Rescued By Tordin: Olodian Alien Warrior Romance

by Mychal Daniels

  One thing was working for her, though—gaiata. Gaiata had become her best friend and personal salvation. If people on Earth had this stuff, drugs would become useless. She drank lots of it, luxuriated in it during her cleansing times and felt the elixir of life doing its magic as each Olodian-length day passed. The liquid was a miracle substance. She was no longer tired and dragging after what would be a typical workday—the equivalent of thirty-six hours in an Earth cycle. Instead, she flowed into a circadian body rhythm that mimicked that of the warriors.

  Her sleep time was longer, at what she calculated to be ten to twelve Earth hours, but she felt refreshed when she woke. She reminded herself that her days were about twice as long, so her sleep needed to be, as well. Resting now meant allowing her body to repair and rejuvenate as the gaiata did its magic. She made sure to drink some before bed each night. With each passing day, she picked up more of the Olodians’ ways, what to do, how to live, and she did it faster.

  After work she went to visit Phoebe, and Malm usually met her there. Although he was still the only one the healers allowed to touch Phoebe, she felt like her friend sensed and appreciated her presence, as well. And Phoebe looked well-rested and healed, perhaps almost ready to wake up—or that was Kyra’s hopeful assessment.

  Malm remained his normal self and sat, quietly holding Phoebe’s hand as Kyra watched in awe and a little bit of sadness. She’d also noticed that Jalek had come by a few times when Malm was there but left quickly, not entering the room. Before leaving, though, he watched Phoebe move in response to Malm’s touch. Kyra was certain she saw hurt written across his face.

  She was intimately familiar with that look. She’d endured it for years, always feeling like she was the second choice. Living in the shadows of people whose light shone way brighter than her own had made her a pro at concealing rejection, even if it ate her up from the inside out. She was always the invisible one trying to be smart enough to be taken seriously and respected. She figured if they couldn’t adore her as a beautiful woman she could at least get their respect as a brilliant colleague. Yes, she definitely understood what she saw in Jalek’s expression.

  There it was again. Her heart lurched with want for Tordin. What was he doing at that moment? Did he feel this, too?

  Kyra ached at the torturous pull to be with the commander; she couldn’t seem to stop when she was alone and forced to be with herself. Before she met him, she’d never had a problem spending endless hours alone. That seemed like eons ago. Now Kyra’s entire being wanted and needed Tordin to come to her, to hold her in his arms again. It was more than sexual. It was like needing air to breathe.

  Seeing Malm with Phoebe made her sad and a little sorry for herself. It might not have been so bad if she’d never known what it felt like to be in Tordin’s arms in real life, but she did. That was the torture—she had experienced it only to have to endure its loss every day.

  He had rejected her, plain and simple.

  She really knew how to pick them. Why couldn’t she fall for one of the other beautiful men on board? They were plentiful, kind and ripe for the picking. But no, she had to choose the commander, Lord Tordin, who had a huge conflict of interest where she was concerned. Or at least that’s what he said. Why was she so powerfully drawn to him if she couldn’t have him?

  The pull to be near him felt stronger and more real as each day passed.

  Am I obsessed to the point of madness over him?

  She caught herself aimlessly walking the corridors of the ship, only to discover she was in the command center or training area where he was. Kyra never approached him, hoping she’d correct her course before he saw her. She was quick to leave as soon as she realized she’d gone to him. Her drifting toward him was trance-like. She didn’t know when she’d flow into it. Her only hope was that she’d be able to see him coming into view in time to divert her trajectory and go the other way.

  I’m acting like a stupid, loyal, love-sick puppy where he’s concerned.

  He looked downright distraught and horrified when he left her the last time, and she never wanted to see that look on his face again, especially if she was the one to put it there. Kyra had no doubt he’d wanted her as much as she wanted him at the time, but somehow, it wasn’t enough.

  Or maybe she was just a woman of convenience for him. She was the only female on board who was conscious and walking around in good health. Maybe she was just a warm body that would do in the meantime. She evidently didn’t matter enough for him to try to figure out a way to make it work. She just wasn’t important enough to him.

  Kyra stomped her foot in anger before she remembered where she was and that Malm had been watching her.

  “What troubles you, bright one?” he asked.

  There it was again, that moniker, ‘bright one’. What did it mean when they said it?

  “Malm, why do you call me that? ‘Bright one’.”

  “Because it is your name and what you bring.”

  “Huh? I don’t follow what you mean.”

  “Oh, forgive. What I mean is that your name means Sun according to your Earth’s records, and you bring the bright shine of your Earth’s sun with you everywhere you go, especially to our Sire.”

  “I didn’t know that’s what my name meant. And as for your Sire, that’s the last thing I bring him. He stays away and avoids me like I’m a bad infection. It’s as if I’m obsessed with what I can’t have. Do you think I’m obsessed with him?” she asked, ashamed for feeling as immature as she did.

  Malm smiled and said, “No, you’re not obsessed with him. It is the Goddess at work. As for Tordin, what he does is for both of you. Please do not believe what you see. Trust your heart. He wants to do what is right and honorable. Being around you tempts him to run the risk of limiting the chances of a long future with you.”

  “See that statement right there makes no sense whatsoever. How can he avoid me in order to have a future with me? I might find someone else. This ship has oodles of men, and let’s not even talk about the ones on the other ships in the fleet.”

  Malm nodded his head as if understanding. She was surprised he used the Earth gesture, but she’d noticed he’d picked up quite a few of her sayings and ways of late. Then he said, “It means he has to conquer himself where you are concerned. He is a strong leader in so many areas, but in this part of his life,” he gestured to her, “he must overcome his drive to fulfill his immediate desires in order to have life-long peace and happiness. The Goddess wills it. He must learn, grow and conquer himself. He has to become what the unction calls him to be.

  “There are forces at work that neither of you see but will face in due time. You are his greatest strength and weakness. If he becomes what is required of him, you will help him open up possibilities of change that will impact our world in dramatic fashion. His avoiding you has nothing to do with not wanting to be with you. He is preparing to be able to be with you the right way, bright one. In that preparation, he’s taking this time of separation from you to focus on the mission his father gave him. The success of this mission is a key to your desires coming to pass. He honors you by keeping his distance. Trust your heart, bright one.”

  “So I’m a distraction to what he needs to accomplish. Okay, I’ll continue to stay away, but I don’t know how to stop the dream-walking to find him.”

  “You are never a distraction, bright one, you are a hope that helps him to stay focused. As for your walks, allow the Goddess to give you wisdom. I know that is not what you wish to hear, but it is the only advice I can give you. Your life’s path is joined with his. Only the Goddess knows the reason and purpose, but you are like her in many ways.”

  “I don’t know about this Goddess you speak about. Is she like the God of our Earth?”

  “Your god is encompassed within her. The Creator Goddess gives life and interacts with each of us in the way best for us to grasp. The energy of the Goddess flows strong within you. Her unction is upon you, and I have no doubt you will fulfill
the call.”

  Confused, that’s what Kyra was. Instead of begging Malm to speak like a normal person instead of some esoteric prophet, she decided to give it a rest. There was one thing she couldn’t deny, though. She felt the weight and life of the words Malm spoke. They set up residence deep within her like the ones the healers had pronounced over her.

  All she could do was stare at Malm as he returned his attention to Phoebe. She’d moved like a mermaid, gracefully undulating in smooth ripples as he’d spoken. He never stopped touching her through the entire exchange. Kyra envied her friend to be able to exist in a coma and not have to deal with all of this.

  Phoebe was back to her normal, smooth but limited movements now that he was silent. If Kyra didn’t know any better, she’d believe Malm and Phoebe were symbiotically bound together in some way. Phoebe’s body had reacted differently as he spoke to Kyra. What was going on between them and between Tordin and her?

  She had to think, and she left the room as quietly as possible. She focused on making it to her room but was dismayed to find herself at one of the training rooms closer to the Healing Section.

  “Oh no, I did it again,” she said, not liking how in spite of her best efforts she’d ended up at the training room where Tordin might be.

  The room was empty at the moment. That was odd. Normally he’d already be wherever she’d been led. Maybe Malm’s words were working on her in some way, kind of how the healers’ did. Might as well get some exercise in, then. Now she knew that must be the gaiata working within her. She never voluntarily worked out, especially not by herself.

  She finished a rigorous simulated hike that climbed some alien trail, and she marveled at how the gaiata refreshed and cooled her skin after the exertion. Sweating was such a different experience now. It felt…good, not slimy and gross as it had was on Earth. Plus, her body didn’t hurt after the exercise. That was a huge win. She might make this part of her daily routine. She’d come here and work out after visiting Phoebe.

  She didn’t hear the footsteps until he was close enough for her to hear his ragged breathing.

  “So you bought into their mind control hook, line and sinker, I see. Look at you. You look and act more like them as the days go by!”

  Brantley! She’d know that spineless wonder’s voice anywhere. The troll was here in the same room with her. When she turned around, the shriek of horror that flew out of her filled the room. Brantley was hideous, and he smelled as bad as he looked.

  His skin had an unhealthy yellowish-green hue, like he’d been living in some radioactive sewer, and his eyes bulged with a crazy gleam.

  “Brantley, what are you doing here?” she managed to ask as calmly as possible.

  “I’ve been waiting to catch you when he’s not around, watching and lurking.”

  She was confused. Who was he talking about?

  “Brantley, what are you talking about? Who’s been lurking around me besides you?” She couldn’t resist the dig. This was beyond creepy and felt a little stalker-ish, too.

  “Who? Why, the great and all-powerful Oz, also known as Lord Tordin. I hate him. He never lets you out of his sight. Whenever I’ve asked to see you, one of his football player-looking goons tells me you’ve refused my request. But I know that can’t be right. I can see now they’ve brainwashed you to believe their lies. I had to get to you to warn you and get you to snap out of it. We have to escape.”

  Kyra could tell Brantley was out of his mind. He looked badly malnourished and deranged. Gone was his pot gut; instead he looked haggard, saggy and old. She almost felt sorry for him until she remembered what he’d done, and anger replaced pity.

  “Brantley, stay away from me. Lord Tordin was doing what I asked him to—keeping you away from me. I still can’t get over how you sexually harassed me and what you allowed to happen to the station. Your carelessness is the reason we’re here now. You caused the deaths of so many people, and I do not want to be responsible for doing something harmful to you.”

  “Ha! Harmful to me? You can’t do anything that hasn’t already been done. They watch me all the time. I have to sneak around and hide like an animal just to get away from them. They’re out to have my mind. I can tell they already have yours now. And that poor woman in there. They have her pickled like some lab experiment in that box. There’s no telling what they’re doing to her.”

  Kyra tried hard to follow what he said, but when he spoke of Phoebe being pickled and experimented on, she knew he was delusional. “No, Brantley, Phoebe is not dead, she’s in suspension while she works her way back to consciousness. She’s in a coma.”

  “No, she’s not. That blue liquid is alive. It does things to you. It sucks your life away. I won’t allow them to make me take it. It’s evil and part of their attempt to brainwash me. Don’t drink it or go near it.”

  “Yeah, look at all the good that’s done for you,” she said, noting how he appeared to be rotting away.

  Brantley didn’t stop his tirade, though; he was convinced. “They are all evil, trying to take everything from us. When I ask for normal food and water, they say they don’t have it. Lies! They want to brainwash us to be their guinea pigs. You have to stop believing them. It’s too late for Phoebe, they’ve killed her, but you—we can get away and escape. Don’t believe them. They are evil,” he said in an elevated trill.

  Kyra looked around for a way of escape. If Brantley continued to work himself up, she didn’t know what either of them would do. Would he try to force her to do anything? Would she have to protect herself and harm him? How had he managed to get in here without anyone noticing, anyway? She had to get away from him before something bad happened. Then a memory brushed against her mind. It was brief and gentle, but she grabbed hold. It was a long shot, but she hoped it would work. She had nothing to lose by trying.

  She blocked out everything but one thought and said in a whisper, “Tordin”, as she pressed her neck where the vo-link had once been attached.

  Immediately his voice filled her head, “Yes, dear Kyra, how may I help you?”

  His voice sounded like bliss. Kyra snatched her focus back to the present. She was simultaneously grateful and overwhelmed to hear Tordin’s voice filling her head, but she had to work fast. Brantley eyed her like she was crazy. She mouthed the words as she thought them and said, “Please send help. Brantley has me cornered in the training room by the Healing Section, and he’s starting to scare me. I don’t know what’s wrong, but he appears to have had some sort of mental breakdown.”

  “Okay, please don’t do anything to engage or agitate him, I’m on my way. I’m very close by, so keep him busy for a few moments, and I’ll be there. Keep this line open until I reach you. Hold on, Kyra, I’m on my way.”

  Concentrating on the sickly looking Brantley, everything Kyra had gone through on the station in its last moments rushed back. Oceanic waves of grief started to crest over her, washing her in anger, fear, hatred and remorse. She’d been helpless to stop any of it. She’d tried, but it hadn’t been enough, and this man was the cause of it all.

  This time the stinging, angry tears rolled down her face before she could stop them. She didn’t look away, though. She continued to stare at the man responsible for causing one of the most traumatic events of her life. The sight of Brantley standing there, looking insane, triggered the other most traumatic event of her life—her parents’ death in a car accident.

  She’d been a child in the back seat. She’d emerged unharmed, but they were gone by no fault of their own. The two events began to blur and fuse together. Brantley became the personification of the drunk driver and the villain of all her worst, most tormenting nightmares. People like him caused senseless accidents that could be prevented with a little more attention and responsibility. Brantley was a bringer of death and despair. Hatred threatened to send her over the cliff of reason. She wanted his blood. She wanted him dead.

  “Kyra, what’s wrong with you? You don’t look right,” he said, looking at her lik
e she was the crazy one. “Are they mind-controlling you now? Have you gone mad?”

  Maybe she had. Maybe Brantley’s craziness had rubbed off on her, too. They would be two crazy Earthians in this room for all the aliens to observe and learn from. They would become a part of the Olodians’ historical record, yet another incident proving Earthians were weak and inferior. They would demonstrate how they couldn’t keep it together when bad stuff happened.

  “Brantley, shut up and don’t talk to me,” she said. This was not how she should go about keeping him calm, but she didn’t care. He needed to know that he was to blame for his own predicament. “Brantley, if I never saw you again, it would make for a very happy life. Every time you’ve been involved in something around me, it’s gone wrong. You’re a screw-up, plain and simple. You don’t take responsibility for your actions. It’s always someone else’s fault, and I’m done with it. I’m taking back my life. I won’t allow you to do anything else that effects Phoebe or me. Do you understand me? Stay away from me!”

  Brantley stepped back, startled at the force of her rebuke.

  “Kyra, I didn’t do anything to you. I was just playing the game; you know the political landscape like everyone else. I had to do what I did. Everyone wanted me to fail. They forced me to play every card I had in the way I did.”

  “Brantley, shut up! Just stop it. You’re not the victim here, you’re the villain. You are the reason Phoebe is in a coma, and we’re on this ship of aliens—you and your actions. So don’t tell me this cockamamie story about how you had to do what you did for survival. And please give it a rest about us being brainwashed by the Olodians. The only one who is brainwashed is you, by your own thinking. That’s guilt talking to you and filling your mind with outlandish scenarios—your guilt! You need to face yourself and see that you are the catalyst for all your turmoil. Buck up and be a man of honor and character!”

  Brantley moved away from her and crouched in a corner, attempting to plug his ears to shut out her voice.