His Human Mate (Captives of the Dominars Book 3)

by Stella Rising

  “Very likely,” I reply. “The attack was directed at me.”

  Sabine pales even further. “How do you know that?”

  I step over to my pile of clothes and pick up my jacket. Running a scan, I illuminate a handprint on its back. “Microscopic tracking devices. Jonathan Obregon’s hand was covered in them. They’re all over the Beacon.”

  Gasping, Sabine looks at her hands. “He never shook mine! Just yours!”

  I nod. “Exactly. I’m guessing he was recruited to plant the trackers on me, but not you. Of course, I registered the trackers immediately, but I kept it a secret. They had to know that I’ve been flying back and forth on a shuttle—when they saw I was in flight, they took a shot.”

  Nostrils flaring, Sabine fumes. “So why don’t we just go arrest Obregon and get him to tell us who he’s working for? I’d be shocked if it was the government and not a rogue faction.”

  “I agree. We can arrest him, but if his handlers were careful, he might not know who recruited him. And then those recruiters would know he’s been compromised. Better to sit on him for now. I’ve already sent orders to have him surveilled.”

  Our nanites send us an alert: a torpedo launch has been detected.

  “Tamrys, should we…?”

  “Hang on, we’ll be fine.” Watching out the window, I track the torpedo as it closes in.

  Impact in three… two… one…

  This time we don’t even feel the detonation. At the exact second of contact, I activate our ship’s cloaking device and disable the tracking devices on my jacket. “If they weren’t sure they got us before, they should be pretty convinced now.”

  Sabine slumps onto the bed, shaking her head. “Is this going to work? What if they search for the wreckage and don’t find any?”

  I grin. For a peace advocate, she’s got a good mind for war and espionage.

  “Already taken care of,” I say, pointing out the window. The shuttle we originally flew in on is quickly approaching, settling into the exact coordinates of where torpedo strike hit our supposedly fallen pleasure craft. Cloaked from view, the shuttle should be invisible to the submarine’s instruments. After a second, the shuttle detonates, simulating a ruptured reactor core and sending a shockwave through the water. The force of the blast only jostles us, but it buffets the submarine like a hurricane, hurling it away.

  “Holy shit, are they okay?” Sabine asks as the sub disappears from view.

  “They might have to patch a few leaks, but they’ll be fine. Serves them right for firing on alien technology they don’t understand,” I sigh, setting us on a course north.

  As Sabine stares out the window, color returns to her face, but not a smile. “Is there going to be a war?” she asks at last.

  “There might,” I answer, not wanting to downplay the situation. “If world governments were complicit in the attack, rather than a rogue faction, I’ll have to impose widespread punitive measures.”

  Sabine nods. “Exile for those responsible, which could mean thousands of people.”

  “Yes, unfortunately.” I know how she feels on the matter, but surely exile is preferable to execution? “Dominar law is clear on the matter; even I have rules to follow. Hopefully the attacker opts to take credit for being the first to dispatch an alien invader, and only a handful of people will be implicated. If that happens, I could justify imprisoning them here.”

  Before long, our ship reaches the San Francisco Bay. Still cloaked, I pilot us up out of the water and land on Slacker’s Hill, overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge.

  “But what if people around the world applaud the attack?” Sabine asks, turning around to face me. “What if this is just the start?”

  This is why I wish I could just keep her safe and not have her worry about the future.

  “Then I’ll have to respond. Those who attack us or endanger the safety of other humans will be imprisoned.”

  Blinking away tears, Sabine takes my hand and leans against my shoulder. “What if that only makes things worse?”

  I rub her back, mentally cursing whoever ordered the attack—Sabine should be sleeping contentedly, basking in orgasmic afterglow. Whoever did this is going to take a one-way trip to Vakhsa, the worst prison planet in the galaxy. They’ll be lucky if I send them there with anything more than the clothes on their backs.

  “I hope it doesn’t. When humans find they simply can’t defeat the Dominars, maybe they’ll see reason. But I can’t control people’s thoughts, and if they want to fight, I may not be able to dissuade them.”

  “I suppose,” she mumbles.

  “Hey,” I say, lifting her chin and staring into her eyes. “We’re going to do everything in our power to keep the situation from escalating. We can do it. You hear me?”

  “Yes, sir,” she replies, lips rising in a smile, the first I’ve seen since the missile hit us.

  “Good.” I summon up a virtual mirror. “In that case, I want you to use your nanites to change your appearance. Like this.” As she watches, my nanites alter the pigmentation in my skin, causing the turquoise tone to fade out until I could pass for human.

  “Holy shit, that was cool,” she says, jaw hanging open. She closes her eyes, and her hair begins to lighten and shorten until her raven tresses become a shaggy blonde bob. At the same time, her lips darken while her skin pales. “I always wanted to try a punk style,” she says.

  “Well done; it looks great.” Wanting to fit in with her look, I set my nanites to work once more: in seconds, the hair on my head recedes until I’m completely bald up top. I opt to grow a short beard, hoping to make my face a little less recognizable.

  “You look good too,” she says. “But I liked your hair. I’m going to miss it.”

  Running my hands over my smooth scalp, I nod. “Yeah, me too. Don’t worry, I can grow it back just as fast when the time comes.”

  “Good. So what now?”

  I hug her and give her a quick peck. “We’re going underground for a few days. The world is about to decide whether it wants to go to war.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sabine

  Before we leave the ship, we hit up the cleaning station and fabricate some new clothing: ripped blue jeans and a Sex Pistols tank top for me, a tattered, striped sweater and black cargo pants for Tamrys. As soon as we disembark, the cloaked craft lifts off, heading back toward the Beacon.

  “What now?” I ask, scanning the park around us.

  Tamrys looks off into the sky, then points. “Our new ride is almost here. Come on, follow me.”

  I don’t see anything, but as Tamrys leads me to a parking area, I hear it: a new craft is flying in. When it lands and uncloaks, I can’t help laughing.

  “A Toyota Corolla? I don’t get it.”

  Grinning, Tamrys opens the passenger-side door for me. “With a few Dominar alterations. I said we need a ride. It’s not like we can fly everywhere.”

  “You couldn’t have gotten us a Ferrari?” I joke.

  Tamrys kisses my cheek as he opens the glove compartment. “Maybe on our next undercover mission, pet. Now get your things.”

  Inside the compartment I find a brown leather wallet, a smartphone, and a small black purse. Tamrys takes the wallet and phone and stuffs them in his pocket; I open the purse to find cash, fake ID, credit cards, sunglasses, makeup, and a phone for me.

  “These may look like normal cells,” Tamrys says, turning his on. “But they’re Dominar lookalikes. No need to worry about them being traced or hacked.”

  “Cool.”

  Tamrys starts the car and soon we’re on the road, crossing the Golden Gate Bridge into San Francisco. I’ve been here before, but always for conferences, so I haven’t had a chance to visit places like Fisherman’s Wharf or drive down the hairpin turns of Lombard Street. For now, Tamrys is all business, driving us to the Mission District to find someplace for us to crash.

  We find a hotel and check in. The second we get to our room, we collapse into bed and pass out.<
br />
  * * *

  I wake up to Joan Jett’s ‘Bad Reputation’ coming from Tamrys’s phone.

  “Good afternoon, pet,” he says. “Time to get up. There’s news.”

  Still groggy, I ask, “What’s with the music?”

  He grins. “Just getting into character.”

  Seeing him look so different takes some getting used to. If I’d woken up first, I might have freaked out for a second. Who is this strange human with me and what happened to my alien boyfriend? I think with a grin.

  Of course, not only has he changed—so have I. Feeling my new, unfamiliar hair helps me fully wake up. “So what’s the news?”

  “Come on, you’ll see.”

  We head out, walking south down Mission Street until we find a coffee shop. Nearly all of the dozen tables are full, forcing customers to stand along the brown brick wall with their drink. Yet, despite how many people are here, the shop is eerily quiet. Everyone’s attention is on a small television sitting on a ledge in the corner.

  “I’ll go get us something to eat and drink,” Tamrys says. “What would you like, pet?”

  “Uhh, anything,” I mumble. I’m already too distracted by the TV to think about eating. On it I see a file photo of myself side-by-side with Tamrys. The headline underneath reads, ‘Diplomat, Consul Presumed Dead.’

  It’s a hard thing to see, though not as bad as what comes next: cell phone footage of our ship getting hit by the missile and then dropping like a bird shot out of the sky. All around, people watch the coverage with a combination of morbid curiosity, dread, and what I hope is grief. The thought that somewhere people are out there watching this and celebrating turns my stomach.

  Up until now, the attack hasn’t felt especially personal—it was directed at Tamrys, not me, and we survived. However, it’s occurring to me that our attackers didn’t mind that I might be collateral damage. For that matter, they could consider me a traitor to humanity, and are thrilled they were lucky enough to kill us both. Either idea makes me feel as angry as I look in my disguise.

  Tamrys soon returns with coffee and sandwiches. “Smells good,” he says.

  I nod, tearing my eyes from the screen. “It worked. They bought your ruse.”

  “Yeah. And it’s about to get better.”

  Before I have a chance to ask what he means, the information pours through my nanites.

  “Whoa.”

  As if on cue, a newsflash interrupts the talking heads. “We’ll get back to Chris and Leslie in a moment. We have a breaking story,” says a young, but tired-looking anchor. “An American naval captain, Loren Reynolds, has claimed responsibility for the attack that took the lives of former U.N. diplomat Sabine Marchessault and Dominar Executive Consul Tamrys. Captain of the USS Derby, Reynolds just released a statement, saying, ‘With or without the permission of the world’s impotent governments, humanity will fight the alien oppressors until freedom is once again our right. This was just the first shot in a war that could take a hundred years to win, but we will not stop until that day comes—if not for us, then for our children. Humanity will never be ruled by tyranny.’”

  Now we see how the world responds, Tamrys says through our nanites.

  At least Reynolds is a rogue actor, I reply. That’s a good sign. But what about the Dominars? They could blow his submarine out of the water. How will they explain their reluctance to retaliate?

  Tamrys sips his coffee as I bite into my turkey and avocado panini.

  They’re going to condemn the attack and give Reynolds two days to turn himself in; they want this to end peacefully. They also haven’t confirmed that we’re dead, only missing, he explains.

  “But don’t worry about that right now, pet. It’s out of our hands. Eat up. We’re going to try to have a good time.”

  I do as Tamrys asks, tuning out the news by making a conversation only we can hear. He asks me about Bianca Hatcher, so I play him a few of my favorite songs of hers. He puts on a polite smile and listens patiently, but I get the sense it’s not his style. That’s okay—nobody’s perfect.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he says once we’ve finished eating. This place is a huge drag, he adds silently.

  Leaving the café, I follow Tamrys’s lead. We make a few turns until we’re heading north on Folsom Street.

  “This feels strange,” he says after a few blocks.

  “What’s that?”

  He looks around at the other pedestrians. “None of them are staring at us. No one is getting out a phone to take a picture or video. It’s not something I’m used to—fitting in.”

  “Well, when you’re seven feet tall and turquoise, that makes it difficult.”

  Tamrys chuckles, giving my ass a light slap. “I’m serious. Even among other Dominars, I’ve always been a bit of an outsider. I think that’s why I’ve gravitated toward primitive species, why I’ve made them my life’s work.”

  “That makes sense,” I say with a nod. “I wouldn’t want you to hide who you are, but if you like the idea of fitting in, there’s nothing wrong with that. As long as it’s what you want.”

  Smiling, he squeezes my hand and abruptly stops. “I know where we should go. Come on.”

  He turns around and leads us back the way we came; we don’t stop until we’ve reached Bay Brewery, a bar a few blocks away.

  “Here,” he says. “I think this is going to be fun.”

  I don’t have to wonder very long about what’s special about this bar in particular; it’s clear the second we step inside. After the coffee shop’s funereal atmosphere, the raucous party at Bay Brewery is a welcome change. A green and black banner hanging over the bar declares, ‘Happy End of the World!’ with little flying saucers on either side. Most of the mugs in sight hold green beer, neon glow-sticks hang from people’s necks while others wear novelty LED sunglasses—it’s like St. Patrick’s Day and New Year’s Eve rolled together.

  “This is more like it,” Tamrys calls out over the stereo, currently blaring R.E.M. “How’s this work for you, pet?”

  It’s fine, sir, I reply through the nanites. But you don’t think it’s a little messed up?

  Nah. If the world’s going to end, we may as well enjoy ourselves now, right?

  He has a point, so I let him get me a Chardonnay while he tries the green beer. As we drink, I wonder what Captain Reynolds is doing right now. Is he having a nice time, celebrating his small victory? Is he preparing another attack on someone else? What about the people here—are any of them celebrating our deaths, or are they just here to forget about their worries?

  Sabine, you look troubled. What’s wrong?

  Turning to Tamrys, I think back, Let’s say this all blows over, and Reynolds goes to jail. Are there going to be consequences for those under his command or those who approve of his actions?

  “What do you think should happen?” he says out loud.

  I don’t know exactly, but I want justice, I reply. You may have been the main target, but I would have died in that attack too. I want Reynolds punished for committing a war crime. Him and everyone who happily followed his orders. They were complicit.

  “And what should be the sentence, pet?”

  Life imprisonment. And I think they should be compelled to reveal all of their co-conspirators. I want every step taken to ensure this doesn’t happen again. I mean, how were they even able to fire on us? Shouldn’t their sub have been decommissioned?

  Demilitarization of an entire world takes time. According to my records, Reynolds was granted a temporary exception for the USS Derby to complete an oceanographic research project. We took him at his word, which was clearly a mistake.

  Rolling my eyes, I take a long drink of wine. Well, that needs to be fixed immediately, sir. We should begin impounding vessels and demolishing weapons as soon as possible.

  Tamrys sighs. You don’t think that would come off as too heavy-handed? It would send a very severe message. A major crackdown like that could help Reynolds recruit more to hi
s cause.

  Before they tried to kill us, I’d have agreed with you, I respond, narrowing my brows into a sharp glare. But I don’t want them to have another chance.

  You have every right to be angry, Sabine, but I will always protect you. They will not hurt either of us, I promise.

  The ice in my chest melts a little as Tamrys leans over and kisses me. “I know you will,” I say. “Thank you.”

  Reynolds will face justice, don’t worry about that, pet. He can’t hide from us. And any plan he has for another attack will be thwarted with ease. My people will be ready. But if humanity feels pushed to fight, they’ll rally behind someone. If not Reynolds, another will take his place.

  Unfortunately, I believe him. Real, global movements never have just one leader.

  “You’re right, I’m just… I’m pissed, sir.”

  He nods. “Go on, tell me.”

  When your people invaded, you took every measure to avoid killing humans. These assholes didn’t give a shit! They just wanted to kill. It’s not right!

  No, Tamrys agrees. It’s not.

  And we were having such a wonderful time! I didn’t want the moment to end—and definitely not like that!

  He smiles and winks. Me neither. But we’ll have many more wonderful nights, you can be sure.

  A promise like that would normally make my pussy ache with desire, but now my heart is racing, fueled by righteous anger.

  Yeah, but what are we going to do about it? I don’t want to sit around watching the news. My entire career has been all about waiting. I’ve waited for entrenched dictators to grow old and die; I’ve waited for populaces to get fed up and demand their freedom. It takes too long! I want us to take action, right now!

  Tamrys takes my hand and looks me dead in the eye. “If you’re sure you want to fight, then we will.”

  Smiling, my heart pounds and my hands shake. The fury inside me wants out. “I’m sure. Tell me what we can do.”

  If you want to fight the resistance, we’re going to do the last thing they’d expect, he says. We’re going to join them.