Alien Warlord's Miracle

by Nancey Cummings

  “Earth. This is one of the many arbors that generates oxygen for the lunar base. I am particularly fond of the scent of the pine trees. It does not attract many visitors, so it is a quiet place.” He settled down close to her but not quite touching. The light from the artificial globe illuminated his features. “This is my favorite place in the base.”

  “It’s astounding.” Truly. She could imagine the heady aroma of fresh pine and silence. “Is it hard to find solitude in the base?”

  He huffed. “I am constantly available with this.” He tapped the bracer on his wrist. “Always something is malfunctioning or someone needs my expertise. The work never ends, and there are few places where I can think without interruption.”

  She could sympathize. “I have solitude to spare now, but when I lived in London, there was always noise. So many interruptions.” Her parents, her brother, the household staff, even David, they all vied for her attention when she wanted a few uninterrupted hours to paint or sketch.

  Reven rose to his knees. “I want to tell you how my people came to Earth.”

  She sat up, interested. “You said we were allies.” Not conquerors. Allies.

  “Yes. I am Mahdfel.”

  “The Mahdfel come from the planet Sangrin.” She knew so few solid facts that the ones she did know, she would hardly forget.

  He shook his head. “My mother is from Sangrin. My father was born on a planet called Alva. It is dead now. The Suhlik—” Another head shake. “I am tangling the story.”

  “Start from the beginning,” she suggested. “We have all night, after all.”

  “My people are called the Mahdfel. Once, we were slaves,” he started. She gasped, but he ignored her interruption. “The Suhlik, an aggressive race, stole us from our homes. They modified us to be their perfect warriors. They… bred us for desired traits, like your farm animals, for strength and fast healing.”

  “That sounds wretched,” she said.

  He nodded. “They also bred us to desire conflict. To crave battle.” He scratched the base of one horn. “Among other things,” he said quietly.

  “Surely you are more than your breeding.” Her words defied every tenet upheld by polite society, where breeding determined worth. Balderdash. She knew of several families with rarified blood who married down the social ladder when finances or the heart dictated. Her parents were a prime example. Fortune often compensated for breeding, but society would never admit the truth. She detested the hypocrisy of it.

  Reven continued his story. “The Suhlik had many ways to control the Mahdfel, but we rebelled.”

  Elizabeth sat with her hands on her knees and leaned forward, captivated.

  “The Suhlik have not changed their ways. Neither have the Mahdfel. We will continue to fight the Suhlik until the last of them have been wiped out from the universe.”

  She flinched at the hardness in his tone. “These Soo-licks.” She tried to form her mouth around the foreign word but stumbled. “They came to Earth? Is that what you did not want to tell me?”

  “I did not wish to alarm you. There was much destruction. Millions perished. It is not a pleasant story,” he said.

  She nodded, trying to imagine the scale of destruction that would claim many lives. “Do they enslave humanity?”

  “You fight,” he said, pride coloring his voice. “Terrans never surrendered. Your people are stubborn that way.”

  “And the Mahdfel came to help us? Or were you allies before?”

  “We arrived shortly after to defend the Earth.”

  She turned that information over in her mind. “Your ship was damaged. Is the war still ongoing in your time?”

  “It ended before I was born,” he said.

  “But your military still occupies Earth?” That sounded… colonial. He said his people were Earth’s allies but too often might made right, and a military force that stayed a generation after a war was not an ally but an occupier.

  “We remain as required by the treaty. The Mahdfel had a mutually beneficial relationship with Earth. We provided defense and Earth gives us—”

  “Taxes? Our gold? Natural resources?” She rattled off a list of the typical good desired by colonial powers. “Tea? Coffee?”

  “Brides,” he said.

  Elizabeth leaned back. “Women? Whatever for?”

  Reven reached for her hand, but she snatched it away. “One of the modifications… we can only have sons. That is how the Suhlik designed us.”

  “No girls.”

  “No females. We seek new allies to fight the Suhlik and win a mate, and ultimately breed the next generation.”

  She frowned at his choice of words. Win, like a prize. “Are women so much chattel in the future? To be handed out like prizes?”

  “Hmm, no.” He successfully held her hand this time, his thumb rubbing the back to reassure her. “The method to match a warrior to his mate is complex, but the female has rights. They are not property.”

  “Surely we’re two different species. We’re not compatible. A dog and a cat may live together, but they won’t have puppies.”

  “We’re very compatible.” He gave her a heated look, and a blush rose upon her cheeks.

  “Is that why you came to Earth? To find a bride?” Jealousy stabbed at her when she imagined him being compatible with anyone else.

  “Initially. I like Terrans. I’ve told you about my friend Michael.”

  The human boy who grew up on another planet. “Did his mother marry an alien?” she asked.

  “A Mahdfel warrior, yes. He was adopted into the clan. We attended the Academy together. When he came of age, he returned to Earth. I decided to follow and joined Earth’s clan.”

  “I thought a clan was a family, but now it sounds like a battalion.”

  “In a sense. The clans are led by warlords. Terrans call them generals.”

  She nodded, absorbing the information. Not particularly caring to learn about the Mahdfel military structure, she wanted to get back to Reven seeking a wife. “And you never found your bride?”

  “I found her.” He cupped the side of her face and gently drew her in. Anticipation coiled tightly in her stomach, and she shivered. “The light in you called me across the darkness. You are all I see.”

  His lips claimed hers, soft at first, then pressing with more urgency. Her eyes fluttered shut, letting the sensation of him wash over her. He surrounded her, drowning out all other awareness. There was only him and her, two beings shining in the night.

  Nimble fingers opened the front of her chemise, exposing her breasts. With a needful moan, he licked and sucked her flesh. She drew her fingers through his soft hair before stroking his horns.

  His body jolted, and he growled, mouth around a nipple. The sound went straight to her core. The lightest touch of his fangs pricked against her skin, and he grunted, hot breath fanning across her skin. She tensed, unsure if he would bite her.

  He pulled back, and she followed, unwilling for a single moment to stop touching him.

  “Don’t stop,” she implored.

  “I must.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead before resting his forehead on hers. “If I go on, I won’t stop. I will claim you as my mate.”

  “I accept,” she said, the words rushing out of her. She wanted this. She wanted him. For the first time in ages, her body sang with the need to touch and be touched, but he stimulated more than her body. He set her mind alight. For a moment, she had a happy image of their life together, having picnics in the pine forest under starlight.

  “We’re too different,” he said.

  His words knocked the air out of her lungs. She searched his face for an explanation. “But you just told me how your kind came to Earth for wives.”

  “We’re from different eras.”

  “We’re together now.” A fluke brought them together, but now that they found each other, she saw no reason to let go.

  The spark in his eyes dimmed. “I have to go back to my time,” he said.


  “Take me with you.”

  “I can’t. The engine I used to get here is broken.”

  “Then how did you plan to return to your home?”

  “It is dangerous. The wormhole may collapse, trapping me in nothingness. Or it may spit me out in the wrong time, then I’d be forced to take the slow way home. Each of us moves forward in time, day by day. I have… pods in the shuttle that will put me into a type of hibernation. I plan to seal myself in and wait.”

  Elizabeth knew those pods. She had sketched them. When she asked their purpose, he gave an elusive answer. “Like Rip Van Winkle.”

  “I do not know this male.”

  “It’s an American story,” she said. “There are two… pods, as you call them, in the shuttle. One for you, and one for me.” Why did it feel like she was trying too hard to convince him?

  He shook his head. “They are not made for prolonged use. I do not know if my plan will succeed. When I fall asleep, I may never wake. I can’t risk you.”

  Her hands twisted in her lap, hating the conversation. She should never have allowed him to kiss her—twice—or invited him into her home. “So, you’d abandon me?”

  “And know you lived a long life here, now, rather than you never woke up because I was too selfish to give you up? Yes. Your safety is always my priority.”

  She wanted to snap or shout at him but kept a cool facade. David had been far from the perfect husband, but he never made her feel so easy to discard or dispose of. This man, this alien, made her feel warmth and joy for the first time in years. She thought he felt the same but, somehow, he could just set her aside and leave. Abandon her to a lifetime of heartache and claim it was for her safety.

  “Then stay,” she said.

  “Where? Here?”

  “Yes! I’ll dismiss the Baldrys. I’ll become a recluse. Or we’ll sell and settle where we never have to see another living soul.” Anything, anywhere, as long as it was with him.

  He shook his head. “It is no good. Earth’s technology is about to advance. There will be no place unexplored soon. No safe place to hide. I’m sorry. This is how it must be,” he said.

  Her eyes burned and watered. Anger and sorrow and desperation churned within her, threatening to spill over. She turned her face away, unable to look at him, lest she burst into tears. “I won’t beg you, Reven. I refuse. But I don’t want to lose you.”

  A finger under her chin turned her to face him. Misery stared back at her. Tears spilled. She swallowed a sob, her chest aching.

  “I hate knowing another male will spend his life with you, but I need you to have that life. You’ll forget me. You’ll have a family and smile again.”

  She knocked his hand away, suddenly loathing his touch. She fixed her gaze to a distant ephemeral tree, refusing to look his way.

  “Elizabeth?”

  She did not answer, unable to trust her voice at that tender moment.

  “I… I will be in the shuttle making repairs,” he said at length.

  “Yes. I think that is best,” she said in an icy voice, as cold anything her maternal grandparents ever said to her. They disowned their daughter, Elizabeth’s mother, when she ran off with the portrait painter, and they never warmed to their grandchildren.

  He retreated. Once alone, she pulled her knees to her chest. She sobbed until her throat went raw and her chest ached. Eventually, the tears slowed and her breaths evened out.

  Elizabeth dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief. Perhaps it was for the best. They were too different. Mutual attraction might make the distance between them appear trivial, but attraction was a poor foundation upon which to build a lasting bridge. Look at her parents. They were from different worlds, class-wise, and their love withered under the external pressure.

  Was that what she wanted? To grow bitter over the years towards Reven, until no affection remained between them? If she gave up everything to be with him, there would be no going back. She would be trapped in his world as surely as her mother had been trapped in her father’s world.

  As pained as she was at the moment, it was for the best. Heartache today would give way to a lifetime of happiness.

  She raised her eyes to the impossible sight above her, annoyed that she could believe this mirage but not the sensible advice she told herself.

  In a fit of anger, she snatched Reven’s device, still projecting the forest, and hurled it against the wall. The impact made a satisfying crunch. Its light flickered, casting distorted images across the floor, before finally fading.

  “I’ll cry tonight but no more,” she said. Tomorrow she’d move on and abandon her silly fantasies. Loving creative men had brought her only anguish. She needed someone sensible. Grounded. Steadfast. Someone like Gilbert Stearne.

  She vowed to keep an open mind tomorrow during dinner. Perhaps she found him dull, but what was dullness but reliability? Gilbert could provide her with a life of calming predictability, the same day in and day out. Her mind could relax and her creativity could flourish under such steady tending.

  Yes, that’s what she’d do.

  Reven

  He had made several mistakes in his life. It was not a new experience. As a youth, he damaged the power governor on a small hovercraft while trying to supercharge the engine for more lift. It failed spectacularly, resulting in his hair sparking with static electricity.

  Newly arrived on Earth, he attempted to learn how to surf. Turns out Terrans are exceptionally buoyant, and Mahdfel are not. His heavier muscle mass and density sank him like a stone.

  This mistake, however, was far more serious than youthful blunders. He wanted to give Elizabeth a gift, a perfect moment to keep close to her heart. He thought to answer her questions honestly but would have been better off remaining elusive. She would have been frustrated with him, true, but he would have avoided seeing the joy in her eyes dim as ice crept over her heart.

  He stole her joy. He gave her a perfect moment and destroyed it.

  She would never forgive him, and he did not deserve her forgiveness.

  He wanted to rage at fate. At the stars. The light in her heart called to him across the dark, across time, and he could not have her. What happened if he did as she suggested and brought her with him? What if the collapsing wormhole tore apart the shuttle? Or spat them out with another century to wait? What if he put her in the second pod? If she did not wake? The chance of successful revival was slim.

  He could not risk it, he decided. Better for Elizabeth to have a long life without him than to cause her demise.

  She would forget him in time.

  He occupied himself with repairs. He tackled the largest gashes first, straining to lift the metal plating and bolt it into place. The work felt honest, and he could forget himself, at least for the moment.

  He did not require sleep and planned to work through the night. In two days, he would leave and would have all the time in the universe to sleep.

  Chapter Eleven

  Elizabeth

  This is what David wanted.

  This was moving on. It was for the best.

  Her mantra pushed her through the motions of the day, even as exhaustion weighed on her. She repeated those words as she sat through the Christmas service. The Stearnes invited her to sit next to them.

  “I can’t believe she walked into this holy place, bold as brass,” a voice whispered from behind.

  Elizabeth kept her chin up and refused to confront the speaker. Village gossip never bothered her before, and she refused to let it bother her now.

  “Jonas said he saw her conjure a devil,” another voice said.

  “Jonas spends too much time drinking gin for me to believe a word he says.”

  A sigh of relief escaped her. Good. The rag and bone man’s testimony seemed a drunken delusion.

  She sat ramrod straight with her hat in her lap, keeping the proper distance between herself and Gilbert. She ignored the curious glances from the rest of the congregation or the lift in Gilbert’s
chin, almost like boasting.

  This is what David wanted. She was moving on with her life.

  She murmured polite greetings after the service, nodded and curtseyed, and accepted the glad tidings that she officially ended her mourning. The lodge was too much for one woman to take on, they said. Would she sell? Would she remarry? They gave Gilbert a knowing nod because they knew she would move on, and he was a reliable, predictable choice. It was what her late husband wanted.

  Never mind that she wanted Reven. She found him endlessly fascinating. His strange, dark plum face became animated as he explained the inner workings of his machines, how good design led to efficiency, and form could find accord with function. Essentially, his technology was art, both pleasing to the eye and essential for life. She admired how passionate he grew as he discussed his creations, much as David did when he created. Moon Man or not, his soul spoke to hers.

  Her regard for Reven held no relevance. He didn’t want her. He made his position clear and he would be gone tomorrow. She need not spare him another thought.

  Mustering all her will, she forced herself to move through the day, nodding and making the appropriate noises. By the afternoon, she sat in the Stearnes’ parlor.

  The Stearne cottage was a plaster and timber structure with two rooms downstairs and, presumably, two rooms upstairs. The front room served as a cramped parlor, packed with too many chairs. Her knees practically touched Gilbert’s as they sat on either side of a round card table. Despite the low ceilings, the Franklin stove in the corner and the whitewashed walls gave the room an inviting feel.

  A portrait of a man dressed in the fashion two centuries prior loomed over the room. She studied the thin lips, pressed together, and the hard, dark eyes. The varnish had yellowed and cracked with age, giving the man a dour, judgmental appearance.

  “John Stearne, the family patriarch,” Gilbert said, dismissing the portrait.

  “He looks very serious.” Humorless, even. She shivered.