by Jade, Elsa
“Ship?” she repeated vaguely. “There aren’t any oceans near here.”
“There were,” he countered. “But of course I mean a spaceship. “
“A spaceship. Of course.” She straightened abruptly. “I’m going to see a spaceship?”
He smirked at her before resuming his long stride.
Back at her rental car, she followed his directions, without his wrist pad, toward Sunset Lake. “This is all forest, no room for a spaceship,” she said nervously. “What, did you find street parking or something? Won’t the whole world see you?”
“We have a shield that deflects most sensors, especially from lower technology or casual scans. Also, it’s a small spaceship.” He flashed a grin her way. “And most importantly it’s not parked in the trees, it’s parked in the lake.”
She wrinkled her nose. “How are we supposed to… Oh, duh. Of course.”
He nodded once. “Of course. In retrospect, when we received our landing permission and saw how much water wasn’t here, we should’ve suspected something was wrong.” His smile faded.
With a quick glance, she studied his dark expression. “You know, you’re not the only one on this mission. Whatever mistakes were made, they aren’t all yours.”
When he didn’t reply, she returned her attention to the road ahead. Why was she trying to reach out to him again, even if it was only with words this time, when he’d already made it clear he wasn’t interested in her inspirational speeches any more than she’d wanted his when they stood in the fountain pool?
After a moment, he let out a breath that wasn’t quite a chuckle. “Which is worse: knowing it’s all your fault? Or knowing there’s nothing you can do?”
His blue-green gaze rested on her, as if he was awaiting her answer. Maybe he wasn’t quite rejecting her this time. “Is there no middle ground?”
“My universal translator informs me that my language does not have an idiom for ‘middle ground’.”
She grimaced. “Right. You wouldn’t really talk about ground in the ocean. Maybe instead of middle ground, something like a nice brackish pond or something?”
The tense set of his shoulders eased. “Tritonyri do equally well in fresh or salt water.” He let out a sigh. “However we are extremely sensitive to certain heavy-metal pollutants. As Tritona evolved through its technological stages, we warred repeatedly with the surface dwellers who shared our planet, which they call in their language Cretarn. That translates to—and this will shock you—Earth.” He slanted a droll smile at her when she choked out a laugh. “But there were always more of them than there were of us, even though we have few large land masses, and it was easier for them to flush the runoff into the oceans than for us to dredge the toxins from our home.”
She swallowed hard. “That probably wouldn’t have been too dissimilar here, if my Earth had a sentient water-dwelling species.”
He flicked a glance at her. “What makes you think you don’t?”
She blinked. “Are you saying…”
“I don’t know your ecology, but on Tritona, when the Tritonesse realized how badly we were faring, a few warriors were sent with shoals of our spawnlings, cryonically suspended in stasis, on slow exodus ships to the stars. The ships were loaded with specimens of our most important plant and animal species.”
“Like an ark.” When he raised an eyebrow, she explained, “We have a story about a giant boat that saved all the animals on Earth when the land was flooded. Yours saved all the life in your seas.”
“Maybe. We lost contact with them during the seemingly endless years of the war. But we hoped they’d find more welcoming waters elsewhere if Tritona’s seas didn’t survive. Meanwhile, the last of our mature females sank into the most protective depths. There weren’t enough of them left to breed the next generation of Tritonyri warriors. And the transgalactic council declared our centuries of battle a civil conflict, not worthy of their involvement.”
“When did these exodus ships leave your world?”
“Almost a thousand of your years ago,” he told her. “The soil-sucking Cretarni always had the high ground, literally, but now that we’ve finally fought them off and reclaimed a few clean currents, now the council believes the planet is too damaged to support us and will relocate us to various refugee planets. Some of which even have open water.” His lips curled in a feral snarl that told her what he thought of the council’s offer. “But if we prove enough ecological, economic, and social redevelopment, the council will be forced to grant us full permanent stewardship of Tritona.”
She bristled on his behalf. “It’s already your planet,” she said indignantly. “It’s where you were born and grew up. How can they take away or give back what’s already yours?”
“If only you had a seat on the council,” he said wryly. “Most of the standing committees, even the temporary ones, are chaired and filled by inhabitants from land-dwelling species. Probably because the oceanic and atmospheric species don’t really stand or use chairs.”
Ridley scowled. “You’re telling me there’s still prejudice out in space? That’s a bummer.”
“Even more differences to fear,” he pointed out. “But we don’t have it as bad as some. Like that jelly-starfish, as you called it, the Ajellomene are almost never anything other than support staff, usually at unequal pay. Bipedal bigotry is a problem we still haven’t overcome.”
“At least tell me Tritona is more progressive than that.” She grimaced. “I’d hate to be fighting alongside somebody who doesn’t think I deserve to be there for it.”
“My world still has its problems, no question. But of course our males are allowed to vote and even run for office, although most of Tritona’s remaining population finds the Tritonesse to be stronger, more trustworthy, more focused, the kind of being you’d want to have a fermented beverage with.”
She slanted a quick glance at him. “And the Tritonesse are your version of female, I have that right, yes?”
He nodded. “Everyone knows that those who are responsible for spawning are more likely to lead a world into a brighter future.”
“Yeah, everybody knows,” she muttered.
How could the Intergalactic Dating Agency—even when it wasn’t allowing innocent women to be kidnapped and apparently tossed into black holes—convince anyone to sign on to giving up everything they knew in favor of some new, weird world? Even someone who could breathe the same atmosphere and exist on the same surfaces would find themselves completely out of their element—different histories, different technologies, different religions, different dreams.
“The Intergalactic Dating Agency only deals in one dream,” Maelstrom said, which was her first indication that she’d been ranting aloud. “All those empty storage units that once held yottabytes of data gel had only one goal: to match every alien mate with a willing mail order bride.”
“‘A love that’s out of this world,’” she muttered.
He grunted. “Not every being’s dream, obviously, but enough to make a thriving transgalactic business out of.”
She tightened her grip on the steering wheel, trying to banish the memory of his warm skin under her fingertips. “And is it yours?”
“Tritona was at war for the whole of my life. My only business was killing. “
Heat flared in her cheeks, but she soldiered on. “I meant your dream.”
He was a man of many pauses, she’d already noticed, but this had to be the longest one to date. Finally, he shook his head, all that dark hair sliding around with no attentive fingers to set it right. “I guess my business and my dream now are to save Tritona. Nothing else matters.”
She kept her gaze fixed on the road ahead. “Yeah, I guess that would be plenty.”
Compared to his dream, her wish to sink beneath the waves again seemed so petty.
She gritted her teeth. Still, it was her dream and it wasn’t like she had so many other choices anyway. He’d promised to get her back in the water, and she’d hold him to t
hat, even if all he wanted was to get back to the drowning world he’d left behind.
Chapter 10
Ridley had gone so quiet that Mael considered asking her if she was afraid of “freaking out” at the sight of a real spaceship. But he didn’t want to call attention to her fears, not when he knew how much she hated that. So he too kept his silence except for calling out a few directions along the twisting forest roads.
Plus, he had his own worries. Maybe he could discount all the other interstellar rules he’d broken about closed-world contact, blaming everything on the still unidentified swindling snot-eels. But taking Ridley to the Bathyal would be all on him.
“You have to park here,” he told her finally. “This is the closest road to Sunset Falls. The rest are walking trails.”
“Except for the underwater passages that you took to get to Marisol’s house.”
“True. But that wouldn’t work for you.”
At the reminder of her weakness, her silence took on an even more brittle edge, and he restrained a wince. There wasn’t anything he could do about that now. “I’m going to sneak you onto the ship,” he informed her. “You’re not supposed to be there, and I need to take full responsibility should anything go wrong.”
“Oh, what could possibly go wrong?” she muttered as they exited the car into the cool quiet of the forest.
He opened his mouth to begin listing all the many, many ways. But she wasn’t really asking, was she? “Once we’re on board, I’ll take you immediately to my berth, and then check in with my commander. I’ll tell him that I need a new datpad to stay in contact with him.”
“And a bigger ray gun.”
He blinked. “I don’t actually—”
“Make it two.” She stalked away from him down the path.
With his longer stride, he caught up quickly. “The Bathyal is an old ship, and running the mimic shield limits its abilities to simultaneously scan. So the external sensors will be partially blind. But you have to stay close to me so my readings eclipse yours.”
“That’s what all the boys say before sneaking me into their bedrooms.”
He narrowed his eyes. As if that would squeeze out the painful burst of jealousy that leached through him. “I suppose you were doing that while I was sneaking into enemy strongholds. I like your way better.”
“Yeah. The only real fights I got into were my own fault.”
As quickly as it arrived, his jealousy left. “I hope those boys had your back.”
She glanced away from him. “They didn’t. Also my fault.”
The ground, soft with detritus from the trees, muffled their footsteps, as if they were partly floating. He held out one arm. “Come here. Just until we get inside sensor range.”
She hesitated one heartbeat then sidled toward him. “You won’t just toss me in the lake or anything, will you?”
“I’ll tell you before tossing.”
“Gee thanks.” Her body was stiff against his. As the afternoon sun lowered below the tops of the trees, shadows and a bone-deep chill crept around them despite their brisk pace down the path. By the time they emerged from the forest on the shore of Sunset Lake, the sky and the lake were a monochrome gray, lightened only by a few ragged streaks in the clouds and restless whitecaps as the wind grabbed at the water.
“Where is it?” Ridley’s voice wasn’t much above a whisper, but she was so close he had no problem feeling the faint vibration through his chest.
“Shielded and mostly submerged.” He pointed toward the middle of the lake. “See where the waves aren’t?”
She made a gulping noise. “I suppose we have to dive out there.”
“You’ve done it already. This is even easier since you won’t be confined by the tunnels.”
“What if that restraint was the only thing keeping me from freaking out?”
“Didn’t my presence help with that a little?”
She gazed up at him, her gray eyes more turbulent that the wind-whipped lake. “Are you going to do it again? That breath thing?”
“The breath of rising desire.” He glanced down at her mouth. “Yes. That seems best.”
“Definitely best.” The exhaled agreement was so soft he almost missed it.
Or maybe it was the sudden thunder drowning out the words. No storm on the horizon, though, just in his veins as his heartbeat raced. The musky sweetness in the back of his throat when the pheromone flooded his mouth honed his senses to a crystalline edge. The prickle of her short hair teased his fingertips as he cupped one hand behind her head, gathering her closer. When she angled her face upward, the flush across her cheeks flashed like a warning.
Or an invitation.
He settled his mouth lightly over hers. He’d been wrong about her before, been wrong about a lot of things. But her lips under his…felt right.
He breathed the diving pheromone into her. Did Earther females have their own alien chemicals that were affecting him?
That thought felt right too.
When he lifted his head, parting their lips with a soft smack, they both inhaled at the same time, and for a moment, the imperceptible vacuum between them seemed to pull their bodies even closer.
“We should take off our outer layers,” he murmured.
The color on her cheeks was even brighter on her mouth when she licked her lips. “That’s a big jump, from kiss to…no clothes.”
“After we’re done at the ship,” he clarified, “when we come back here. We don’t want to be wet.”
“Too late,” she muttered, but she eased enough space between them to strip off her jacket and the hooded sweater underneath. The tight, sleeveless white bodice that remained exposed the sleek, padded muscles of her shoulders and arms, strong lines that matched his own. Maybe she’d come to fear the water, but he could see she belonged there, as he did.
When she shivered, he hastened to strip off his own layers, leaving only his battle skin. He bent away from her to fold their clothes together in the shelter of one of the trees, carefully tucking her pieces inside of his tougher plasilk clothing.
When he straightened, he caught her eyes lingering on his backside, but she quickly averted her gaze. “Why’d you even bother with that outfit?” She flickered her fingers at him, and he swore he could almost feel the minuscule drafts of air, heated by her skin. “Like, there’s basically nothing there anyway.”
“It gives us places to hold our tools and weapons and also a way to tie ourselves to our battle cruisers when necessary. The lack of coverage was a disadvantage during land skirmishes,” he admitted. “But in the water, our natural sensitivities would be blunted with too much armor. Also, it’s our traditional battle skin. We wanted to reclaim that as we reclaim Tritona.”
Her jaw worked from side to side as she bit at the inside of her cheeks, her restless gaze circling all the way around him without touching. “It just seems a little…exposed.”
He tilted his head, studying the blush that had spread down the column of her throat to the space exposed between the thin straps of her snug top. The flush darkened in the shadow that continued downward between her small breasts, and her puckered nipples poked against the fabric.
Just a reaction to the cold… Or something more? The breath of rising desire shouldn’t mean much to a land-dweller like her. “If it bothers you, I can wear my ships clothes,” he said soothingly. “I don’t mind being wet.”
When she shook her head, her short hair bristled like spinefish barbs. “It’s fine,” she said with an aggrieved edge to her voice. “Just don’t…get all over me.”
“I’ll have to breathe for you when we go under—”
“Besides that,” she snapped. Kicking off her boots, she balanced on one foot to yank off her pants.
He tried to give her as much space as he could without leaving enough distance for the ship’s impeded scanners to pick up her presence. The Bathyal was programmed to recognize him and wouldn’t set off any alarms, but he didn’t want to take any chance
s.
Since she was obviously uncomfortable with the lack of layers between them, he kept his gaze studiously averted. But he couldn’t help noticing the pale blue star shapes on the midnight blue of her bottom under layer. The stars made her skin more luminous by comparison, even in the fading light. The skimpy fabric cupped the wide curves of her, substantial enough that his big hands would have trouble holding all of her. Though he’d like to try…
Resolutely, he turned to face the water. “When you’re ready.”
She mumbled something indistinct behind his shoulder before tucking herself under his arm. Her skin warmed quickly against his, and despite his intention not to alarm her, he found his grasp tightening protectively, possessively.
Only because he was coming to better understand her fear. No other reason.
“Ready.” Her announcement was scarcely louder than the tide going out, and the arm she threaded behind him lacked the strength of his own grip.
While he wished for more certainty in her voice, he wouldn’t question her, and when he took a step toward the water, her thigh moved in sync with his.
As their matched steps pierced the shallow waters, she sucked in a harsh breath.
“That first step is always a shock,” he reassured her, though it wasn’t one he experienced anymore.
“Not the cold,” she whispered. “It’s the fear. The syndrome effects are getting worse for me, just like for Marisol and Lana. It’s not even that dark yet, and I can see the bottom here, but my heart is racing so fast I think I’m going to pass out.”
“Breathe,” he reminded her. “You already have some of the pheromone, which should hinder the panic. Once we get to the ship, we have a med pod and we can start a scan for you. It’s rudimentary, nothing as in-depth as a real medical workup, but maybe we can find something new about the syndrome, some place to start, something we can use against the IDA—whichever one shows up to the meeting at the Wavercrest house.” He turned to face her and gripped her arms, as if he could still the delicate shivers wracking her. “Don’t you want to get back in the water?”