The aliens spoke up, speaking in a series of guttural tones and clicks. The diplomats replied in English, thanking them for a warm welcome before filing past him. He watched as the reduced gravity of the space station had its effect on them, lightening their steps, causing them to float just a little as they bounced along. The airlock slid shut behind them.
Now, to wait.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“Back to work, everyone,” Tristan barked as he turned. “Nothing to see here.”
Someone laughed, but they drifted off. He walked through the halls, making his way back to the bridge. When he got there, he stood in the doorway, watching Mila stare out the windows at the planet below.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
She jumped. “Jesus, Tristan.”
“Sorry.” He crossed the bridge and sat in the seat beside her.
“It is beautiful, but so is Earth.”
“Yeah.” Right about now, he wanted nothing more than to be back on terra firma. Earth. This had been one hell of a tour. And it was only half over.
“So, how were the aliens?”
“Weird. Big. Black. Wriggly. Friendlier than humans.” He shook his head at the last one, feeling ashamed of his species. Homo sapiens sapiens. He looked over at Mila, wondering if she considered herself human. Was she? And how much of the lore surrounding shifters was true. For all he knew, they were kinder, gentler, and more honorable than humans could ever be. “Tell me about shifters.”
She looked over at him. “There’s not much I can tell you. It’s not like I’ve met a whole lot of them. I’m not that old for a shifter and I suspect the current political climate has scattered our already small community to the four corners of the Earth.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t make policy, Tristan. You’ve been very understanding.”
“Thanks. Anyway, I imagine, even if you don’t know as much as some, you certainly know more than I do.”
“I guess so,” she hedged. “What do you want to know?”
“Is it true that shifters tend to be assassins and thieves?”
“Maybe, I don’t know, but I doubt it’s from a lack of moral fiber. In that respect, we’re just like any human. Some are good, others aren’t. Personally, I think it’s more culture and opportunity. Keep in mind, being a mercenary wasn’t such a bad thing a few hundred years ago. And many people stole because they had no other way of living. Survival is a strong instinct.
“And well, after a while, if that was their options, I think the shifter communities would become ingrained, some in normal ways, but some in less socially acceptable ones.”
“How is it you don’t know your own people?”
“I didn’t know I was a shifter, that I would become one. It just happened one day. Well, you know the story.”
“Yeah.” He paused, deep in thought. “So, what can you do? What can’t you?”
She smiled. “Lots.” She rubbed her hands together and glanced at the door. “You know, if we lock that door, I can show you.”
“Okay.” He got up, and his fingers roamed over the panel, closing and locking the door. “Good to go.”
Mila’s smile grew bigger as she stood and held one finger up. “Shifter rule number one: we can only shift into something of the same mass. Tigers are one of the best choices for an animal, as few others carry similar bulk to humans.”
She stood back by the consoles and chairs, hesitant for a second. Nervous on more than one level, she pulled off most of her clothes and shifted effortlessly into a tiger, migrating excess iron to her paws so she didn’t float. Slinking to Tristan in that limp-limbed stalk large cats are known for, she rubbed up against him, her head reaching his hip and let out a gentle roar.
Tristan laughed, his hand reaching down and petting her, rubbing the top of her head, behind her ears, between her shoulder blades.
Good God, that feels good.
She sat and leaned into his hand, sending him off balance. A coughing laugh slipped from her as Tristan regained his footing. With a great yawn, she stood, crossed the room to her clothes, and shifted back to the shape of May Trace.
She ticked off more “rules” on her fingers and dressed again. “Rule number two: we can’t immediately identify one of our own. Rule number three: we need calories to power a change, so if we shift, we have to eat.
“Shifting between genders is weird. I don’t like doing it. It is by far the most disturbing sensation possible.
“I never have to diet. Between higher caloric need and the ability to shift fat cells into muscle mass, it’s not a concern. Which is wonderful, because I love to eat.
“We tend to prefer one or a couple forms. Contrary to popular belief, we don’t constantly shift from one form to the next. I spend almost all of my time in the face I’ve had since birth.”
“What do you look like? I can’t believe I never wondered that before.”
“Okay.” And suddenly, Mila felt nervous, like she was stripping down armor right before battle, more nervous than when she’d stripped in front of him. What if he doesn’t like the real me? She took a deep breath and shifted back into herself, closing her eyes, afraid to see his reaction.
“Beautiful,” he breathed.
She smiled, eyes still closed. “Not disappointed?”
“Never.”
“Avery.”
He looked up from his desk. “Yeah, lieutenant?”
“Can I have a word?”
“Certainly. Come on in.”
Braddock walked in, shutting the door behind him. He looked around the tiny, near empty office. “What do you think of May Trace?”
Curiosity in his eyes, Avery said, “I think she’s brave, dedicated, and the best damned pilot I’ve ever seen.” He leaned forward, elbows on his desk. “Why?”
“She’s rubbed me wrong from day one. There’s something not right about her.”
“Braddock, that something not right you’re feeling is just your stick-up-your-butt mentality when it comes to military command. Ease up on the girl.”
“That’s not it.” Not completely. “I think I’ve found her secret.”
“Secret?” Nothing piqued Avery’s interest like a secret.
“Yes, a secret.”
“And what secret might that be?” Avery still sounded skeptical. Not for long.
“I think she’s a shifter.”
Chapter Forty
Avery burst out laughing, pounding away at the desk as tears formed at the corners of his eyes. Little fits of laughter continued taking him by surprise but he could breathe easier as he wiped the tears from his face. “You have one hell of an active imagination, lieutenant. I wouldn’t have suspected. Not in a thousand years.”
Braddock puffed up, outrage turning his face red.
Holy shit, he’s dead serious.
“I do not have an active imagination. I know what I saw.”
Avery froze. Saw? What did he see? He raised an eyebrow at Braddock, apprehension seeping into his brain. He didn’t want to believe what the lieutenant was saying. Trace? A shifter?
“The day the airlock was breached. After the captain brought her back on board. I saw her hands. Only they weren’t hands, they were claws.”
Avery sat back, tapping his fingers against the top of his desk. “You do realize the implications of your testimony, don’t you?”
Braddock nodded. “I do.”
“She’s our pilot. Our only pilot.” Not to mention he’d started seeing her as a friend. Sitting there, staring back at Braddock, he found himself in an unprecedented position.
He didn’t want to uphold the law.
Mila was walking back to her bunk after a long round of poker. She yawned, her eyes closing and tearing as she bumped into someone. “Oh, sorry. Avery.”
“I need to speak with you privately.” He looked grim.
“Sure.” She nodded and let Avery into her tiny room. “Have a seat.”
But he didn�
�t. He paced a couple times before taking up a position on the opposite wall and leaning against it, arms crossed. “Don’t lie to me. Your livelihood might depend on your answer.”
“Okay…” Now, she was worried. What the hell’s going on? The old anxieties fired up again and she fought a sudden urge to dash for the door.
“Are you a shifter?”
Her mouth opened, but no words came out. This is not happening! Ten years without a single person finding out. A few weeks on this POS and I feel like half the ship knows. Collecting herself, she said, “How do you expect me to answer that?”
“With the truth.” He glared, his stance getting harder, implacable.
“Avery, I like you. Respect you. You’re a good guy. But I don’t know how to answer that question.” She waved her hand in the air. “This whole thing with shifters is just a great big witch hunt. And I can’t help thinking someone has it in for me and aimed you my way. That’s what happened, isn’t it?”
Mila saw the truth in his eyes. And she could guess who, too.
“Lieutenant Braddock?” Although how Braddock had figured out her secret, she might never know.
“How did you know?”
She shrugged. “He’s the only one on this boat who doesn’t like me, besides that assassin earlier.”
“Still, Trace,” he shook his head, “Braddock isn’t the type to lie… or see things.”
What the hell did he see?!
He stood, waiting, arms across his chest. “I’m not leaving without an answer.”
What do you do when your entire life hangs in the balance? When a single person’s opinion can have devastating effects and you don’t know what to do? She had a strong urge to cry. She felt that pressure of emotion building up, but she dared not let it loose.
The silence built between them and in the end it was the look of disappointment in his eyes that loosened her tongue. “Yes.”
He let out a sigh and his entire posture relaxed. “This is bad.”
“Yeah. What are you going to do?”
“I suspect Braddock would have me lock you up, sooner rather than later.”
“And will you?” She couldn’t breathe, needing the answer before life could go on.
“No. I don’t know what the hell we’re gonna do, but I won’t lock you up. In my eyes, you’re a damned hero, Trace.” He paused. “Is Trace even your real name?” His face paled several shades as another realization hit him.
“No, my name isn’t Trace and no, I didn’t kill her. That bastard assassin did. But when I showed up here, he thought he hadn’t finished the job.” A humorless laugh slipped out. “So many people died because of my stupidity.”
“What do you mean?”
She looked up at him. “If I hadn’t taken over her identity, the assassin wouldn’t have been here. He wouldn’t have killed all those people.”
Avery crossed his arms once more, his brow furrowed. “That’s not your fault. Or maybe I should say, it’s the lesser of two evils. Yeah, he came here because of you. But, because of you, we learned of the plot to sabotage this mission. Because of you, that assassin is now dead. He can’t kill another living soul ever again.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Braddock’s still a problem.”
“He’s a problem we can put off for another day.”
“He could send word back to Earth, tell them what he thinks I am. They could be waiting for me when we land.”
“We’ll figure something out. I promise.”
She nodded. “Tristan knows, too.”
Avery smiled. “He does, does he? Why am I not surprised?”
Avery walked beside Trace, marveling at the fact he could walk beside a shifter and not think of all the propaganda that had been bandied about over the years. “What is your name?”
Trace looked around, checking for people. He imagined she had to develop a cautious streak. “Mila Anya Dragomirov.”
“Russian?”
“Only by very distant heritage.”
He nodded. It was like that a lot in America. Many families had been in the United States for centuries, but they still clung to their ancestry. They religiously chose ethnic names, ate the food, and spoke the language of the old country to the exclusion of all others. Every aspect of their lives laid testament to a culture and land their ancestors fled from desperately. It was… ironic.
“How did you end up with May Trace’s identity?”
“She was my friend. She died,” Mila breathed.
“How did she die? You said the assassin killed her.”
“Well, not directly. He hired hoodlums to fake a mugging. I was there. They stabbed her, then took off. It was an arterial wound. She would have never reached the hospital. Even if I’d had the wits to call for help.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I just wish I hadn’t wasted so much time. When I found out what I was, I ran. I didn’t talk to her for ten years. We should have kept in touch. We should have…”
“Stop.” He jogged out in front of her, stopping her with a palm to her chest. “Don’t do that to yourself. Things happened the way they were meant to. You couldn’t have changed things. You wouldn’t have changed things. This is how they are. This is how they must be.”
Her head sagged. “I know. But it doesn’t stop me from wishing things had turned out differently.”
“Would you have wished you’d never gotten to fly the Orleans? Never met the captain?”
“No!”
He smiled at her, letting his arm down. “See? How they’re supposed to be.”
She shook her head. “I like how you think.”
He bowed. “At your service, madame.”
They spent the rest of the walk in silence. He glanced over, seeing a small smile on her face. Good.
Tristan jerked his head up as the doors to his office slammed open, admitting Avery and Mila in a rather theatrical manner.
“We have a problem,” Avery said. “Braddock suspects.”
“Braddock suspects what?” He looked at Mila, but she gave nothing away.
Avery looked at Tristan, then at Mila. “Yeah, I know what she is. And if we don’t come up with a game plan, so will everyone else.”
Mila blanched, causing Tristan’s heart to clench in his chest.
“Sit.” He leaned back in his chair, using his role as captain to stay calm, be what he needed to be. “Tell me everything.”
“Braddock came to my office today. Told me Trace was a shifter. I didn’t believe him. Actually, I laughed in his face. Asked him if he realized the implications of the accusations he was making.
“He told me that when she came back through the airlock, her hands were in the form of claws. He didn’t doubt what he claimed to see. And I was inclined to believe him. Braddock has no imagination.
“The way I see it, we have two options. Option one is prove she isn’t a shifter.” He looked over and winked at Mila. “Option two is make her disappear. Probably, list her among the dead. There would be no body and Braddock wouldn’t be able to prove she hadn’t died. Hopefully.”
Tristan sat, thinking. He wanted to swear up and down the hallways, but that wasn’t behavior befitting a captain. It would figure Braddock would be the threat to her. Damned tight-assed gremlin. He should have done more than give him a firm chastisement. “I doubt either option would work, Avery. Option two wouldn’t work because people remember seeing her after the big fiasco. She’s our only remaining pilot. That would require too much coverup. And how the hell would we manage option one?”
“Fake DNA testing.”
He raised an eyebrow at his head of security. “Fake it how?”
“Swap samples. All I need is a female sample, bring it in to medical for testing. Say someone accused her of being a shifter. After everything that’s happened, I’m surprised nobody has done it. There’s certainly enough craziness to make people paranoid.”
“And you think that would work?
”
“Sure. If the head of security brings in a sample, they should assume I wanted to ensure the samples weren’t swapped out. You know, like trying to pass drug testing by using someone else’s urine. And we have buccal swabs in the security offices for collecting DNA evidence from suspects.”
Tristan nodded. That could work. It had to. “Do it.”
Avery stood. “Right away,” and left.
“How are you holding up?”
She let out a shaky breath. “Like my whole world is falling apart.”
“I imagine. Come here.” He opened his arms, enticing her.
She gave him a small smile, walked over, and sat in his lap, snuggling into his chest. “Thanks,” she whispered. “I needed that.”
Chapter Forty-One
Avery felt he might jump out of his skin at any moment. He’d ordered “randomized” shifter screening, saying that after the fiasco with the assassin, it was warranted. Nobody argued as he collected buccal swab samples from a half-dozen people.
Behind closed doors, he took one of the female samples he’d collected and put it in a fresh envelop, this time changing the information. He filled out Trace’s bio. Name, rank, ID numbers. Would someone be able to tell? Did they keep previous DNA tests on file? Damn, he wished he’d paid more attention to that side of the business.
He organized the stiff envelopes, wrapping a rubber band around them to keep them together. The bundle was a tight wad in his fist as he left his office. He scanned his surroundings, but nobody noticed. Everyone was on high alert after the events of this trip. There were probably still saboteurs on board, which really irked him. He felt confident they hadn’t caught all of them. He wanted to catch them. Needed to.
He left the offices, his eyes scanning each and every face.
Paranoid, Avery. You’re getting paranoid.
He knew it, but it didn’t stop him from suspecting all those around him. He shook his head. All but Trace. He was putting his very career on the line for that woman. But he knew right from wrong. And turning her over to the authorities would be wrong. Trace, no, Dragomirov was a hero. And even if her real name would never get the recognition, he wanted to see that she didn’t get punished instead.
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