as shocked as she was, if not more, and frightened with it.
Gillian stepped closer, unable to restrain her curiosity. The alien lying before her was still clearly injured, and the wounds looked like they followed the same pattern as they had on the dragon. Makes sense, she thought. He is the dragon, right?
She didn't know what had triggered the transformation, but it wasn't him waking up. He was still just as firmly unconscious as before, only now he was on a human scale. Gillian looked him over, marveling at his solid, muscular, gorgeous body. Ruggedly handsome despite his injuries, and if he stood he'd be at least eight feet tall, Gillian was sure. And every inch of him was muscle. Her eyes traced down his chest, past the wound on his side and on to his abs. Unable to look away from his perfectly defined six-pack she followed the vee that led her gaze downward...
Oh god he's naked.
Feeling her face heat to a bright red, Gillian managed to tear her eyes away and unfolded one of the blankets to throw over him. No ogling the unconscious patient, she told herself firmly.
Piling blankets under his head to make a pillow, she wondered how long it would be before he came round, and what they would do if he didn't.
4
Zardan
Zardan felt at peace for the first time in years. In centuries, really. The darkness around him was warm and welcoming, and if he couldn't remember how he came to be there it also didn't matter to him. Was this the afterlife? If it was, Zardan thought he could have done worse.
Dimly, he remembered a fight. A battle against long odds, protecting someone from harm. Falling towards the ice. Everything going dark. I wonder if I won? It didn't seem all that important right now, but the question wouldn't leave him alone. It was important to know if the person he'd fought for was safe.
That thought dragged him towards consciousness, and he slowly became aware of the pain flooding through his body. His side burned, and his lungs felt like they were on fire. Worst of all was the agony of his back, as though his wings had been torn off. If I'm breathing, I guess that means I'm alive, he thought with a hint of irritation. It wasn't that he wanted to die, but the idea that his life was done had been relaxing, almost comforting. If he was alive, he still had to face his future and deal with his past.
Someone was talking. To Zardan it sounded as though they were a very long way away, but it was loud enough to disturb him, and he felt the darkness start to lift. With it went the sense of comfort and wellbeing that had filled him, and he felt his body start to tense as he tried to open his eyes. It was a lot harder than it should have been.
"—still hasn't woken up," someone was saying. It took him a moment to recognize the language as English, one of the
human tongues he knew. At least I bothered to learn some of their languages, he thought. It was easy for a dragon, their implanted computers handled most of the work for them. A relic of the time when their Empire had spanned the stars and conquered hundreds of worlds, each with their own languages to learn.
With an immense effort, Zardan managed to open his eyes. The last of the darkness that had shrouded his senses fell away, and he blinked against the light. Wherever he was, it was bright, bright enough to hurt. And colder than he'd like, too. At some point he must have shifted back, because he was in his humanoid form and bundled up in blankets. Beside him rose the bulky green shape of the machine that he'd seen out on the ice, and further back he saw other, similar machines and the tools for working on them.
All of that was detail, though, unimportant. His trained warrior's gaze took in his environment automatically, judging the terrain and cover. But his conscious mind was drawn to the human female standing over him, speaking into some kind of a communicator.
Oh. That's who I was protecting. The memory flooded back, and he winced at the thought. But it looked like he had won the fight, at least, and that he'd been defending someone worth the pain he felt now.
She was even more beautiful outside of her spacesuit. Now she wore a coverall that failed to hide the wonderful curves of her body, and her long dark hair was pulled back into a practical ponytail. He found himself longing to see what her pretty face would look like framed by it if it fell free. Zardan gazed up at her as she talked, not yet noticing his open eyes. He could feel his body respond to her presence as he never had to any other female.
It wasn't just his body. His mind, his very soul, were drawn to her in a way he'd only ever heard tales of. She was the most perfect person he'd ever seen.
It's not possible, he told himself firmly. She can't be my mate. We were born a thousand years apart, even if humans can be our mates. This is an illusion, borne of my near-death experience.
