by Shea Malloy
She’d dated a pilot briefly a few months after her breakup with Chris. On their third date, he’d taken her on a helicopter ride to a fancy restaurant. She remembered ogling the various controls and metres in the helicopter’s cockpit with astonished trepidation, wondering how anybody could possibly remember the purpose of all of them.
In comparison, Jonnar’s wide spread of screens and controls hurt her brain. What if he pressed the wrong one? Her anxiety-riddled mind supplied the most terrible scenarios. Like Jonnar reaching to touch an innocent control, but his little finger accidentally landing on a SELF-DESTRUCT! button instead, their blown-up bits scattered across the nothingness of space.
Jillian swallowed. She had to stop thinking the worst. This would be her fourth time on a spaceship, and she would be fine. But… God, she’d cut off her nose to spite her face. Jonnar had offered her an out from this misery: sleep through the journey so she wouldn’t dwell on all the horrible ways she could meet her end in space. It was what she usually did. But no. She had to have the last word in just because Jonnar had spoken to her like a child.
Jonnar said something curtly in his alien tongue, and a voice responded from one of his screens in a similar manner. Then a whirring sound broke the quiet, followed by the low vibrations of the spaceship powering on. The cerulean blue interior lights pulsed as a robotic voice spoke overhead. The whirring grew louder, accompanied by mechanical clangs of things disengaging.
Jillian sat ramrod straight, her eyes stretched wide and her fingernails leaving permanent grooves in the leather arms of her seat. She heard a sudden loud blast and let out a startled squeak. Jonnar glanced over his shoulder at her with a smirk that clearly said, “I warned you, but you didn’t listen.”
She glanced at the Omaron Elder and found him sitting calm and controlled. Then she felt the sudden glide of the spaceship rising up, inching its way off the ground as well as tilting backward. She began to panic about the lack of a seatbelt when she felt some invisible force holding her body in place. The robotic voice sounded again, reciting something in clipped, brief words. Like a countdown to lift-off.
Oh god, oh god, oh god.
“Jonnar,” Jillian breathed out. “I changed my mind. Gas me. Put me to sleep.”
“It’s too late for that, Jillian.”
“It’s not, you bastard!”
The robotic voice said its final word and died away. The scream started from the depths of her stomach and worked its way up her oesophagus. It exploded from her in a deafening pitch, swallowed by the roar of the spaceship’s engines as they shot up into the endless stretch of bright blue sky.
Jillian gasped as she sucked in a deep breath. Then she promptly passed out.
—
Sleep drifted away from Jillian, consciousness fading in like light encroaching on darkness.
She kept her eyes closed, content with the lovely woodsy scent softened by lavender surrounding her. A smile curved her lips as she snuggled closer to the firm, warm body pressed against her. His hand was on her forearm, squeezing her closer, a wordless promise he’d keep her safe and protected, especially from legitimate terrors like exploding spaceships.
God, how she missed this. She missed the feeling of just lying in bed with a man—
Wait. Wait.
Jillian flung her eyes open, rearing up onto her knees away from Jonnar as her emotions cycled through shock and mortification before settling on anger.
“You,” was all she could say. She hated the way she became this fumbling, tongue-tied mess whenever she was near him. Christ, she was a business professional! She’d dealt with clients who were far more intimidating, yet she’d handled them all with cool composure.
They were on a narrow cot in a tiny room. Jonnar’s large frame took up three-quarters of the diminutive bed, his muscular thighs grazing Jillian’s knees. She shifted herself in an effort to avoid touching him, but there was nowhere else to go.
Sliding a hand under his head, Jonnar regarded her with amusement shining in his blue-violet eyes.
“Me?” he said, placing his free hand over his heart. “I am Jonnar Dorayan, First General of the Elite Omaron—”
“I meant what are you doing here?”
“I brought you here to rest. You fell unconscious after the launch.”
“You didn’t have to stay.”
“You did not want me to leave.” His amusement dimmed, his gaze sharpening on her. “You clung to me and begged me to stay.”
“I…” His gaze was like the sun, the intensity heating Jillian’s face and increasing her discomfort. She looked away, disgusted that she had sounded so pitiful. She must have been really addled to have done something like that. She’d had problems sleeping on her own after Chris left, but she’d overcome that a long time ago.
Jillian reached for her glasses to fiddle with them. Touching them always seemed to ground her. Their presence on her face represented an armour of sorts. But it seemed her armour had vanished.
“Where are my glasses?”
“Inside there for safe-keeping.” He pointed at a cabinet on the other side of the wall. “No doubt had you found them broken, you would have blamed me for their demise.”
In order for her to reach them, she’d have to crawl over him. She would have to sling her legs over his body where, for a brief moment, they would be in a very intimate position. It didn’t take long for the explicit images to rampage her brain. The thoughts featured them naked and sweaty and breathless from pleasurable exertion.
Jillian exhaled deeply as she beat away the thoughts like a crazy woman wielding a battered broom. Jonnar’s stare had as much weight as a physical touch, sliding all over her. He was the one lying on his back in a totally defenceless position, yet she felt threatened. She hoped he couldn’t read minds. It wasn’t a stretch that this might be possible after all she’d witnessed on Omaron.
“You bet your ass I’d blame you.” She glared at him, an accusatory note in her voice. “I told you to put me to sleep and you didn’t.”
A small frown marred his forehead. “You are being unreasonable. It was too late into the launch sequence for me to halt it.”
“Probably, but I’m pretty sure a part of you didn’t do it to get back at me too.”
His frown deepened. “Are you accusing me of petty vindictiveness?”
Jillian folded her arms. “If the hat fits.”
“I see,” he said, rising up into a sitting position. With the two of them seated on the narrow cot, his face was awfully close to hers. “And does the hat fit when I say your recent change in attitude toward me is a result of what you’d witnessed the night before?”
“That’s ridiculous. I haven’t changed—I don’t have an attitude.” Jillian leaned away and licked her bottom lip nervously, her heart thudding hard at his closeness. “What you were doing with that woman last night is none of my business. I don’t care.”
He leaned closer, bringing that heady wood and lavender scent with him. Despite his words, his voice, low and mellifluous, made her insides contract and quiver with growing desire.
“If this is true, then why are you jealous?”
His eyes had darkened to maroon, the strange colour and the strength of his stare captivating her. He was right, of course. She was jealous. Jealous of the woman. Jealous it wasn’t her who’d been wrapped around his hard, powerful body, submitting to his touch and his kisses.
The first time she’d laid eyes on this alien man, she’d fallen instantaneously in lust with him. A wild, new thing for a woman like her who was accustomed to being in strict control of her life. After the roller coaster ride she’d endured with her marriage and subsequent divorce to Chris, she couldn’t afford to take any chances. She’d gone for safe, practical men—or “snoozers” as her baby sister, Karen, liked to call them.
One look at Jonnar and she knew there was nothing safe or practical about him. They were different people from different worlds. Sure, Megan made it work with Mikaal, but tha
t was because they were perfect for each other. Jillian highly doubted it ever would be the same for her and Jonnar. Yet instead taking heed to what her logical mind had to say, her body felt all the things it shouldn’t feel whenever he was near.
Watching her like that.
His gaze dropping to her lips.
Like he wanted to kiss her.
Which he shouldn’t.
Or maybe he should? Maybe one kiss? Then she could return to Earth satisfied she’d acted on one small urge to mitigate the desperate need to act on a larger, more dangerous one.
No! No. That was still not a good idea.
“I’m not jealous,” said Jillian, the words hollow in the heavy silence between them.
“Good.” He slid off the bed, standing tall, his features indecipherable. “Because I am not a man you should want, Jillian.”
It was like he’d read her thoughts, but the dark bitterness in his voice left her confused and uncomfortable. She frowned, opening her mouth to ask him what he meant, when a loud alarm blared to life.
“What’s going on?” she asked, panic lacing her words. She didn’t like the frown on Jonnar’s face, or the way he spun away and stalked out of the room with hasty purpose. Jillian sprang up from the cot and grabbed her glasses from the cabinet before chasing behind Jonnar. “Wait a minute, who’s flying the ship?”
“I have entered coordinates for Earth. The ship can take us there without my assistance,” he said, returning to his chair in front of his screens. He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Take your seat.”
Jillian frowned at his sharp tone but took the order nevertheless. The immediate press of some invisible force held her in place in her seat. She looked over at the Elder. He hadn’t moved, but at least he seemed to be present and no longer a freaky living shell.
Jonnar spoke into one of his screens. Jillian didn’t understand what he said, but there was a hard, authoritative edge to his tone. Silence. He repeated himself a second time, then a third. Silence. He was ordering someone to do something and they were not complying.
The alarm continued to wail, increasing her anxiety. There was never anything good about alarms. Their sole purpose was to alert to a negative situation presently occurring.
“Jonnar, what’s going on? What’s happening?”
“We are being followed too closely. The party refuses to identify themselves and their purpose.”
“And that’s bad, right?” Jillian licked her lips, suddenly wishing for a glass of water. “That sounds concerning.”
Jonnar did not respond, but the crash of something impacting the ship did. Jillian cried out as the ship juddered and made an unpleasant, twisting lurch. The alarm continued louder than ever, now accompanied by the robotic voice from before, no doubt alerting Jonnar that the situation had deteriorated further.
Then one of Jonnar’s screens flickered black before a man’s face came into view. His deep-purple eyes almost looked black, and an unfriendly smile curved his lips as he spoke. Then he laughed, the sound dry and humourless.
Jonnar snarled something at the screen as he leaned forward and took hold of the ship’s controls. Jillian was certain one of the words he’d said was ‘Varrack’. She knew that word, that name. Megan had told her all about him, and from what she’d relayed, he wasn’t to be trusted. As a matter of fact, he shouldn’t even be free. So why was he—if it was, indeed, him—on Jonnar’s screen?
It wasn’t a great time to pepper Jonnar with new questions. Jillian sensed their acceleration and the man’s face disappeared from the screen. She tried her best not to freak out over the pungent scent of something burning filtering around the bridge.
Wide-eyed with terror, Jillian stared out through the viewport at the black, expansive nothingness of space. In the distance, various spots of bright light lessened the claustrophobic sense of being alone in a void. A large, luminescent circle of vermilion with a light yellow centre shone the brightest, and Jonnar sped them toward it.
“What’s that?” Jillian said, unsure if Jonnar could hear her over the loud alarm. What she really wanted to ask was, “Are we going to live?” But she wasn’t ready for the answer be anything but “yes.”
“A wormhole,” said Jonnar.
“It is disintegrating,” added the Elder.
“Oh god,” Jillian whimpered. Disintegrating wormholes? Definitely nothing good about that at all.
Another harsh impact sent the ship spinning violently. Jillian’s glasses flew off her face to somewhere unknown. Squeezing her eyes shut, Jillian blasphemed. A hysterical laugh nearly escaped her as she thought of her feverishly devout Nana rolling in her grave with every ‘holy fucking shit’ that rolled off her lips.
Her fear was about to be made real. Death by exploding spaceship. She hoped her family would have the good sense to put that on her gravestone. At least it would be the sole proof she did something unbelievable in her short life.
Grunting, his entire body visibly tensed, Jonnar righted the ship. Though the burning scent had increased significantly and the alarms and robotic voice chimed with incessant urgency, he pushed them forward. The wormhole loomed large and bright and terrifying in its red-orange colour. What would they find on the other side? Maybe this was the gateway to hell?
They were about to find out.
They careened forward into that bright, shimmering monstrosity. Jillian had never seen anything so gorgeous yet so absolutely terrifying. She doubted she ever would again.
As they breached the centre of the wormhole, time slowed. She felt compressed, every sense intensified at a painful level. Bright pain erupted in Jillian’s head. Her heart slammed in her chest, leaving her breathless with each jolt against her ribcage. She heard every thump in her ears and the alarms overhead, loud and deafening. Heat burned her inside out and the tendrils of her hair flying around her face felt like sandpaper on her skin.
“Hold tight, Jillian,” Jonnar said, his words slow, his voice far away. “Stay with me.”
The compression squeezed harder. Her tears burned her face. She raised her hands and reached for Jonnar. Did he take her hands? Was he holding her?
“Stay with me,” he said, urgent, fearful, his voice so very far away. “Hold on.”
“Please, Jonnar,” she gasped, but what was she begging him for?
“Jillian, Jillian—”
Then silence.
And darkness.
4
Jonnar
—
Her hand caressed his head, his face.
Loving and familiar. Fingers thin. Too thin. But they were his maiya’s, so he shouldn’t be afraid when she touched him. He lay on the bed beside her. His small body seemed so much larger than hers. She pressed a kiss to his forehead. Her lips dry, her breath warm and damp against his skin.
She smelled like his maiya—like spices, like the dirt from her garden, like the crushed purple leaves she rubbed against her skin to hide the scent of the sickness that never left her. That would take her away from him soon.
“I have a story to tell you, amya,” she said, her breathing laboured. “There was a boy who put a blade through his brother’s heart to save a young girl from his brother’s dishonourable intentions.” She closed her eyes, taking deep breaths before she continued. “His father cast him out saying, ‘You are no son of mine. Let the gods condemn you. May they have no mercy on your evil soul.’”
“But he did it to save the girl,” he protested.
“Yes, amya, but he spilt the blood of his own kin. That is truly a terrible sin.” She smiled weakly, smoothing her hand over his forehead. “And this boy believed his father’s words. He became a man who killed for coin. He took what was not his. He dwelt in the depths of evil even though he found no joy in such a life.”
“Then why did he live like that?” He frowned. “He used to be good. He could be good again.”
“You are right, Jonnar,” she said, her smile weak, yet her violet eyes filled with love. “But his belief
in being a wicked man made him just as much. He did not know that even though a life has committed evil, it is also capable of doing good.”
“General! General, you must take command! General!”
Pain exploded in Jonnar’s head as if someone had awoken him with a solid kick to the face. He grunted as he reared up from his slouch, blinking to clear the wooziness. He turned to investigate the state of his passengers, his movements slower than usual. The wormhole had sapped a significant amount of his strength.
Elder Olin seemed alert and responsive. Jillian was not.
“Jillian!”
Jonnar reached for her, swearing under his breath when she remained unresponsive, her body slumped, her head lolling to one side against her shoulder.
She’s not dead, he told himself, dread coursing through his blood, keeping him rigid. She can’t be.
“General, take command of the ship,” said Elder Olin, his voice raised to be heard over the alarm.
Jonnar glared at him, irrational anger flaring within him that this man dared to give him commands.
“We can save her,” persisted the Elder, his eyes bright with determination. “But there is no hope if we all perish.”
He was right. There was nothing that could be done until the ship was under control. Jonnar took a last look at Jillian, then turned away from her, from his fear that she was gone beyond his reach.
He assessed the readings on his screens as he reclaimed the controls. They were going too fast. They’d plunged into the wormhole’s depths with too much speed, and now the violent ejection had them hurtling forward toward an unknown planet.
To compound his worries, the bastard who’d pushed them into this predicament had destroyed a significant portion of the portside of his ship. There was a tear along the side that would have leaked oxygen and suffocated them all, but thank the gods the emergency airlock kept them secure on the bridge. However, one of the main thrusters and the stabilizers were damaged.
Varrack. That slippery snake. Jonnar should have killed him when he’d had the chance.