It is a good feeling, to feel like a hero again. The first time in many years. The main reason I so desperately missed my ship, I realize, is because within her rusted walls I am a war hero. Indispensable.
It’s nice to remind myself that I can find that feeling elsewhere.
“Here,” she says, stopping so suddenly that I almost slam into her, and the thought of pressing my body into her soft-looking back almost riles me up, but I curb it and regain my composure before she can turn and see my glowing tattoos.
“There is no building here,” I state, wondering if she is an idiot. What would it say about me if the DNA lottery sent me a 99% match and she had the intelligence of a baby quibbin? I would have to bash some heads together for the insult.
She sighs, and rests her hands on her soft, full hips, and I find that I am staring at her curves instead of where she is nodding towards. “General, do you see what I mean now?”
I look up and then push an obstructive branch away from my face and squint further, almost as if humoring her. There is…
Wait.
I stride forward and then yank the tight tendrils of the plants away from the crumbling walls, and inside I see as clear as day that there is a teleportation tube in perfect working condition.
This is indeed where she appeared from, and … the rest of the laboratory is gone. Years ago, it looks like. The plants here on lush, vibrant Aeo work fast and I know that the Mahdfel farmers spend plenty of time battling with the wildlife as a part of their jobs, but I am amazed.
“Can you figure out how to send me back through it?” she asks. “I could just go back to Earth and tell them there’s been a mistake. It’s just that there’s no control panel, no buttons, nothing.”
“No,” I grunt, tossing the plant matter to the ground and peering closer. “This is a receiver. Nothing more, nothing less. You cannot send anything through this. The teleportation device back on Paxia can send objects, though. So we will return there and the king will know what to do with you.”
She wrinkles her nose. “The way you talk makes me sound really unwanted,” she says with a laugh. “The guy, the Mahdfel I matched with, do you know anything about him? Is he a warrior? Will he go and fight?”
I frown. I have no idea what to tell her. I suppose I cannot begrudge her her curiosity, but I don’t have much by way of imagination. So I just shrug and tell her about myself. “He is a warrior,” I say. “A fine warrior indeed. One of the best.”
“Oh, that’s great,” she says, lighting up.
“I did not realize that humans were so interested in the warrior lifestyle. I thought the majority of you preferred to stay away from war and conflict.”
She chews her lip as she helps me to clear the area of twisting vines and sticky leaves. There is no real reason to do what we are doing, but I feel the need to do it out of respect for Aeo. And she doesn’t question me, she just helps.
“I am not interested in war or conflict, especially,” she says after a moment. “But I have plenty of experience in pharmaceuticals and an undergrad degree in medicine. I just figured that if I have to live my life here, I want to make the most of it and be as useful as I can be.”
“That is admirable,” I tell her, and I mean it. It hadn’t occurred to me until now, but if somebody had told me in no uncertain terms that I had to relocate to Earth and live my life there as one of the only Mahdfel around, and adapt completely as quickly as possible, I feel as though I — and anyone else I know — would be thrown for perhaps several years, at least.
But she is taking it merrily in her stride, even moments after being toyed with by an alien predator.
Tougher than I thought.
I watch the way a damp strand of long dark hair falls across her face and she runs her fingers through it idly.
The way she spoke, though … I wonder if she is hiding something. Her mannerisms have changed almost imperceptibly now that she has said that. “Is there anything else?” I ask, hoping to coax it out of her, though I am not entirely sure why I care.
“Anything else what?” she chirps, not meeting my gaze. Hmm. She is hiding something.
“A reason you want your future mate to be a warrior?”
She is silent, and then shakes her head. A smile widens across my face.
“Is it perhaps because … you find that to be an attractive quality in a mate? That is very Mahdfel of you, I must say.”
She laughs quickly, and shakes her head harder. “No!” she says. “That’s not why.”
“Ah, so there is a reason?” I say, and she lets out a sigh as she attempts to clear a large piece of rubble away.
“Fine, yes, there is a reason.”
“Well, you must tell me,” I say, lifting the slab of wall she is struggling with, as if it weighs nothing, and tossing it away. The room is now clear, and there is nothing nearby. No comms system. No black box. No sign that anyone has been here in many years.
I have no way of knowing what has happened to the Aeon ambassadors, or lab workers, or anyone who lived nearby. I can only hope they simply migrated to another part of the moon, and it is nothing more sinister than that.
“I dunno. Can I trust you, Tyr?”
Heat swirls through my body at that, and I stand up straight and look her straight in the eyes with intensity. “I may be many things,” I tell her, leaning in close, “but untrustworthy is not one of them.”
She stifles her laughter and it is clear to me now that she was just joking. I frown at her while she shakes her head. I get a hit of her feminine scent, one that I haven’t experienced in any form in five years, and it makes my head fuzzy. I am pretty sure that no Firosan resonated with me quite like this, anyway. She spots my glowing tattoos and raises her eyebrows, but before she can ask what they are, I cut in.
“So explain this to me. Why do you want to be with a fighter? It would be safer to be with a farmer, a merchant, a fisherman. And humans are not built for combat; especially not human females.”
She wrinkles her nose at this again, and I do not know if I have offended her. But the Firosans were not interested in combat one bit, and they are the only females I knew well in the galaxy.
“Because…” She gives a heavy sigh, and falls to a sit on some rubble. I sit opposite her and rest my hands on my knees. Her gaze falls slowly to my legs, spread apart, and then between them, and then she blushes and looks rapidly away, which makes me smile despite myself.
“Yes?”
“Because my mother is sick. She got sick fifteen years ago, when the Suhlik invaded. My father fought the aliens face to face and he was immunized for something they only ever called the ‘spore virus’. She wasn’t. My mother snuck into the battlefield because she wanted to see him … she was a passionate, emotional woman. She came home sick. Over the last few years she has been really sick, and the doctors just have no idea what to do. It’s a chemical that no longer exists on Earth, and the virus has mutated inside her.”
“She is dying?” I ask. My own mother died because of the Suhlik too. I know loss. I know pain. I hang my head in sympathy. “I am sorry you must go through that.”
She says something quiet, and I look up again until she repeats herself louder. “I won’t go through it,” she says. “I can fix her. I know I can. I just need an up to date version of the medicine. It will be on active military bases that fight the Suhlik. That’s why I … that’s why I wanted to be matched with a warrior. I thought every Mahdfel had access to military bases. I thought you were all fighting the Suhlik right now. I…” She buries her face in her hands and groans. “Now I’m stuck here. With nothing.”
I lean back and take her in. “I know what you mean,” I say finally.
She looks in. “You know what I mean in what way?”
“A spore virus. I know what you are talking about. It is a very rare occurrence but yes, exposure to the Suhlik can cause a severe reaction to an organic lifeform. Their home planet is a disgusting place, and they destroy everything
they touch after a while. Generally it takes many decades for their presence to end life, but sometimes it happens quickly. Like a sustained allergic reaction. In those cases, yes, there is medicine. You are correct.”
She sits up straighter. “You know this because you’re a general,” she says.
“Of course.”
“You fight in the wars?”
“No. I am not active. I will be soon, but the Paxian military is in no shape to dive straight back into battle. We must refresh and regroup after their most recent devastating—”
“Yeah, OK, but you have a ship and you know where the nearest Mahdfel outposts are.” She stands up, folding her arms across her chest. She has a look of determination on her face that I can only describe as beautiful. I look away.
“That is against the orders of my king,” I tell her. “I am meant to keep you away from danger. There is no more dangerous place nearby than an active warzone.” I stand as well, uncomfortable at having to gaze up at her. Unused to it. “Obviously.”
“Right, I get that, but … my mother is dying.” She is desperate, I have seen that look before. I have seen it on myself several times. Usually before I do something reckless.
“Look, my job is to take you to the king. To find you a mate. Um, I mean, to find your mate. After that, your life is your own.” I raise my hands in a sign of apathy. “After that journey you can go where you like and I will not be stripped of my ship and my rank.”
She swears under her breath. “You did save me. I can’t do that to you. Fine. I’ll get to Paxia with you, and then I’ll figure it out from there. Let’s get to your ship.”
Before I can point out that this is precisely what I want too, she is already far away, and spinning on her heel to glare at me.
“Hurry up!” she calls over.
For the first time in recent memory, I follow an order without question.
We come to the clearing where I landed my ship, and she turns to me and frowns, her pretty features colored with confusion. “Is that it?” she asks. “That’s a ship? How do you fit inside?”
I try not to give away how annoyed I am by her words. “It is a ship. A military vessel, and you should show her some respect! She holds a crew of five, and we fit perfectly well.”
“A crew?”
“The others are hauling supplies to where the farmlands are supposed to be. If they are still there.” I grimace at the thought.
“I just … I’m sorry, I don’t see how even you fit on that thing.” She shrugs, and I wonder for the second time if she is being simple. I move around to where she is, clamping my hands on her shoulders and moving her to the side at the same time — marvelling at the warm, soft feel of her skin and then snatching my hands away as if electrocuted — so I can see what she is looking at.
Because I don’t understand anyone who can look at the Eclipse and not see home.
And then I do.
What Alyssa is looking at is just scrap metal. My beautiful ship. Most of the integrity, the hull, the engine, everything, has been stripped from her!
She is just a hunk of curved, studded metal lying lopsided on the dead grass I landed on when I arrived … less than an hour ago.
What happened?
I tilt back my head and let out a roar of pure anger that widens the human’s eyes.
“That’s not the whole thing, is it?” she asks, finally understanding what has happened here. “Sorry — I just figured it was a weird alien thing. Like maybe it was bigger on the inside than it is on the outside.”
I grit my teeth. “What?!” I demand. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!”
She sighs. “Sorry,” she says again. “Well, I guess there’s one good thing about this.”
I turn to her, glaring into her dark brown eyes as she looks up at me, fighting the urge to smile at my unhidden fury. “What? What could possibly be good about this? We are stranded here!”
She stands with her hands on her hips and looks around at the thick, lush greenery. “At least we know we aren’t alone.”
Chapter Seven
Alyssa
“Could it have been your crew?” I venture to ask. “Any reason they would want to strand you here?”
The enormous purple warrior alien snorts with derision above me. “I trust my crew with my life. They have put their lives on the line for me countless times. Of course it is not them. No. This is the handiwork of something else — something very specific and indigenous to the area.”
I stare at him expectantly.
He lowers his bright eyes to lock on mine. “The Merrel,” he growls.
There is a short pause. “I feel as though you expected that to have a lot more impact as a statement than it did,” I say. “I don’t know what a Merrel is.”
“Right.”
“That really meant nothing to me.”
He walks slowly towards the remains of his ship, barely contained rage sending ripples of tension through his visible muscles. The sight makes me feel something strange. Not unpleasant, but surely unexpected. “The Merrel live here on Aeo. They are not as intelligent as the Mahdfel but they have a complex society.”
“Oh,” I say, “that’s fascinating. Why do you think this was them?”
He rolls a shoulder, grimacing as if he can’t quite bear to look the destruction in the eye. “The Merrel are a species particularly into machinery.” A pause. “Actually, that is an understatement. The Merrel are obsessive when it comes to all things mechanical. It is an impulse I don’t understand.” For some reason his gaze drops to his own legs, covered up fully in thick leather, and then returns to me.
“They are in the habit of stripping ships?”
“If left unattended completely, it’s possible that they could not resist.” He growls to himself. “I would have thought they had more self control than this, but it has been many, many years since I came to Aeo. Perhaps without the influence of the Mahdfel and the Firosans, the Merrel have succumbed completely to their base desires.” He rubs at his defined jawline and I let myself stare while he isn’t looking at me.
“Uh, these Merrel,” I say. “Are they scary? Are they tough?”
He tilts his head back and at first I think he is letting out some strange war cry, but then I realize it’s a hoarse laugh. The actual mirth in it makes my own lips twitch too, until I am resisting snorting with laughter at Tyr’s laughter. “What?” I ask. “What??”
“Tough? Scary? Maybe to a human. They are … you have your Firosan in-ear translation device, yes?”
I look up at his gigantic body and I stumble over my words, not for the first time today. “Um, yes, I do.” I tap at my ear, containing the tiny piece of tech the nurse gave me back on Earth. “Is something not working?”
“The AI is implanted with intimate knowledge of nearby known societies; you can ask it.”
“I prefer to be referred to as ‘her’,” a smooth voice in my ear states, making me jump almost out of my skin.
“Holy crap,” I yelp. “I wasn’t expecting that. This is an AI? In my ear?”
“That’s right. You can call me Aphrodite. I am an advanced artificial intelligence. And General Tyr is correct: you can ask me questions about known cultures. I know far more about the minutiae of life on Earth, for example, than you do.”
“Oh,” I say, noting the way her voice sounds as smug as any human. She is definitely far more advanced than any AI back on Earth. I wonder if she can hear my thoughts … but she says nothing, so probably not. That’d be crazy.
Tyr is looking at me expectantly, so I continue. “Miss AI — Aphrodite — would you tell me what the Merrel are?”
“Certainly. In terms you understand: the Merrel are a species estimated to be one or two millennia less advanced than the humans. A Merrel has a curious mind, and they tend to love to deconstruct things and put them back together. While they have little in the way of philosophical awareness, which is how one tends to track sentience in a species, the Merr
el have a perfectly advanced language, and are projected to unlock spaceflight far sooner than any of their peers in the universe because they value mechanics and engineering above all else.”
I listen with my mouth slightly agape.
“I, for one, am very much looking forward to tracking the species progress of the Merrel. Anyway — to answer the question you asked, no, they will not scare you. Humanity tends to be the most scared, by my research, by young pale females with long dark hair. That is not what they look like.”
I laugh out loud at that one. “Yeah, we like our horror movies.”
“The Merrel look more like porcupines than anything else I can find living on Earth. They are bipedal when working, but sometimes walk on four legs. I imagine that they will be considered ‘cute’ more than frightening.”
“Aww,” I say, imagining them.
“They have spines on their back like porcupines, but they can shoot them at will. They are tipped with a powerful paralyzing agent. It is a powerful defense.”
Less cute. “Do you know where we can find them?”
“General Tyr is already on his way there. You must utilize your fastest running speed to catch up with him before he is out of sight.”
“What?”
I look around and catch the purposeful stride of the purple general.
“Tyr!” I cry, and take off at a run until I catch up, puffing and panting more than I care to admit. “Why didn’t you wait for me?”
He grunts. “I expected you to remain at my side. It would be foolish to become separated, after all.”
I shoot a glare up at him that he doesn’t acknowledge. Maybe it’s good, actually, that this is not the Mahdfel I am mated with. Yes, he is impossibly sexy — he has the body of a god, nothing like anything that exists on Earth, and the determined facial features of a confident man who truly knows what he wants, and how to get it — but he is impossible, and infuriating, too. It’s clear he isn’t used to other people being in his life, and he doesn’t want to change that.
Tyr: Warriors of Firosa Book 2 (Warrior of Firosa) Page 4
