Maverick

by Cheryl Brooks

His words were like a knife to her soul, hurting far more than she ever would have expected. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized—”

  “Of course you didn’t. You’ve always been so aloof. The only feelings you have are the ones you pick up from other people. Never your own.”

  Her jaw dropped. She might’ve expected him to be angry, but not to resort to that kind of personal attack. “I have feelings.”

  “Oh, come on, Al. You’ve always acted like you were a notch above the rest of us, and you know it. You were the only one of your siblings to inherit your mother’s powers, and you liked it that way, because it gave you an excuse to set yourself apart from the rest of us.”

  Her own temper flared. Stomping her foot, she bared her fangs. “Dammit, Larry. My ‘powers’ had nothing to do with it. Out of the five litters born on that ship, I was the only girl. How did you expect me to behave? Like one of the guys?”

  His expression softened slightly. “We all loved you, Al. You could’ve at least loved us back.”

  “I did,” she insisted. “I do. I just…” She shook her head, trying to make sense of it all while at the same time hoping she could make him understand. “If you’d grown up with other Zetithian girls, you’d know that being standoffish is a part of who we are.” She threw up her hands in a gesture of futility. “It’s genetic, Larry. We can’t help it. And when you add the Mordrial witch line on top of that, we—”

  He snorted in disgust. “Look, I know all about that ‘finding The One’ crap. Okay, great. So I wasn’t The One and neither were any of my brothers. Big deal. I don’t know who you’ll wind up with, but I do know you’re sure as hell not gonna find the one man who can father your children on Barada Seven.”

  “I know that,” she said quietly. “I’d come to the conclusion that such a man doesn’t exist, so I quit looking.”

  To her surprise, he laughed. “You’re all of what, twenty-five? A little young to be giving up, don’t you think?”

  “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just taking a break. Seems like everywhere we went, there were guys who had hopes of being that man. None of them even came close. I didn’t feel the slightest interest in any of them. It’s as though my Zetithian blood has made the possibility of finding someone even less likely than it would have been if my father had been Terran or some other species.”

  “What about other Mordrials? I know we went to their homeworld a few times.”

  She shook her head. “Granted, we were never there for very long, but—nothing.”

  “And that’s why you came here?”

  “One of the reasons.” She hesitated, catching her upper lip with her teeth. Making him understand was more important than she ever would have dreamed. “I know I’m not likely to meet my perfect mate on a planet populated with skinny orange toads, and I’m pretty sure the toads know it too. But I can actually relax here. I don’t know if you realize what that means to me.”

  “Are you saying you don’t want to leave?”

  For a moment, she almost said yes. But this was Larry, her lifelong friend, and she’d already given him her word. “No. I said I would help you, and I will. Just promise you’ll bring me back here when I’ve done as you asked.”

  Once again, she didn’t need to be an empath to know what he was thinking. His expression and his silence said it all. Although he might give her his promise, he certainly didn’t want to.

  “If that’s what you want,” he finally said. “Just don’t expect me or any of your family—or mine—to like it.” His eyes narrowed, his brow flattening to a nearly straight line. “I can tell them where I’m taking you, can’t I? Your whereabouts isn’t a secret anymore?”

  “No. I was wrong to keep you all in the dark for so long. I wouldn’t mind a visit now and then. That is, if anyone is still speaking to me.”

  “Oh, they’ll speak to you. They might not speak to me when they figure out I’ve known where you were all along.”

  “You guessed, Larry,” she drawled. “You didn’t actually know.”

  “I wasn’t guessing.” Chuckling, he ran a hand through his hair, looking simultaneously guilty and pleased with himself. “That bag of yours has a tracking device in it.”

  “How did you—”

  “Know you were planning to leave? Geez, Al. It didn’t take an empath to know you were about to run off into the blue.”

  “Was I that obvious?”

  “Maybe not to anyone else.” With a sly grin, he added, “But you were to me.”

  Chapter 3

  “Now who’s the empath?” Althea quipped. “Although I guess I should’ve known one of you would figure it out.”

  “Well, we have known you all our lives.” Larry was glad he’d been the one to realize what she was planning, mainly because he doubted that his brothers would’ve let her leave without making a scene. A quick and peaceful departure was important to her—he’d been certain of that—and he also knew she wouldn’t have done it on a whim. “Believe me, I understood your need to leave home. Most kids do, you know.”

  “Yeah. The difference is that we actually like our parents and had no real reason to go off on our own—except the Jolly Roger was getting kinda crowded.”

  “I can’t argue with that,” he said. “Brak may be a bug, but at least he isn’t in your face all the time.”

  “In your face?” She darted a questioning glance at him. “Is that really how you felt?”

  “Sometimes,” he admitted. “I probably wanted to get away as much as you did. I just didn’t see the need to go into hiding.”

  She shrugged. “I suppose that’s where we differ.” With a visible effort, she summoned up a disarming smile. “Hey, can we talk about something else?”

  “Sure. No problem,” he replied. “Although I should probably head on up to the bridge, or we’ll never get off this dandy little planet of yours.” Crossing his arms, he leaned back against the counter. “What do you say, Al? Last chance to back out.”

  This time, her smile was genuine. “Just show me where to buckle up for takeoff.”

  “Follow me,” he said. “There are plenty of seats for the crew on the bridge—unless you’d like to fly the Stooge yourself.”

  “Not now,” she said. “Although I might try my hand once we’re in space.”

  “Sure thing.”

  One of the perks of having grown up on a starship was learning how to man every duty station at a fairly young age. They each had a job they were best at, of course—Larry’s had always been communications, whereas Althea had been a damn good pilot—and though his father might not have liked the idea of his children knowing how to man the weapons console, that ability had been a lifesaver on more than one occasion. Larry had always assumed Althea’s empathic nature was responsible for her superb piloting skills, although her light touch on the control panel was undoubtedly a contributing factor. Either way, the ship performed better for her than anyone else, even Captain Jack.

  Larry thought he’d dodged that bullet rather nicely—the bullet being her interrogation about Celeste. The gods knew his mother had questioned him enough, which was the main reason he’d decided to consult Althea. He had enough doubts himself. He didn’t need his mother ragging on him about it.

  They arrived on the bridge where Brak sat at the navigator’s console, his wings hanging in a morose droop while he scratched the stalk of his left eye with a pincer tip.

  Larry waved a hand toward the unmanned duty stations. “Pick a seat.”

  “Weapons?”

  She was teasing, of course, making her seem more like the Al he remembered. Four years apart from her family had changed her, although he wasn’t quite sure what the difference was. A touch of melancholy or cynicism, perhaps, which made him wonder if she’d been hurt or taken advantage of in some way. He doubted living among the local natives would have resulted in such an attitude-adju
sting experience. Perhaps she hadn’t come straight to Barada Seven but had made another stop along the way.

  “If you like,” he replied. “Just don’t even think about aiming the main guns until we’re out of orbit. You know how these Baradans feel about that shit.”

  “Yeah, I do, and I admire them for it. Such a safe, peaceful world. I hate to leave it behind.”

  “I promise I’ll bring you right back. In another month, you’ll be lounging in your tree house, and all this will be a distant memory.”

  “Yeah. Right,” she said with a sardonic lift of her brow. “I’m sure it’ll be that easy.”

  “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  Althea buckled herself into the gunner’s station. “I don’t know… Family history, perhaps?”

  Larry couldn’t blame her for thinking that. Throughout their childhood, they’d bounced from one adventure to another. No one could roam the galaxy with their respective parents and not find trouble of some sort.

  “Actually, I’ve led a fairly uneventful life since I went out on my own.”

  “Hence the need for weaponry?”

  “You know how it is, Al. Leroy had the guns installed as a sort of graduation present. I could’ve said no, but they have come in handy a time or two.”

  One of his earliest clients had taken umbrage over the work Larry had done for a competitor. He did his best to remain neutral in such situations; however, possessing the greater firepower eliminated the need for some of the more diplomatic discussions.

  “Present, huh? You mean he didn’t charge you?”

  “No. Although I sometimes wonder if Mom didn’t pay him.” Lerotan Kanotay was one of the galaxy’s more honest arms dealers, but he was no pushover, nor was he one to engage in sentimentality.

  “That wouldn’t surprise me. I’m guessing she still carries that pulse pistol wherever she goes.”

  “Everywhere but Barada,” Larry replied. “And like I said, she doesn’t come here often.” He tapped the comlink to hail the control tower—a misnomer if there ever was one—to verify their departure. “Flight Control, are we clear for liftoff?”

  “You are,” came the reply. “May your journey be a safe and pleasant one.”

  “Thanks. I’m sure it will be.” Larry was never sure what to say to that, opting for the standard “Have a nice day.”

  After firing up the main engines, he let them idle for a bit, then nodded at Brak. “Got our course plotted?”

  “Oh yes,” Brak replied with a bit of a whine. “I’ve had nothing else to do since we arrived.” With a wave of his fluffy antennae, he added, “Unless you want to make a side trip to Palorka.”

  “And why would I want to do that?” Palorka was one of the planets Larry tended to avoid, his reason being the exact opposite of the one his mother used when explaining her aversion to Barada Seven. The citizenry there—if such a polite term could be applied to them—tended to be armed to the teeth at all times.

  “We received a deep space com while you were conducting your tour of the ship. A fellow by the name of Markel needs some comsystem work done.”

  Larry rolled his eyes. “Now you tell me.”

  “When could I have done it before now?” Brak protested. “You’ve been so busy with her, you have no time to talk to me.”

  The emphasis Brak placed on the her was more than enough to justify comment. “Geez, Brak. You sound like you’re jealous or something.”

  Brak fluttered his wings but, for once, didn’t respond.

  “Never mind,” Larry said. “Palorka is a long way from here. We have plenty of time to decide whether to take the job.” Inching closer to Althea, he lowered his voice. “Dunno what’s gotten into him. He’s always been sorta touchy, but this is worse than usual. Must be getting ready to molt.”

  “It isn’t that,” Althea whispered. “You were right about him being jealous. He’s in love with you.”

  For a moment, all he could do was stare at her in disbelief before finally finding his voice. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

  She shook her head. “Nope. I may not be able to read you, but I can read him perfectly.”

  Larry aimed a surreptitious glance at his sidekick, who was busily tapping the control panel with his light-green pincers. “I didn’t know there was such a thing as a homosexual Scorillian.”

  “Well…now you know.”

  “Yeah. Wish I didn’t.”

  Aside from the fact that he wasn’t in love with Brak, the mere thought of sex with a Scorillian was enough to make him cringe. Although he’d never actually seen one, the Scorillian penis was reportedly as long and hard—and sharp—as a faceted crystal and would inflict a significant amount of pain on any mammal, regardless of which orifice was involved.

  The reverse would be equally impossible. Zetithian males needed the scent of feminine desire to even get an erection, and not every mammalian species produced the right scent. Although Larry hadn’t encountered every life-form in the galaxy, he could safely say he’d never been able to get it up for a bug.

  With that bizarre revelation buzzing through his head, he strapped himself into the pilot’s seat and initiated the liftoff sequence.

  “Okay, Al. Say goodbye to Barada Seven.”

  * * *

  Althea kept her eyes on the aft viewscreen until Barada Seven was just another tiny speck of light in the inky darkness of space. When it vanished entirely, she unbuckled her safety harness. “Think I’ll go to my quarters and get settled in.” The process would take ten minutes at the most, but the need for solitude was already making her eyebrows twitch.

  “Sure thing, Al,” Larry said. “Let me know when you get hungry.”

  “No set mealtimes?”

  “Not really. We take turns sleeping, so we eat whenever we feel like it.”

  No doubt that lack of regimentation explained how Brak could have already scarfed down the bug’s share of the White Castles. Larry would probably share his stash with her, but after that last empathic impression, Althea wasn’t sure she’d be able to stomach much of anything for a good long while.

  Poor Brak.

  Unrequited love had to be tough, even for an insect. Not that she knew anything about that particular dilemma. She hadn’t been kidding when she’d told Larry about the men who had tried to be “The One.” Unfortunately, the only emotion she’d felt toward them was annoyance. Never love, or even regret. She loved her family, of course. But the passion between males and females had always eluded her.

  She located her cabin without difficulty and opened her duffel bag—the one Larry had so graciously outfitted with a tracking beacon. While she didn’t care for the idea of being tracked, the fact that he’d gone to that much trouble to keep tabs on her was rather sweet. Never having imagined that he or anyone else would have done such a thing, she hadn’t bothered to check her belongings for spyware.

  However, now that she knew she’d been tracked, she dumped everything out on the bed and proceeded to conduct a thorough search of her luggage. After inspecting everything at least twice, she concluded that Larry was either lying or the beacon had been lost when she’d first unpacked and was now somewhere in the Baradan jungle, hidden by the debris of time. Given Larry’s inherent honesty, she deemed the latter explanation to be the most likely.

  Her cache of belongings hadn’t grown much during her sojourn on Barada, the result of her studies being an accumulation of knowledge rather than material goods. She had on the same calf-length leggings, tank top, and sandals she’d been wearing the day she arrived, although they seemed to fit her more loosely now. She’d adopted Baradan dress almost immediately, the jungle climate calling for far less clothing than life aboard a space cruiser.

  She already missed the heat and humidity—something she’d never imagined she would get used to. The change had been so gradual. She recalle
d steamy nights when she questioned her sanity in having chosen such a planet for her exile, but those had eventually passed.

  Exile. Self-imposed perhaps, but that was exactly what it had been. She’d been all alone on a world full of ugly toads, although the birds were pretty spectacular—a circumstance that had once drawn a wildlife artist to that world. Drusilla Chevrault had found something far more interesting to paint than the breathtaking birds, namely Manx, the fugitive Zetithian who had hidden in the jungle to escape the Nedwut bounty hunters.

  They lived on Earth now. Althea had seen them a few times while she was growing up. Last she’d heard, they’d had two litters, all of them boys except for one girl named Tia.

  Despite a five-year difference in their ages, Althea wished she could’ve grown up with Tia or at least one other Zetithian girl. She’d never been able to relate to the boys very well, and the other women she knew were mostly Terran. She herself was unique; no other woman in the galaxy could claim to have similar breeding.

  For the most part, Zetithian genes appeared to be dominant, particularly when crossed with Terrans, rendering the children of those pairings indistinguishable from purebloods. The only exceptions so far were Ava and Dax Vandilorsk’s children. Ava was half Terran, but her father’s fishlike Aquerei traits had mixed with her husband’s Zetithian bloodline, resulting in children who possessed traits of both species. At first glance, they appeared to be pure Zetithian, but they had each inherited their mother’s slightly rounded eyes and the ability to breathe underwater, whereas Althea’s variations were mostly mental.

  And magical.

  Mordrials were often viewed with suspicion due to their powers, which included some form of mental telepathy and the control of at least one element. Althea’s mother, Tisana, could control fire, while others controlled water, earth, or wind. Some possessed the rare wind and water combination, which enabled them to control the weather. Althea had suspected she had a secondary connection to fire, one that was confirmed when she reached Barada and decided to try cooking her fruit instead of consuming it raw. The bolaka fruit in question had actually exploded. Combining that power with her control of the earth was too terrifying for her to contemplate, much less experiment with. That her mother was a walking, talking weapon was bad enough. She was a potential disaster.