Saved by the Alien Dragon

by Stella Cassy

  He thought for a moment, then said, “If there were a faulty connection between the device and the shield generators which projected the cloak, there might be a faint rippling effect which would show up on visual scans. It'd probably result in a power leak, too. The kind that would leave a clear trail which other ships could track and follow. Frankly, it's a big reason we've never been able to perfect the technology in the first place. The extreme power output burns out all connections to the device itself.”

  “Shields at sixty-two percent,” Ranel intoned.

  I returned to my command chair, tapping the comm. “Dashel to Grenek. All of the converted escape pods were returned to their ports before we left, right? With their augmented propulsion and weapons systems still installed?”

  “Yes, sir,” he answered immediately.

  “How long would it take you to rig one of them with a reflective holographic projection system to make it look like a rippling section of space that's about four times its actual size? Nothing fancy or long-term—just enough to work for five cleks, tops.”

  “About forty cleks.”

  “You've got ten. Let me know when you've done it. Dashel out.”

  “What's the plan?” Natalie asked.

  “Simple. They only think we're behind the nebula because there's no other place we could have hidden ourselves so quickly. So we're going to give them something else to chase instead—make them think we've been cloaked all this time, but that our cloak has failed and we need to run off before it dissolves entirely.”

  “Won't they know it's an escape pod instead of a whole ship?”

  I grinned. “They won't expect an escape pod to have advanced weapons and propulsion capabilities. Odds are, they'll assume it's a real vessel and pursue it – figuring anything they don't understand from their sensor readings, they can easily study later. And by the time they catch up to it and the holo-projectors conk out...”

  “We'll be long gone.” Natalie smiled. “That's a hell of a gamble, Dashel.”

  “So is giving human astronomers a front-row seat to a battle between starships.”

  The cleks ticked by one at a time until the comm buzzed with Grenek's voice. “We've rigged it, captain, and it's in Pod Bay Four. But I'm not sure the holograms will have enough power to give you the full five cleks you asked for.”

  “It'll have to do. Activate the projectors, chart a course away from the Sol system, and launch it.”

  “Shields down to fourteen percent,” Ranel rumbled, “in case you were wondering how screwed we'll be if this doesn't work.”

  There was a whoosh from the Wyvern's undercarriage, and a round, rippling ball of empty space soared off at top speed. The Pax vessel made a sharp turn and took off after it.

  Natalie gave out a sigh of relief as the rest of the crew cheered.

  I turned to Ranel with a sly smile. “Commander, take us to the third planet from the sun, maximum speed.”

  29

  Natalie

  When the Wyvern got within visual range of Earth, I couldn't help but stare at my home planet with my mouth hanging open. I'd never seen anything so beautiful and majestic in my life – the way it hung in space like a cloudy blue marble, so untouched and pristine, blissfully ignorant of the horror and strife that raged through the rest of the galaxy.

  At the back of my mind, I still remembered everything that was wrong with Earth – the wars, the poverty, the pollution and overpopulation, the fear of nuclear armageddon. But all of those things seemed so harmless and distant now, compared with the things I'd seen and done over the past few years.

  “Well?” Dashel asked, standing next to me. “Is it everything you remembered?”

  “Even better,” I replied, giving him a big hug.

  “Now remember,” Ranel reminded me for what felt like the hundredth time, “we'll have to severely limit the number of trips you make from the Wyvern to the planet's surface. We won't be able to just buzz by and grab you whenever we feel like it. We'll have to wait for the right conditions so we're not spotted by any people or monitoring equipment, and in the interim—”

  “—you'll have to remain in a synchronized orbit behind the sun so you won't be spotted,” I finished for him. “Yes, I know.”

  “Just make sure the comm systems are operational at all times,” Dashel told him, “in case she goes into labor and we need to be picked up in a hurry. We don't want to have to rely on these Earthers' primitive medical facilities.” He turned to me. “I've stitched together some simple clothes based on the specifications you provided, so we won't stand out. How shall we arrange for currency while we're down there?”

  “That'll be a bit tricky,” I said, thinking it over carefully. “After my abduction, I was probably listed as a missing person, so I won't be able to access my old bank account without a lot of alarms going off.”

  “Do precious metals have value on this world?” Ranel asked. “Gold, silver, that sort of thing?”

  “Absolutely, why?”

  He grinned widely. “Then currency won't be a problem. We have plenty of these metals in our storage chambers below deck. As long as you're confident you'll be able to sell it without attracting attention?”

  I thought of all the times I'd passed jewelers and pawn shops with signs that boasted WE BUY GOLD and laughed. “I'm sure we'll be fine.”

  “In that case,” Dashel said, “let's head for the drop-shuttle and take you home.”

  In a couple hours, the shuttle touched down on Earth's surface at dusk – just outside of Baltimore, the city where I'd gone to college. It felt so strange to be back. The streets and buildings almost seemed unreal, like a stage set that had been constructed solely for my benefit. Still, it was easy to find a place that wanted to buy gold and silver from us (though the owner of the pawn shop kept staring at Dashel's scales). Since it was in a bad neighborhood, we weren't asked to provide any identification; the owner probably just assumed we'd stolen it and felt lucky that he was the beneficiary of our larceny.

  Even though it was a neighborhood I'd have made sure to stay out of when I lived here, I had no reason to be afraid this time. After all, hadn't I prevailed in hand-to-hand combat with hard cases from countless worlds while I worked in the mines? And wasn't I being escorted by a dragon in human form? Who would dare mess with me now?

  “What is it?” Dashel asked as I snorted with laughter.

  “Nothing,” I assured him, trying to stifle my giggles. “Let's find a place to spend the night.”

  The motel we found was cheap and grimy, but Dashel was fascinated by everything about it. He frowned at the tiny fridge in the room, confused that a limited number of food items were confined to a cold box instead of dispensed freshly at will by a replication unit. When he saw a roach scuttle across the carpet, he chased after it and tried to eat it, convinced that it was another food option which had been purposefully released into our living space like a mouse dropped into a snake's terrarium. He was confused that the sources of illumination weren't intuitive enough to simply sense our presence and switch on by themselves – and I had to warn him about the electricity running from the outlets through the lamps and other devices so he wouldn't accidentally shock himself.

  “What a bizarre and primitive existence you humans have,” he marveled, rubbing the thin, scratchy blanket on the bed between his claws. “The Hielsrane should conquer you, if only to do you the favor of introducing you to superior technology. Even as our slaves, you'd be living more comfortably than this.”

  But when I turned on the TV, he was utterly hypnotized – even by the commercials. It took a long time to convince him that the people on the screen weren't humans who had been shrunk down through genetic experimentation and forced to perform dramas for our amusement. “You have vidscreen technology,” he said slowly, “and you use it to broadcast these...frivolous plays? For amusement?”

  We spent the rest of the evening curled up on the bed together, flipping through the channels. It was exactly t
he kind of mundane activity that I'd missed since my abduction, and I loved sharing it with Dashel. At one point, we found a marathon of syndicated Star Trek reruns, and he stared at them in disbelief.

  “I don't understand. Instead of traveling to the stars yourselves to see how they really are,” he whispered in disbelief, “you spend billions of your Earth 'dollars' creating elaborate fantasies about what they could be like? It makes no sense at all.”

  “Maybe,” I conceded, “but it's a hell of a lot safer.”

  At one point, an episode came on which featured that perennial square-jawed favorite Captain Kirk fighting a reptilian monster on a remote alien planet (one which suspiciously resembled a bunch of California rocks and desert). “Hey, Dashel...bet you're rooting for the lizard guy to win this one, huh?”

  But when I turned to look at him for confirmation, he was asleep next to me.

  The next day, after we'd checked out of the motel, Dashel turned to me. “Where to next? Do you have parents or other family you wish to see? We'd have to concoct a compelling story about where you've been and why you won't be able to see them much in the future, such a thing would be difficult, but not wholly impossible, I think. If it were important to you.”

  I shook my head. “Not my parents, no. They died about a year before I was taken. But there is someplace I'd like to go next...someplace important.”

  We made the trip from Baltimore to the mid-sized town of Frederick by bus. I couldn't believe how the place had grown since I'd last been there. The population must have quadrupled at least, and everywhere I looked, there were new highways, housing developments, and shopping centers. Before, it had been a quaint and pleasant little place, full of independent shops and restaurants patronized by the students who attended Hood College. Now it was almost unrecognizable, a crowded and busy haven for commuters. The change made me sad.

  Still, I had no trouble finding the small house on Taney Avenue, where I'd been invited to have dinner and stay the night countless times. It was where Daniel's parents had lived – and from my position across the street, I could see that they were still there. His father Eric was sitting on the porch in his favorite rocking chair, smoking a cigarette and reading the paper. His mother Catherine was working in her little garden and whistling to herself.

  How long had they waited to see Daniel again before finally giving up hope, I wondered? What terrible theories must they have had about what happened to him, why he vanished off the face of the Earth? Had they suspected that I'd had something to do with his disappearance, or had they loved and trusted me enough to worry about my well-being too – assuming that whatever had happened to him must have happened to me as well?

  Maybe they'd had to live all this time with the idea that he'd been murdered—or worse, been the victim of some senseless accident or misadventure, his body somehow eluding discovery all these years.

  They were lucky, I thought. Because no matter what awful visions they might have endured when speculating about his ultimate fate, they'd never come close to the gruesome memory of what actually happened.

  “I'm sorry, guys,” I said under my breath. “I'm sorry I couldn't save him. I'm sorry I couldn't bring him home to you. You deserved better.”

  Dashel took my hand to comfort me, and we walked away before Eric or Catherine could look up and spot me.

  Over the next few weeks, Dashel and I did a lot of traveling. We visited places I'd been to and enjoyed, like the Florida Keys, where I'd once spent a vacation with my family. We explored destinations I'd never had a chance to see, like Paris and Venice. We kept in touch with the Wyvern and sometimes made quick trips back for more gold and silver to live on – not to mention check-ups from Stal, who always grumbled about our globetrotting and how “the ship was apparently for hire for pleasure cruises these days” – but for the most part, we were on our own.

  The more Dashel saw of human food, fashions, and culture, the more he seemed to understand why I'd been so attached to this planet in the first place. By the time we got to Tokyo and he saw the numerous paintings and statues of dragons there, he started to talk about planning another trip after the babies were born; he laughed, saying that Earth was quickly becoming his favorite vacation spot.

  Then came Hong Kong.

  It was a magnificent place, full of bustle and excitement, an enchanted city built up against the side of a mountain. Before the Pax had taken me, I'd wanted to go to Hong Kong for a long time. It always looked so cool in those silly action movies that Daniel had enjoyed making me watch with him. But as we trekked up a steep road, I started to feel stabbing pains in my abdomen.

  Contractions.

  “Oh no,” I groaned, doubling over. “Not now. Not here.”

  “Are the hatchlings coming?” Dashel asked, concerned.

  “Babies,” I corrected him through clenched teeth. “You don't want anyone to hear you call them 'hatchlings' on this planet. And yes, they're definitely coming. But how? It hasn't been nearly nine months yet.”

  “Hielsrane offspring don't take nearly as long to come,” he told me. “Stal's been giving you treatments to stabilize your reproductive system so it's not overwhelmed by the twins' alien anatomy. In effect, to make you more like us, so the birthing process will be less dangerous for you. It may have shortened the gestation period significantly.”

  “Then you'd better contact Ranel and arrange for them to come pick us up fast,” I said. God, the pain was horrible – like something fiercely digging its way out of me with huge claws.

  People were starting to gather around us, too. Not good.

  Dashel spoke into his comm device, trying to keep his voice down: “Ranel, we need you. Now. Set coordinates for pick-up, and we'll meet you there.”

  Ranel's voice came back, tinny and disrupted by static: “Damn it, captain, you couldn't possibly have picked a worse time! A solar flare just zapped our propulsion systems! I swear, what kind of backwater galactic shithole can't even manage to erect a containment field around their own fucking sun?!”

  “We should probably drop the technical jargon for the moment, Ranel,” Dashel said nervously as the tourists and locals eyed him suspiciously. “Just tell me how long it'll take to fix it.”

  “Right now, it's impossible to say. Grenek's doing the best he can, but he says it could be three or four hours, maybe longer. It's all we can do to maintain the comm line.”

  “I don't have three or four hours,” I moaned painfully. This was the worst agony I'd ever experienced – far worse than anything I'd endured in the mines. I felt like at any moment, my entire nervous system would overload and I'd pass out, or worse.

  “Hey, mister, it looks like your wife needs to get to a hospital pretty fast,” an Australian tourist remarked, concerned. “Want me to get an ambulance for you?”

  Dashel looked frozen in place, his expression stricken, as though he'd been punched in the gut. He looked to me, and I nodded. What a nightmare. On the ship, under Stal's supervision, there would have been a better than average chance that the birth would go smoothly.

  In a human hospital here on Earth, though...what if the procedure killed me? Or the twins?

  “Yes,” Dashel said hoarsely. “Thank you.”

  Less than an hour later, I was in the hospital, surrounded by doctors and nurses speaking in Cantonese. Despite the pain, I had to laugh at the irony – being treated by a race of extraterrestrial dragons would have felt more familiar and comforting for me, less “alien” than being here in Hong Kong. Dashel followed closely, looking terrified.

  “Everything will be all right,” he said, trying to sound soothing. “I promise.”

  I was swiftly wheeled into the delivery room. My entire midsection felt like it was on fire, and my pelvis felt like it was about to split in half. How big are Drakon infants when they emerge from the womb, I wondered? Bigger than human babies? Big enough to drag all of my internal organs out with them?

  I'd never been more frightened in my life.


  And based on the reactions of the medical staff when they examined me, neither had they.

  I didn't need to be fluent in Cantonese to understand their panicked yells and commands as they did their best to treat me. Stal's treatments had clearly altered my physiology into something they didn't recognize and weren't sure how to deal with. The lead physician barked an order at one of the nurses, who risked a final glance at what was between my legs and nearly fainted from shock before running out of the room.

  They administered a series of injections – probably for the pain, but they didn't do much good. The agony remained, but my thoughts went all runny in my head, like broken eggs leaking out.

  They're calling some government agency right now, I thought, horrified. And when the birthing process is over, if I survive, I'll be transported to some secret base or research facility so they can poke and prod around inside me. And they'll do the same thing to my babies...and to Dashel, too, if they get their hands on him. They'll finally have evidence of alien life. They might even alert NASA and SETI, find some way to keep the Wyvern and its crew from escaping the solar system. All because of me. All because I was selfish enough to demand a trip back to Earth. Escaped a slave camp, survived a space battle to the death against the Pax Alliance—all for nothing—all so I could be labelled a scientific curiosity and vivisected on some examining table...

  “Push!” one of the nurses insisted, leaning over directly into my face. “You push now! Push! Push!”

  I don't know how long I kept pushing. It felt like days, but it was probably only cleks...or minutes, I corrected myself mentally. I was having a bad reaction to the drugs they gave me. For all I knew, those might end up killing me. Now that my reproductive system was part Drakon, who knew what might affect me, and how?

  But through the fear, through the anguish, through the feeling of being torn in half, I pushed. I pushed.

  Until I heard a baby crying. Then another.

  The medical staff were staring down at the newborns, which were covered in scales and screaming. Both boys. Both beautiful to behold. “They're all right,” I tried to say, even though my lungs felt like they had no breath left in them. “I promise, they're fine, really...icthyosis, that's all...vulgaris...just like their...father...”