by Pamela Fryer
Jager sat in the outdated leather chair and stared at her as she rummaged through the dresser drawers for a set of clean clothes. She knew if she turned around, she’d find him looking at her butt. For some reason though, that didn’t irk her.
With a bundle of clothes in her arms that included clean jeans, Brooke stopped at the bathroom door. Something had been nagging her ever since Jager had explained the Tetra. She turned back to find him examining the remote control to the television.
“What happens to a person if the infection progresses past twenty-four hours?”
“We will find her before then.”
“Hypothetically speaking.” She didn’t like the grim set of his lips. “Humor me.”
“Sara Brown will have to be destroyed.”
Her thoughts flashed to the burst of flames in the dark factory. Worry sank into the pit of her stomach.
Right now her mind was too fuzzy to formulate the words to tell him, in no uncertain terms, that she wasn’t going to let him kill Sara. There was no use starting an argument now. It could wait until she’d showered and found some coffee.
“That will not happen,” Jager continued. “The infection will not advance in Sara Brown. She will be consumed by the hatchlings before it can. That is why we must find the nest quickly.”
A chill rolled over her. This guy was a regular bringer of happy news.
Brooke closed the bathroom door and locked it. She stripped out of her nasty clothes and turned the shower on full blast. Once the hot water reached the pipes, she stepped in and let it bite into her skin. Even near scalding, it couldn’t penetrate the icy fear coming from her core.
Back at the J&M plant, she’d considered slipping away from Jager when he wasn’t looking, but somehow she knew she needed to learn more about what he was up to. Now she knew she couldn’t take her eyes off him. Ever since he’d told her about the mutating DNA, she’d known the man would be a threat to Sara.
The hot water finally started to dwindle. She’d lost track of time. Her fingers were pruning, but somehow it seemed that awful smell still clung to her.
Once toweled off, she dressed and gave her teeth a good scrubbing to get the lingering flavor of the Tetra out of her mouth as well.
Brooke put her hand on the doorknob, but paused. If Jager really was a man from outer space, had he morphed into some beastly true form? After what she’d seen tonight, anything was possible. Dread swirled in the pit of her stomach as she twisted the knob.
Chapter Seven
She opened the door, and Brooke discovered Jager was as red-blooded as any man could be. He lay sprawled across the middle of the bed on his stomach, one beefy arm thrown over the opposite edge. His feet hung off the end.
And he was snoring.
“Great.”
She hadn’t intended to sleep, but fatigue warred with coherence. She didn’t have time to sleep. Sara had mere hours left.
But if Brooke didn’t rest her eyes for a few minutes, she’d be useless. She hadn’t slept more than four hours in two days. Or had it been three?
The agents had set up their perimeter on Wednesday, and she’d been right there with them, sitting in her car through two drizzly days and nights as the agents held out for a peaceful surrender. Only when it was obvious to everyone that wasn’t going to happen, the FBI had finally raided the compound.
And dozing while sitting up in the driver’s seat of a rental car didn’t really qualify as sleep.
Her stomach grumbled, reminding her that besides the donut she’d nicked from the police tent—what was it, yesterday?—she hadn’t eaten recently either.
“Just a few minutes,” she told herself.
She pushed Jager’s huge arm back across the bed. Zings of excitement traveled through her like electrical current, as if she were doing something forbidden in touching him.
Brooke stood back and admired him for a moment that lasted too long. It would figure, she thought. Gorgeous, sensitive, heroic, gorgeous, chivalrous, courageous, and gorgeous. He would turn out to be from another planet.
“I’m out of my mind,” she muttered to herself.
She grabbed a granola bar from the little round hotel table cluttered with her junk and sat down on the bed to peel open the wrapper.
“Just a few minutes,” she said again, and yawned over her first bite.
Just a few, precious minutes of peaceful sanity.
* * * * *
Jager had taken a great risk in telling her about the Tetra, not to mention directly violating Article Twenty-three of the Interplanetary Alliance code of conduct. He had revealed his identity to the inhabitant of a protected planet. And judging by the changing colors in her face when she was on his ship, Brooke Weaver had not accepted it well.
He’d had no choice. He needed her help. Even though she clearly didn’t know her way around the transfer tube matrix, or sewer pipes, she was familiar with this township. She had access to resources he needed, and needed fast. If just one nest hatched before he could destroy it, this planet was doomed.
Jager eased onto his side to watch her sleep. She had eaten half a food parcel, and the other half was in crumbs in her hair and on her pillow.
The injury to her forehead had worsened into a purple lump, but still she was the most beautiful female he’d ever seen—on any planet.
She’d used tek-tah fighting techniques on him. It would have been embarrassing if anyone had seen her bring him down as easily as she had. Her petite size had caused him to let his guard down. A deadly mistake.
He couldn’t be angry with her for the attempt to kill the creature, thus resulting in its escape, nor could he be angry with her for attempting to flee him with that archaic electrical device.
She was a bold and courageous woman, qualities he admired in a soldier. She’d then had the bravery to apologize, and thank him for saving her life. More admirable qualities: a soldier must be both humble and just.
On his first visit to Earth, he’d been dispatched to an island continent near the North Polar Region. He hadn’t encountered many Earth humans there. His second assignment on this planet had taken him to a region called Los Angeles to hunt down a convict who’d stolen a transporter and crash-landed here, hoping to hide among humans.
Jager had seen many Earth females in that crowded city, but most of them had been exotic and otherworldly, and much too frivolous.
Brooke Weaver was strong and spirited. Though not born of noble parents, on Ocreon her dark hair and golden-brown eyes would raise her to the level of a Sulvarien. She would be regarded as a noble, and married as one.
He accepted that he was forbidden to marry, or even to engage in sexual encounters without the proper licensing and preparations. Rarely had marriage been a desire, yet that was primarily because he knew it was impossible.
Don’t want what you can’t have.
But sometimes, during the bleakest and loneliest moments of his life, like the day he thought he was going to die in that torture chamber on Parra Oneous, he’d wished.
For a short while, he could imagine Brooke was his own. In essence she was. She was alone with him now, and had no mate. In saving her world, he had the power to save her life. There was little chance she would survive if caught in the center of an outbreak.
Earth humans were permitted to marry and interact as they chose. They were truly a lucky species. Perhaps in years to come, when overpopulation threatened Earth as it had on so many other worlds, laws would change. But for now, Brooke Weaver was free to choose a man.
Yet, she had not.
Could it be she had been waiting for something? Someone? He dared not indulge the fantasy she had been waiting...for him.
It would only be tragic if she had. In mere hours, he would return to interstellar travel, awaiting his next assignment from the Interplanetary Alliance. He could not bring her with him. For one thing, why would she leave a planet as beautiful as Earth? For another, there was no place for her aboard the warship of a Universal
Guard soldier. And to remove an inhabitant unlawfully from a protected planet was punishable by death.
A loosely curled lock of hair slipped across her cheek. He reached out to brush it away, yearning to draw it through his fingers to see if it was as soft as it looked.
Jager drew his hand back.
You don’t have permission to touch me.
He wouldn’t violate her in such a way. He had earned a fragile trust, and he would never betray it. He would watch her from afar, ignoring the ache of need tightening in his groin. Once back at his ship, there was a pill he could take to curb his desire.
“Brooke.”
She stirred. Long, fanned eyelashes fluttered.
“Brooke.”
Her eyes flashed open. She looked down, and then up to meet his eyes. “What? Oh shit, I fell asleep. What time is it?” She sat up, spilling crumbs down her front. “Damn. It’s eight thirty. Give me five minutes.”
She bolted out of bed and ran to the utility room.
“You shouldn’t have let me sleep!” she scolded and slammed the door behind her.
In the promised five minutes, she came out looking transformed. She’d gathered her long hair into a tie at the back of her head and her skin glowed pink as though she’d scrubbed her face. The dark blue pants and soft-looking green shirt she’d changed into last night clung to her curvy figure. He wasn’t sure of the Earth word for it, but her appearance proved she was worthy of noble regard.
She grabbed her communication device and flipped it open. It powered up with a musical warble. “Ridgemont, Oregon. Do you have a listing for Esther Williams? Yes, please.”
He moved to the chair and watched her pace back and forth.
“Esther, hi, this is Brooke Weaver. I’m good, thanks. Listen, I need your help. Do you have access to the blueprints for the sewers? I need them yesterday.”
Jager picked up one of the food parcels she’d been eating last night and peeled it open. Inside was a nutrient bar with a flaky crust. He bit into it and found it sweet, with a tart, fruity center. One thing was certain, Earth had a multitude of delicious and interesting foods.
Brooke took control like a general. He heard the buzzing sound of the person “Esther” speaking her responses.
“I realize it’s Saturday. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t an emergency.”
More buzzing. Brooke had to convince Esther to help, but he didn’t have a single doubt as to her capabilities. Jager smiled. It had been a stroke of luck that it was this strong, capable woman he encountered in the decimated structure.
* * * * *
“Is this regarding one of your cases? It’s so incredible what you do. You know, Elizabeth down at the library keeps a scrapbook of all the news articles we can find with your name in them.”
Brooke cringed inwardly. She wished Ridgemont would just forget about her. God knows she tried hard enough to forget about it.
Esther didn’t let her get a word in edgewise. “I think the whole town was watching the news when you returned that young girl to her family in Florida. I had tears in my eyes when I saw her mamma hugging her, the whole family crying and carrying on. You know, if Mayor Tom knew you were coming back, he would have arranged a press conference in your honor—”
“Oh Esther, no,” Brooke interrupted. Better to put an end to that kind of talk before it even got started. “Honestly, it would only embarrass me. I’m heading out as soon as I find the senator’s daughter.”
She glanced up at Jager. He watched her, absently chewing on a strawberry granola bar.
“Oh, it’s a girl you’re looking for again? I declare, young girls today are so mixed up. It’s city life, I think. Makes me glad I raised my Becky in a small town. Though that didn’t seem to help poor Amy—”
“Esther, it’s really important. Are the blueprints at town hall? I need to see them.” She sat on the edge of the bed and jammed her feet into her cross trainers. She would change into her crusty hikers in the car when they got to the sewer entrance.
“I can do you one better. I’ll make you printouts from the copies on microfiche. Can you be at town hall in forty-five minutes?”
“We’ll meet you by the front door,” Brooke said with a sigh of relief. “Would you like coffee? I’m going to stop at Maxine’s.”
“Maxy’s raspberry herb tea would be lovely. Thank you, Brooke.”
“Thank you, Esther!” She said goodbye and hung up. “Done.”
Jager smiled. “Who is Maxine?”
She grabbed her keys from the table and opened the door. “Maxine’s a greasy spoon in town.” She winked. “Practically a national treasure.”
Jager automatically went to the passenger side, despite his obvious reservations about a woman pilot, and fastened his seatbelt. She started the car and pulled onto the narrow highway leading toward the center of town.
“There are many people out now.” His tone indicated it wasn’t so much an observation, but a possible problem.
“It’s Saturday and the weather’s improved. People like to go out in the sunshine.”
“What is the significance of Saturn Day?”
“Saturday,” she told him. “Lots of people don’t have to work.”
Since getting a few hours’ sleep, brushing her teeth again, and putting on clean clothes, Brooke felt refreshed. It was time for her questions to be answered. She felt she could handle those answers now. Maybe.
“Tell me about the Tetra. How did it get here?”
“As I said, it is a cunning creature. Its kind had gotten aboard an Interplanetary Alliance ship and annihilated most of the passengers. Two crew members escaped in a life pod, but a Tetra queen had stowed aboard. The pilot directed the life pod to the nearest inhabitable planet—”
“Earth.”
“—And the ship crashed in your forest.”
She glanced at him as they pulled to a stop at the first of the four stoplights on Main Street. “Annihilated? How many people—we are talking humans, right?”
“Humanoid personnel from various planets within the Alliance.” He paused. “Two thousand nine hundred eighty-nine.”
“Good God. Only two survived?”
He shook his head. “They did not. The Tetra queen consumed them. Polin and I were on our way to a peacekeeping assignment in the Phiron Galaxy when we received the distress call. I contacted the Alliance and was instructed to attempt a rescue. We traveled through a black hole in pursuit, but our topside guns were damaged upon entry to your galaxy. We had no choice but to pursue the craft to the planet and engage the hunt on the surface.”
It didn’t make sense. “If the people on board were dead, how come the ship didn’t just crash into a million pieces when it hit?”
“Landing thrusters were automatically engaged. It is a safety feature on all Interplanetary regulated craft.”
Sheesh, it was like he was talking about airbags and antilock brakes in new cars. She sighed. With all she’d seen of Jager’s advanced techno-gadgetry, she supposed safety thrusters on spacecraft didn’t sound so bizarre.
Still, in the light of day when everything around her once again looked normal, it was hard to believe Jager truly was a space-traveling humanoid. She kept holding her breath, waiting for that “Gotcha,” that would reveal she was the butt of a gigantic joke. That she would be able to accept.
“However, without a crew, the ship crash-landed and was severely damaged. Earth’s gravitational pull is quite powerful. Polin and I had no choice but to follow it in at a matched rate of speed. If we hadn’t, we would have lost the crash point and had much difficulty locating the Tetra.”
“So you crash-landed too,” she said.
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry about your friend. I know how hard it is to lose someone.” Big joke or not, the undeniable truth was two people were already dead.
“Polin knew the risks. All soldiers know the risk of death is high in service to the Alliance.”
He spoke in a harsh voice
void of emotion. She glanced over and saw his stoic expression, as if he’d completely resigned himself to dying in the line of duty.
What a grim outlook. Why would anyone willingly choose to be a soldier? In the same breath, she realized it was no different than military service on Earth, except that here soldiers were allowed love and families. And hope.
“He was my friend,” Jager added in a softer voice. “We had served together for many years. It is difficult to lose him. I was his superior and I was responsible for him.”
That strange swooping sensation she always felt when she thought about Amy Farnsworth’s death rolled through her stomach. It was pain she would never forget.
But it is good to be reminded of one’s failures , she tried to convince herself. No matter how painful. Regret kept her resolute. Fear of repeating that failure kept her at the top of her game.
She passed the diner and pulled the car into a parallel spot. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
Brooke walked through Maxine’s front doors and was overcome with a flood of memories. The candy red vinyl seats, 50s style chrome embellishments, and the scent of greasy food catapulted her back to her teen years when she and her friends spent nearly every afternoon here. She stopped abruptly, holding the door handle.
How could she have forgotten Madeline Farnsworth worked at Maxine’s? When Madeline hired Brooke to find her daughter five years ago, she was working the night shift. Hopefully she still did.
Behind the counter, a seasoned-looking waitress quirked a smile. “You look a little shell-shocked, darlin’. Everything okay?”
Brooke released the door and stepped inside. The woman looked familiar, and Brooke looked at her nametag. Dolores. She had worked here back when Brooke was in high school.
“Um, I’m fine. Sorry. Does Maxine’s still make its famous Denver burrito?”
“You betcha.”
“Can I get two to go, two coffees in the largest cups you have, and raspberry tea the way Esther Williams likes it?”
“That would be light as a feather with one sugar and a super-sized hello from Dolores.” She pulled three large wax-coated cups from a stack. “You want sugar in that coffee, hon?”
