Alien Breeder

by Honey Phillips

  “Of course not.” T’lan laughed. “And I suspect if I ever indicated as much, he would have no hesitation in challenging me to a training match and proving his worth.”

  A grin twisted T’gana’s lips. Commander T’chok’s skills in horn-to-horn combat were well known.

  “He is a worthy opponent,” he agreed.

  “If you wish to join us you would be welcome. Our human mates are fragile. Together we can protect them more easily,” T’lan said.

  “You are aware that I was damaged on Klendat?” he forced himself to ask.

  “Warriors sustain damage. I have no doubt that you are still capable of defending our females.”

  “Thank you.” The words caught in his throat.

  After a brief silence, T’lan continued. “The building process has only just started, but if you wish to move here immediately, you could procure a prefabricated dwelling on a temporary basis.”

  He considered the idea. Like many warriors, he had spent little of his pay over the years and had a sizeable number of credits put aside. The relatively low cost would not be an obstacle, and a temporary dwelling would provide the opportunity to explore the possibility without a major commitment. He and T’lan discussed options for a few minutes, but then he looked around the garden and heard a squeal of laughter from the bathroom. He was in no hurry to leave.

  “There is no rush.”

  “Very well.” T’lan laughed again. “I should warn you that my L’chka is eager for other human females to arrive. I will not mention this to her, or she will insist on contacting your mate immediately.”

  “I have not yet claimed her as my mate,” he reminded T’lan.

  “Do not delay too long, Sub Commander. Each day with your mate is precious.”

  Before T’gana could respond, T’lan disconnected the call.

  Another path? For the first time he realized that perhaps he had not opened his mind to all of the possibilities. If he could truly find a place with T’lan’s colony, would S’rah also be happy there? The fact that Commander T’lan still considered him worthy of protecting the females of the colony healed a part of him that had not yet recovered from his experiences. But if he was to be worthy of the task, he needed to resume his training. He had not attempted to train since the day he was refused admittance to the training rooms on the ship.

  Now, he stepped forward onto the grass. The sun beat down and after a quick glance at the house, he shrugged and removed his top. S’rah was not bothered by his scars. She insisted that he remove his shirt whenever they made love. Would they frighten the girls? He looked down at the marks, no more than dark red stripes now, and decided they were too young to understand. With a deep breath, he assumed the first position and began the series of ritualized exercises that he had practiced every day since he was twelve. The first steps were awkward as he learned how to accommodate his missing rear claw and weakened leg, but he rapidly learned to compensate, and the movements began to flow more easily. By the time he finished the first set, he was sweaty, tired, and his leg was trembling, but he felt more at ease with himself than he had in weeks.

  “Show me.”

  The voice startled him, and he looked down to find T’bitha standing next to him, her arms awkwardly poised in the initial position. He went down on one knee next to her.

  “This is not appropriate for—”

  “I know you are not about to say that it’s not appropriate for females,” S’rah interrupted. She and J’ne were standing at the bottom of the steps watching them.

  “A warrior’s job is to protect his females.”

  “And sometimes a female needs to protect herself.” She crossed her arms and he had the sudden realization that this was a battle he could not win. He bowed to the inevitable.

  “Yes, little one, I will show you.”

  “Me, too!” J’ne yelled.

  For the next thirty minutes, he patiently demonstrated a simplified version of the moves to both girls. J’ne wandered off about halfway through and went to sit with S’rah on the porch steps, but T’bitha kept trying. When he saw her small arms shake, he brought the lesson to a conclusion and picked her up.

  “You did very well, little one.”

  A beaming smile crossed her face. “Tomorrow?”

  “Yes, if you wish it.”

  She gave him a firm nod, then leaned over and traced a finger across his scars. “Owie?”

  “Not anymore,” he said, realizing as he spoke that it was true. Even the lingering ache had disappeared.

  Leaning over even further, she kissed his chest. “All better.”

  He found that his chest ached after all and when he looked at S’rah, her eyes were bright with tears. “Yes, little one. All better.”

  She smiled again and tucked her head into his neck.

  “Why don’t you both come in out of the sun?” S’rah asked. “I have some new sticker books.”

  “Does Tigga do sticker books?” J’ne asked.

  “Probably not, but he has grown up books to read. Come on—”

  His alarm sounded.

  Chapter Twenty

  T’gana’s muscles tensed as he checked the monitor and recognized the vehicle now parked in the driveway.

  “It is the older female,” he told S’rah. Her mouth tightened, then she smiled down at the girls.

  “On second thought, why don’t I bring the sticker books out to the gazebo. And since you'll be outside, you can each have a popsicle.”

  “Yay, popsicles!” J’ne cheered and T’bitha smiled happily. He carried her into the gazebo and let her down, then accompanied S’rah into the house.

  “What is she doing?” she asked quietly as she gathered the books and the frozen treats.

  He checked his monitor. “Nothing as of now. Her vehicle is in the driveway and she is in it.”

  “I’m going to have to talk to her.”

  “We will talk to her,” he said firmly, and she squeezed his hand as they walked back into the garden.

  “Are you sure? I know she upset you before.”

  “Is there anything else that I do not know?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Then she will not disturb me.”

  “Okay. It would make me feel better if you were close by.”

  When she gave the girls the popsicles, she knelt down in front of them.

  “Girls, T’gana and I have to go talk to someone in front of the house. She’s very sick and I don’t want you around her. Can you promise me that you’ll stay here?”

  “But you’re coming back?” J’ne asked anxiously.

  “Of course, we are. I just need you to wait here for us. Can you do that?”

  “I guess,” she said, reluctantly, but T’bitha held up her tiny hand.

  “Pinkie promise?”

  S’rah nodded solemnly and hooked her finger around each of the girl’s fingers in turn. T’bitha raised her hand to him.

  “Tigga doesn’t have a pinkie,” J’ne said scornfully.

  “Does too.” T’bitha scowled.

  “We can call his smallest finger a pinkie,” S’rah said quickly.

  Not entirely sure he understood the ritual, he extended his hand. T’bitha’s dirty little finger could barely wrap around his smallest digit but from the way she smiled up at him, it didn’t matter. Despite her previous protest, J’ne immediately presented hers as well.

  “There,” S’rah said. “Now we’ll be back as quickly as possible.”

  As they walked through the house, he checked the monitor again and swore.

  “What is it?”

  “She has opened the garage. How did she do that?”

  “Damn. She must still have an opener. Can she get into the house?”

  “No. I changed all of the locks including that door.”

  “Thank God. I don’t want her in the house or upsetting the girls.” As they walked out the front door, she turned to him. “I know this will be hard for you, but I have to talk to her. I
wish you could have known her before grief destroyed her.”

  “It did not destroy you.”

  “It did for a while. And losing a child is a special kind of hell.” Tears glistened in her eyes and he drew her into his arms for a quick hug. She returned it, then stepped back and wiped her eyes. “Why don’t you wait here?”

  “No.”

  “Maybe just stay back a little bit? I’m sure the sight of you is going to set her off.”

  They compromised with T’gana waiting at the foot of the front steps, while S’rah approached the garage. The older female was inside, tossing aside boxes as if she searched for something.

  “Mae, what are you doing?”

  “Where are they?” The unpleasant high-pitched screech reminded him all too clearly of the way the bugs cried before an attack. This is Earth, he reminded himself, even as his fists clenched.

  “Where are what, Mae?”

  “Where are his things? What did you do with Jeff’s things?”

  “Mae, they’re gone. Just like Jeff is gone. You have to move on.”

  “He’s not gone! You killed his baby! You made him leave!”

  His leg itched and his chest throbbed, the sound of chittering underlaid the screaming, but he knew it was only an illusion. S’rah’s mouth trembled—she needed him. He stepped forward and the movement caught the older female’s attention. Her eyes swung to him and her face turned white.

  “He’s still here.” For a moment her voice dropped, then she screamed again, a high-pitched shriek of frustration that scraped against his nerves. The bugs chittered.

  “No! You can’t have the spawn of that thing! I won’t let you!”

  “Mae, please. You have to calm down.” S’rah cast a desperate glance in his direction, but his feet felt frozen, trapped in the black sand of Klendat.

  It’s not real, he reminded himself. Your female needs you. He managed another step.

  The sound of another approaching penetrated his concentration. He flicked his eyes in that direction and saw Darryl stomping up the street, with Cr’stal hovering at the end of their driveway.

  “What the hell is going on?” the male yelled, his face turning red. “This is supposed to be a nice neighborhood.”

  “Another one!” Mae screeched. “You killed my son’s child and now you’re fornicating with evil.”

  “She isn’t doing a fucking thing with me and I’m sure as hell not evil.”

  The voices escalated and flashes of green showed in the sky. His fists clenched so tightly that his claws dug into his palms and he was vaguely aware of blood dripping to the ground as he tried to hold on, tried to fight back the images. A gust of sand-filled wind blew across his face. The older female reached into the bag she was carrying and pulled out an object. He just had time to recognize it as a weapon before she started firing wildly, still screaming. More cries came from the street as everything dropped into slow motion. He took a step. The bugs chittered and screeched. Another step.

  S’rah fell and the world cracked open. Green sky pressed down on him and black sand filled his lungs. He grabbed his blast tube, determined to fight off the enemy, determined to protect S’rah. Some small distant part of him told him to leave the tube on stun and he obeyed, spraying the surrounding area until the high-pitched screams and loud noises disappeared. As soon as they did, he grabbed S’rah, pulling her back into the shelter of the rock and crouching over her, resolving to keep her safe no matter how many bugs he had to kill.

  Sarah regained consciousness to an eerie stillness. Confused, she tried to see what had happened, but T’gana held her captive beneath him. A low, continuous growl rumbled from his throat and his eyes darted widely, tracking things she was quite sure weren’t there. His claws were clenched around a blast tube and her heart sank as she remembered the scene in the Supreme Commander’s office. What had happened?

  “T’gana,” she whispered quietly, but his frantic scanning of the area barely paused.

  She tried to slide out from under him, but he yanked her back, his hand unusually harsh.

  “Safe,” he muttered. “Keep S’rah safe.”

  “I am safe. You’re here with me—protecting me.”

  “Not safe.” He swept the area with his blast tube, and this time she saw it clearly enough to see that the light was green. Thank God. That meant it was only set to stun.

  “T’gana,” she said again, and tried to raise her hand to his face. A fiery pain shot up her arm and she looked down to see that it was red with blood. She remembered now—Mae…the gun. T’gana must have had another flashback. Gritting her teeth, she tried again to touch his face.

  He looked down at her and for a brief second, he saw recognition flash across his face, then he saw the blood and he was no longer looking at her but at his own personal hell. Fuck. She had to bring him out of this. If only she had one of those tranquilizers or… she looked at the blast tube. His finger was poised over a depression at the base, so the odds were that it was the trigger. She checked again—yes, the light was green. It was only set to stun.

  Taking a deep breath, she managed to wiggle far enough forward to place her hand over his where it was waving around wildly.

  “T’gana,” she said softly. “Give me the tube. I need to be able to defend myself.”

  “A warrior defends his female.” His voice sounded almost robotic.

  “But sometimes a female needs to defend herself,” she said, repeating their earlier conversation.

  His eyes cleared—just briefly, but it was long enough for her to grab the tube and, praying that she was making the right choice, turn it on him. He collapsed immediately, his weight falling over the lower part of her body. Somehow, she managed to squirm free, only to freeze in horror. Mae had fallen by the car, the gun by her outstretched hand. Darryl had collapsed on the curb and she could see the pool of red surrounding him even from here. Crystal also sprawled across the road, but she appeared to be unharmed.

  Pausing only to grab the gun and check that Mae was still breathing, she hurried over to Darryl. His chest rose and fell slightly, making a horrible wet sound with each breath, but she was afraid to touch him in case she made it worse. Ambulance. She needed an ambulance. Casting a desperate look around, all she could see was the empty street. If not for the unconscious bodies, it could have been any other peaceful neighborhood morning.

  As she started to race for the house to call for an ambulance, she remembered T’gana’s communicator. Pulling it from his belt, she pressed the largest key.

  A deep voice started speaking in Yehrin, but she cut him off.

  “T’gana is hurt,” she said rapidly, “And there’s a human man who’s bleeding badly and two more people who are unconscious.”

  “Who is this?” a vaguely familiar voice demanded in English.

  “I’m Sarah, T’gana’s mate. Please, can you help us?”

  “I’m tracking your location now, S’rah. This is T’lan. We met at the celebration day; do you remember?”

  “Emily’s T’lan? Oh, thank God. Please help us.”

  “Help is on the way,” he assured her. “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “My ex mother-in-law showed up, yelling crazy things and waving a gun. She started shooting and I think, I think she hit me. I passed out and when I came to, T’gana thought he was back on Klendat. He stunned everybody.”

  “Stunned? You are sure? You said a male was wounded.”

  “I think he was shot—there’s a lot of blood. Oh my god, the girls.” She started for the house at a run. The sound of a motor behind her barely penetrated, she had to make sure the girls were all right. As she raced through the house, she could hear T’lan calling to her, but she didn’t have time to stop. When she reached the gazebo, for a heart-stopping moment all she could see was red. Then she remembered that the popsicles had been cherry and she collapsed to the ground in tears as she gathered them close.

  “Sarah,” Jane demanded. “What's wrong?”

/>   “Nothing’s wrong, sweetie.” Forcing herself under control, she managed a smile. “I was just scared.”

  “Popsicle?” Tabby asked, pointing at her arm. Following her gaze, she saw the blood covering her arm.

  “Not exactly, darling.”

  “We heard firecrackers,” Jane said excitedly. “But we stayed here, just like we promised.”

  “Thank you, girls. Thank you so much.”

  “There’s someone talking to you,” Jane said, and she finally remembered T’lan.

  “What happened?” he demanded as soon as she raised the communicator again.

  “We have two little girls visiting us. They were behind the house and I had to make sure that they were safe.”

  “Yes, of course. Are you injured?”

  “Um, yes. But it’s only a scratch.”

  “I will send someone through to you.”

  “No, I have to get back to T’gana.”

  “He is being loaded onto the flyer now,” he said grimly.

  “What? You can’t do that! Being on the ship is so much worse for him.”

  “He fired his weapon.”

  “Only to protect me. And he didn’t hurt anyone. You can’t take him away,” she cried, forgetting her audience.

  Jane immediately scowled. “Don’t let them take Tigga.”

  “He pinkie promised,” Tabby added, then her lip trembled. Within seconds both girls were in tears and Sarah wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold off.

  “Please,” she begged.

  T’lan sighed. “I can not argue with three females. I will leave him there, but he will be restrained until he can be questioned.”

  She hated the idea and she suspected that he would hate it too, but if it kept him with her and the girls, it was worth it.

  “Anything you say,” she promised, and turned to the girls. “He’s going to stay with us.”

  A brief flurry of conversation in Yehrin erupted at the other end of the line, then he spoke again.

  “Can the children hear me?”

  She snuck a quick glance down at them. Tabby was still sniffling, and Jane had her arm around her.

  “I don’t think so.”